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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..90bbe5a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52084 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52084) diff --git a/old/52084-0.txt b/old/52084-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e5f74cb..0000000 --- a/old/52084-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8669 +0,0 @@ - The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wire Devils, by Frank L. Packard - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - -Title: The Wire Devils - -Author: Frank L. Packard - -Release Date: May 16, 2016 [EBook #52084] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIRE DEVILS *** - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously provided by the -Internet Archive - - - - - -THE WIRE DEVILS - -By Frank L. Packard - -Author of “Greater Love Hath No Man,” “The Adventure of Jimmie -Dale,” Etc. - -A. L. Burt Company Publishers New York - -1918 - - - - -CONTENTS - -THE WIRE DEVILS - -I—THE SECRET CODE - -II—THE TEN-DOLLAR COUNTERFEIT NOTE - -III-THE PAYMASTER'S SAFE - -IV—AT BALD CREEK STATION - -V—IN WHICH A CASH BOX DISAPPEARS - -VI—SOME OF THE LITTLE SPIDERS - -VII—WANTED—THE HAWK—DEAD OR ALIVE - -VIII—THREADS IN THE WEB - -IX—THE LOOTING OF THE FAST MAIL - -X—THE THIRD PARTY - -XI—THE LEAD CAPSULE - -XII—BLINDMAN'S-BUFF - -XIII—THE MAN WITH THE SCAR - -XIV—THE CLUE - -XV—THE LADYBIRD - -XVI—AN EVEN BREAK - -XVII—A HOLE IN THE WALL - -XVIII—THE HAWK PACKS HIS VALISE - -XIX—BIRDS OF A FEATHER - -XX—“CONFIDENTIAL” CORRESPONDENCE - - - - -THE WIRE DEVILS - - - - -I—THE SECRET CODE - -TWO switch lights twinkled; one at the east, and one at the west end of -the siding. For the rest all was blackness. Half way between the -switch lights, snuggled close against the single-tracked main line, -the station, little more than a shanty and too insignificant to boast a -night operator, loomed up shadowy and indistinct. Away to the westward, -like jagged points sticking up into the night and standing out in relief -against the skyline, the Rockies reared their peaks. And the spell of -the brooding mountains seemed to lie over all the desolate, butte-broken -surrounding country—for all was utter silence. - -And then there came a sound, low at first, like a strange muttering from -somewhere to the westward. - -It died away, grew louder, was hushed again—and broke into a sustained -roar. Came then the quick, short gasps of the exhaust—it was a -freight, and a heavy one. And suddenly, from up the track, circling -an intervening butte, an electric headlight cut streaming through the -black. It touched the little station in a queerly inquisitive way in the -sweep of its arc, lingered an instant over the platform, then swung to -the right of way, and held there, the metals glistening like polished -silver ribbons under the flood of light. - -Straining, panting at its load, reddening the sky as the fire-box door -was flung open, the big tenwheeler stormed by, coughing the sparks -heavenward from its stack. The roar in the still night grew deafening, -as boxcar, flat and gondola, lurching, swaying, clanking, groaning, -an endless string, tugging at one another, grinding their flanges, -screaming as they took up the axle play, staggered with a din infernal -past the lonely and unlighted station. - -The roar sank into a gradually diminishing murmur. The tail-lights -winked like mischievous little red eyes in the distance—and vanished. - -All was stillness and that brooding silence again. - -And then a man's form, like a black shadow in the darkness, rose from -the trackside, and crept to the platform, and along the platform to the -station door. - -The man bent forward, and the round, white ray of a pocket flashlight -played upon the lock. He examined the lock for an instant appraisingly, -then drew a bunch of skeleton keys from his pocket, and, selecting one -of the number without hesitation, unlocked the door, stepped inside, and -closed the door behind him. - -The flashlight swept in a circle around the interior of the little -station. There were but two rooms—the small waiting room which he had -entered, and in which he now stood; and, partitioned off from this, the -door open, a still smaller inner room, the agent's office. He moved at -once into the latter, and his flashlight, swiftly now, searched around -the walls and held upon the clock. It was six minutes to ten. - -“Pretty close work!” muttered the man. “Six minutes to wait.” - -The ray travelled now over the operator's table, and from the table -to the switchboard. He reached out, “cut in” the office circuit, -listened for an instant as the sounder began to chatter—then the ray -swept over the table again. Under a newspaper, that the day man had -apparently flung down at haphazard on leaving the office, he found a pad -of telegraph blanks, from which, evidently wary of the consequences -of using a pad with its resultant tell-tale impressions on the under -sheets, he tore off a sheet and laid it down ready to hand before him. - -This done, he nodded complacently, sat down in the operator's chair, -tilted the chair back, put his feet up on the table, and coolly picked -up the newspaper. It was the evening edition of the Selkirk City -Journal, that had presumably been tossed off at the station by a -charitable train crew of some late afternoon train out from the city. -He held the paper in one hand, the flashlight in the other, scanned the -page, which happened to be an inner one, cursorily, turned it over, -and suddenly leaned forward a little in his seat. He was staring at -the headline at the top right-hand corner of the front page. NOTORIOUS -CRIMINAL RELEASED FROM SING SING POLICE ARE WARNED THAT MAN MAY BE IN -THIS VICINITY HARRY MAUL, ALIAS THE HAWK, KNOWN TO BE IN THE WEST - -The telegraph sounder chattered volubly for an instant, as though to -challenge and silence the raucous ticking of the clock, and ended in a -splutter of wrath, as it were, at the futility of its attempt. The clock -ticked on. There was no other sound. And then the man spoke aloud. - -“That's me,” he said. “The Hawk.” The paper rattled in his -hand. There was a twisted smile on his lips in the darkness. “I guess -I'm pretty well known.” - -The Hawk's eyes fixed on the text, and he began to read: - -“It is reported that Harry Maul, better known to the police as -the Hawk, safe-breaker, forger and thief, one of the cleverest -'gentleman' crooks in the country, who is at large again after a -five-years' penitentiary term, is somewhere in the West. - -“The crime wave that has recently been sweeping over Selkirk City -and its vicinity, and particularly the daring and, in too many cases, -successful outrages with which the railroad officials and detectives -have been called upon to cope of late, may, as a very plausible theory, -have lured the Hawk here as to a promising field in which to resume his -criminal operations. Certain it is that, while we have been the victims -of a band of mysterious desperadoes for some time past, the last week -or so has seen a very marked increase in the number of crimes that have -been committed—a significant coincidence with the Hawk's release -from Sing Sing. - -“A twenty-thousand-dollar diamond necklace was stolen from a private -car two nights ago; there was an express car robbery on Monday of this -week; and a sleeping car was thoroughly and systematically looted the -night before. True, it is mere conjecture to connect the Hawk with these -in any way, since the gang that has been operating in this neighbourhood -has proved itself quite capable of all and more than this without any -outside and highly specialised assistance, and it would appear is in no -whit inferior in resource and devilish ingenuity to the best, or worst, -that Sing Sing has to offer in the shape of this so-called Hawk; but, -out of conjecture, one question naturally suggests itself. - -“Granting the presence of the Hawk, is he here as a rival of the -criminals of whose existence we are already only too well aware, or -is he one of them through old-time associations before Sing Sing put a -temporary check upon his activities?” - -There was more—a virulent outpouring of wrath at the intolerable -extent to which the community, its life and property, was being -endangered, and a promise of summary vengeance upon the criminals if -caught. - -“Quite so!” murmured the Hawk, lowering his feet slowly to the -floor. “I guess it wouldn't be healthy to get caught around these -parts. I have a feeling that it would be the nearest telegraph pole -instead of a trial!” - -He tossed the newspaper back on the table. The sounder, spasmodic in its -chatter, for the moment was still. All was silence, profound, absolute. -Then the clock struck, loud, resonant, smashing through the silence, -startling. And at the same instant the sounder broke into a quick -tattoo. The Hawk snatched a pencil from his pocket, and jerked his body -forward—then relaxed again. - -“Stray stuff,” he muttered. “Got in ahead of him. We'll get it -in a minute now.” - -Pencil poised in his hand, the flashlight playing on the blank sheet -of paper before him, the Hawk waited. The sounder ceased—and almost -instantly broke again, rattling sharply through the room. The Hawk -nodded, as his pencil began to travel across the paper. - -“'mtlky'—stroke at five. Two-three-one tonight,” he said -aloud. - -Without pause, without hesitation, without the slightest indication of -spacing to break its continuity, the sounder rattled on—and finally, -as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped. - -On the sheet of paper the Hawk had written this: - -mtlkyeqodktrpcvkqlmtp kpwrtrgtftuqcyqtnt tsghv ukopgfkxtiku kqprelcn -rcatocuvgdatf gumttlvgpvjf qwucpmtfkp uckjihg vqptkijvrsa wvpxodtt -dgtqprg qplqosd - -He reached out for the pad, tore off another sheet, and in two parallel -columns set down the letters of the alphabet, one column transposed. -There was a faint smile on his lips, as he turned again to the cipher -and began to write in another line of letters under the original -message. - -“I wonder what Poe and his predominant 'e' would do with this!” -he chuckled. “'Combi'—stroke two. Key letter—stroke three.” -He frowned the next instant. “What's this! Ah—stroke three, -instead of one.” He completed the transposition, stared at the several -lines which were now scattered with vertically crossed-out letters, -whistled low under his breath, and a grim look settled on his face. - -The message now read: - -—-combi—natio—-ninup-perdr—eftsi—dediv—sion—al -paymasterdesk—fousan dinsaj—feton-ight-autnum—-beron-eonjob - -Mechanically, he separated words and sentences, and, eliminating the -superfluous letters, wrote out the translation at the bottom of the -sheet: - -“Combination in upper drawer left side divisional paymaster ('.) -desk. Ten thousand in safe to-night. Put Number One on job.” - -The Hawk stood up, “plugged out” the station circuit, and, gathering -up the two sheets of paper he had used, put them in his pocket; then, -leaving the door of the operator's room open behind him, as he had -found it, he stepped out from the station to the platform, and, with his -skeleton key, relocked the station door. He stood for a moment -staring up and down the track. The switchlights blinked back at him -confidentially. He listened. The eastbound freight, from which he -had jumped some twenty minutes before, would cross Extra No. 83, the -westbound way freight, at Elkton, seven miles away, but there was no -sound of the latter as yet. - -He turned then, and, jumping from the platform to the track, swung into -a dog-trot along the roadbed. The Hawk smiled contentedly to himself. -It was all timed to a nicety! A mile or so to the west, the right of way -rose in a stiff grade that the way freight would be able to negotiate at -no better speed than the pace at which a man could crawl. He could make -the distance readily, board her there, and the way freight would get -him to Selkirk—and the divisional paymaster's office!—by about -midnight. - -He ran on, the swing and ease of a trained athlete in his stride. And, -as he ran, he took the sheets of paper from his pocket, and, tearing -them into small fragments, scattered the pieces at intervals here and -there. - -He reached the foot of the grade, and paused to look back along the -track, as suddenly from behind him came the hoarse scream of an engine -whistle. That was the way freight now, whistling perfunctorily for the -deserted station! He had made the grade in plenty of time, though the -nearer to the top he could get the better, for the freight, requiring -all the initial impetus it could attain, would hit the foot of the grade -wide open. - -The Hawk broke into a run again, glancing constantly back over his -shoulder as he sped on up the grade. And then, when he was well on -toward the summit, opening the night like a blazing disk as it rounded a -curve, he caught the gleam of the headlight. It grew larger and -larger, until, beginning to fling a luminous pathway up the track -that, gradually lengthening, crept nearer and nearer to him, he -swerved suddenly, plunged down the embankment, and, well away from the -trackside, dropped flat upon the ground. - -The engine, slowed, was grunting heavily on the incline as it strained -by the spot where he lay; there was the glimmer of the front-end -brakeman's lamp from the top of one of the forward cars—and, with a -quick, appraising glance to measure the length of the train, the Hawk, -on hands and knees, crawled forward, and up the embankment, and, in the -shadow of the rolling cars themselves, stood up. There would be sharp -eyes watching from the cupola of the caboose. He laughed a little. And -not only the train crew there, perhaps! The railroad detectives, at -their wits' ends, had acquired the habit of late of turning up in the -most unexpected places! - -A boxcar rolled by him, another, and still another—but the Hawk's -eyes were fixed a little further along toward the rear on an open space, -where, in the darkness, a flat car gave the appearance of a break in the -train. The flat car came abreast of him. He caught the iron foot-rung, -jumped, and, with a powerful, muscular swing, flung himself aboard. - -The car was loaded with some kind of carriage, or wagon, -tarpaulin-covered. The Hawk crawled in under the tarpaulin, and lay down -upon his back, pillowing his head on a piece of timber that blocked the -carriage wheels. - -The train topped the grade, gained speed, and roared on through the -night. Occasionally, during what was close to a two-hours' run, it -stopped at intermediate stations, and the Hawk peered furtively out from -under the tarpaulin to locate the surroundings, with which he appeared -to be intimately familiar; and once, nearing the end of the run, as -the faint-suffused glow from the city's lights in the distance showed -under the shadows of the towering peaks, he spoke aloud, “Ten thousand -dollars,” remarked the Hawk pleasantly. “Nice picking for a few -hours' work—ten thousand dollars!” - - - - -II—THE TEN-DOLLAR COUNTERFEIT NOTE - -THE Hawk crawled out from under the tarpaulin and dropped to the ground, -as the freight, slowing down, began to patter in over the spur switches -of the Selkirk yard. He darted, bent low, across several spurs to escape -the possibility of observation from the freight's caboose; then began -to make his way toward the roundhouse ahead of him. He would have -to pass around behind the roundhouse in order to get up opposite the -station and the divisional offices. The Hawk glanced sharply about -him as he moved along. He dodged here and there like some queer, -irresponsible phantom flitting amongst the low, myriad red, green and -purple lights that dotted the yard; and he carefully avoided those other -lights, the white lights of the yardsmen, now bobbing as the men ran up -and down, now swinging from the footboard of a passing switcher, that -seemed to be unusually ubiquitous—for the Hawk was secretive, and for -certain good and valid reasons was possessed of an earnest desire that -no stranger should be reported prowling around the railroad yard that -night. - -He reached the roundhouse, stepped close up against the wall to take -advantage of the security afforded by the shadows, and began to circle -the building. The Hawk was treading silently now. Halfway around the -building he halted abruptly, his head cocked suddenly in a listening -attitude toward a small, open and lighted window on a level with his -shoulders, and in order to pass which he had just been on the point of -stooping down. - -“I think,” said the Hawk softly to himself, “I think this sounds -as though it interested me.” - -He crept cautiously forward, and from the edge of the window glanced -inside. It was the turner's “cubbyhole,” or office. The door was -closed, and two men were standing there, talking earnestly. The -Hawk's face, dimly outlined now in the window light, smooth-shaven, -square-jawed, the eyes and forehead hidden by the brim of the slouch -hat that was pulled forward almost to the bridge of his nose, set with -a curious and significant smile. It was not a bad place for a private -conference! He had thought he had recognised the voice—and he had not -been mistaken. The big, heavy-built, thin-lipped, pugnacious-faced man -was MacVightie, the head of the railroad's detective force; the other, -a smaller man, with alert grey eyes, his forehead furrowed anxiously, -whose clenched hand rested on the table, was Lanson, the division -superintendent. - -“I don't know, damn it, MacVightie!” Lanson was saying savagely. -“I don't know what to think, or believe—I only know that a Pullman -hold-up one night, a twenty-thousand-dollar necklace stolen the next, -an express car looted, and several other little pleasant episodes all -jammed one on top of the other, means hell to pay out here and nothing -to pay it with, unless we can do something almighty quick!” - -“Any more of those messages?” inquired MacVightie—there was an -ominous abstraction in his tones. - -“Yes—to-night.” - -“Make anything of it?” - -“No,” said Lanson; “and I think it's about time to put a kink -in that little business, whether they mean anything or not. This -cat-and-mouse game we've been playing isn't——” - -“We'll get back to that in a minute,” interrupted MacVightie -quietly. “Here's a little something else that may possibly fit into -the combination.” He reached into his pocket, took out his pocketbook, -opened it, and handed the division superintendent a crisp new ten-dollar -note. - -The Hawk's lips thinned instantly, and he swore sharply under his -breath. - -“What's this?” asked Lanson, in surprise. “Phony!” said -MacVightie laconically. “Counterfeit!” Lanson turned the note over -in his hands, staring at first one side and then the other. “Are you -sure? I'd take it any time.” - -“You'd have lots of company with you”—there was a sudden rasp -in the detective's voice. “Pretty good one, isn't it? The East is -being flooded with them. Two of them showed up in the banks here in the -city yesterday, and one to-day.” - -Lanson frowned perplexedly. - -“I don't get you, MacVightie,” he said. - -“Suppose they were being struck off around here,” suggested -MacVightie curtly. “I don't say they are, but suppose it were -so. They'd likely be shoved out as far away from this locality as -possible, wouldn't they—back East, say. They're so good that a -jag of them got by before they began to be detected—and now suppose we -assume that they're beginning to sift back around the country.” - -“Well?” - -“Well”—MacVightie caught the superintendent up quickly—“I -didn't say I could prove it; but, coupled with the fact that I happen -to know that the police have traced the work back to somewhere west of -Chicago, I've got a hunch that the gang that is operating around here -and the crowd that is turning out the phony money is the same outfit. -The Lord knows”—he smiled bitterly—“they're clever enough! And -to go back to those messages now. If there was anything in them at -all, anything more than some irresponsible idiot tampering with a key -somewhere, we were face to face, not with a mere gang of train robbers, -but with an organised criminal league as dangerous and powerful as has -ever existed in this country—and that's what made me hesitate. We -couldn't afford to take any chances, to start out after a mare's -nest, and we had to make as nearly sure of our ground as possible before -we played a card. We went on the principle that if it was only somebody -playing the goat, he'd get tired of it before long if no one paid -any attention to him; if it meant anything more than that, he'd keep -on.” MacVightie's pugnacious face screwed up into a savage grimace. -“Well, maybe this counterfeiting idea has had something to do with -deciding me, but, anyway, I'm satisfied now. He has kept on. And I'm -satisfied now that those messages are a cipher code that the gang is -using, and that our cat-and-mouse play, as you call it, instead of being -abortive, is exactly what's going to land our men for us. That's -one thing I came to tell you to-night—that I'm ready now to take the -gloves off on this wire game.” - -Lanson smashed his fist down on the table top. “Good!” he exclaimed -grimly. “I'd like to make things hot for somebody, and it'll at -least be easy enough to catch whoever is using the wire.” MacVightie -shook his head. - -“Oh, no; it won't!” he said evenly. “I didn't mean to give you -that impression, and don't you make the mistake of under-estimating -the brains we're up against, Lanson. I'm no expert on telegraphy, -that's your end of it, but I know they wouldn't sit in on any game -where they didn't hold trumps up their sleeves. Get me? Now let's -see what it looks like. As I understand it, these messages, no matter -from what point on the division they are sent, would be heard on every -sounder on the line—that's right, isn't it?” - -“Yes—sure! Of course!” agreed Lanson. - -“And it might be an operator working with them as an inside man; -or, with the necessary outfit, the wire could be tapped at any point, -couldn't it?” - -“Yes,” said Lanson; “but the minute he starts in, we could begin -to 'ground' him out.” - -“Go on!” invited MacVightie. “I'm listening.” - -“We could tell whether he was working east or west of any given -point,” explained the superintendent; “and, with the operators -instructed beforehand, practically narrow him down to, say, between two -stations.” - -The Hawk, as he, too, listened, permitted an amused smile to flicker -across his lips. - -“Um!” said MacVightie. “And would he be aware that this -'grounding' process was going on?” - -“Yes—naturally,” admitted Lanson. “We can't prevent that.” - -MacVightie shook his head again. - -“That doesn't sound good to me,” he said slowly. “All he'd -have to do would be to beat it then—and the next time start in fifty -miles away, and you'd have to begin all over again. And, besides, -who's receiving the messages? You can't put any tabs on that. Every -sounder from Selkirk City to Rainy River registers them, and all -a man's got to do is listen. You see, Lanson, it's not so -easy—eh?” - -Lanson frowned. - -“Well, what do you suggest?” he asked uncomfortably. “We can stop -it.” - -“But we don't want to stop it!” returned MacVightie. “We could -have done that from the first. What we want is our man now. And it -strikes me that the first thing to do is to find out whether one of our -own operators is in on this or not. Unless the line is tapped somewhere, -it's a cinch that a station key is being used, isn't it? Send some -linemen that you can trust over the division. If they find anything at -all, they'll find the spot where the messages are coming from, won't -they? If they find nothing, we'll know we've got to look nearer -home—amongst our own men.” - -Lanson, in his turn, shook his head. - -“Not necessarily,” he objected. “We've a number of small -stations where there's no night operator. They might have got into one -of those. The messages all come through at night.” - -“Well, I'll call the turn there!” responded Mac-Vightie, with a -short laugh. “See that I get a list of those stations in the morning, -and I'll detail men to take care of that end of it.” - -The Hawk drew back a little, shifting his strained position—the amused -smile was no longer on his lips. - -“And as for that 'ground' business,” went on Mac-Vightie, “go -slow with it till you get your linemen's report. Don't do any more -than try it out with some operator you can absolutely depend upon, say, -about halfway down the line. You say you would be able to tell whether -the messages were coming from east or west of that point; that'll -cut the division in half for us as far as our search is concerned, and -that's worth taking a chance on. But don't overdo it, Lanson. We -don't want to throw any scare into him—yet.” - -“All right,” agreed Lanson. “I'll start things moving to-night. -Martin, at Bald Creek, will be the best man, I guess. I'll send a -letter down to him on No. 8.” - -“And warn him to make no reports by wire,” cautioned MacVightie. - -“All right—yes, naturally,” agreed the superintendent again. -Then, after a short pause, anxiously: “Anything turned up at all, -MacVightie? Any clue to that necklace? The governor's wife is making a -holler that's reached from here to the road's directors down in Wall -Street.” - -“Damn it,” growled MacVightie. “I'm well enough aware of -it—but the necklace isn't any more important than any one of the -other affairs, is it? No; there's nothing—not a blamed thing!” - -“Well, what about this Sing Sing convict, the Hawk, that the papers -are featuring to-night?” Lanson asked. “Anything in that?” - -“I don't know—maybe,” McVightie answered viciously. “He's -only one more, anyway. This gang was operating before he was -released—and it's likely enough, if they're old pals of his, that -he's come out here to give them a hand. The New York police say -he went to Chicago immediately after his release, two weeks ago. The -Chicago police reported him there, and then he disappeared; then Denver -spotted him a few days later—and that's the last that's been -seen of him. You can make what you like of that. He's certainly been -hitting a pretty straight trail west. He wasn't stopped, of course, -because he isn't 'wanted' at present; he's only a man with a -bad record, and labelled dangerous. We were warned to look out for him, -that's all.” - -“Got his description?” inquired Lanson. - -“Yes”—MacVightie's laugh was a short bark. “Medium height, -broad-shouldered, muscular, black hair, black eyes, straight nose, -good-looking, and gentlemanly in appearance and manner, dresses well, -age twenty-four to twenty-six, no distinctive marks or disfigurement.” - -“There's probably not more than twenty-five thousand men in Selkirk -City who would answer to every detail of that!” Lanson commented -sarcastically. - -“Exactly!” admitted MacVightie. “And that's——” - -The Hawk was creeping forward again in the shadows of the roundhouse. - -“Yes, I guess it interested me,” muttered the Hawk; “I guess it -did. I guess I'm playing in luck to-night.” - - - - -III-THE PAYMASTER'S SAFE - -FROM the roundhouse it was only a few yards to the rear of the long, -low-lying freight sheds and, unobserved, the Hawk gained this new -shelter. He stole quickly along to the further end of the sheds; and -there, crouched down again in the shadows, halted to make a critical -survey of his surroundings. . - -Just in front of him, divided only by a sort of driveway for the -convenience of the teamsters, was the end wall of the station, and, in -the end wall—the window of the divisional paymaster's office. The -Hawk glanced to his left. The street upon which the station fronted, an -ill-savoured section of the city, was dark, dimly lighted, and deserted; -the only sign of life being the lighted windows of a saloon on -the corner of a narrow lane that bisected the block of somewhat -disreputable, tumble-down wooden structures that faced the station. To -his right, on the other side of the freight shed, the railroad yard -had narrowed down to the station tracks and a single spur alongside the -shed. There was no one in sight in either direction. - -The Hawk's eyes strayed back to the paymaster's window. The station, -like its surrounding neighbours, was an old wooden building; and, being -low and only two-storied, the second-story window offered inviting -possibilities. From the sill of the lower window, a man who was at all -agile had the upper window at his mercy. Against this mode of attack, -however, was the risk of being seen by any one who might pass along -the street, or by any one who might chance upon the end of the station -platform. - -“What's the use!” decided the Hawk, with an abrupt shrug of his -shoulders. “Play safe. There's a better way.” - -The Hawk crept across the driveway, reached the street side of the -station, peered cautiously around the corner of the building, and, -satisfied that he was unobserved, edged down along the building for -a short distance, paused in a doorway, glanced quickly about him -again—and then the door opened and closed, and he was standing in a -murky passageway, that was lighted only by a single incandescent far -back by a stair well. - -He stood motionless, listening. From above, through the stillness, came -the faint drumming of a telegraph key. There should be no one upstairs -now but the dispatcher, whose room was at the opposite end of the -building from the paymaster's office—and, possibly, with the -dispatcher, a call boy or two. And the hallway above, he could see, was -dark. - -Moving stealthily forward, as noiseless as a cat in his tread, the Hawk -took a mask from his pocket, slipped it over his face, and began to -mount the stairs. He gained the landing—and halted again. It was pitch -black here, since even the door of the dispatcher's room, where there -would be a light, was closed. - -And then once more the Hawk moved forward—and an instant later, the -paymaster's door at the extreme end of the corridor, under the deft -persuasion of his skeleton keys, had closed behind him. - -It was not quite so dark here. The lights from the platform and the yard -filtered in through the window in a filmy sort of way; but it was too -dark to distinguish objects in anything more than grotesque, shapeless -outlines. - -The Hawk produced his flashlight, and turned it upon the lock he had -just picked. It was a spring lock, opened readily from the inside by the -mere turning of the doorhandle. He tried it carefully, assuring himself -that it could not be opened from the corridor without a key—and then -his light swept around the room. It played in its circuit upon the -paymaster's flat-topped desk against the wall, and upon a large safe -in the corner, near the window, whose polished nickel dial sent back -an answering flash under the darting ray; but the Hawk, for the moment, -appeared to be interested in neither desk nor safe. The flashlight was -holding in a kind of dogged inquisitiveness upon another door close to -the window, and directly opposite the safe. - -He stepped without a sound across the room, and, reaching this door, -snapped off his flashlight. He tried the door cautiously, found it -unlocked, and very softly opened it the space of an inch. He listened -attentively. There was no sound. He pushed the door open, switched on -his flashlight again, and stepped through the doorway. It appeared to be -a clerks' office—for the paymaster's staff, presumably. The Hawk -seemed to possess a peculiar penchant for doors. The only thing in the -room that apparently held any interest for him now was the door that -opened, like the paymaster's, upon the corridor. He slipped quickly -across the room, and, as before, examined the lock. Like the other, it -was a spring lock; and, like the other, he tested it to make sure it was -locked on the outside. - -“Ten thousand dollars,” confided the Hawk to the lock, “isn't to -be picked up every night; and we can't afford to take any chances, you -know.” - -He began to retrace his steps toward the paymaster's office, but now, -obviously, with more attention to the details of his surroundings, for -his flashlight kept dancing quick, jerky flashes in all directions about -him. - -“Ah!” The exclamation, low-breathed, came suddenly. “I thought -there ought to be something like this around here!” - -From, beside a desk, he stooped and picked up an empty pay satchel; -then, returning at once to the other office, but leaving the connecting -door just ajar, he dropped the pay bag in front of the safe, and went -silently over to the desk—a mouse running across the floor would have -made more commotion than the Hawk had made since his entry into the -station. - -“... Upper drawer, left side,” he muttered, “Locked, of -course—ah!” A tiny key, selected from its fellow outlaws, was -inserted in the lock—and the Hawk pulled out the drawer, and began to -rummage through its contents. - -From the back of the drawer, after perhaps a minute's search, he -picked up a card, and with a nod of satisfaction began to study it. - -“'Left—two right; eighty-seven, one quarter—left; three... -'” The Hawk's eyes travelled swiftly over the combination. He -read it over again, “Thank you!” murmured the Hawk whimsically—and -dropped the card back in the drawer, and locked the drawer. - -A moment more, and the white beam of the flashlight was playing on the -face of the safe, and the silence of the room was broken by the faint, -musical, metallic whirring of the dial. Bent forward, a crouching form -in the darkness, the Hawk worked swiftly, a sure, deft accuracy in every -movement of his fingers. With a low thud, as he turned the handle, the -heavy bolt shot back in its grooves, and the ponderous door swung open. -And now the flashlight's ray flooded the interior of the safe, and the -Hawk laughed low—before him, lying on the bottom of the safe, neatly -banded as they had come from the bank, were a dozen or fifteen little -packages of banknotes. - -The Hawk dropped on his knees, and reached for the pay bag. Ten thousand -dollars was not so bulky, after all—if the denominations of the -notes were large enough. He riffled one package through his -fingers—twenties! Gold, yellow-back twenties! - -There was a sort of beatific smile on the Hawk's lips. He dropped the -package into the bag. - -Tens, and twenties, and fives—the light, in a curiously caressing way, -was lingering on the little fortune as it lay there on the bottom of the -safe. There was only a pile or two of ones, and the rest was—what was -that! - -The smile vanished from the Hawk's lips, and, in a rigid, tense, -strained attitude, he hung there, motionless. What was that—that dull, -rasping, sound! It was like some one clawing at the wall outside. The -window! - -With a single motion, as though stirred to life by some galvanic shock, -the Hawk's hand shot out and swept the packages of banknotes into the -bag. He snapped off his flashlight. The room was in darkness. - -That sound again! And now a creak! The window was being opened. -Something black was bulking there on the sill outside—and something -queerly white, a man's face, was pressed against the pane, peering in. - -The Hawk glanced sharply around him. Inch by inch he was pushing the -safe door shut. He could not reach the door leading to the clerks' -office, for he would have to pass by the window, and—he shrank back -quickly, the safe door closed but still unlocked, and crouched low in -the corner against the wall. The window slid up to the top, and with a -soft pad, like some animal alighting on the floor, the man had sprung -into the room. - -The Hawk's fingers crept into his pocket and out again, tight-closed -now upon an automatic pistol. The other's flashlight winked, went out, -then shot across the room, locating the desk—and once more all was -darkness. - -There was not a sound now, save the short, hurried breathing of the -other, panting from the exertion of his climb. Then the man's step -squeaked faintly crossing the room—and the Hawk, a few inches at a -time, began to edge along the wall away from the neighbourhood of the -safe. - -Then the man's flashlight gleamed again, lighting up the top of the -desk. There was a sharp, ripping sound, as of the tearing of wood under -pressure, and the upper drawer, forced open by a steel jimmy, was pulled -out. - -“Birds of a feather!” said the Hawk grimly to himself. “Number -One, of the Wire Devils! I didn't beat him to it by as much margin as -I thought I would!” - -The Hawk shifted his automatic to the hand that was clutching the pay -bag, and, with the other hand, began to feel in wide sweeps over the -wall above his head. The electric-light switch, he had noticed in that -first quick glance when he had entered the room, a glance that had -seemed to notice nothing, and yet in which nothing had escaped the -sharp, trained eyes, was somewhere about here. - -“Dangerous—for both of us—if it's seen outside,” communed the -Hawk with himself again. “But when he finds the safe unlocked, and the -goods gone, there'll be trouble. If he gets a flashlight on me, he's -got me where he wants me. Ah—here it is!” The Hawk's fingers -touched the switch. He lowered the pay bag cautiously to the floor -between his feet, his automatic free in his hand again. - -There was a rustling of papers in the drawer; then the man's hand, -holding a card, was outlined as though thrown upon a screen, as, with -his other hand, he focused his flashlight upon it. Then the flashlight -swung an arc over the opposite wall, and pointed a pathway to the safe, -as the man turned abruptly and stepped back across the room. - -The Hawk, one hand raised to the switch on the wall, his automatic -outflung a little in the other, tense, like an animal in leash, watched -the other's movements. - -The dark-outlined form was in shadowy relief against the light, that -played now upon the glistening knob and dial of the safe. The man gave -a preliminary, tentative twist at the handle. Came a quick, dismayed, -hissing sound, like the sharp intake of 'breath. The safe door was -wrenched open with a jerk. There was a low, angry cry now. The man -sprang back, and as though involuntarily, in a sort of uncertain, -panic-struck search, his flashlight shot along the wall—and fell full -upon the Hawk. - -The Hawk's finger pressed the switch. The room was ablaze with -light. With a startled, furious oath, the man's hand was sweeping -significantly toward his pocket. - -“No, you don't!” snarled the Hawk, covering the other. “No, you -don't! Cut that out!” His eyes, behind the mask, narrowed suddenly. -“Hello!” he sneered. “It's 'Butcher' Rose—I might have -known from the way you opened that drawer!” - -It was a moment before the man answered. - -“Blast you!” he whispered finally. “You gave me a bit of a start, -you did! I thought at first you were a 'bull'.” His eyes fastened -on the pay bag at the Hawk's feet. The top gaped open, disclosing the -banknotes inside. The man raised his eyes to the Hawk's, and a cunning -look came over his thin, hatchet-like face. “Caught with the goods -this time, eh?” he jerked out. - -The Hawk smiled unpleasantly. - -“Yes,” he said. “The nest's empty. What is it they used to tell -us in the nursery?—it's the early bird that grabs the worm. How long -you been out in these parts, Butcher?” - -“Look here,” said the Butcher ingratiatingly, ignoring the question, -“I guess it's a case of split—eh?” - -“You've got a nerve!” ejaculated the Hawk coolly. - -“Well, put that light out, then, and we'll talk it over,” -suggested the Butcher. “If it's seen from outside, we'll both get -caught.” - -“I'd rather take a chance on that, than a chance on you,” replied -the Hawk curtly. “There's nothing to talk over. I've got the coin, -and you've got a frost—all you've got to do now is beat it.” - -Sharp, little, black, ferret eyes the Butcher had, and they roamed -around the room now in an apparently aimless fashion—only to come back -and fix hungrily on the bag of banknotes again. A sullen look came into -his face, and the jaw muscles twitched ominously. - -“So you're the Hawk they're talking about, eh?” he said, trying -to speak smoothly. “Well, there's no use of us quarrelling. If you -know me, we must be old pals. Take off that mask, and let's have a -look at you. There ain't any reason why we can't be pals again.” - -“Nix!” said the Hawk softly. “Nothing doing, Butcher! It suits me -pretty well the way it is. I've made it a rule all my life to play a -lone hand, and the more I see of the raw work that guys like you try to -get away with, the more I pat myself on the back. Savvy? Why, say, -even a drag-worker on Canal Street wouldn't show his face to a -self-respecting crook for a month, he'd be so ashamed, if he took a -crowbar to a desk drawer the way you did, you poor boob!” - -The Butcher's face flushed, and he scowled. - -“You're looking for trouble, ain't you!” he said hoarsely. -“Well, mabbe you'll get it—and mabbe you'll get more than -you're looking for. How'd you get wise to this game to-night?” - -“It's the way I make my living—getting wise. How'd you -suppose?” queried the Hawk insolently. - -The Butcher was chewing at his lips angrily; his eyes, closed to slits, -searched the Hawk's masked face. - -“This is the second time!” he said, between his teeth. “You -pinched that necklace, and——” - -“O-ho!” exclaimed the Hawk, with a grin. “So you were after that, -too, were you?” - -The Butcher's flush deepened. - -“That's none of your damned business!” he gritted. “And if I -thought——” He bit his lips quickly. - -“Go on!” invited the Hawk sweetly. “Don't mind me. If you -thought—what?” - -“You've had the luck with you,” mumbled the Butcher, half to -himself. “It can't be anything else, there's no chance of a leak. -But I'm going to tell you something—your luck's going to get a -hole kicked in it. I'll tell you something more. There's a few of us -that have picked out this little stamping ground for ourselves, and we -ain't fond of trespassers. Get that? It ain't going to be healthy -for you to linger around here over more than one train!” - -“Are the rest of 'em all like you?” inquired the Hawk maliciously. - -“You'll find out quicker than you'll want to, perhaps!” the -Butcher retorted furiously. - -“All right!” said the Hawk. “And now I'll tell you a little -something. I don't know who are in this gang of yours, but you might -take them a little message from me. If they're finding it crowded out -here, they'd better move on to somewhere where competition isn't so -likely to put them out of business through lack of brains, because -I'm kind of figuring on hanging around until it gets time to open -my château down at Palm Beach and stick my feet up on the sofa for a -well-earned rest. Do you stumble to that? And”—the Hawk was drawling -now—“I might say, Butcher, that I don't like you. My fingers are -crossed on that trespassing gag. It don't go! I don't scare for -any half-baked outfit of near-crooks! I stick here as long as there's -anything worth sticking for.” - -The Butcher's eyes seemed to be fascinated by the pay bag—they were -on it again. He choked a little, swallowing hard; and, attempting a -change of front, forced a smile. - -“Well, don't get sore!” he said, in a whining tone. “Mabbe I was -only trying to chuck a bluff, and got called. But, say, how'd you like -to break in here to-night like I did, and find another fellow'd got -all the swag? Say, it's damned rough, ain't it? Say, it's fierce! -And, look here, I'm in on it now, anyhow. I know who took it. I'm -going to keep my mouth shut, ain't I? You ain't going to leave me -out in the cold, are you? All I ask is a split.” - -“It's not much!” said the Hawk, in a velvet voice. “It hardly -seems enough. You're too modest, Butcher. Why don't you ask for the -whole of it? You might as well—you'd stand just as much chance of -getting it!” - -The smile faded from the Butcher's lips, and his face became contorted -with rage again. He raised his fist and shook it at the Hawk. He cursed -in abandon, his lips livid, beside himself with passion. - -“You'll get yours for this!” He choked, in his fury, over his -words. “You think you're slick! I'll show you what you're up -against inside of twenty-four hours! You'll crawl for this, d'ye -hear, blast you—you'll crawl!—you'll——” - -The Hawk's automatic, dangling nonchalantly in his hand, swung -suddenly upward to a level with the other's eyes. - -“That's enough, you cheap skate!”—there was a cold, menacing -ring in the Hawk's voice now. “I've heard enough from you. You and -your hot-air crowd of moth-eaten lags! If you, or any of you, run foul -of me again, you won't get off so easy! Tell 'em that! Tell 'em -the Hawk said so! And you beat it! And beat it—now!” He caught up -the pay bag, and advanced a step. - -The Butcher retreated sullenly. - -“Get out of that window!” ordered the Hawk evenly. “And take a -last tip from me. If you try to plant me, if you let a peep out of you -while I'm making my own getaway, I'll get you for it, Butcher, if -it's the last thing I ever do. Go on, now! Step quicker!” - -Still sullenly, mumbling, his mouth working, the Butcher retreated -backward toward the window. The Hawk, his lips like a thin straight line -just showing under the mask, followed grimly, step by step. And then, -suddenly, both men halted, and their eyes met and held each other's in -a long tense gaze. - -From outside in the corridor came the sound of voices and footsteps. The -footsteps drew nearer; the voices grew louder. The Hawk shot a glance -toward the door. He drew in his breath sharply. No, there was -no fanlight, the light would not show in the hall. That was the -superintendent's voice. That letter Lanson was going to send down on -No. 8! The other, probably, was MacVightie. Yes; it was MacVightie—he -caught the detective's gruff tones now. The door on the opposite side -of the corridor from the paymaster's room opened. - -The Butcher licked his lips. - -“Me for the window, and for it quick!” he muttered under his breath. - -He turned, and, his back to the Hawk now, tiptoed to the window, turned -again sideways, as though to throw one leg over the sill—and his right -hand, hidden, suddenly lifted the side of his coat. - -It came quick, quick as the winking of an eye. Racketing through room -and building, like the detonation of a cannon in the silence, came the -roar of a revolver shot, as the Butcher fired through his coat pocket. -Mechanically, the Hawk staggered backward; and then, the quick, keen -brain working like lightning, he reeled, dropped the pay bag, and -clutched wildly at his side. He was not hit. The Butcher had missed. So -that was the man's game! Clever enough! They'd break in here at the -sound of the shot, and find him dead or wounded on the floor! - -The Butcher, a devil's triumph in his face now, came leaping back from -the window, and, stooping, snatched at the pay bag. - -“I'd put another in you to make sure,” whispered the Butcher -fiercely; “only they'll get you anyway, you——” - -The Hawk straightened, his arm streaked outward from his side, his -pistol butt crashed on the Butcher's skull, and he was upon the other -like a flash, his free hand at the Butcher's throat. - -From the room opposite came startled cries; across the corridor came the -rush of feet—then the doorhandle was tried, the door shaken violently. - -The Butcher was struggling but feebly, making only a pitiful effort to -loosen the Hawk's clutch upon his throat, hanging almost limply in the -Hawk's arms, half dazed by the blow upon his head. White to the lips -with passion, the Hawk whipped his hand into the other's pocket, -whipped out the other's revolver, and flung the man away from him. -And then, as the Butcher reeled and lurched backward to the window, and, -clawing frantically at the sill, attempted to work his way out, the Hawk -ran silently back, picked up the pay bag, and, jumping to the window -again, caught the Butcher roughly by the collar of the coat. - -The Butcher, white, haggard-faced with fear, moaned. - -“For God's sake!” he pleaded piteously. “Let me go! Let me go! -For God's sake, let me go—they'll get me!” - -There was a terrific crash upon the door, as of some heavy body hurled -against it. The Hawk laughed mirthlessly. - -“If I let you go, you'd break your neck!”—the Hawk's words -were coming through clenched teeth. “Don't worry, Butcher! They'll -not get you. I don't want them to get you. I want to get you myself -for this. Some day, Butcher, some day I'll do the getting!” He -pushed the Butcher's feet over the sill. “Feel with your toes for -the window casing beneath! Quick!” He leaned out, gripping at the -Butcher's collar, lowering the man—his lips were close against the -Butcher's ear. “Some day—for this—you yellow cur—you and me, -Butcher—remember—some day!” - -A crash again upon the door! The Butcher's feet were on the lower -sill; but here the man lost his hold, and toppled to the ground. The -Hawk glanced backward into the room. The door was yielding now. He -looked out of the window again. The Butcher had regained his feet, and -was swaying against the wall, holding to it, making his way slowly, -weakly toward the corner. - -The Hawk threw one leg over the sill. With a rip and tear, the door -smashed inward, sagging from its lower hinge. Came a hoarse yell. -MacVightie was plunging through the doorway. - -Instantly the Hawk, hugging the pay bag, drew back his leg, and dove -into the clerk's room through the door which he had left ajar. There -would have been no use in letting the Butcher go at all if he led the -chase through the window—the man was barely crawling away. Across the -room, light enough now from the open doorway behind him to point the -way, raced the Hawk. He reached the corridor door, as MacVightie lunged -through the connecting door in pursuit. - -MacVightie's voice rose in a bellow of warning: - -“Look out there, Lanson! The next door—quick!” - -But the Hawk was the quicker. He tore the door open, and dashed through, -just eluding the superintendent and another man—the dispatcher -probably, attracted by the row—as they sprang forward from the -paymaster's door. - -Running like a deer, the Hawk made for the stairway. It was lighter now -in the hall. The dispatcher's door along at the farther end was open. -At the head of the stairs, a call boy, wide-eyed, gaped, openmouthed. -The Hawk brushed the boy aside incontinently, and, taking the stairs -three and four at a time, leaped downward, MacVightie's bull-like -roar echoing behind him, the top stairs creaking under the detective's -rush. - -The street door opened outward, and as the Hawk reached it, and, -wrenching at the knob, pushed it open, there was a flash, the report of -a revolver shot—and, with a venomous spat, the bullet buried itself in -the door jamb, not an inch from his head, it seemed, for the wind of the -bullet was on his cheek. - -Cries sounded now from the railroad yard; but the street in front of -him, deserted, was still undisturbed. He was across it in a twinkling, -and, passing the saloon that was now closed, darted into the lane. - -He flung a glance over his shoulder—and his lips set hard. MacVightie, -big man though he was, was no mean antagonist in a race. The detective, -quicker in initiative, quicker on his feet, had outdistanced both Lanson -and the dispatcher, and was already halfway across the street. - -Again MacVightie fired. - -On the Hawk ran. If he could reach the next corner—providing there was -no one about the street—there was a way, a risky way, but still a -way, his best chance of escape. The cheap combination lodging house and -saloon, that was just around the corner, was where he had a room. -Yes, it was his one chance! He must get to cover somewhere without an -instant's delay. With MacVightie firing now, emptying his revolver up -the lane, with the yells and shouts growing constantly in volume from -farther back toward the station, it was only a question of minutes -before the whole neighbourhood would be aroused. - -Again he glanced behind him. It was very dark in the lane. He was -grimly conscious that it was the blackness, and not MacVightie's poor -marksmanship, that had saved him so far. That flash of the other's -revolver was perhaps fifty yards away. He had gained a little, then! If -there was any one around the corner, the plan of reaching his room would -not serve him, and he would still have to run for it. Well, he would see -in an instant—it was only two yards more—a yard—now! - -Without slackening his pace, at top speed he swung from the lane—and, -with a gasp of relief at sight of an empty street, slipped into a -doorway just beyond the now dark entrance to a saloon that occupied most -of the ground floor of a dirty and squalid three-story building. - -The door gave on a narrow flight of stairs, and up these the Hawk sprang -swiftly and with scarcely a sound. And now, as he ran, he pulled his -mask from his face and thrust it into the pay bag; a pocket-book from -his inside coat pocket followed the mask, and, with the pocketbook, the -flashlight, and the two pistols, his own and the Butcher's. He opened -a door at the head of the landing, and stepped into a room, leaving the -door partly open. - -He was not safe yet—far from it! He did not under-estimate MacVightie. -It would be obvious to MacVightie that he was not far enough ahead to -have disappeared in any but one way—into some building within a very -few yards of the lane! And the presumption, at least, would be that this -was the one. - -The Hawk worked now with almost incredible speed. He switched on the -light, ran to the window that opened on the rear of the building, felt -with one hand along the sill outside, lifted the pay bag out of the -window, let go of it, and turned instantly back into the room. He -hung up his hat on a wall peg, and tearing off his jacket, flung it -haphazardly upon the bed. There was a small table against the wall near -the foot of the bed. The Hawk opened a drawer, snatched up a pack of -cards, and sat down at the table. - -The street door opened and closed. A quick, heavy tread sounded on the -stairs. - -In his shirt sleeves, his back to the door, the Hawk was coolly playing -solitaire. - -“I guess I'd better be smoking,” murmured the Hawk. “Maybe I'm -breathing a little hard.” - -He picked up a pipe from the table, lighted a match—and, half the deck -of cards in one hand, the lighted match in the other, swung around in -his chair with a startled jerk. - -The door slammed back against the wall. MacVightie had unceremoniously -kicked it wide open. MacVightie was standing on the threshold. - -The Hawk, in a sort of surprised gasp, sucked the flame of the match -down into the bowl of his pipe, and stared at MacVightie through a -curtain of tobacco smoke. The detective's eyes travelled sharply from -the Hawk around the room, came back to the Hawk, narrowed, and, stepping -into the room, he shut the door with equal lack of ceremony behind him. - -“Say, you got a gall!” ejaculated the Hawk. - -“You bet your life I have!” flung out MacVightie. “Now then, my -bucko, what are you doing, here?” - -“Say,” said the Hawk, as though obsessed with but a single idea, -“say, you got a gall! You got a gall, busting into a fellow's room -and asking him what he's doing there! Say, maybe you might answer the -same question yourself—eh? What are you doing here?” - -“Your room, is it?” snapped MacVightie. - -“Sure it's my room!” replied the Hawk, a little tartly. - -“How long you been here?” - -“'Bout a week”—the Hawk was growing ungracious. - -“Boarding here?” - -“Yes.” - -“Where'd you come from?” MacVightie was clipping off his words. -“What do you do for a living?” - -“Say,” said the Hawk politely, “you go to hell!” - -MacVightie stepped forward toward the Hawk, with an ominous scowl; and, -throwing back the lapel of his coat, tapped grimly with his forefinger -on a shield that decorated his vest. - -The Hawk whistled low. - -“O-ho!” said the Hawk, with sudden cordiality. “Well, why didn't -you say so before?” - -“I'm saying it now!” snarled MacVightie. “Well, where do you -come from?” - -“Chicago,” said the Hawk. - -“What's your business?”—MacVightie's eyes were roving sharply -again around the room. - -“Barkeep—when I can get a job,” answered the Hawk; and then, -insinuatingly: “And, say, I'm looking for one now, and if you can -put me on to anything I'd——” - -“I guess you've got to show me!” growled Mac-Vightie, -uncompromisingly. - -“Look here,” ventured the Hawk, “what's up?” - -“I'm waiting!” prompted MacVightie significantly. - -“Oh, all right!” The Hawk flared up a little. “If you love your -grouch, keep on hugging it tight!” He jerked his hand toward the coat -that was lying on the bed. “I must have lost the letter the pastor of -my church gave me, but there's a couple there from the guys back in -Chicago that I worked for, and there's my union card with them. Help -yourself!” - -MacVightie picked up the coat brusquely, shoved his hand into the inside -pocket, brought out several letters, and began to read them. - -The Hawk shuffled the half deck of cards in his hand monotonously. - -There was a puzzled frown on MacVightie's face, as he finally tossed -the letters down on the bed. - -“Satisfied?” inquired the Hawk pleasantly. - -MacVightie's frown deepened. - -“Yes, as far as that goes,” he said tersely; and then, evenly, his -eyes boring into the Hawk: “About five minutes ago a man ran into this -house from the street. What's become of him?” - -The Hawk started in amazement—and slowly shook his head. - -“I guess you've got the wrong dope, ain't you?” he suggested -earnestly. - -“Don't try that game!” cautioned MacVightie grimly. “And don't -lie! He had to come up these stairs, your door was partly open, and he -couldn't have passed without you knowing it.” - -“That's what I'm saying,” agreed the Hawk, even more earnestly. -“That's why I'm saying you must have got the wrong dope. Of -course, he couldn't have got by without me hearing him! That's a -cinch! And, I'm telling you straight, he didn't.” - -“Didn't he?” MacVightie's smile was thin. “Then he came in -here—into this room.” - -“In here?” echoed the Hawk weakly. His gaze wandered helplessly -around the room. “Well, all you've got to do is look.” - -“I'm going to!” announced MacVightie curtly—and with a sudden -jerk he yanked the single bed out from the wall. He peered behind and -beneath it; then, stepping over to a cretonne curtain in the corner that -served as wardrobe, he pulled it roughly aside. - -There were no other places of possible concealment. MacVightie chewed at -his under lip, and eyed the Hawk speculatively. - -The Hawk's eyes were still travelling bewilderedly about the room, as -though he still expected to find something. - -“Are you dead sure he came into this house,” he inquired heavily, as -though the problem were entirely beyond him. - -MacVightie hesitated. - -“Well—no,” he acknowledged, after a moment. “I guess you're -straight all right, and I'll admit I didn't see him come in; but -I'd have pretty near taken an oath on it.” - -“Then I guess he must have ducked somewhere else,” submitted the -Hawk sapiently. “There wasn't no one went by that door—I'm -giving it to you on the level.” - -MacVightie's reluctant smile was a wry grimace. - -“Yes, I reckon it's my mistake.” His voice lost its snarl, and his -fingers groped down into his vest pocket. “Here, have a cigar,” he -invited placatingly. - -“Why, say—thanks”—the Hawk beamed radiantly. “Say, I——” - -“All right, young fellow”—with a wave of his hand, MacVightie -moved to the door. “All right, young fellow. No harm done, eh? -Good-night!” - -The door closed. The footsteps without grew fainter, and died away. - -The Hawk, staring at the door, apostrophised the doorknob. - -“Well, say, what do you know about that!” he said numbly. “I -wonder what's up?” - -He rose from his chair after a moment as though moved by a sort of -subconscious impulse, mechanically pushed his bed back against the wall, -and returned to his chair. - -He dug out his pipe abstractedly, filled it, and lighted it. He gathered -up the cards, shuffled them, and began to lay them out again on the -table—and paused, and drummed with his fingers on the table top. - -“They're after some guy that's ducked his nut somewhere around -here,” he decided aloud. “I wonder what's up?” - -The Hawk spread out his remaining cards—and swept them away from him -into an indiscriminate heap. - -“Aw, to blazes with cards!” he ejaculated impatiently. - -He put his feet up on the table, and sucked steadily at his pipe. - -“It's a cinch he never went by that door,” the Hawk assured the -toe of his boot. “I guess he handed that 'bull' one, all right, -all right.” - -The minutes passed. The Hawk, engrossed, continued to suck on his pipe. -Then from far down the stairs there came a faint creak, and an instant -later the outer door closed softly. - -The Hawk's feet came down from the table, and the Hawk -smiled—grimly. - -“Tut, tut!” chided the Hawk. “That treadmill diminuendo on the top -step and the keyhole stunt is pretty raw, Mr. MacVightie—pretty raw! -You forgot the front door, Mr. MacVightie—I don't seem to remember -having heard it open or close until just now!” - -The back of the Hawk's chair, as he pushed it well away from the -table and stood up, curiously enough now intercepted itself between -the keyhole and the interior of the room. He stepped to the door, and -slipped the bolt quietly into place; then, going to the window, he -reached out, and, from where it hung upon a nail driven into the sill, -picked up the pay bag. - -“That's a pretty old gag, too,” observed the Hawk almost -apologetically. “I was lucky to get by with it.” - -The Hawk's attention was now directed to his trunk, that was between -the table and the foot of the bed. He lifted the lid back against the -wall, and removed an ingeniously fashioned false top, in the shape of -a tray, that fitted innocently into the curvature of the lid. The Hawk -stared at a magnificent diamond necklace that glittered and gleamed on -the bottom of the tray, as its thousand facets caught the light—and -grinned. - -“If you'd only known, eh—Mr. MacVightie!” he murmured. - -From the pay bag the Hawk took out the packages of banknotes, the -flashlight, the mask, the two pistols, and packed them neatly away in -the tray. The only article left in the bag was his pocketbook. He opened -this, disclosing a number of crisp, new ten-dollar bills. He held one of -them up to the light for a moment, studying it admiringly. - -“I guess these won't be much more good around here, according to -that little conversation between MacVightie and the superintendent,” -he muttered—and, with a shrug of his shoulders, tossed the entire -number into the tray. - -He fitted the false top back into the lid, and closed the trunk. There -remained the empty pay bag. He frowned at it for an instant; then, -picking it up, he tucked it under the mattress of his bed. - -“I'll get rid of that in the morning”—he nodded his head, as he -turned down the bed covers. - -The Hawk began to undress, and at intervals voiced snatches of his -thoughts aloud. - -“Pretty close shave,” said the Hawk, “pretty close.... Ten -thousand dollars is some haul.... All right as long as they don't find -out I've got the key to their cipher.... And so Butcher Rose is one -of the gang, eh?... Number One—Butcher Rose.... Guess he got away -all right—from MacVightie.... He nearly did me.... Pretty close -shave....” - -The Hawk turned out the light, and got into bed. - -“I guess I played in luck to-night,” said the Hawk softly, and for -the second time that night. “Yes, I guess I did.” - - - - -IV—AT BALD CREEK STATION - -IT was twenty-four hours later. A half mile away, along a road that -showed like a grey thread in the night, twinkled a few lights from the -little cluster of houses that made the town of Bald Creek. At the rear -of the station itself, in the shadow of the walls, it was inky black. - -There was stillness! Then the chattering of a telegraph -instrument—and, coincident with this, low, scarcely audible, a sound -like the gnawing of a rat. - -The chattering of the instrument ceased; and, coincident again, the low, -gnawing sound ceased—and, crouched against a rear window, the Hawk -chuckled a little grimly to himself. Within, and diagonally across from -the window, an otherwise dark interior was traversed by a dull ray -of light that filtered in through the open connecting door of the -operator's room beyond. Inside there were Lan-son, the division -superintendent, and Martin, the trusted Bald Creek operator; while at -any minute now, MacVightie would be up on No. 12. They were preparing -to spring their trap for the Wire Devils to-night! The Hawk was quite -well-informed on this point, for the very simple reason that the Hawk -himself had not been entirely idle during those twenty-four hours that -were just past! - -Again the sounder broke into a splutter; but this time the gnawing sound -was not resumed—the window fastenings were loosened now. - -Came then the distant rumble of an approaching train; the rumble -deepening into a roar; the roar disintegrating itself into its component -sounds, the wheel trucks beating at the rail joints, the bark of the -exhaust; then the scream of the brakeshoes biting at the wheel tires; -the hiss of steam—and in the mimic pandemonium, the Hawk raised the -window, and crawled in over the sill. - -And again the Hawk chuckled to himself. Up and down the line to-night, -at all stations where there were no night operators, the road's -detectives, stood guard over the telegraph instruments. It had been -MacVightie's plan, originated the night before. It was very clever of -MacVightie—if somewhat abortive! Also, quite irrelevant of course, and -quite apart from that little matter of ten thousand dollars which he, -the Hawk, had taken from the paymaster's safe last night, MacVightie -to-night was likely to be in no very pleasant mood! - -The engine without, blowing from a full head of steam, drowned out all -other sounds. The Hawk picked his way across the room to a position near -the connecting door, and composedly seated himself upon the floor behind -a number of piled-up boxes and parcels. With a grin of acknowledgment to -the escaping steam, he coolly moved two of the parcels a few inches to -right and left, thus providing himself with an excellent view into -the operator's room. From one pocket he took an exceedingly small -flashlight, and from another a notebook, and from his hip pocket his -automatic pistol. This latter he transferred to his right-hand coat -pocket. Bunching the bottom of his coat over his hand, he flashed on the -tiny ray, found a convenient ledge formed by one of the boxes, and upon -this laid down his notebook. The first page, as he opened the book, -contained a neatly drawn sketch of the interior of Bald Creek station. -He turned this over, leaving the book open at a blank page, and switched -off his light. - -The door from the platform opened and closed, as the train pulled out -again, a man stepped into the operator's room—and in the darkness -the Hawk smiled appreciatively. It was MacVightie, and Mac-Vightie's -thin lips were drawn tighter than usual, and the brim of the slouch hat, -though pulled far forward, did not hide the scowl upon MacVightie's -countenance. - -“Well, you're here all right, Lanson, eh?” he flung out brusquely. -“Nothing yet, by any chance, of course?” - -Lanson, from a chair at the operator's elbow, nodded a greeting. - -“Not yet,” he said. - -MacVightie was glancing sharply around him. - -“Martin,” he ordered abruptly, “close those two ticket wickets!” - -The operator rose obediently, and pulled down the little windows that -opened, one on each side of the office, on the men's and women's -waiting rooms. - -“What's that door there?” demanded MacVightie, pointing toward the -rear room. - -“Just a place I had partitioned off for stores and small express -stuff,” Martin answered. “There's no back entrance.” - -“All right, then,” said MacVightie. He pulled up a chair for himself -on the other side of the operator, as Martin returned to his seat. -“You know what you're here for, Martin—what you've to do? Mr. -Lanson has told you?” - -“Yes,” Martin replied. “I'm to test out for east or west, if -there's any of that monkeying on the wire to-night.” - -“Show me how it's done,” directed MacVightie tersely. . - -The operator reached over to the switchboard and picked up a key-plug. - -“I've only got to plug this in—here—or here. Those are my ground -wires east and west. The main batteries are west of us at Selkirk, you -know. If I ground out everything east, for instance, and he's working -to the east of us the sounder'll stop because I've cut him off from -the main batteries, and we'll hear nothing unless I adjust the relay -down to get the weak circuit from the local batteries. If he's working -west of us the sounder will be much stronger because the main batteries -at Selkirk, with the eastern half of the division cut out, will be -working on a shorter circuit.” - -“'T see.” MacVightie frowned. “And he'd know it—so Mr. -Lanson told me last night.” - -“Yes; he'd know it,” said Martin. “The same as we would.” - -“Well, you can do it pretty quick, can't you?” suggested -MacVightie. “Sort of accidentally like! We don't want to throw a -scare into him. You'd know almost instantly whether he was east or -west, wouldn't you? That's all that's necessary—to-night! Then -let him go ahead again. We'll have found out what we want to know.” -He turned to Lanson, his voice rasping suddenly. “Did you see the -Journal on the 'Crime Wave' this afternoon?” - -Lanson's alert, grey eyes took on an angry glint. “No; I didn't -see it, but I suppose it's the old story. I wish they'd cut it out! -It hurts the road, and it doesn't get them anywhere.” - -“Perhaps not,” said MacVightie, with a thin smile; “but it -gets me! Yes, it's about the same—all except the last of it. Big -headlines: 'Ten thousand dollars stolen from paymaster's safe last -night—What is being done to stop this reign of assassination, theft, -outrage, crime?—Has the clue afforded by the Hawk's release from -Sing Sing been thoroughly investigated?' And then a list of the crimes -committed in the last ten days—two murders, one in the compartment -of that sleeping car; the theft of the diamond necklace; the express -robbery; and so on through the list, ending up with last night. Then a -nasty shot at the local police; and, finally, prefacing the remark with -the statement that the crimes were all connected with the railroad, -a thinly veiled hint that I am either a boy on a man's job, or -else asleep, in either of which cases I ought to be—well, you -understand?” MacVightie's fist came down with a crash on the -operator's table. - -Lanson, with a worried look, nodded his head. - -“Damn it!” said MacVightie. “I——” He stopped abruptly, and -laid his hand on the operator's sleeve. “Look here, Martin,” he -said evenly, “you're the one man that Mr. Lanson has picked out of -the division, you're the one man outside of Mr. Lanson and myself who -has any inkling that these secret messages coming over our wires have -anything to do with these crimes—you understand that, don't you? -This is pretty serious business. The newspaper didn't exaggerate any. -We're up against a gang of crooks, cleverly organised, who will -stop at nothing. Murder appears to be a pastime with them! Do you get -me—Martin?” - -For a long second the two men looked each other steadily in the eyes. - -“Yes,” said Martin simply. - -“All right!” said MacVightie. “I just want you to realise the -necessity of keeping anything you may hear, or anything that may happen -here to-night, under your hat.” He turned to Lanson again, the scowl -heavy upon his face once more. “I was going to say that I know who the -man is that slipped through my fingers last night.” - -“You—what!” Lanson leaned sharply forward in his chair. “But he -got away! You said he——” - -“It was the Hawk”—MacVightie bit off the words. - -“The Hawk?” - -“The Hawk!” - -“But how do you know?” demanded Lanson incredulously. “You said -yourself that he had left no clue to his identity. How do you know?” -MacVightie reached into his pocket, took out his pocketbook, and from -the pocketbook passed a new, crisp ten-dollar banknote to Lanson. - -“What's this?” inquired Lanson. “The counterfeit ten-dollar bill -you showed me last night?” - -“No—another one,” MacVightie answered curtly. “Look on the other -side.” - -Lanson turned the banknote over, stared at it, and whistled suddenly -under his breath. - -“'With the compliments of the Hawk!'.rdquo; he read aloud. He -stared now at MacVightie. “Perhaps it's a fake, inspired by that -newspaper article yesterday evening,” he suggested. - -“It's no fake,” declared MacVightie grimly. “The Hawk wrote that -there all right—it was inside the pay bag in which the ten thousand -was carried away from the paymaster's office last night.” - -“You mean—you recovered the bag?” cried Lanson eagerly. “Where? -When?” - -The Hawk, watching MacVightie's face, grinned wickedly. MacVightie's -jaws were clamped belligerently, and upon MacVightie's cheeks was an -angry flush. - -“Oh, yes, I 'recovered' it!” MacVightie snapped. “He's -got his nerve with him! The bag was found reposing in full view on the -baggage counter at Selkirk this afternoon—addressed to me. Nobody -knows how it got there. But”—MacVightie's fist came down again -upon the operator's table—“this time he's overplayed his hand. -We knew he had been released from Sing Sing, and that he had come West, -but it was only surmise that he was actually around here—now we know. -In the second place, it's pretty good evidence that he's in with -the gang that's flooded the country with those counterfeit tens, and -you'll remember I told you last night I had a hunch it was the same -gang that was operating out here—well, two and two make four!” - -“You think he's——?” Lanson swept his hand suggestively toward -the telegraph instruments. - -“Yes—and the leader of 'em, now he's out here on the ground!” -returned MacVightie gruffly. - -The Hawk had taken a pencil from his pocket, and was scribbling -aimlessly at the top of the page in his notebook. - -“Sure!” confided the Hawk to himself. “I thought maybe you'd -dope it out like that.” - -There was silence for a moment in the office, save for the intermittent -clicking of the sounder, to which the Hawk now gave his attention. His -pencil still made aimless markings on the top of the page—it was only -routine business going over the wire. Then Lanson moved uncomfortably in -his chair, and the chair legs squeaked on the bare floor. - -MacVightie spoke again: - -“Well,” he said bluntly, “you've got all of my end of it, except -that I've placed men in hiding at every station on the line where -there are no night operators. What about you? Started your outside line -inspection?” - -“Yes,” Lanson answered. “I've had three men out with section -crews working from different points. But it's slow business making -an inspection that's careful enough to be of any use, and even then -it's a pretty tall order to call the turn on anything when there's -already so many legitimate splices and repairs on the wires.” - -“Well—any results?” asked MacVightie. - -Lanson shook his head. - -“We found what we thought was a new splice in one place, but it turned -out to have been made by one of our own men two weeks ago, only he had -forgotten to report it.” - -MacVightie's eyes narrowed. - -“One of our own men—eh?” he repeated curtly. “Who was it?” - -“Nothing doing there!” Lanson shook his head again, emphatically -this time. “It was Calhoun.” - -“Calhoun—eh?” observed MacVightie softly. - -Lanson bridled slightly. - -“What's the matter with Calhoun?” he inquired testily. “Got -anything against him?” - -“Never heard of him before,” said MacVightie, with a short laugh. -“But I'll take pains to make his acquaintance.” - -“Then you might as well spare yourself the trouble,” advised Lanson. -“I can tell you before-hand that he carries a good record on this -division, and that he's one of the best linemen we've got.” - -“I daresay,” admitted MacVightie coolly. “But amongst other things -we're looking for good linemen to-night—who forget to make reports. -You needn't get touchy, Lanson, because one of your men's names -comes up. You can make up your mind to it there's an inside end to -this, and——” - -The tiny ray of the Hawk's flashlight shot suddenly upon the -notebook's open page, as the sounder broke into a sharp tattoo. - -“;wtaz'—stroke at four,” he muttered, as he began to -write. “Three—one—two. They've changed the code -to-night—'qxpetlk——'” - -There was a sharp exclamation from the other room. - -“Listen! There he is now!” Martin cried. Chairs were pushed -back—the three men were on their feet. - -“What's he sending?” questioned MacVightie instantly. - -The Hawk scowled at the disturbance, as, over their voices, he -concentrated his attention upon the sounder. He wrote steadily on: - -“... huwkmuh hdtlqgvh... - -“Same as usual,” Martin replied. “Just a jumble of letters.” - -“Well then, get ready to throw that ground, or whatever you call it, -into him!” ordered MacVightie tensely. - -“I'm ready,” said Martin. - -“All right then—now!” - -The Hawk nodded to himself, as his pencil unflaggingly noted down letter -after letter. The sounder was very perceptibly stronger. - -“West!” Martin cried out. “You noticed the difference in -strength, didn't you? He's somewhere between here and Selkirk. -That's——” - -The sounder had suddenly ceased. - -“But he's stopped,” said MacVightie; “and you said if he -stopped——” - -“That's nothing to do with it!” Martin interposed hurriedly. -“The wire isn't grounded now.” - -“He's taken to cover, I guess,” said Lanson. “I was afraid he -would scare, no matter how——” He broke off abruptly. “Wait! -What's that!” - -The sounder was clicking again; but the sharp, quick tattoo was gone, -and in its place, as though indeed it drawled, the sending came in -leisurely, deliberate fashion. - -The Hawk's pencil resumed its labours—and then, with a queer smile, -the Hawk scratched out what he had just written. It was no longer -code—it was in exceedingly plain English. - -Martin was reading directly from the sounder: - - -“'Try—that—game—just—once—more—and—the—division—goes—up— -in—the—air—and—a—train—or—two—maybe—to—a— -place—that—Mister—MacVightie—will—some—day—honour—with— -his—presence. That's—quite—plain—isn't—it? -If—you—think—this—is—a—bluff—call—it. -Now—keep—off—the—wire—or—have—it—cut. -Suit—yourselves.'.rdquo; - -“Well, of all the infernal nerve!” exploded MacVightie furiously. - -“And the worst of it,” said Lanson shortly, “is that he's got us -where he wants us!” - -Once more the sounder broke into the old quick tattoo. The Hawk was -writing steadily again. There was silence now between the three in the -office. - -A minute, two, three went by—the sounder ceased—the Hawk closed his -notebook. Then in its leisurely drawl the sounder broke again; and again -Martin read aloud: - -“'Pleasant—evening—isn't—it? -Ask—MacVightie—if—he—has—seen—anything—of—the—Hawk. -Good-night.'.rdquo; - -But this time there was only a menacing smile on MacVightie's lips. - -“He's west of here, you say?” he shot at Martin. “Yes,” said -Martin briefly. - -“And that splice of Calhoun's, Lanson? Where was that?” - -Lanson, drumming with his fingers on the edge of the operator's table, -looked up with a frown. - -“Nothing but coincidence,” he said tersely. “Yes, it was west of -here—pretty near Selkirk.” He moved toward the door. “There's -nothing more we can do here to-night. I'm going back on No. 17. -Let's get out on the platform until she shows up.” - -The Hawk very carefully replaced his notebook, his flashlight and his -pencil in his pockets, and, as MacVightie and the superintendent went -out of the door, he retreated softly back to the rear window. The window -being up, he quite as noiselessly slipped out over the sill. He debated -a moment about the window, and decided that if any significance were -attached to the fact that it was found open, MacVightie, for instance, -was fully entitled to make the most of the significance! Then, the -rattle of a wagon sounding from the direction of the road, the Hawk -moved along to the end of the station, and waited. - -The wagon, in the light of its own smoky oil lamps, proved to be the -town hotel bus. There were evidently other passengers for Selkirk -besides himself and the two officials, as several people alighted from -the bus. In view of this fact the Hawk calmly lighted a cigarette, -though the glow of the match exposed his face only to the blank wall of -the station, and walked around to the front platform. - -He located MacVightie and Lanson; and, thereafter, at a safe distance, -did not lose sight of them. MacVightie's memory for faces would hardly -be over-rated if credited with being able to bridge a matter of some -twenty-four hours, particularly as MacVightie had evidenced unusual -interest in the occupant of the room on the first landing over a -certain ill-favoured saloon the night before! The Hawk, therefore, was -unostentatiously attentive to MacVightie's movements; so much so that, -when No. 17 pulled in and MacVightie and Lanson boarded the chair car at -the rear of the train, the Hawk, when No. 17 pulled out, quite logically -boarded the smoking car at the forward end. - -The Hawk chose the most uncomfortable seat in the car—the rear -seat with stiff, upright, unyielding back, that was built against -the wash-room—and, settling himself down, produced his notebook and -pencil. The water-cooler could be quite confidentially trusted not to -peer over his shoulder! - -On the second page of the notebook—the first having been devoted to -the sketch of Bald Creek Station—-the Hawk, as he had taken it from -the sounder, had written this: - -“wtaz qxpetlkhu wkmuh hdtlq gvhmmpy hqltvd df rmnluvpo nfkhomovfdh -gvkerkmmawrq fljkwte dvsoedtdqqh mgfdoifk rxqkuvwruh gsruwmtdoo -ommtlqhvksol foghvklst rvrzqmqxpe mkhurqjkh hvdbfvkdzc mnvohrtpqg -hutzklwkj hkdqm mo g v pdlqlfxoq uhgpifthglxg pkhlmfj kwhttwb hv d p q -g kdrllu eomosdfnhta shqkjvlyhtg mwdlomruhgegf orwmpqk hvwtzrwk mmrxvddg -iqggrqo odusnvrx wmfkriu hkvhuymt hixqljtg wrqpxpeh houwkdmd gwsxws -vdexmuooh wtjqlqklmp” - -The Hawk tore out a page from the back of the notebook, and set down the -letters of the alphabet in a column. Opposite these he painstakingly set -down another column of letters. After that the Hawk worked slowly. It -was not quite so simple as it looked—not merely the substitution of -letters in a different order of rotation. Nor, apparently, from the -Hawk's observations as he muttered to himself, were all messages to -be deciphered alike—the code appeared to possess within itself an -elasticity for variation. - -“At four... key letter changed... stroke!” muttered the Hawk. -“N-u-m-b... pass three... e-r-t-h... stroke one....” - -The Hawk's notebook, closed, was reposing idly on the window ledge and -the Hawk was lighting another cigarette, as the conductor came down the -aisle. The Hawk presented the return stub of a ticket to Selkirk. -The conductor punched it, and passed on—and the Hawk picked up his -notebook again. - -Again he was interrupted—and again. The water-cooler, after all, was -not proving an unmixed blessing. It seemed as though every man in the -car were possessed of an inordinate thirst. They were well on toward -Selkirk when the Hawk finally completed the deciphering of the message. - -It now ran: - - - -0074 - -He arranged the scattered letters into words, and the words into -sentences: - -“Number Three and Seven Isaac Kir-schell('.s cash box to-night as -planned. Calhoun to report all line splices his own. Number One says -Hawk slender white hands, manicured, medium height, eyes and hair black, -expensive tailored clothes. Two thousand dollars out of reserve fund to -Number that puts a bullet in him.” - -The Hawk inspected his hands, and smiled whimsically. Number One was -the Butcher. He had not given the Butcher credit for being so observant! -Presently he stared out of the window. - -“Wonder how much of a haul I can make tonight?” he murmured. -“Regular El Dorado—having 'em work it all up and handing it to you -on a gold platter. Pretty soft! Hope they won't get discouraged and -quit picking the chestnuts out of the fire for me—while there's any -chestnuts left!” - -And then the Hawk frowned suddenly. The chestnuts appeared to be only -partially picked for him to-night. What was the game—as planned? -There must have been a previous message that had got by him. His frown -deepened. There was no way of remedying that. To hope to intercept them -all was to expect too much. There was no way whereby he could spend -twenty-four hours out of twenty-four in touch with a sounder. He -shrugged his shoulders philosophically after a moment. Perhaps it was -just as well. They credited him with playing a lone hand, believing -that his and their depredations were clashing with one another simply -by virtue of the fact that their mutual pursuits were of a competitive -criminal nature, that was all. If it happened with too much regularity, -they might begin to suspect that he had the key to their cipher, and -then—the Hawk did not care to contemplate that eventuality. There -would be no more chestnuts! - -The Hawk read the first part of the message over again. Who was Isaac -Kirschell? The name seemed to be familiar. The Hawk studied the toe of a -neatly-fitting and carefully polished shoe thoughtfully. When he looked -up again, he nodded. He remembered now. He had lunched the day before -in a restaurant that occupied a portion of the ground floor of an office -building, the corridor of which ran through from street to street. In -going out, he had passed along the corridor and had seen the name on the -door panels of two of the offices. - -He resumed the study of his boot toe. It was not a very vital matter. -A moment spent in consulting the city directory would have supplied the -information in any case. He nodded again. MacVightie was unquestionably -right. Some one on the inside, some railroader, and probably more than -one, was in on the game with the Wire Devils—and it was perhaps as -well for this Calhoun that MacVightie, already suspicious, was not -likewise possessed of the key to the cipher! Also, Lanson had been -right. It was no easy task to locate a new splice on a wire that was -already scarred with countless repairs. Still, if Lanson's men went at -it systematically and narrowed down the radius of operations, it was -not impossible that they might stumble upon a clue—if Calhoun did not -placidly inform them that it was but another of his own making! But even -then, granted that the wire was found to have been tapped in a certain -place one night, that was no reason why it should not, as Mr. MacVightie -had already suggested, be tapped fifty miles away the next! The Hawk -grinned. Mr. Lanson and his associates, backed even by Mr. MacVightie, -were confronted with a problem of considerable difficulty! - -“I wonder,” communed the Hawk with himself, “who's the spider -that spun the web; and I wonder how many little spiders he's got -running around on it?” - -He perused the message once more; but this time he appeared to be -concerned mainly with the latter portion. He read it over several times: -“Two thousand dollars to the Number that puts a bullet in him.” - -“Nobody seems to like me,” complained the Hawk softly. -“MacVightie. doesn't; and the Butcher's crowd seem peeved. Two -thousand dollars for my hide! I guess if I stick around here long enough -maybe it'll get exciting—for somebody!” - -The Hawk tore up the message, the sheet on which he had deciphered it, -the sketch of Bald Creek station, tore all three into small fragments, -opened the window a little, and let the pieces flutter out into -the night. He closed the window, returned the notebook, innocent of -everything now but its blank pages, to his pocket—and, pulling his -slouch hat down over his eyes, appeared to doze. - - - - -V—IN WHICH A CASH BOX DISAPPEARS - -TWENTY minutes later, as No. 17 pulled into Selkirk, the Hawk, his -erstwhile drowsiness little in evidence, dropped to the platform while -the train was still in motion, and before MacVightie and Lanson in -the rear car, it might be fairly assumed, had thought of leaving their -seats. The Hawk was interested in MacVightie for the balance of the -night only to the extent of keeping out of MacVightie's sight—his -attention was centered now on the office of one Isaac Kirschell, and the -possibilities that lay in the said Isaac Kirschell's cash box. - -He glanced at the illuminated dial of the tower clock. It was eighteen -minutes after ten. - -“That's the worst of getting the dope a long way down the line,” -he muttered, as he hurried through the station and out to the street. -“But I had to get a look at MacVightie's cards to-night.” He -struck off toward the downtown business section of the city at a brisk -pace. “It ought to be all right though tonight—more than enough time -to get in ahead of them—they're not likely to pull any break in that -locality until well after midnight. Wonder what Kirschell's got in his -cash box that's so valuable? I suppose they know, or they wouldn't -be after it! They don't hunt small game, but”—the Hawk sighed -lugubriously—“there's no chance of any such luck as last night -again. Ten thousand dollars in cash! Some haul! Yes, I guess maybe -they're peeved!” - -The Hawk, arrived at his destination, surveyed the office building from -the opposite side of the street. The restaurant on the ground floor was -dark, but a lighted window here and there on the floors above indicated -that some of the tenants were working late. It was therefore fairly safe -to presume that the entrance door, though closed, was unlocked. The Hawk -crossed the street unconcernedly, and tried the door. It opened under -his hand—' but noiselessly, and to the extent only of a bare inch, -in view of the possibility of a janitor being somewhere about. Detecting -no sound from within, however, the Hawk pushed the door a little further -open, and was confronted with a dimly lighted vestibule, and a long, -still more dimly lighted corridor beyond. There was no one in sight. -He slipped inside—and, quick and silent now in his movements, darted -across the vestibule and into the corridor. - -Halfway along the corridor, he halted before a door, on whose glass -panel he could just make out the words “Isaac Kirschell,” and, -beneath the name, in smaller letters, the intimation that the entrance -was next door. The Hawk's decision was taken in the time it required -to produce from his pocket a key-ring equipped with an extensive -assortment of skeleton keys. If by any chance he should be disturbed and -had entered by the designated office door, his escape would be cut -off; if, on the other hand, he entered by this unused door, and left it -unlocked behind him, he would still be quite comfortably the master of -the situation in almost any emergency. - -The door seemed to offer unusual difficulties. Even when unlocked, it -stuck. The Hawk worked at it by the sense of touch alone, his eyes busy -with sharp glances up and down the corridor. Finally, succeeding -in opening it a little way, it was only to find it blocked by some -obstruction within. He scowled. A desk, probably, close against it! The -door was certainly never used. He would have to enter by the other -one, after all, and—no! He had reached his arm inside. It was only a -coat-stand, or something of the sort He lifted it aside, stepped in, and -closed the door behind him. - -The Hawk's flashlight—not the diminutive little affair that -had served him for his notebook—began to circle his surroundings -inquisitively. He was in a small, plainly furnished private office. -There was a desk, two chairs, and a filing cabinet. Also there were two -doors. The Hawk opened the one at his left, and peered out. It gave -on what was presumably the general office; and at the upper end was a -partition with the name, “Mr. Kirschell,” upon the door. He looked -at the panel of the door he had just opened. It bore no name. - -“This belongs to Kirschell's secretary probably,” he decided. -“The other door from here opens, of course, into Kirschell's private -office. Wonder what Mr. Isaac Kirschell's business is?” - -He closed the door leading into the outer office, and moved across -the room to the second door that already stood wide open, and almost -directly faced what he had taken for granted was the secretary's desk. -He stepped over the threshold. Mr. Kirschell's sanctum was somewhat -more elaborately furnished. Apart from a rather expensive flat-topped -desk in the centre of the room, there was a massive safe, new and of -modern design, a heavy rug upon the floor, and several very comfortable -leather-up holstered chairs. A washstand, the metal taps highly -polished, and a mahogany towel rack occupied the far corner. The Hawk -inspected the safe with the eye of a connoisseur, scowled unhappily by -way of expressing his opinion of it, and turned to the desk. He opened -a drawer, and picked up a sheet of business stationery. The letterhead -read: ISAAC KIRSCHELL LOANS, MORTGAGES & GENERAL EXCHANGE - -“Ho, ho!” observed the Hawk. “Sort of a glorified pawnbroker, eh? -I——” - -The sheet of paper was shot back into the drawer, the flashlight was -out—and on the instant the Hawk was back in the other office, and -crouched on the floor behind the desk. Some one had halted outside in -the corridor before the main office door, and now a key was turned in -the lock. The door was opened and closed, footsteps crossed the general -office, paused for a moment outside Mr. Kirschell's door, then the -lights in Mr. Kirschell's room went on, a man entered, tossed his hat -on a chair, and sat down at the desk. It was obviously Mr. Kirschell -himself. - -Through the wide opening between the ends of the desk that sheltered -him, the Hawk, flat on the floor, took stock of the other. The man was -rather small in stature, with a thin, palish face, sharp, restless, very -small black eyes, and he was extremely well dressed—the Hawk noted the -dainty little boutonnière in the lapel of the man's coat, and smiled -queerly. From Mr. Kirschell's face he glanced at the face of Mr. -Kirschell's safe, then back at Mr. Kirschell again—and fingered his -automatic in the pocket of his coat. - -The Hawk, however, made no further movement—Mr. Kirschell's actions -suggested that it would be unwise. The man, though apparently occupied -with some mail which he had taken from his pocket, kept glancing -impatiently at his watch. It was quite evident that he was expecting -some one every moment. The Hawk frowned perplexedly. The message that -night, even when deciphered, left much, too much, to the imagination! It -was quite possible that Mr. Kirschell was to be relieved of his cash box -with more address and finesse than by the bald expedient of ruining Mr. -Kirschell's safe! This appointment, for instance, might—and then the -Hawk smiled queerly again. - -The corridor door had opened and closed for the second time. A heavy -step traversed the outer office, and a man, hat in hand, in cheap store -clothes, stood before Mr. Krischell's desk. - -“Mentioned in dispatches!” said the Hawk very softly to himself. -“I guess that's Calhoun. So that's the game—eh?” - -“You're late, Mr. Calhoun!” Kirschell greeted the other sharply. -“Five minutes late! I have put myself to considerable inconvenience to -give you this appointment.” - -Calhoun's hair was tossed, there was a smudge across his cheek, and -his hands were grimy, as though he had just come from work. He was a big -man, powerfully shouldered. His grey eyes were not friendly as they met -Kirschell's. - -“I couldn't help it,” he said shortly. “I've been up the line -all day. I told you I couldn't get here until about this time.” - -“Well, all right, all right!” said Kirschell impatiently. “But, -now that you are here, are you prepared to settle?” - -“I can give you a small payment on account, that's the best I can -do,” Calhoun answered. - -Kirschell tilted back in his swivel chair, and frowned as he tapped the -edge of his desk with a paper cutter. - -“How much?” he demanded coldly. - -“Forty dollars”—Calhoun's hand went tentatively toward his -pocket. - -“Forty dollars!” There was derision in Kirschell's voice, an -uninviting smile on Kirschell's lips. “That's hardly more than the -interest!” - -“Yes,” said Calhoun, snarling suddenly, “at the thieving rates -you, and the bloodsuckers like you, charge.” - -Kirschell's uninviting smile deepened. - -“Considering the security, the rate is very moderate,” he said -evenly. “Now, see here, Calhoun, I told you plainly enough this -thing had to be settled to-day. You don't want to run away with the -impression that I'm a second Marakof, to be staved off all the time. -I bought your note from the pawnbroker's estate because the executors -didn't like the look of it, and weren't any too sure they could -collect it. Well, I can! I'm new out here, but I'm not new at my -business. Excuses with me don't take the place of cash. I hold your -note for five hundred dollars, which is past due, to say nothing of six -months' interest besides—and you come here to-night and offer me -forty dollars!” - -“I would have paid Marakof,” said Calhoun, in a low voice; “and -I'll pay you as fast as I can. You know what I'm up against—I -told you when you first got after me, as soon as you got that note. My -brother got into trouble back East. What would you have done? That -five hundred kept him out of the 'pen.' He's only a kid. Damn it, -don't play the shark! Marakof renewed the note—why can't you?” - -“Because I don't do business that way,” said Kir-schell curtly. - -Calhoun's voice grew hard. - -“How much did you pay for that note, anyway?” - -Kirschell shrugged his shoulders. - -“I didn't say I wasn't taking any risk with you,” he replied -tersely. “That's the profit on my risk. And as far as you are -concerned—it's none of your business!” - -Calhoun shrugged his shoulders in turn, and, taking a small roll of -bills from his pocket, smoothed them out between his fingers. - -“I got a wife, and I got kids,” said Calhoun slowly. “And I'm -doing the best I can. Do you want this forty, or not?” - -“It depends,” said Kirschell, tapping again with his paper cutter. -“How about the rest?” - -“I'll pay you what I can every month,” Calhoun answered. - -“How much?”—bluntly. - -“What I can!” returned Calhoun defiantly. - -The two men eyed each other for a moment—and then Kirschell tossed the -paper cutter down on the desk. - -“Well, all right!” he decided ungraciously. “I'll take a chance -for a month—and see how you live up to it. Hand it over, and I'll -give you a receipt.” - -Calhoun shook his head. - -“I don't trust the man who don't trust me,” he said gruffly. -“I don't want that kind of a receipt. You'll indorse the payment -on the back of the note, Mr. Kirschell, if you want this forty.” - -“What?” inquired Kirschell, staring. - -“You heard what I said,” said Calhoun coolly. “I'm in the hands -of a shark, and I know it. That's plain talk, isn't it?” - -“But,” Kirschell flared up angrily, “I——” - -Calhoun calmly returned the money to his pocket. - -“Suit yourself!” he suggested indifferently. “I ain't asking for -anything more than I have a right to.” - -“Very well, my man!” said Kirschell icily. “If our dealings are to -be on this basis, I hope you will remember that the basis is of your own -choosing.” He swung around in his chair, and, rising, walked over to -the safe. - -And then, for the first time, the Hawk moved. He edged silently back -along the floor until far enough away from the doorway to be fully -protected by the darkness of the room, and stood up. Kirschell was -swinging the heavy door of the safe open. The cash box was to be -produced! Lying down, the Hawk could not hope to see its contents if it -were opened on the desk; standing up, he might be able to form a very -good idea of how tempting its contents would prove to be. - -Kirschell took a black-enamelled steel box from the safe, and returned -to the desk. He opened this with a key, threw back the cover—and -the Hawk stuck his tongue in his cheek. A few papers lay on the -top—otherwise it was crammed to overflowing with banknotes. Kirschell -selected one of the papers, and picked up a pen in frigid silence. - -But the Hawk was no longer watching the scene. His head was cocked to -one side, in a curious, bird-like, listening attitude. He could have -sworn he had heard the outer office door being stealthily opened. And -now Calhoun was speaking—rapidly, his voice raised noticeably in a -louder tone than any he had previously employed. - -“I ain't looking for trouble, Mr. Kirschell,” he stated -Hurriedly, as though relenting, “and I don't want you to think I am, -but——” - -There was a sharp cry from Kirschell. The room was in darkness. Came -a quick step running in from the outer office, no longer stealthy -now—the crash of a toppling chair—a gasping moan in Kirschell's -voice—the thud of a falling body—a tense whisper: “All right, -I've got it!”—then the steps running back across the outer -office—the closing of the corridor door—and silence. - -The Hawk, grim-lipped, had backed up against the wall of the room. - -Calhoun's voice rose hoarsely: - -“Good God, what's happened! Where's the electric-light switch?” - -Kirschell answered him faintly: - -“At—at the side of the door—just—outside the partition.” - -The lights went on again, and the Hawk leaned intently forward. Calhoun -was standing now in the doorway between the outer and the private -office, his eyes fixed on Kirschell. The swivel chair had been -overturned; and Kirschell, a great crimson stream running down his cheek -from above his temple, was struggling to his knees, clutching at the -edge of the desk for support. The cash box was gone. - -Kirschell's eyes swept the top of the desk haggardly, as though hoping -against hope. He gained his feet, lurching unsteadily. A crimson drop -splashed to the desk. - -“My chair!” he cried out weakly. “Help me!” - -Calhoun stepped forward mechanically, and picked up the chair. Kirschell -dropped into it. - -“You're hurt!” Calhoun said huskily. “You're badly hurt!” - -“Yes,” Kirschell answered; “but it—can wait. The police -first—there was—three thousand dollars—in my cash box.” With -an effort he reached out across the desk for the telephone, pulled it -toward him—and, on the point of lifting the receiver from the hook, -slowly drew back his hand. A strange look settled on his face, a sort of -dawning, though puzzled comprehension; and then, swaying in his chair, -his lips thinned. He drew his hand still further back until it hovered -over the handle of the desk's middle drawer. His eyes, on Calhoun, -were narrowing. - -“You devil!” he rasped out suddenly. “This is your work! I was a -fool that I did not see it at first!” - -Calhoun's face went white. - -“What do you mean?” he said thickly. - -“What I say!” Kirschell's voice was ominously clear now, though he -sat none too steadily in his chair. - -“Then you lie!” said Calhoun fiercely. “You lie—and if you -weren't hurt, I'd——” - -“No, you wouldn't!”—Kirschell had whipped the drawer open, -and, snatching out a revolver, was covering Calhoun. He laughed a -little—bitterly. “I'm not so bad that I can't take care of -myself. It was pretty clever, I'll give you credit for that. You -almost fooled me.” - -“Damn you!” snarled Calhoun. “Do you mean to say I've got your -cash box?” - -“Oh, no,” said Kirschell. “I can see you haven't. I don't even -know which of you two struck me. But I do know that you and the man who -has my cash box worked up this plant together.” - -Calhoun stepped forward threateningly—only to retreat again before the -lifted muzzle of the revolver. - -“You're a fool!” he snarled. “You've nothing on me!” - -“That's for the police to decide,” returned Kirschell evenly. -“It would have been a pleasant way of disposing of that note, -wouldn't it—if you hadn't under-rated me! And your pal for his -share, I daresay, was to take his chance on whatever there might be in -the cash box! Why did you say you couldn't come until night, when I -gave you until to-day as the last day in which to settle? Why did you -insist on my indorsing the payment on the note, which necessitated my -opening the safe and taking out the cash box in which you knew the note -was kept, for you saw me put it there a week ago, when you first came -here? And just after I was knocked down I heard your accomplice whisper: -'All right, I've got it.” - -“It's possible the police might form the same opinion I have as to -whom those words were addressed!” Calhoun's face had grown whiter. - -“It's a lie!” he said scarcely above a whisper. “It's a lie! I -had nothing to do with it!” - -“I want my three thousand dollars!” Kirschell's lips were set. He -held a red-stained handkerchief to his cheek. “If I call the police -now they'll get you—but it's your accomplice that's got my -money. And it's my money that I want! I'll give you half an hour to -go to him, and bring the money back here—and leave the police out of -it. If you're not here in that time, I put it up to the police. Half -an hour is time enough for you to find your pal; and it's not time -enough for you to attempt to leave the city—and get very far!” -Kirschell laid his watch on the desk. “You'd better go—I mean half -an hour from now.” - -Calhoun hung hesitant for a moment, staring at the muzzle of -Kirschell's revolver. He made as though to say something—and -instead, abruptly, with a short, jarring laugh, turned on his heel, and -passed out of the room. - -The Hawk was already edging his way along the wall toward the corridor -door. - -“Three thousand dollars!”—the Hawk rolled the words like so many -dainty morsels on his tongue, as he communed with himself. “I guess -it's my play to stick to Mr. Calhoun!” - - - - -VI—SOME OF THE LITTLE SPIDERS - -THE Hawk reached the door, as Calhoun stepped into the corridor from -the general office and passed by outside, evidently making for the main -entrance of the building. He opened the door cautiously the width of -a crack—and held it in that position. A man's voice, low, guarded, -from the corridor, but from the opposite direction to that taken by -Calhoun, reached him. - -“Here! Calhoun! Here!” - -Calhoun halted. There was silence for an instant, then Calhoun retraced -his steps and passed by the door again. There were a few hurried words -in a whisper, which the Hawk could not catch; and then the footsteps of -both men retreated along the corridor. - -The Hawk opened the door wider, and peered out. The two men were well -down the corridor now; and now, as they passed the single incandescent -that lighted that end of the hall, Calhoun's companion reached up and -turned it out. - -“Why, say—-thanks!” murmured the Hawk, and stepped out into the -corridor himself. - -It was now quite dark at that end, and the men had disappeared. The Hawk -moved silently and swiftly along, keeping close to the wall. Presently -he caught the sound of their voices again, and nodded to himself. He -remembered that in going out this way yesterday he had noticed that the -corridor, for some architectural reason, made a sharp, right-angled jut -just before it gave on the side-street entrance. He stepped now across -to the other side of the corridor, and stole forward to a position where -he could look diagonally past the projecting angle of the jut. The two -men, standing there, showed plainly in the light from a street arc that -shone into the entranceway through the large plate-glass square over the -door. The Hawk, quite secure from observation, nestled back against the -wall—and an ominous smile settled on the Hawk's lips. The face of -Calhoun's companion was covered with a mask. - -“There's nothing to be leery about here,” the man was saying. -“There's no one goes out or comes in this way at night. Well, it's -a nice mess, eh? So the old Shylock called the turn on you, did he?” - -There seemed to be a helpless note in Calhoun's voice. He passed his -hand heavily across his eyes. - -“What's the meaning of this?” he cried out. “What do you know -about what happened in there?” - -“Nothing much,” said the other coolly. “Except that I'm the guy -that pinched the swag, and hit Kirschell that welt on the head.” - -“You!” Calhoun involuntarily stepped back. “Yes, sure—me!” The -man shrugged his shoulders. “Me and a pal who was outside. He's -away now putting the cash box where it won't come to any harm—savvy? -He'll be back pretty soon.” - -The Hawk's lips moved. - -“Number Three and Number Seven,” whispered the Hawk gently. - -“I—I don't understand,” said Calhoun dazedly. “Then why are -you telling me this. And why are you staying here? And how did you know -that Kirschell accused me of being in it?” - -“That's another one that's easy,” announced the man evenly. -“Because it was part of the game to make him think so.” - -Calhoun seemed to stiffen up. - -“What! You mean, you——” - -“You're getting it!” said the other shortly. “But you'd better -wait until you get it all before you start spitting your teeth out! -Mabbe you've heard of a little interference with the telegraph wires, -and a few small jobs pulled off around here where some innocent parties -accidentally got croaked? Ah—you have, eh! Well, that's where you -come in, Calhoun. We want you—and when we want anything, we get it! -See? We knew about that note, and we've been expecting the railroad -crowd to wake up some time, and we had you picked out to place our bets -on against them. They woke up to-day and began to nose over the line. -It ain't likely to do them much good, but there's a chance—and we -ain't taking chances. We don't want much from you, Calhoun, just a -little thing, and it'll bring you more money than you ever saw in your -life before and without you running any risk. All you've got to do -is stand for anything in the shape of a splice or tap on the line that -they're suspicious of—you can say it's a repair job of your own, -see?” - -An angry flush was tinging Calhoun's cheeks. - -“Is that all?” he burst out passionately. “Well, I'll see you -damned first!” - -“Will you?” returned the other calmly. “All right, my bucko! -It's your funeral. Take your choice. That—or twenty years in -the penitentiary. You're in cold on this. Think it over a bit. For -instance, how did you come to make the break of wanting Kirschell to -indorse the payment on the back of the note, which made him open his -safe?” - -“How do you know I did?” Calhoun flashed back sharply. - -“Mabbe I'm only guessing at it,” said the man nonchalantly; “and -mabbe I was back in the outside room when you did. But, say, you don't -happen to remember, do you, a little talk you had with a stranger up the -line to-day? And how the conversation got around to loan sharks, and how -he told about a trick they had of giving receipts that were phony, and -how he beat one of them to it by making the shark indorse on the paper -itself? Kind of sunk in, and you bit—eh, Calhoun? We don't do things -by halves. We happen to need you. And what do you think I made the break -of whispering so Kirschell would hear me for?” - -The color was ebbing from Calhoun's face. - -“It's not proof!” The defiant ring in his voice was forced. -“I——” - -“It's enough to make Kirschell believe it, and that's all we -wanted for a starter. We'll take care of the rest!” stated the man -grimly. “What did he say to you?” - -Calhoun answered mechanically: - -“He said if I didn't return in half an hour with the cash box, -he'd notify the police.” - -“Oh, ho!” The man's lips widened in a grin under the edge of his -mask. “So he's going to wait here, eh? Well, so much the better! -It'll save us a trip to his house. Now, see here, Calhoun, let this -sink in!” He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a slip of paper. -“Here's your note. It was on the desk where Kirschell was writing on -it, and I pinched it when I pinched the cash box. We didn't figure -we were going to make the haul we did to-night—we were after you. But -there's some money in that cash box, as you saw for yourself. Here's -the idea: Kirschell's read a thing or two about what's going on -around here—enough to make him know that there ain't much our -gang'll stop at. If you say you're with us, me and my pal 'll -go in there and throw the fear of God into him. Do you get it? He'll -think himself lucky to get off by keeping his mouth shut about to-night -when he finds out who he's up against. Also you get the note back, and -a share of the cash—and more to come later on.” - -“No!” Calhoun cried out. “No! I'm no thief!” - -“All right!” agreed the other indifferently. - -“That's one side of it. Here's the other: Kirschell certainly -believes you took it. He's a shark all right, and he thinks more of -his money than he does of anything else, or he wouldn't have given you -the chance he did. But when you don't show back there with the coin, -he'll take the only other hope he's got of getting his money and -turn on the police tap—see? What are you going to do then? Make a -break for it, or let 'em get you? Well, it doesn't matter which. -This note and a chunk of the cash gets mailed to-night—and the police -get tipped off to watch your mail in the morning. Kind of reasonable, -isn't it? Your pal, not being able to find you, and not tumbling to -the fact that the police have got you until too late, comes across with -your share like an honest little man! I think you said something about -proof, Calhoun? And I think I told you before that we didn't do things -by halves. How about that on top of Kirschell's story—do you think -it would cinch a jury, or do you think they'd believe any little fairy -story you might tell them, say, about meeting me? Does it look any more -like twenty years than it did?” - -There was a sudden agony in Calhoun's face. - -“My God!” he whispered. “You—you wouldn't do that?” - -The man made no answer. He still held the note-in his hand—but in the -other now he carelessly dangled a revolver. - -“You wouldn't! You wouldn't!” Calhoun's voice was broken now. -“I've a wife and children, and—my God, what am I to do!” - -“That half-hour Kirschell gave you is slipping along,” suggested the -other uncompromisingly. “Here's the note, and there's easy money -waiting for you.” - -Calhoun turned on the other like a man demented. - -“Do you think I'd touch that cash! Or touch that note—I owe it! I -may not have been able to pay it—but I owe it!” - -“Oh, well, suit yourself as to that, too!” said the man cynically. -“It's the other thing we want. What's the wife and the kids -you're talking about going to do if you go up for twenty years?” - -Calhoun, with a miserable cry, buried his face in his hands. - -There was silence—a minute dragged by. - -“Well?” prompted the man curtly. - -Calhoun dropped his hands, met the other's eyes for an instant—and -turned his head away. - -“Ah, I thought you would!” said the man calmly. “My pal ought to -be back by now, and as soon as he comes we'll go in there and hand -Kirschell his little jolt, and——” He stopped. There was a light -rapping on the entrance door. “Here he is now! We'll——” - -The Hawk was retreating back along the corridor. Again he opened the -door of what he had designated to himself as the secretary's office, -and for the second time that night stepped silently into the room, -closing the door behind him. The sound of running water came from -Kirschell's private office, but there was no other sound—the Hawk -made none as he once more gained his place of vantage behind the desk. -Kirschell was bending over the washbowl, his back turned, bathing his -temple and face, and now, straightening up, he bound a towel tightly -around his head. - -The Hawk watched the proceedings impassively, his head, in that -bird-like, listening attitude, cocked on one shoulder toward the outer -door. Steps were coming along the corridor. But this time Kirschell, -too, heard them—for he turned, and, as the corridor door opened, -started toward his desk. He reached it and sat down, as Calhoun entered -the room. - -“Ah, ha!” snapped Kirschell triumphantly. “So you've thought -better of it, have you? I imagined you would! Well, where's -the——” The words seemed to freeze on his lips; there was a sudden -terror in his face. “What—what does this mean?” he faltered. - -Two masked men, the one who had been with Calhoun in the corridor, and a -taller, more heavily built man, had stepped in behind Calhoun, and were -advancing toward the desk. - -The short man pointed a revolver at Kirschell's head. - -“Calhoun says he keeps a gun in the middle drawer of the desk,” he -grunted to his companion. “Get it!” - -The other, leaning over, pulled the drawer open, and, appropriating -Kirschell's revolver, stuck it in his pocket. - -Kirschell's tongue circled his lips. He looked wildly from one to the -other. - -“We just dropped in to make a confession, Mr. Kirschell,” said the -short man, with an ugly jeer. “We don't like to see an innocent man -suffer—understand? I'm the one that lifted your cash box, you measly -shark—me and my pal there. I heard you trying to stick it on Calhoun. -We ain't asking any favours for ourselves, and when we get through -with you, you can tell the police it was us, and that we're part -of the crowd that's been making things lively around these -parts—you've been reading the papers, ain't you?—but you open -your mouth about Calhoun, you put him in bad when he had nothing to do -with it, and inside of twenty-four hours you'll be found in a dark -alley somewhere with a bullet through you! Get me? You know who you're -up against now, and you've got fair warning!” - -Kirschell was huddled in his chair. His little black eyes were no longer -restless—they were fixed in a sort of terrified fascination on the -speaker. - -“Yes.” He licked his lips again. “Yes, I—I understand,” he -mumbled. - -From his pocket the Hawk took a mask, which he slipped over his face; -and from his pocket he took his automatic. - -“I don't think he believes you,” sneered the second masked man, -with a wicked grin. “Perhaps mabbe we'd better twist his windpipe -a little, just to show him in a friendly way that there ain't any -mistake about it—eh?” - -“No, no!” Kirschel's voice was full of fear. “No, no! I -believe—I——” His words ended in a choked scream. - -The man's hands had shot swiftly out, and closed on Kirschell's -throat. He was shaking, twisting, and turning Kirschell's head from -side to side. His companion laughed brutally. Came a series of guttural -moans from Kirschell—and Kirschel's body began to slip limply down -in his chair. - -Calhoun had gone white to the lips. - -“Stop it! My God, stop it!” he burst out frantically. “You -promised me you wouldn't do him any harm.” - -“You mind your own business!” snarled the man with the revolver. -“We know how to handle his breed. Give him enough to hold him for a -while Jim! We——” - -“Drop that revolver! Drop it!” The Hawk was standing in the doorway. - -There was a startled oath from the leader of the two men as he whirled -around, a gasp as he faced the Hawk's automatic—and his weapon -clattered to the floor. The other, in a stunned way, still hung over -Kirschell, but his hands had relaxed their hold on Kirschel's throat. - -“Thank you!” drawled the Hawk. “I must say I agree with Mr. -Calhoun. It's not a pleasant sight to watch a man being throttled.” -His voice rang suddenly cold. “You, there!” His automatic indicated -the man beside Kirschell. “Stand back at the end of the desk, and put -up your hands!” - -Calhoun had not moved. He was staring numbly at the Hawk. Kirschell, -making guttural sounds, was clawing at his throat. - -“Mr. Calhoun,” requested the Hawk coolly, “as I happen to know -that you have little reason to love either of these two gentlemen, -will you be good enough to pick up that revolver and hand it to me?” -Calhoun stooped mechanically, and extended it to the Hawk. - -“And now our friend over there with his hands up, Mr. Calhoun,” -purred the Hawk. “You will find two in his pockets—his own, and -Mr. Kirschell's. Mr. Kirschell, I am sure, is already fairly well -convinced that you are in no way connected with the robbery of his cash -box, and I am equally sure that in no way could you better dispel any -lingering doubts he might still entertain than by helping to draw these -gentlemen's teeth.” - -Calhoun laughed a little grimly now. - -“I don't know who you are,” he said, his lips set, as he started -toward the man; “but I guess you're right. I'd like to see them -get what's coming to them.” - -“Quite so!” said the Hawk pleasantly. He accepted the two remaining -revolvers from Calhoun; and from his pocket produced his skeleton keys. -He handed them to Calhoun, designating one of the keys on the ring. -“One more request, Mr. Calhoun,” he said. “I entered by the door -that opens on the corridor from this other office here. Will you please -lock it; and, on your way back, also lock this connecting door through -which I have just come in—the key of the latter, I noticed, is in the -lock.” - -Calhoun nodded, took the keys, and stepped quickly from the room. -Kirschell, evidently not seriously hurt from the handling he had -received, though still choking a little and clearing his throat with -short coughs, was regarding the Hawk with a questioning stare. The eyes -of the other two men were on the Hawk's revolver. The shorter of the -two suddenly raised a clenched fist. - -“The Hawk!” he flashed out furiously. “You cursed snitch! You'll -wish you were dead before we're through with you!” - -“So the Butcher told me last night.” The Hawk smiled plaintively. -“Move a little closer together, you two—yes, like that, at the far -end of the desk beside each other. Thank you! You are much easier to -cover that way.” - -Calhoun returned, locking the connecting door behind him, and handed the -door key, together with the key-ring, back to the Hawk. - -The Hawk moved forward to the desk. He was alert, quick, ominous now. -The drawl, the pleasantry was gone. - -“Out there in the hall,” he said coldly, “I heard Mr. Calhoun -refuse to take back his note—from a thief. You”—his revolver -muzzle jerked toward the short man—“hand it out!” - -The man reached viciously into his pocket, and tossed the note on the -desk. - -The Hawk pushed it toward Kirschell. - -“Mr. Kirschell,” he said quietly, “you no doubt had good reasons -for it, but you have none the less falsely accused Mr. Calhoun. -Furthermore, Mr. Calhoun has been instrumental in laying these two who -have confessed by the heels. Under the circumstances, if you are the man -I think you are, you will tear that up.” - -Kirschell lingered the note for an instant. He looked from Calhoun to -the Hawk, and back at Calhoun again. - -“Yes,” he said abruptly—and tore it into several pieces. “I -suppose I could hardly do less. You are quite right! And, Mr. Calhoun, -I—I apologise to you.” - -A flush spread over Calhoun's face. He swallowed hard, and his lips -quivered slightly. - -“Mr. Kirschell,” he stammered, “I—I——” - -“That's all right!” interposed the Hawk whimsically. “Don't -start any mutual admiration society. I dislike embarrassing situations; -and besides, Mr. Calhoun”—his eyes travelled from one to the other -of the two masked men—“I think you had better go now.” - -“Go?” repeated Calhoun, somewhat bewilderedly. - -“Yes,” supplemented the Hawk. “As far as you are concerned, -you are clear and out of this now. Stay out of it, and say -nothing—that's the best thing you can do.” - -“Well, that suits me,” said Calhoun with a wry smile, “if Mr. -Kirschell——” - -“Exactly! I see!” approved the Hawk. “It does you credit. But Mr. -Kirschell and I are quite capable of settling with these two; and you -can thank Mr. Kirschell further to-morrow if you like—when I'm not -here! Now—if you please!” - -Calhoun turned, and walked to the door. His footsteps echoed back from -the general office. Then the corridor door closed behind him. - -The Hawk addressed the two masked men. - -“Last night,” remarked the Hawk gently, “it was the Butcher, and -to-night it is—pardon me”—he was close in front of the two now, -and, with a jerk, snatched the masks from their faces—“Whitie Jim, -and the Bantam! Well, I might have known from the Butcher! You're all -out of the same kind of cocoons! The poor old simp at the head of your -gang is sure stuck with a moth-eaten lot! He's sure collected a bunch -of left-overs! Why, say, back there in New York, where a real crook -couldn't keep the grin off his face every time he met you, even the -police had you passed up as harmless cripples!” - -“You go to blazes!” growled the Bantam, with an oath. “You'll -sing through the other side of your mouth for this yet!” - -“You are not nice to me, Bantam,” said the Hawk, in a pained voice. -“You don't appreciate what I'm doing for you. It was a piker game -you tried to hand Calhoun; but, even at that, I wouldn't have queered -it if it would have helped you work out a few more little deals, so that -I could skim the cream off them. But it wouldn't! I don't see what -you gain by interfering with the telegraph lines, but I'll let you -in on something. I've been keeping an eye on MacVightie because -MacVightie's been keeping an eye on me, and I overheard him talking to -the superintendent to-night. MacVightie's got an idea that Calhoun's -fooling with the wires now. See where you would have been? If Calhoun -had ever got started on the real thing, some of you would have been -nipped—and, say, there's nothing like that going to happen if I can -help it! You and your crowd are too valuable to me to take any chances -of your getting in wrong anywhere. I'm not wringing the neck of the -goose that lays my golden eggs! Tell that to the guy that's supposed -to have the brains of your outfit, will you? And you might add that I -don't want any thanks. I'm getting well paid.” - -“You'll get paid, curse you!” The Bantam's voice was hoarse with -fury. “You butted in once too often last night. The Butcher warned -you. There ain't any more warnings. You've got the drop on us here -to-night, but——” - -“It's getting late,” said the Hawk wearily. “And I'm sure -Mr. Kirschell agrees with me that it is about time to produce that cash -box—do you not, Mr. Kirschell?” - -Kirschell made no reply. - -The Hawk smiled—unhappily. - -“I don't think you put it back in the safe—I see that the door is -still wide open. A drawer in the desk, then, perhaps? Ah—would you!” -There was a sudden deadly coldness in the Hawk's voice. The Bantam had -edged around the corner of the desk. “If any of you move another inch, -I'll drop you as quick as I'd drop a mad dog! Now then—if -the Cricket will oblige? I'll give him until I count three. -One—two——” - -“Damn you!—Kirschell's face was livid and contorted. He wrenched a -lower drawer open, and flung the cash box on the desk. - -“The Butcher, Whitie Jim, the Bantam, and the Cricket,” murmured the -Hawk. “It's good to see old New York faces out here, even if you -do size up like bush-leaguers trying to bust into high society. You -can take that towel off, if you like, Cricket, it doesn't become you -particularly—and, as you've washed off the heart-rending effect of -that little bag of liquid stain you smashed over your temple, I'm -sure you'll look less like a comic opera star! No? Well, please -yourself!” The Hawk was coolly transferring the contents of the cash -box to his pockets with his left hand. “These papers,” mused the -Hawk deliberately aloud, “appear to be some securities you lifted -on that Pullman car raid. Rather neat idea, this, establishing -this office—sort of a clearing house, I take it, for the gang's -drag-net—'loans, mortgages and general exchange!' I take back part -of what I said—this shows a first faint glimmer of brains. Well, keep -the office going, your interests are mine! You'll notice that I was -considerate enough to get Calhoun out of the way before the show-down. -You were very generous, magnanimous even, Cricket—I admire you! -Calhoun'll swear Mr. Kirschell is the squarest man on earth—and -don't forget that's another little debt of gratitude you owe the -Hawk. Three thousand dollars!” The Hawk's pockets were bulging. -“Must have been what you separated some one from when I wasn't -looking! Glad you weren't stingy with your bait for Calhoun! I heard -to-day that Mr. Kirschell kept a good deal of cash in his safe, but I -had no idea that Mr. Kirschell was the Cricket—not till I came here -this evening to take a look at Mr. Kirschell's safe. I must say it has -been a surprise—a very pleasant surprise.” - -The cash box was empty. The Hawk backed away from the desk. - -None of the three men spoke—they were eying him like caged and -infuriated beasts. - -The Hawk reached the doorway. - -“You will observe,” smiled the Hawk engagingly, “that this is now -the only exit, and that as I walk backward across the outer office any -one who steps into this doorway will be directly in the line of fire.” -He bowed facetiously, backed through the doorway and across the general -office, and, still facing the inner room, opened the corridor door and -stepped out. - -And then the Hawk spoke again. - -“I bid you good evening, gentlemen!” said the Hawk softly. “You -will pardon me if I put you to the inconvenience of locking this -door—on the outside.” - - - - -VII—WANTED—THE HAWK—DEAD OR ALIVE - -MACVIGHTIE had become troublesome. For two days MacVightie had very -seriously annoyed the Hawk. It was for that reason that the Hawk now -crept stealthily up the dark, narrow stairs, and, on the landing, -listened in strained attention before the door of his own room. - -Reassured finally, he opened the door inch by inch, noiselessly. The -bolt, in grooves that were carefully oiled, made no sound in slipping -into place, as the Hawk entered and closed the door behind him. So far, -so good! He was quick, alert, but still silent, as, in the darkness, -he crossed swiftly to the window, and crouched down against the wall. -A minute, two, went by. The fire-escape, passing at an angle a short -distance below the window sill, and at first nebulous in the blackness, -gradually took on distinct and tangible shape. Still the Hawk held there -motionless, searching it with his eyes—and then, abruptly, satisfied -that it sheltered no lurking shadow, he straightened up, thrust his -automatic back into his pocket, pulled down the shade, and, turning back -into the room, switched on the light. - -MacVightie, it appeared, still had lingering suspicions of this room -over the somewhat disreputable saloon below, and still had lingering -suspicions of its occupant. All that afternoon the Hawk was quite well -aware that he had been shadowed—but the result had been rather in his -favour than in Mac-Vightie's. From the moment he had discovered that -he was being followed, he had devoted his time to making applications -for a job—for MacVightie's benefit—that being the reason he had -given MacVightie for his presence in Selkirk. Later on, when it had -grown dark, having business of his own, he had left MacVightie's -satellite standing on a street corner somewhat puzzled just which way to -turn! That, however, had no bearing on the watch that had been, or might -be at the present moment, set upon this room. - -The Hawk, in apparent abstraction, was flipping a coin up in the air -and catching it. There was a slight frown on the Hawk's face. -MacVightie's suspicions were still lingering for the simple reason -that MacVightie, utterly at sea, was clutching at the only straw in -sight, unless—the coin slipped through the Hawk's fingers and fell -beside his trunk. He stooped to pick it up—yes, not only had the room -been searched, but the trunk had been opened! The single strand of hair, -almost indiscernible against the brass and quite innocently caught in -the lock, was broken. Well, he had not finished that mental sentence. -Unless—what? - -He tucked the coin into his pocket, and, standing up, yawned and -stretched himself. With the toe of his boot he lazily pushed a chair -out from the wall. The chair fell over. The Hawk picked it up, and quite -casually set it down—near the door. He took off his coat, and flung it -over the back of the chair. - -The Hawk's face was greyer now, as it set in rigid lines, but there -was no tremor in the hand that inserted the key in the lock of the -trunk. He flung back the lid—and his eyes, for an instant, searched -the room again sharply. The window shade was securely drawn; the coat -over the back of the chair completely screened the keyhole of the door. -He laughed a little then—mirthlessly. Well, the trunk had been opened! -Had MacVightie found all—or nothing? - -His fingers were working swiftly, deftly now around the inside edges of -the lid. He was either caught here, cornered, at bay—or MacVightie, -once for all, would be satisfied, and, as far as MacVightie was -concerned, the coast would hereafter be clear. The Hawk's dark eyes -narrowed, the square under jaw crept out and set doggedly. It had been a -close call, perilously close, that other night when he had taken the -ten thousand dollars from the paymaster's safe, and MacVightie -had followed him here to this room. He had pulled the wool over -MacVightie's eyes for the moment—but MacVightie had returned to the -old trail again. Well, the cards were on the table now, and it was a -gamble that was grim enough! Either he was quit of MacVightie, could -even count on MacVightie as a sort of sponsor for his innocence; -or—“Ah!” The ingeniously fashioned false tray in the curvature of -the lid had come away in the Hawk's hands. He was safe! MacVightie -had missed it! In the tray, untouched, where he had left them, lay the -packages of banknotes from the paymaster's safe; in the tray still -glittered the magnificent diamond necklace, whose theft from the wife of -His Excellency the Governor of the State had already furnished more than -one of the big dailies back in the East with attractive copy for their -Sunday editions; and there, undisturbed, were the contents of Isaac -Kirschell's cash box, a trifling matter of some three thousand -dollars; and there too, snugly tucked away in one corner, was the -bundle of crisp, new, counterfeit ten-dollar bills. The Hawk grinned -maliciously, as his eyes rested on the counterfeit notes. The one he -had sent, inscribed with his compliments, to MacVightie, when he had -returned the otherwise empty paymaster's bag to the detective, had not -pleased MacVightie! - -Quite at his ease now, the Hawk fitted the false top back into the lid, -closed the trunk, locked it, drew a chair up to the table, and sat down. -With MacVightie removed as a possible factor of interruption, there was -another, and very pressing little matter to which he was now at liberty -to give his attention. He produced a folded sheet of paper from his -inside vest pocket, spread it out on the table before him, and inspected -it with a sort of cynical curiosity. In each corner were tack holes. He -had removed it less than half an hour ago—not through any misguided -dislike to publicity, but simply because he had urgently required a -piece of paper—from a conspicuous position on the wall of the railroad -station. It was a police circular. The Hawk had not before had an -opportunity to absorb more than the large type captions—he filled -his pipe calmly now, as he read it in its entirety: $5,000 REWARD—FOR -EX-SING SING CONVICT - -Five Thousand Dollars Reward Will Be Paid For Information Leading to the -Arrest and Conviction of THE HAWK, Alias HARRY MAUL. - -Here followed a description tallying with the one given by MacVightie -to Lanson, the division superintendent, and which Lanson had caustically -remarked would not fit more than twenty-five thousand men in Selkirk -City; followed after that a résumé of the crimes recently committed -on the railroad, amongst them the theft of the diamond necklace and the -robbery of the paymaster's safe; and, at the end, in bold-faced type -again: $2,000 REWARD - -Two Thousand Dollars Reward Will Also be Paid For Information Leading -to the Arrest and Conviction of Each and Every One of THE HAWK'S -Confederates. - -The Hawk smiled broadly, as he held the flame of a match to his pipe -bowl. The last paragraph was exquisitely ironical. Those whom MacVightie -so blithely called the “Hawk's confederates” were vying with each -other at that exact moment, and for the exact amount of two thousand -dollars offered by the Master Spider of the gang, for the privilege of -putting an even more conclusive end—in the shape of a knife thrust, a -bullet, or a blackjack—to the Hawk! - -“And,” said the Hawk softly, as he turned the circular over, -“I guess they'd make it a whole lot more if they knew that I -had—this!” - -The back of the circular was covered with line after line of what, -seemingly, was but a meaningless jumble of scribbled letters—nor, in -this case, were the letters any too well formed. The Hawk had -laboured under difficulties when the telegraph sounder had “broke” -unexpectedly with the message. He had been listening—as he was always -listening when within sound of a telegraph instrument—but he had never -known a message from the Wire Devils to come through at so early an hour -in the evening before. He had shaken MacVightie's man off the trail -and had gone down to the depot, intending to go up the line to the first -small station, where, with little chance of being discovered, he could -spend the night within earshot of the operator's instrument—in the -hope that his vigil would not, as it sometimes did, prove futile. He had -been standing under the dispatcher's open window waiting for a train, -when the police circular tacked on the station wall had caught his eye. -The large type was readily decipherable, but the platform lights were -poor, and he had stepped closer to read the remainder—and instead, -glancing quickly about him to see that he was not observed, he had -snatched the circular from the wall, and, whipping a pencil from his -pocket, had scrawled on the reverse side, as best he could, the message -that was rattling in over the dispatcher's sounder from the room -above. He had taken chances—but he had played in luck. No one had -noticed him, and—well, he was here now with the message; and, since it -must sooner or later have been put to the proof in any case, he was back -here, too, to find that he was quit of MacVightie. - -“Yes,” confided the Hawk to himself, as he reached for a blank sheet -of paper in the drawer of the table, “I guess I played in luck—both -ways. Wonder if there's another ripe little melon here going to be -shoved my way on a gold platter by the Butcher and his crowd?” - -The Hawk studied the cipher for a moment. - -“lqrtvy... key letter... stroke at six...two-three-one,” he -murmured. - -He drew the fresh sheet of paper toward him, and began to work busily. -Occasionally he paused, staring dubiously at a letter—he had taken the -message under far from ideal conditions, and a mistake here and there, -if not fatal, was annoying and confusing. Finally, however, the Hawk -leaned back in his chair, and whistled low under his breath. The -message, deciphered and arranged into words and sentences, ran: - -Final orders. Number One, Three, and Six hold up Fast Mail three miles -east of Burke's Siding to-night. Cut wires on approach. Express -car next to engine. Uncouple and proceed. Diamond shipment in safe. -Messenger drugged. No interference with remainder of train. Deliver safe -five-mile crossing to Number Four and Seven. Number One, Three, and -Six take engine and car further along the line. Return separately to -Selkirk. - -Again the Hawk whistled low under his breath—and for the second time -reached into his inside vest pocket. He took out a letter that was -addressed, care of general delivery, to Mr. J. P. Carrister. The Hawk -puffed pleasantly at his pipe as he read it: - -“Dear Friend: The folks are all well, and hope you are the same. I -haven't had time to write much lately. I like my new job fine. Say, I -felt like a Fifth Avenue dook for about umpty seconds to-day. One of the -fellows in the office let me hold a package of diamonds in my hand just -to see what it felt like. Gee! Say, you could almost shove it in your -vest pocket, and it was invoiced through customs at twenty thousand -plunks. They were unset stones, and came in from Amsterdam. It made me -feel queer. - -“I wouldn't like to be the fellow that has to keep his eye on it any -of the way from here to San Francisco, where it's going to-morrow by -express. If you see any bright lights flashing around your burg that -you can't account for about 11:15 next Wednesday night, you'll know -it's the diamonds going through in the express-car safe. I'm getting -to be some joker, eh? We all went down to Coney last Sunday. It's been -fierce and hot here. Say, don't be a clam, write us a line. Well, I -guess there ain't any more news. Yours truly, Bud.” - -The Hawk, instead of folding up the letter and returning it to his -pocket, began meditatively to tear it into minute shreds, and with it -the police circular and the sheet of paper on which he had worked out -the cipher message. The Fast Mail scheduled Selkirk at 11:15—and this -was Wednesday night! - -“Twenty thousand dollars,” said the Hawk gently under his breath. -“Thanks, Bud, old boy! You were there with the goods all right, but -it wasn't a one-man job, and I didn't think there was going to be -anything doing.” The Hawk grinned at the ceiling. “And just as I was -about passing up the last check, here they go and fix it for me to scoop -the whole pot! Three miles east of Burke's Siding, eh?” - -The Hawk relapsed into silence for a moment; then he spoke again. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk, “I guess that ought to work. She won't -make the three miles from the siding under five or six minutes. She's -due at Burke's at ten-ten. I can make it on the local out of here at -eight-thirty. Twenty thousand dollars—in unset stones! Just as good as -cash—and a lot easier to carry!” - -The Hawk looked at his watch. It was five minutes of eight. He rose -leisurely from his chair, stooped for a precautionary inspection of the -trunk lock, put on his coat, and, moving toward the door, switched off -the light. - -“If I get away with this,” observed the Hawk, as he went down -the stairs and let himself out through the street door, “it'll be -good-night for keeps if any of the gang ever pick up my trail—and -they won't quit until they do! And then there's MacVightie and the -police. I guess there'll be some little side-stepping to do—what? -Oh, well”—he shrugged his shoulders—“I guess I'll get a bite -of supper, anyway—there's no telling when I'll have a chance to -eat again!” - - - - -VIII—THREADS IN THE WEB - -IT was not far to the station—down through the lane from the Palace -Saloon—and close to the station, he remembered, there was a little -short-order house that was generally patronised by the railroad men. Old -Mother Barrett's short-order house, they called it. She was the wife -of an engineer who had been killed, he had heard, and she had a boy -working somewhere on the railroad. Not that he was interested in these -details; in fact, as he walked along, the Hawk was not interested in -old Mother Barrett in a personal sense at all—but, as he reached the -short-order house and entered, his eyes, as though magnetically drawn -in that direction, fixed instantly on the little old woman behind the -counter. - -The Hawk was suddenly very much interested in old Mother Barrett. It was -not that she made a somewhat pathetic figure, that she drooped a little -at the shoulders, that her face under her grey hair looked tired, -or that, though scrupulously neat, her clothes were a little -threadbare—it was none of these things—it was old Mother Barrett's -hands that for the moment concerned the Hawk. She was in the act of -adjusting her spectacles and picking up a very new and crisp ten-dollar -bill, that a customer from the stool in front of her had evidently -tendered in payment for his meal. The Hawk shot a quick glance up and -down the room. There were several other customers at the long counter, -but the stool beside the owner of the ten-dollar bill was vacant—and -the Hawk unostentatiously straddled it. - -He glanced casually at the man at his elbow; allowed his eyes to stray -to the kindly, motherly old face with its grey Irish eyes, that was -puckered now in a sort of hesitant indecision—and glanced a little -more than casually at the banknote she kept turning over and over in her -hands. No, he had not been mistaken. It was one of those counterfeits -which, according to MacVightie, had flooded the East and were now making -their appearance in Selkirk, and it was a duplicate of those in the -false tray of his trunk. His eyes perhaps were sharper than old Mother -Barrett's—in any case, his identification was the quicker, for his -gaze had wandered to the coffee urn, and he was drumming idly on the -counter with his finger tips before the little old woman finally spoke. - -“I—I'm afraid I can't take this,” she said slowly, handing the -banknote back across the counter. - -“What's the matter with it?” demanded the man gruffly. - -“Why—it's—it's counterfeit,” she said a little anxiously, as -though she were fearful of giving offence. - -The Hawk's eyes, with mild and quite impersonal interest, were on the -man's face now. The man had picked up the bill, and was pretending to -examine it critically. - -“Counterfeit!” echoed the man shortly. “Say, what are you -giving us! It's as good as wheat! Give me my change, and let me get -out—I'm in a hurry!” He pushed the bill toward her again. - -She did not pick it up from the counter this time. - -“I'm sorry.” She seemed genuinely disturbed, and the sweet old -face was full of sympathy. “I'm sure you did not know that it was -not good, and ten dollars is a great deal to lose, isn't it? It's -too bad. Do you remember where you got it?” - -“Look here, you're dippy!” snapped the man. “I tell you it's -not counterfeit. Anyway, it's all I've got. If you want your pay, -take it!” - -“You owe me thirty-five cents, but I can't take it out of this.” -She shook her head in a troubled way. “This is a counterfeit.” - -“You seem to be pretty well posted—on counterfeits!” sneered the -man offensively. “How do you know it's a counterfeit—eh?” - -“Because I've seen one like this before,” she said simply. “My -son showed me one the last time he was in from his run, and he warned me -to be careful about taking any.” - -“Oh, your son—eh?” sneered the man again. “Some son! Wised you -up, did he? Carries it around with him—eh? And who does he shove it -off on?” - -There was a queer little sound from the old lady—like a quick, hurt -catch of her breath. The Hawk's eyes travelled swiftly to her face. -She had turned a little pale, and her lips were trembling—but she was -drawn up very proudly, and the thin shoulders were squared back. - -“I love my boy,” she said in a low voice, and tears came suddenly -into her eyes, “I love him with all my heart, but I should a thousand -times rather see him dead than know him for a thief. And a man who -attempts to pass these things knowingly is a—thief. I have been very -respectful to you, sir, and I do not deserve what you have said. I -assumed that you had been swindled yourself, and that you were perfectly -honest in offering the bill to me, but now from your——” - -“What's the trouble, Mother Barrett?”—a big railroader farther -up the counter had laid down his knife and fork, and swung round on his -stool. - -With a hurried glance in that direction, the man hastily thrust the -counterfeit note into his pocket, laid down thirty-five cents on the -counter—and, with a dive across the room, disappeared through the -door. - -The Hawk stared thoughtfully after him. - -“I couldn't butt in on that, and hand him one,” said the Hawk to -himself almost apologetically. “Not with twenty thousand in sight! I -couldn't afford to get into a row, and maybe miss the local, and spill -the beans, could I?” - -He looked around again to find the little old woman wiping her -spectacles, and smiling at him a little wistfully. - -“I'm sorry that you had to listen to any unpleasantness,” she -said. “My little place isn't very pretentious, but I would not like -to have you, a stranger, think that sort of thing was customary here. -What can I get you, sir?” - -It was no wonder that the railroaders evidently swore by old Mother -Barrett, and that one of them had been quick to shift her trouble to his -own shoulders! - -“I guess he was a bad one, all right!” growled the Hawk. - -She shook her head regretfully. There was no resentment left—it was as -though, indeed, the man was a charge upon her own conscience. - -“He meant to be dishonest, I am afraid,” she admitted reluctantly; -“but I am sure he cannot be thoroughly bad, for he wasn't very -old—just a young man.” - -She was a very simple, trusting little old lady—as well as a sweet -little old lady. Why should her illusions be dispelled? The Hawk nodded -gravely. - -“Perhaps,” suggested the Hawk, “perhaps he hasn't had any one to -keep him straight. Perhaps he hasn't got what keeps a good many chaps -straight—a good mother.” - -The mist was quick in her eyes again. He had not meant to bring -that—he had meant only to show her a genuine admiration and respect. - -“Perhaps not,” she answered slowly. “But if he has, I hope she -will never know.” She shook her head again; and then: “But you have -not told me yet what you would like, sir?” - -The Hawk gave his order. He ate mechanically. Back in his mind he was -reviewing a rather extensive acquaintanceship with certain gentry whose -morals were not wholly above reproach. Failing, however, to identify the -individual with the counterfeit note as one of this select number, he -finally dismissed the man somewhat contemptuously from his mind. - -“Just a piker crook, I guess,” decided the Hawk. “I'd like to -have found out though how many more of those he's got, and who the -fool was that let an amateur skate like that loose with any of the -goods!” - -He finished his meal, paid his bill, smiled a goodnight to old Mother -Barrett, walked out of the short-order house, and made his way over to -the station. Five minutes later, having purchased a magazine, the Hawk, -with a ticket in his pocket for a station a number of miles beyond -Burke's Siding, curled himself up with his pipe on a seat in the -smoker of the local. - -The train started, and the Hawk apparently became immersed in his -magazine. The Hawk, however, though he turned a page from time to time, -was concerned with matters very far removed from the printed words -before him. The game to-night was more hazardous, more difficult, and -for a vastly greater stake than any in which he had before pitted his -wits or played his lone hand against the combined brains of the Butcher, -his fellows, and their unknown leader, who collectively were referred to -by the papers as—the Wire Devils. - -The Hawk tamped down the ash in the bowl of his pipe with a wary -forefinger. He, the Hawk, according to MacVightie, was the leader -of this ingenious criminal league! It was very complimentary of -MacVightie—very! Between MacVightie and the Wire Devils themselves, he -was a personage much sought after! MacVightie, however, was not without -grounds for his assertion and belief—the Hawk grinned pleasantly—he, -the Hawk, had certainly, and for some time back, helped himself to the -leader's share of the spoils, and helped himself very generously! - -The grin died away. He had beaten them so far, appropriated from under -their very noses the loot they had so carefully planned to obtain, and -he had mocked and taunted them contemptuously in the doing of it; but -the cold fact remained that luck sometimes was known to turn, and -that the pitcher that went too often to the well ran the risk of -getting—smashed! If they ever caught him, his life would not be worth -an instant's purchase. He knew some of them, and he knew them well for -what they were, and he laboured under no delusions on that score! The -Butcher, for example, who was the Number One of the message, had already -nearly done for him once; and the Butcher had nothing on Number Three, -who was the Bantam, or on Number Seven, who was Whitie Jim—or, it -was safe to presume, on any of the others that he had not yet -identified—this Number Four and Number Six, for instance, who were -mentioned in the cipher message to-night. And how many more were there? -He did not know—except that there was the Master Spider of them all. - -The Hawk had ceased now even to turn cursorily the pages of the -magazine. He was staring out of the window. - -“I wonder,” muttered the Hawk grimly, “when I'll run up against -him? And who he is? And where the head office is?” - -He nodded his head after a moment. MacVightie had called the turn. The -Wire Devils formed as powerful and dangerous a criminal organisation as -had probably ever existed anywhere. And not for very long would they put -all their resources at work to pull off some coup, only to find that he, -the Hawk, had made use of their preparations to snatch the prize away -from them; they were much more likely to put all their resources at -work—with the Hawk as their sole objective! - -The Hawk's lips tightened. He might under-estimate, but he could not -exaggerate, his danger! The man in the seat behind him might be one of -them for all he knew. Somewhere, hidden away in his web, at the end of -a telegraph wire, was the Master Spider directing the operations; and -there must be very many of them—the little spiders—spread all over -the division. Where there was a telegraph sounder that sounder carried -the messages, the plans, the secret orders of the brain behind the -organisation; and the very audaciousness with which they made themselves -free of the railroad's telegraph system to communicate with each -other was in itself a guarantee of success. If one of their messages was -interfered with, they threatened to cut the wires; and that meant, if -luckily it meant no more, that train operating was at an end until -the break could be located and repaired. Were they tapping the wire -somewhere? What chance was there to find out where? There were hundreds -of old splices on the wires. Or, if found, what would prevent them -tapping the wire on the next occasion many miles away? Also the sources -of information that they tapped must be far-flung. How, for instance, -unless they too had a “Bud” back there in New York, did they know of -this diamond shipment coming through to-night? - -The Hawk's lips grew still a little tighter. His safety so far had -depended on the fact that he possessed the key to their cipher messages, -which not only enabled him to reap where they had sown, but warned -him of any move they might make against him. But it was becoming -increasingly difficult to intercept those messages. He had MacVightie -to thank for that. Where before he had only to crawl into some little -way-station where there was no night operator, MacVightie now had every -one of those stations securely guarded. Yes, it had become exceedingly -more difficult! If only he could find out where those messages emanated -from, or the system in force for receiving them! - -The Hawk slid further down in his seat, tossed the magazine to one -side, pulled his hat over his eyes, and appeared to sleep. All that was -neither here nor there—to-night. He had the message to-night—but he -had not yet got that twenty thousand dollars in unset stones! He would -perhaps do well, now that he had the leisure, to give the details of -that matter a little more critical attention than they had received -when he had made up his mind that his best chance lay in the three miles -between Burke's Siding and the point where the Butcher and his men -planned to hold up the train. According to the message, the implication -was that there would be nobody in the express car at that time except -a drugged messenger. And now, somehow, he did not quite like the -appearance of that. It seemed a little queer. What was the object of -drugging the man if they did not take immediate advantage of it? He -pondered the problem for a long time. No, after all, it was logical -enough—since they meant to remove the safe bodily. There evidently was -not a specialised cracksman amongst them who had lifted his profession -to the plane of art, no “knob-twirler” such as—well, such as -himself! The Hawk opened his eyes sleepily to inspect the tips of his -carefully manicured fingers. Otherwise, with no one to interfere but -a drugged messenger, they could have opened the safe, looted it, and, -since the Fast Mail carried only through express matter, have slipped -away from the car at the first stop, with no one being the wiser until, -somewhere up the line, the messenger returned to life and gave the -alarm. - -Yes, it was very craftily worked out. The Master Spider was far from a -fool! They would have to “soup” the safe, and blow it open. If they -attempted that while the train was en route they ran the risk of being -heard, and trapped like rats in the car; and if they were heard, even -if they managed to stop the train and make their escape, they invited -instant and definite pursuit on the spot. The reason for drugging the -express messenger became quite evident now. If the man were already -helpless when they held up the train, they, at one and the same time, -assured their access to an otherwise guarded car without danger to -themselves, and without danger of being balked at the last moment of -their reward—which the messenger, with a small package like that, -might easily have been able to accomplish if he were a game man. He -could have opened the safe, say, the instant the first alarm came as -they tried to force the car door, taken out the package, and secreted -it somewhere. It needed only the nerve after that to defy them, and they -had evidently given him credit for it whether he possessed it or not. - -Yes, decidedly, the Master Spider was no fool in the spinning of his -web! As it was, the safe, which would only be a small affair anyhow, -would disappear bodily; and between the point where the train was held -up and the point where they finally left the engine and express car -there would be a distance of at least ten miles, even allowing that they -approached no nearer than within two miles of Bradley, the first station -west of Burke's Siding. With the wires cut and the coaches of the Fast -Mail stalled three miles out of Burke's, considerable time must elapse -before any one could make a move against them; and even when the pursuit -finally started, MacVightie, for instance, would be confronted with -that somewhat illusive stretch of ten miles in which to decide where -the pursuit should begin. Ten miles was some little distance! MacVightie -would be quite at liberty to make his guess, and there was the chance, -with the trifling odds of some few odd thousand to one against it, that -he might guess right—unless he guessed that the safe had been removed -at the point where the engine and car were finally left, in which case -MacVightie would guess wrong. - -If the Hawk was asleep, he was perhaps dreaming—for the Hawk -smiled. The chances were just about those few odd thousand to one -that MacVightie would guess exactly that way—wrong. Yes, it was an -exceedingly neat little web that the Master Spider had spun. If he, the -Hawk, were permitted to make a guess, he would guess that the safe would -never be found! - -His mind reverted to the cipher message. The safe was to be delivered at -“five-mile crossing.” Where that was the Hawk did not know—except -that it must necessarily be somewhere between the point where the train -was held up and Bradley. However, that was a detail with which he need -hardly concern himself. Long before this “five-mile crossing” -was reached, his vest pocket, if he played in luck, would be very -comfortably lined! He would enter the express car as the Fast Mail -pulled out of Burke's Siding, trust to certain long and intimate -experience to open the safe—and get off the train as it slowed down -at the Butcher's very thoughtful request! For the rest, the -details—circumstances must govern there. In the main, that would be -his plan. - -The Hawk “slept” on. Station after station was passed. His mind now -dealt in little snatches of thought. There was MacVightie and the police -circular; and the search of his room that day; and speculation as to -how they had managed to drug the express messenger; and the man with the -counterfeit ten-dollar bill in old Mother Barrett's short-order house; -and the little old woman herself, with her shabby clothes and her tired, -gentle face—and finally the Hawk stirred, glanced at his watch, and, -as the train whistled, picked up his magazine and sauntered down the car -aisle to the door. - -They were approaching Burke's Siding. The Hawk opened the door, went -out on the platform, and descended to the lowest step. The train slowed. -A water-tank loomed up, receded—and the Hawk dropped to the ground. -A minute later, as the tail-lights winked by and came to a stop at the -station a short distance down the track, he had made his way back, to -the water-tank, crossed to the opposite side of the track, and stretched -himself out on the grass in the hollow at the foot of the embankment. -The Fast Mail's sole excuse for a stop at Burke's Siding was the -water-tank—which would bring the express car to a halt directly in -front of the spot where he now lay. - -The local pulled out, and racketed away into the night. The tail-lights -vanished. Silence fell. There was only the chirping of the insects -now, and the strange, queer, indefinable medley of little night-sounds. -Burke's Siding was a lonely place. There was a faint yellow gleam from -the station windows, and there was the twinkle of the switch lights—no -other sign of life. It was pitch black—so black that the Hawk could -just barely distinguish the outline of the water-tank across the track. - -“It's a nice night,” observed the Hawk pleasantly to himself. “A -very nice night! It's strange how some people prefer a moon!” - - - - -IX—THE LOOTING OF THE FAST MAIL - -THE minutes went by, ten, fifteen, twenty of them—a half hour—and -then, from far down the track, hoarse through the night, came the -scream of a whistle. From his pocket the Hawk took out his diminutive -flashlight, thin as a pencil. It might have been the winking of a -firefly, as he played it on the dial of his watch. - -“On the dot!” murmured the Hawk. “Some train—the Fast Mail! I -guess, though, she'll be a little late, at that, to-night—when -she pulls into Selkirk!” A roar and rumble was in the night again, -increasing steadily in volume. Down the right of way, in the distance, a -flash of light stabbed through the black. It grew brighter and brighter. -The Hawk, wary of the spread of the powerful electric headlight, edged -further away from the trackside. And now the rails gleamed like polished -silver—and the water-tank stood up out of the darkness, a thing of -monstrous size. There was the hiss of steam, the rasp and grind of the -setting brakes, the glinting rays from the windows of a long string -of coaches that trailed back to the station platform, and a big -ten-wheeler, like some human thirsty thing, was panting beside the -water-tank. - -The engineer, with his torch, swung from the gangway for an oil around. -There was the creak of the descending spout, the rush of water, and, -silhouetted against the water-tank, the Hawk could make out the -fireman standing on the back of the tender. And now, poking with his -long-spouted oil can, weirdly swallowed up in the darkness at intervals -as he thrust the torch far in under the big machine, the engineer moved -slowly along the side of the engine, and finally disappeared around the -end of the pilot. - -The Hawk stole forward closer to the track again, his eyes on the -fireman, who, now that the engineers torch was on the other side, was -more sharply outlined than before. Came then the swish and gush of water -as it overflowed, the spout banged back against the water-tank, and the -fireman scrambled back over the tender into the cab. It was the -moment the Hawk had been waiting for. Swiftly, but still crawling as a -safeguard against being seen by any of the train crew in the rear, he -moved up the embankment, and in an instant had swung himself up between -the tender and the forward door of the express car. There was no -platform here, of course, but the end beam of the car, making a sort of -wide threshold, gave him ample room on which to stand. - -The roar of escaping steam drowned out all other sounds; the back of the -tender hid him from any chance of observation from the cab. He tried the -door cautiously. It was locked, of course—there were twenty thousand -dollars' worth of stones in the safe inside! The Hawk felt carefully -over the lock with his fingers, classifying it in the darkness, as it -were, by the sense of touch, and produced from his packet his bunch of -skeleton keys. He inserted one of the keys, worked with it for a -moment, then shook his head, and selected another. This time he felt -the lock-bolt slide back. The train was jerking into motion now. He -exchanged his keys for his automatic, turned the knob softly, opened the -door an inch, and listened. Even the Wire Devils were not infallible, -and if by any chance the messenger— - -The Hawk whistled low and contentedly under his breath. He had caught a -glimpse of the interior of the car—and now he slipped quickly through -the door, closing the door behind him. - -A quarter length down the car, in the aisle made by the express packages -which were piled high on either side, the messenger, a young man of -perhaps twenty-two, was huddled, apparently unconscious, in his chair. -In a flash the Hawk was down the car, and bending sharply over the -other. The man sat in a helpless, sagging attitude; he was breathing -heavily, and his head, hanging forward and a little to one side, swayed -limply with the motion of the car. There was no question as to the -messenger's condition—he was drugged, and well drugged. From the -man, the Hawk's eyes travelled to a sort of desk, or ledge, built out -from the side of the car, and topped by a pigeonholed rack stuffed with -express forms and official-looking manila envelopes. On the desk was a -small leather satchel containing some lunch, and a bottle of what was -evidently cold tea, now but barely a quarter full; and, as though to -supply further evidence that the man had succumbed in the midst of his -meal, a little to one side lay a meat sandwich, half eaten. - -The Hawk nodded quietly to himself, as again his eyes shifted—this -time to a small safe, about three feet square, that stood beneath the -desk. It was quite easy to understand now. The Wire Devils had only to -ascertain the fact that it was the messenger's habit to eat his lunch -at a certain time, choose the point of attack on the line to correspond -therewith, and see that a sufficient quantity of knockout drops was -introduced into the cold tea—not a very weighty undertaking for the -Wire Devils! - -Well, it was a bit rough on the boy—the Hawk was kneeling now in front -of the safe—but he, the Hawk, was greatly indebted to the Wire Devils! -Twenty thousand dollars was a snug little sum—quite a snug little sum! - -The figure in the chair, with swaying head, breathed stertorously; there -was the pound, quick in its tempo, of the trucks beating at the rail -joints; the give-and-take of the car in protesting little creaks; and, -over all, a muffled roar as the Fast Mail tore through the night—but -the Hawk heard none of this. His ear was pressed close against the face -of the safe listening for the tumblers' fall, as his fingers twirled -the dial knob. - -After a little while the Hawk spoke aloud. - -“Left, twenty-eight, one quarter... two right, fourteen... two left, -eighteen, one-half,” he said. - -He straightened up, swung the handle of the safe—and a dismayed, -anxious look flashed across his face. There was not much time, very -little time—-and he had missed it! How far along those three miles -from Burke's Siding to where the Butcher was waiting had the train -already come? - -He tried again, coolly, methodically—and again he missed. - -“I guess I'm out of practice to fall down on a tin box like -this!” he muttered grimly. “But the first two are right, that's -sure—it's the last turn that's wrong somewhere. Give me another -minute or two”—he was twirling the dial knob with deft, quick -fingers once more—“that's all I ask, and——” - -A sudden jolt flung him forward against the safe. Came the scream of the -whistle, the screech of the tight-set brakes, the bump, and jerk, and -pound, and grind of the flying train coming to an emergency stop. The -limp form of the messenger, sliding down, was almost doubled over the -arm of the chair. - -In an instant the Hawk had recovered his balance, and, his face set like -iron, his jaws clamped hard, he snatched at the knob, and with desperate -haste now made another attempt. There were a few seconds left, a few -seconds before the train would come finally to a standstill and—no, -they were gone now, those seconds—and he had missed again! - -His automatic was in his hand as he stood up. It was no longer a -question of twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset diamonds—it was -a question of his life. There was a bitter smile on his lips, as he ran -for the forward door. It looked as though the pitcher had at last gone -once too often to the well! The train had stopped now. He reached the -door, and opened it guardedly a little way. A great red flare from -somewhere ahead lighted up the night. He heard and recognised the -Butcher's voice, menacing, raucous, punctuated with vicious oaths: - -“Get out of that cab, and get out damned quick! Down you come—jump -now! Now, boys, run 'em back, and keep firing down the length of the -train as you go; and if these guys don't run faster than you do, let -'em have it in the back! Beat it now—beat it like hell! I'll pull -out the minute you're uncoupled. You two grab the rear end as she -moves, there's room enough for you, and you can bust in the door, -and——” - -A fusilade of shots rang out. Flashes cut the black. The Butcher's two -companions, evidently driving the engineer and fireman before them, were -coming on the run along the trackside from the cab. The Hawk retreated -back a step, and closed the car door. He heard the men rush past -outside. The fusilade seemed to redouble in intensity; and now, added to -it, were shouts and yells from the rear of the train itself, and—if he -were not mistaken—answering shots. - -His hand on the doorknob, he stood waiting tensely. With the Butcher on -guard out there in front, it would have been equivalent to suicide -to have opened the door again until he knew the other was back in the -cab—against the background of the lighted interior he would have made -a most excellent mark for the Butcher! - -His eyes swept past the huddled form of the young messenger in the -chair, and fixed speculatively on the safe. He nodded suddenly, grimly. -Twenty thousand dollars! Well, he wasn't beaten yet—not till he -threw down his own hand of his own accord—not till he lost sight of -the safe for keeps! - -Over the shouts and revolver shots came the sharp, vicious hiss of the -air-hose, as it was uncoupled; and then, with a violent jerk, the car -started forward, as the Butcher evidently whipped the throttle open. -And, coincidently, there was a smash upon the rear door—and the Hawk -opened the forward door and slipped out again. - -A din infernal was in his ears. Like a maddened thing under the -Butcher's unscientific spur, the big ten-wheeler was coughing the -sparks heavenward in a volleying stream, while the huge drivers raced -like pinwheels in another shower of sparks as the tires sought to bite -and hold. And now the rear door of the car crashed inward; the shots -came fast as a gatling, and shouts, screams and yells added their quota -to the uproar. - -The Hawk, crouched by the door, moved suddenly to one side, as he caught -the dull, ominous spat of a bullet against one of the panels. The train -crew and those of the passengers who were armed were, very obviously, -keeping up a running fight from the stalled section of the train, and -pumping their bul-lets through the broken rear door and up the aisle of -the express car as long as they could hold the range; and, from within, -he could distinguish the duller, muffled reports of the Butcher's -confederates firing in return, preventing any attempt being made to rush -the rear of the car. - -And then the sounds began to recede and die away. The men inside the car -ceased firing, and he could hear them now moving the safe out from the -side of the car. It seemed as though a very long interval of time had -been consumed in the hold-up; but in reality he knew it had been little -more than a matter of seconds—the time it had taken the two men to run -the length of the car, uncouple it, and leap on the rear end. The fight -afterwards could hardly count, for once the express car began to pull -away the thing was done. - -They were moving fast now, and with every instant the speed was -increasing. The Hawk clutched at the handrail, and lowered himself to -the iron foot-rung which, on the express car, served in lieu of steps. -Here, having chosen the opposite side to that of the Butcher at the -throttle in the cab, he ran no risk of being observed. This “five-mile -crossing,” wherever it was, promised to concern him a great deal more -than he had anticipated! He leaned out, and clung there, staring ahead. - -The big ten-wheeler was swaying and staggering like a drunken thing; the -rush of the wind whipped at his face; a deafening roar sang in his -ears. The Fast Mail usually ran fast; but the Butcher was running like a -dare-devil, and the bark of the exhaust had quickened now into a single -full-toned note deep as thunder. - -With a sort of grim placidity, the Hawk clung to the lurching rail. Far -ahead along the right of way, a shaft of light riven through walls of -blackness, played the headlight. Shadowy objects, trees that loomed up -for an instant and were gone, showed on the edge of the wavering ray. -They tore through a rock cut, and, in the confined space and in the -fraction of a second it took to traverse it, the roar was metamorphosed -into an explosion. And then suddenly, as though by magic, the headlight -shot off at a tangent, and the glistening lines of steel, that were -always converging but never meeting, were gone, and the ray fell full -upon a densely wooded tract where leaves and foliage became a soft and -wonderful shade of green under the artificial light. The Hawk braced -himself—and just in time. The ten-wheeler, unchecked, swung the curve -with a mighty lurch, off drivers fairly lifted from the rails. She -seemed to hang there hesitantly for a breathless instant, then with a -crunch, staggering, settled back and struck into her stride again. - -The thunder of the exhaust ceased abruptly, and the speed began to -slacken. The Butcher had slammed the throttle shut. At the end of the -headlight's ray, that was straight along the track again, a red light -flashed up suddenly three times and vanished. The Hawk leaned farther -out, tense now, straining his eyes ahead. It was evidently Number Four -and Number Seven signalling from “five-mile crossing.” - -The Butcher began to check with the “air.” And now, in the -headlight's glare, the distance shortened, the Hawk could discern a -large wagon, drawn by two horses, that appeared to be backed up close to -the right-hand side of the track. Two forms seemed to be tugging at the -horses, which equally seemed to be plunging restively—and then, being -on the wrong side of the car, the angle of vision narrowed and he could -see no more. - -The Hawk turned now—his eyes on the door of the car. There was a -possibility, a little more than a possibility, that the men inside, -knowing that they had reached their destination, would come out this -way. No—he had only to keep hidden from the men out there with the -wagon until the car stopped—the men within were sliding back the side -door. He swung himself still farther out on the foot-rung; then, curving -back with the aid of the handrail, flattened himself against the side of -the car. - -They were close up to the wagon now, and he could hear voices cursing -furiously at the horses, as the frightened animals stamped and pawed. -And then the car bumped and jerked to a standstill, and the Butcher was -bawling from the cab: - -“Take the horses out, you blamed fools, and tie 'em back there on -the road a bit till we're gone! We'd have a sweet time loading the -wagon with them doing the tango every second! Take 'em out! We'll -back the wagon up against the car.” - -The Hawk lowered himself silently to the ground—to find that the car -had come to a stop directly over a road crossing. The men in the car had -joined their voices with the Butcher's, and in the confusion now the -Hawk slipped quickly along the side of the car, stole around the rear -end, and from that point of vantage stood watching the Butcher and his -men at work. - -He could see quite plainly, thanks to the light from the car's -wide-open side door that flooded the scene. The horses had been -unharnessed, and were being led away along the road. One of the men in -the car jumped to the ground, as the Butcher called out, and together -they backed the wagon close up against the car doorway; and then, -presently, the men who had accompanied the horses, one carrying a -lantern, came running back. The Hawk's eyes, from a general and -comprehensive survey of the scene, fixed on the man who until now had -not left the car, but who had now sprung down into the wagon and -was running a short plank, to be used as a skid evidently, up to the -threshold of the car door, which was a little above the level of the -wagon. The light shone full in the man's face. - -“Number Six—Crusty Kline!” confided the Hawk softly to himself. -“I'm glad to know that. The last time I chummed with Crusty was back -in little old Sing Sing. Guess he got out for good behaviour—thought -he was elected for five spaces yet!” - -Crusty spoke now, as he jumped back into the car. - -“Look here, Butcher, I'm telling you again, this guy in here's in -pretty bad shape.” - -“Never mind about that!” replied the Butcher roughly. “Get the -safe out! All hands now! We've got no time to monkey with him. He'll -come around all right, I guess—anyway, it's none of our lookout!” - -The men were bunched together now, three in the doorway of the car and -two in the wagon, the safe between them. The Hawk was studying one of -the two who stood in the wagon. One was Whitie Jim, as he already knew, -but the other had had his back half turned, and the Hawk had not been -able to see his face. The safe slid down the plank, and was levered and -pushed forward into the middle of the wagon. - -“French Pete!” said the Hawk suddenly and as softly as before, as -the man he had been watching straightened up and turned around. “Say, -I guess Sing Sing's gone out of business—or else somebody left the -door open!” - -But if the Hawk's words were indicative of a facetious mood, his -actions were not. There was a sort of dawning inspiration in the dark, -narrowed eyes; and the strong jaw, as it was outthrust, drew his lips -into a grim, hard smile. They were spreading a huge tarpaulin over the -wagon and safe—and abruptly the Hawk drew back, dropped to his hands -and knees, crawled along the trackside on the opposite side of the car -again until almost opposite the wagon, and there lay flat and motionless -at the side of the road. There was a chance yet, still a chance, a very -good chance—for that twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset stones. - -“All right, now!” It was the Butcher's voice. “Pull her away a -few feet into the clear!” The wagon creaked and rattled. “That's -enough! Now get a move on—everybody!” - -Steps crunched along the trackside—the Butcher and his two companions -obviously making for the cab—and a moment later came the cough of the -engine's exhaust, and the express car began to glide past the spot -where the Hawk lay. - -The Hawk raised himself cautiously on his elbows. Two dark forms and a -bobbing lantern were already speeding toward where the horses had been -left. The Hawk crawled forward, crossed the track—and paused. The -engine and express car were fast disappearing in the distance; the -lantern glimmered amongst the trees at the side of the road a good -hundred yards away. - -There was no shadow to fall across the back of the wagon. - -“I said it was a nice night, and that it was strange how some people -preferred a moon!” observed the Hawk cheerfully—and, lifting the -end of the tarpaulin, he swung noiselessly under it into the wagon, and -stretched himself out beside the safe. - - - - -X—THE THIRD PARTY - -The Hawk felt upward with his hand over the safe. It was faced, he -found, toward the rear of the wagon. This necessitated a change in his -own position. He listened tensely. They were coming back with the horses -now, but they were still quite a little way off. He shifted quickly -around until his head and shoulders were in front of the safe. - -“It was the last turn of the combination that I fell down on, though I -don't see how it happened!” muttered the Hawk. - -He felt above his head again, this time rubbing his fingers critically -over the tarpaulin—and then the diminutive little flashlight winked, -winked again as it played around him, and finally held steadily on the -nickel dial. There were no inadvertent openings, and, particularly, no -holes in the tarpaulin, and the texture of the tarpaulin was a guarantee -that the tiny rays of light would not show through. - -They were harnessing the horses into the wagon now. The Hawk, in a -somewhat cramped position, due to the wagon's narrow width, his legs -twisted at right angles to his body as he lay on his back, reached up -and began to twirl the dial knob slowly and with painstaking care. - -“Left, twenty-eight, one quarter,” murmured the Hawk; and, a moment -later: “Two right, four——” - -The Hawk swore earnestly under his breath. The jolt of the wagon, coming -unexpectedly as it started forward, had caused him to spin the knob too -far around. - -It was hot, stifling hot, under the heavy tarpaulin, that, slanting -downward from the little safe, lay almost against his face. A bead of -sweat had gathered on his forehead. He brushed it away, and began -again to work at the dial. It was more difficult now—the wagon bumped -infernally. And as he worked, he could hear the muffled clatter of the -horses' hoofs, and occasionally the voices of the two men on the seat. - -And then suddenly the Hawk's fingers travelled from the dial knob -to the handle. Had he got it this time, or—yes! The handle swung -easily—there was a low metallic thud—the bolt had slipped back to -the end of its grooves. The safe was unlocked! - -“Twenty thousand dollars!” said the Hawk very softly—and, without -the slightest sound, he edged his body backwards to afford space for the -swing of the opening door. “Twenty thousand doll——” - -The word died, half uttered, on the Hawk's lips. The flashlight was -illuminating the interior of the safe. On the bottom lay a single, -crisp, ten-dollar counterfeit note, over the face of which was scrawled -in ink—“With the Hawk's compliments!” Otherwise the safe was -empty. - -For a moment, like a man dazed, he stared at the counterfeit note. He -could not seem to believe his eyes, Empty—the safe was empty! The -diamonds were gone—gone! Gone—and these poor fools were driving an -empty safe to the Master Spider—and another poor fool, with dropped -jaw, was staring, gaping like an imbecile, into one! And then, a grip -upon himself again, he laughed low, grimly, unpleasantly. “With the -Hawk's compliments!” He had sent a bill like that once to MacVightie -inscribed—“With the Hawk's compliments!” This was very neat, -very clever of—somebody. Of somebody—who must have known what the -Wire Devils were up to to-night! There would be no doubt in the minds -of the Wire Devils, who would have heard of that little episode with -MacVightie, but that the Hawk had again forestalled them, and left -them a ten-dollar counterfeit bill in exchange for—twenty thousand -dollars' worth of unset diamonds! Only it was this somebody, and not -he, the Hawk, who was twenty thousand dollars the richer for it! - -He reached in, picked up the bill to put it in his, pocket—and -suddenly laid it back again, and closed and locked the safe. Why deprive -the Master Spider of a little joy; and, besides, it would carry a -message not perhaps so erroneous after all—for, in a flash, logically, -indisputably, apparently impossible though it appeared to be on the -surface, he knew who that somebody was. The shelving of the theft to the -Hawk's shoulders would have defeated its own object unless the -theft were committed and discovered on this particular division of -the railroad where the Hawk and, incidentally, his supposed gang of -desperadoes were known to be operating. The messenger certainly had not -been in a drugged condition when he went on duty, and, since it was only -reasonable to assume that he would have satisfied himself everything was -all right at that time, it was evident, as he had given no alarm, that -the contents of the safe had been intact when he took charge—whether -as a “through” man in New York, or at the eastern terminus of the -road, or at the last divisional point—it did not matter which. The -robbery, then, had been committed while the messenger was present in the -car—and it had been committed on this division. The safe had not -been forced, it showed not the slightest sign of violence—it had been -opened on the combination. Some one then, an expert safe-worker, in the -first stages of the messenger's drugged condition, had happened into -the car just ahead of him, the Hawk, and had done exactly what he, the -Hawk, had intended to do? - -“No,” said the Hawk. “No, I guess not.” He was wriggling -noiselessly backward, and his feet were hanging out now over the end -of the wagon. “No—coincidences like that don't happen—not -very often!” The Hawk's head and shoulders were still under the -tarpaulin, but his feet now could just feel the ground beneath them. -“I guess,” said the Hawk, as he suddenly withdrew his head, and, -crouching low, ran a few steps with the wagon, then dropped full length -in the road, “I guess it's—the third party.” - -The wagon disappeared in the darkness. The Hawk rose, and, turning, -broke into a run back along the road. - -He had been longer in the wagon than he had thought—it took him ten -minutes to regain the railroad tracks. - -Here, without pause, still running, he kept on along the right of -way—but there was a hard twist to his lips, and the clenching of -his fists was not wholly due to runner's “form.” How far had the -Butcher taken the car before deserting it? A mile? Two miles—three? -He could not run three miles under half an hour, and that would be fast -over railroad ties! How long would it be before the train crew of the -stalled Mail got back to Burke's Siding and managed somehow, in spite -of the cut wires, to give the alarm—or how long before the dispatcher -at Selkirk, with the Fast Mail reported “out” at Burke's Siding -and no “O. S.” from Bradley, would smell a rat? It would take time -after that, of course, before anything could be done; but, at best, the -margin left for him was desperately narrow. - -He ran on and on; his eyes, grown accustomed to the darkness, enabling -him to pick out the ties with a fair degree of accuracy. There was not -a sound save that of his own footsteps. He stopped for breath again and -again; and again and again ran on at top speed. It seemed as though he -had run not three miles, but six, when finally, far ahead, he caught a -glow of light. The Butcher and his confederates had evidently not taken -the trouble to close the side door of the car! - -Instinctively, the Hawk, in caution, slowed his pace—and the next -instant, smiling pityingly at himself for the act, ran on the faster. -The Butcher and the other two would long since have made their getaway! -There was only the messenger—and the messenger was drugged. That was -all that need concern him now—the messenger—to find some way to -rouse the man so that he could talk. - -The Hawk reached the car, ran along the side to the open door—and -stood suddenly still. And then, with a low, startled cry, he swung -himself up and through the doorway, and running forward, knelt beside -a huddled form on the floor. It was the messenger, sprawled on his face -now, motionless, and it was no longer a case of being drugged—the man -had been shot! There was a dark, ugly pool on the flooring, and a thin -red stream had trickled away in a zigzag course along one of the planks. -The Hawk's lips were tight. The Butcher's work! But why? Why? Yes! -Yes, he understood! The Butcher, too, in some way had discovered that -the messenger was—the third party! - -The boy—he was even more of a boy now in appearance, it seemed to the -Hawk, with his ashen face and colourless lips—the boy moaned a little, -and, as the Hawk lifted him up, opened his eyes. - -The Hawk produced a flask, and forced a few drops between the other's -lips. - -“Listen!” he said distinctly. “Try and understand what I am -saying. Did they get the diamonds from you after they shot you?” - -The boy's eyes widened with a quick, sudden fear. Perhaps the drug had -begun to wear off—perhaps it was the wound and the loss of blood that -had cleared his brain. - -“The diamonds?” he faltered. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk grimly. “The diamonds! You took them. Did you -tell those men where they were?” - -“It's—it's a lie!” The boy seemed to shiver convulsively. -Then, his voice scarcely audible: “No, it's—it's true. I—I -did. I—I guess I'm going out—ain't I? It's—it's true. But -I—I didn't tell. There weren't any men—I——” He had fainted -in the Hawk's arms. - -“My God!” whispered the Hawk solemnly. “It's true—the kid's -dying.” - -He held the flask to the other's lips again. It wasn't the Butcher, -then, who had shot the boy; and, besides, he saw now that the wound was -in a strangely curious place—in the back, below the shoulder blade; -the boy had been sitting in his shirt sleeves, and the back of his vest -was soaked with blood. And the Hawk remembered the fusillade of bullets -that had swept up the interior of the car, and the spat upon the forward -door panel as he had crouched there outside—and he understood. The -boy, sitting in a stupor in his chair facing the forward door, had been -directly in the line of fire, and a stray bullet had found its mark. - -“I—I don't know how you knew”—the boy had roused, and was -speaking again—“but—but I'm going out—and—and it's -true. Two days ago, a man gave me a hundred dollars to stand for—for -knockout drops on the run to-night. I—I couldn't get caught—I—I -was safe—whatever happened. I'd be found drugged—and—and no -blame coming to me—and——” He motioned weakly toward the flask in -the Hawk's hand. “Give me—give me some more of that!” - -He did not speak for a moment. - -“And, instead,” prompted the Hawk quietly, “you double-crossed the -game.” - -“I—I had a counterfeit ten-dollar bill,” the boy went on with an -effort. “I'd heard about the Hawk—and—and MacVightie. I knew -from what:—the fellow said—that the Hawk—wasn't one of them. -I—I got to thinking. All I had to do was empty the safe—and—and -write just what the Hawk did on the bill—and—and shove it in the -safe—and—and take the diamonds—and—and then drink the tea that -had the drops in it. I—I would be drugged, and they—they'd -think the Hawk did it while I was drugged before they—they got -here—and—and that's what I did.” - -The boy was silent again. It was still outside, very still—only the -chirpings of the insects and the night-sounds the Hawk had listened -to while he had lain below the embankment waiting for the train at -Burke's Siding. There was a set, strained look on the Hawk's face. -The kid was paying the long price—for twenty thousand dollars' worth -of unset diamonds! - -“To make it look like—like the real thing”—the boy's lips were -moving again—“I—I cleaned out everything in the safe—but—but -of course there mustn't any of that be found—and—and I tied the -stuff up—and—and weighted it, and dropped it—into—the—river -as we came over the bridge at Moosehead. And then I had to—to hide -the diamonds so they wouldn't be found on me, and yet so's -they—they'd come along with me—and—and not be left in the car. -I was afraid that when some of the train crew found me -drugged—they—they'd undress me—and—and put me to -bed—and—and so I didn't dare hide the diamonds in my clothes. -They're—they're—in——” He raised himself up suddenly, -clutched frantically at the Hawk's shoulders and his voice rang wildly -through the car. “Hold me tight—hold me tight—don't let me go -out yet—I—I got something more to say! Don't tell her! Don't -tell her! I'll tell you where the stones are, they're in the lining -of my lunch satchel—but don't—oh, for God's sake, don't tell -her—don't let her know that—that I'm a—thief! You don't have -to, do you? Say you don't! I'm—I'm going out—I—I've got -what's coming to me, and that's—enough—isn't it—without -her knowing too? It—it would kill her. She was a good mother—do you -hear!” - -He was stiffening back in the Hawk's arms. “And this ain't coming -to her. She was a good mother—do you hear—everybody called -her mother, but she's my mother—you know—old -Mother Barrett—short-order house—you -know—old—Mother—Barrett—good——” - -The boy never spoke again. - -The Hawk laid the still form gently back on the floor of the car, and -stood up. And there was a mist in the Hawk's eyes that blotted out his -immediate surroundings, and in the mist he seemed to see another scene, -and it was the picture of a gentle, kindly-faced old woman, who had -silver hair, and who wore clothes that were a little threadbare, and -whose grey Irish eyes behind the spectacles were filled with tears, and -he seemed to see the thin shoulders square proudly back, and he seemed -to hear her speak again: “I love my boy, I love him with all my heart, -but I should a thousand times rather see him dead than know him for a -thief.” - -Mechanically the Hawk moved over to the desk where the lunch satchel -still lay, and emptied out the remainder of the food. - -“No,” said the Hawk, “I guess she'll never know; and I guess -I'd have to take the stuff now, anyway, whether I wanted to or -not—if she's not to know.” He was examining the inside of the -satchel. It was an old and well-worn affair, and a torn piece of the -lining, stuck down with paste at the edges, would ordinarily have -attracted no attention. The Hawk loosened this, and felt inside. At the -bottom, carefully packed away, were strips of cotton wadding. He took -one out. Embedded in this were a number of diamonds, which, as he drew -the wadding apart, flashed brilliantly in the light of the oil lamps -above his head. He wrapped the stones up again, and put them in his -pocket—took out the remainder from the satchel, put these also in -his pocket, and replaced in the satchel the portion of the lunch he had -removed. It mattered little about the torn lining now! - -“He kind of put it up to me,” said the Hawk slowly. “Yes, and she -did too—without knowing it—old Mother Barrett. It's kind of queer -she should have said that—kind of queer.” The Hawk pulled the drawer -of the desk open, and nodded as he found and took out the messenger's -revolver. “Thought he'd have one, and that it would most likely be -here,” he muttered. - -He crossed the car, and listened intently at the open side door. There -was no sound—nothing, for instance, coming from Bradley yet. He closed -the door, and stood for an instant looking down at the boy's form on -the floor. - -“I guess I can fix it for you, kid—maybe,” he said simply. “I -guess I can.” - -In rapid succession he fired five of the seven shots from the revolver; -then, stooping, laid the weapon, as though it had dropped at last -from nerveless fingers, just beside the boy's outstretched hand. He -straightened up, stepped to the side door, and slid it open again. - -“It'll let the smoke out before anybody gets here,” said the Hawk. -“The Butcher isn't coming forward with any testimony, and with all -those shots fired at the time of the hold-up who's to know the boy -didn't fight till he went down and out? And now I guess I'll make -my own getaway!” He dropped to the trackside, and started forward at a -brisk pace. “I'll keep on a bit until I hear something coming,” -he decided. “Then I'll lay low while they're cleaning up the line, -and wait till I can hop a freight, east or west, that will get me out of -this particular locality. After that, there's nothing to it!” - -A hundred yards farther on the Hawk spoke again, and there was a twisted -smile on the Hawk's lips. - -“It'll break her heart anyway, I guess,” he said; “but it'll -help some maybe to be proud of him. Yes, I guess they'll tell her -that, all right—that he died a game kid.” - - - - -XI—THE LEAD CAPSULE - -THE Hawk yawned. He had been almost forty-eight hours without sleep. He -had slept all day after he had regained his room, following the night at -“Five-Mile Crossing,” but after that—— - -He frowned in a perturbed and puzzled way. Ensconced now in a wicker -lounging chair in the observation car of the Coast Limited, he was -apparently engrossed in the financial page of his newspaper, and -apparently quite oblivious of his fellow travellers, some four or five -of whom lounged and smoked in their own respective wicker chairs around -him. On a little pad of paper, which he held in his left hand, he might -even, without serious tax upon the imagination, have appeared to be -calculating the effect of the market's fluctuations upon personal, -and perhaps narrowly held, margins—for again he scowled unhappily. The -Hawk, however, at the moment, was engrossed solely with a few curiously -assorted letters of the alphabet, which were scrawled across the top of -the pad. They ran: - -pzudl kmlqpb. - -Beneath this his pencil had already been at work, and he had transformed -the line as follows: - -He was staring at this result now in a bewildered way. Then his pencil -picked out the remaining five unscored letters, and mechanically set -them down as a third line: - -“Rainy”—there was one word, just one word—“rainy.” What did -it mean? What was the significance of the word? No message in the Wire -Devils' cipher, once the message was decoded, but had been at once -clear and unmistakable in its meaning before. Had they resorted now to -code words as well, to a cipher within a cipher? Into the grimness of -the Hawk's smile there crept a hint of weariness, as he slipped the -pad into his pocket, allowed the newspaper to drop to his knees, and, -edging his chair around, gazed out of the window. - -For once his knowledge of their cipher was obviously useless to -him—and useless when a foreknowledge of their plans at that moment -meant scarcely less than a matter of life and death to him in a very -unpleasantly real and literal sense. Not a word had come from them; not -a message had gone over the wires on either of the two preceding nights; -not a sign of existence had they given since three nights ago when, with -an empty safe as the sole reward for their elaborately laid plans, he, -the Hawk, had enriched himself with the twenty thousand dollars' worth -of diamonds it had once contained. There had been something sinister, -something ominous in their silence, as compared with the almost insane -ravings of MacVightie, the police, and the press—yes, and the railroad -men as well, who were particularly incensed over the “murder” of -the young messenger found dead at his post in the express car with his -revolver partially emptied on the floor beside him. - -The Hawk drummed abstractedly with his finger tips upon the window pane. -MacVightie, the police, and the press made no doubt but that he, the -Hawk, was the leader of the desperadoes who were terrorising that -particular section of the country; on the other hand, the gang itself -had already had occasions enough and in plenty to be painfully aware -that he, the Hawk, played always a lone hand—and won! A smile, grim -and ironical, parted the firm, set lips. The police and the Wire Devils -had a common interest—the Hawk. He was the storm centre. - -The smile faded, the strong jaws clamped, and the dark eyes narrowed on -the flying landscape. It was not the police who concerned him, it was -not the impotent frothings of the press—it was the silence that the -Wire Devils had not broken since that night until they had broken it -this morning with the single word that, now that he had deciphered -it, still meant nothing to him. A dozen times, stealing their cipher -messages, he had turned all their carefully prepared plans to his own -account, and snatched away the prize, even as they were in the act -of reaching for it. But he was not a fool to close his eyes to the -inevitable result. He was pitted against the cleverest brains in the -criminal world; all the cunning that they knew would be ruthlessly -turned against him; and, already out to “get” him, a price already -guaranteed to the lucky member of the band out of the common funds, -the empty safe of three nights before, with its jeering ten-dollar -counterfeit bill flung in their faces, crowned, he feared, their -injuries at his hands, and marked the turning point where they would -leave no stone unturned to wreak their vengeance upon him. - -And he did not like this silence of theirs since that night. Were they -suspicious at last that he had the key to their cipher? He did not think -so, and yet he did not know—it was always a possibility. But in any -case, wary of any move they might make, he had, as far as it was humanly -possible, remained within sound of a telegraph instrument ever since. -Last night, for example, taking advantage of some repairs that were -being made on the station at Elk Head, fifty miles east of Selkirk, he -had lain hidden behind a mass of building material in the dismantled -waiting room within earshot of the telegraph sounder—and there had -been nothing. Forced to retire from there by the advent of the workmen, -he had eaten a very leisurely breakfast at the lunch counter—still -within earshot of the sounder. He had lingered around the station as -long as he had dared without running the risk of exciting suspicion, and -then he had taken the local east for Bald Creek—and taken the chance, -because he had no choice, that nothing would “break” over the wires -during the three-quarters of an hour that he was on the train. The -Limited scheduled Bald Creek, and that would give him an excuse for -remaining there, an innocent and prospective patron of the road, until -the Limited's arrival some two hours later. After that, if nothing -happened, he had intended to go back on the Limited to Selkirk—and get -some sleep. - -The Hawk yawned heavily again. Yes, after an almost uninterrupted vigil -of forty-eight hours one needed sleep. Well, he was on his way back to -Selkirk now—on the Limited. Only something had happened. Almost at the -moment that the Limited had pulled into Bald Creek, the Wire Devils had -broken their silence, and a cipher message had flashed over the wires. -He had waited for it, fought for it, schemed for it, gone without -sleep for two days and nights for it—and he had been rewarded. He had -intercepted the message, deciphered it, he had got it at last—he -had it now! It was the one word—“rainy.” And the word to him -meant—nothing! - -The Hawk's fingers ceased their drumming on the window pane, his head -inclined slightly to one side, and he listened. His fellow travellers -had evidently scraped up acquaintanceship. The conversation had become -general—and suddenly interesting. - -“... Yes, unquestionably! The amount I have with me is worth quite -easily a half million francs—a hundred thousand dollars. It is not -my personal property, I regret to say. Quantities sufficient to be of -material service are for the most part institutionally held.” - -The Hawk swung around in his chair, and with frank interest surveyed -the little group. He had scanned them once already, critically, -comprehensively—at the moment he had first entered the car. The man -who sat nearest to him was a doctor from Selkirk; and, it being the -ingrained policy of the Hawk to know a reporter as he would know a -plain-clothes man, he had recognised one of the others as a young -reporter on the staff of the Selkirk Evening Journal. The others again, -of whom there were three, were strangers to him. His eyes rested—with -frank interest—on the man who had just spoken. There had been just a -trace of accent in the other's perfect English, and it bore out the -man's appearance. The man was perhaps forty-five years of age, rather -swarthy in complexion, and, though slight in build, commanding in -presence. The black Vandyke beard, as well as the mustache, was -carefully trimmed; and his face had an air of the student about it, an -air that was enhanced by the extraordinarily heavy-lensed spectacles -which he wore. The excellent clothes were unmistakably of foreign cut. - -“Great Scott!” ejaculated the reporter. “Is that straight?” He -twisted his cigar excitedly from one corner of his mouth to the other. -“I say, I don't suppose there's a chance of getting a squint at -it, eh?” - -“A—squint?” The foreigner's face was politely puzzled. - -“I mean a chance to see it—to see what it looks like,” interpreted -the reporter, with a laugh. - -“Oh, yes, of course—a squint. I will remember that!” The foreigner -joined in the laugh. “One learns, monsieur, always, eh—if one keeps -one's ears open!” He reached down and picked up a small black bag -from the floor beside his chair. “No, I am afraid I cannot actually -show it to you, monsieur, owing to the nature of the container; but -perhaps even the manner in which it is carried may be of interest, and, -if so, I shall be delighted.” - -The others, the Hawk among them, leaned spontaneously forward in their -chairs. From the bag the man produced a lead box, some four inches -square. He opened this, and, from where it was nested in wadding, took -out what looked like a cylindrical-shaped piece of lead of the thickness -and length of one's little finger. He held it out in the palm of his -hand for their inspection. - -“Inside this sealed lead covering,” he explained, “is a glass -tube hermetically sealed. The lead, of course, absorbs the rays, which -otherwise would render the radium extremely dangerous to handle. You -perhaps remember the story—if not, it may possibly be of interest. -Radium, you know, was discovered in 1898 by Monsieur and Madame Curie; -but the action of radium on human tissues was unknown until 1901, when -Professor Becquerel of Paris, having incautiously carried a tube in his -waistcoat pocket, there appeared on the skin within two weeks the severe -inflammation which has become known as the famous 'Becquerel burn.' -Since that time, I may add, active investigation into the action of -radium has been carried on, resulting in the establishment in Paris in -1906 of the Laboratoire Biologique du Radium.” - -The doctor from Selkirk reached out, and, obtaining a smiling -permission, picked up the lead cylinder from the other's hand. The -reporter sucked noisily on the butt of his cigar. - -“And d'ye mean to say that's worth one hundred thousand -dollars?” he demanded helplessly. - -“Fully!” replied the foreigner gravely. “I should consider myself -very fortunate if I had the means and the opportunity of purchasing it -at that price. There are only a few grains there, it is true, and yet -even that is a very appreciable percentage of the world's entire -output for a single year. The Austrian Government, when it bought the -radium-producing pitchblende mines at Joachimsthal, you know, acquired -what is practically a world's monopoly of radium. And since the annual -production of ore from those mines is but about twenty-two thousand -pounds, and that from those twenty-two thousand pounds only something -like forty-six grains of radium are obtained, it is not difficult to -understand the enormous price which it commands.” - -The little lead cylinder passed from hand to hand. It came last to the -Hawk. He examined it with no more and no less interest than had been -displayed by the others, and returned it to its owner, who replaced it -in the black handbag. - -“Look here,” said the reporter impulsively, “I don't want to -nose into personal affairs; but, if it's a fair question, what are you -going to do with the stuff?” - -It was the doctor from Selkirk who spoke before the foreigner had time -to reply. - -“I was being tempted to ask the same question myself,” he said -quickly. “I am a physician—Doctor Moreling is my name—and from -what you have said I imagine that possibly you are a medical man -yourself?” - -“And you are quite right,” the other answered cordially. “I am -Doctor Meunier, and I come from Paris.” - -“What!” exclaimed the Selkirk physician excitedly. “Not Doctor -Meunier, the famous cancer specialist and surgeon of the Salpêtrière -Hospital!” - -The other shrugged his shoulders protestingly. - -“Well,” he smiled, a little embarrassed, “my name is certainly -Meunier, and it is true that I have the honour to be connected with the -institution you have mentioned.” - -The reporter had a notebook in his hand. - -“Gee!” he observed softly. “You don't mind, do you, -Doctor Meunier? This looks like luck to me. I'm on the Evening -Journal—Selkirk.” - -“Ah—a reporter!” The dark eyes seemed to twinkle humorously from -behind the heavy lenses. “I have met some—when I landed in New York. -They were very nice. I liked them very much. Certainly, young man, why -should you not say anything I have told you? You have my permission.” - -“Fine!” cried the reporter enthusiastically. “And now, Doctor -Meunier, if you'll just round out the story by telling us why the -celebrated Paris surgeon is travelling in America with a hundred -thousand dollars' worth of radium, I'll be glad I got panned on the -story I went after this morning and so had to take this train back.” - -“Panned?” inquired the other gravely. - -“Yes.” The reporter nodded. “It blew up, you know.” - -“Blew up! Ah!” The foreigner's face was at once concerned. “So! -You were in an accident, then?” - -“No, no,” laughed the reporter. “There wasn't anything in the -story. It didn't have any foundation.” - -“Again I learn,” observed the foreigner, with an amused drawl. -He studied the reporter for an instant quizzically. “And so I am to -supply the place of the panned story that blew up—is that it? Well, -very well! Why not? I see no reason against it, if it will be of service -to you. Very well, then. I have been summoned to Japan to attend a -case of cancer—radium treatment—and I am on my way there now.” He -smiled again. “I have noticed that American reporters are observant, -and it may occur to you that I might have reached my destination quicker -by way of Russia. As a matter of fact, however, I was in New York -attending a convention when I received the summons. I cabled for the -radium, and—well, young man, that pretty well completes the story.” - -“Yes—thanks!” said the reporter. He wrote rapidly. “Operation on -a Japanese?” - -“Why, yes, of course—on a Japanese.” - -“'Summoned,' you said. That listens as though it might be for one -of the Emperor's family,” prodded the reporter shrewdly. - -“I did not say so,” smiled the other imperturbably. - -“And even if it were so——” He shrugged his shoulders -significantly. - -“I get you!” grinned the reporter. “Well, there's no harm in -saying a 'High Personage' then, is there? That sounds good, and it -would have to be some one on the top of the heap to bring a man like you -all this way.” - -“Let us be discreet, young man, and say—well, let us say, a member -of prominent family,” suggested the other, still smiling. - -“All right,” agreed the reporter. “I won't put anything over -on you, I promise you. And now, doctor, tell us something more about -radium, how it acts and all that, and how an operation is performed with -it, and——” - -The Hawk had apparently lost interest. He settled back in his chair, and -picked up his previously discarded newspaper—yet occasionally his eyes -strayed over the top of his newspaper, and rested meditatively on the -little black handbag on the car floor beside the Frenchman's chair. -The doctor from Selkirk, the reporter, and the French specialist talked -on. The Limited reached the last stop before Selkirk. As the train -pulled out again, the Hawk, as it were, summed up his thoughts. - -“A hundred thousand dollars,” confided the Hawk softly to himself. -“Maybe it wouldn't be easy to sell, but it would make a very nice -haul—a very nice haul. It would tempt—almost anybody. Yes, bad stuff -to handle; the fences would be leery probably, because I guess every -last grain on this little old globe is catalogued as to ownership, and -they'd be afraid it would be an open-and-shut game that what they -were trying to shove would be spotted as the stolen stuff—not that it -couldn't be done though, at that! There's always somebody to take a -chance—on a hundred thousand dollars! And what about the institution -that owns it coming across big and no questions asked to get it back -again? Yes, I guess it would make a nice haul—a very nice haul. I -wonder——” - -The conductor had entered the car, had said something that the Hawk had -not caught—and now the French specialist was on his feet. - -“How long did you say?” he demanded excitedly. - -“I didn't say,” replied the conductor; “I only guessed—twelve -hours anyway, and if we're through under twenty-four it'll be -because some one has performed a miracle.” - -“Twelve hours—twenty-four!” echoed the Frenchman wildly. “But, -mon Dieu, I have not that to spare to catch my steamer for Japan in San -Francisco!” - -“But what's wrong, conductor?” asked the Selkirk doctor. “You -haven't told us that.” - -“The Rainy River bridge is out,” the conductor answered. - -The Rainy River bridge! The Hawk reached into his pocket, withdrew his -cigarette case, and made a critical choice of one of the six identical -cigarettes the case contained. - -“Out! How?” the doctor from Selkirk persisted. - -“No details,” said the conductor; “except that it was blown up -a little while ago and that they think it's the work of the Hawk's -gang. They just got word over the wire at the last stop.” - -“Jumping whiskers!” yelled the reporter. “Is that right, -conductor?” - -“Yes, I guess it's right, fast enough,” said the conductor -grimly. He turned to the Frenchman. “It's tough luck, sir, to miss -transpacific connections; but I guess that's the man you've got to -thank for it—the Hawk.” - -“The Hawk? What is that? Who is the Hawk?” The Frenchman had lost -his poise; he was gesticulating violently now. - -“I'll tell you,” said the reporter briskly. “He's the man -that's got your original reign of terror skinned a mile—believe me! -He's an ex-Sing Sing convict, and he's the head, brains and front -of a gang of criminals operating out here compared with whom, for pure, -first-water deviltry, any one of Satan's picked cohorts would look as -shy and retiring as a maiden lady of sixty who suddenly found herself -in a one-piece bathing suit—in public. That's the Hawk! Yes, -sir—believe me!” - -Doctor Meunier waved his hands, as though to ward off a swarm of buzzing -bees. - -“I do not understand!” he spluttered angrily. “I do not care to -understand! You do not speak English! I understand only of the delay!” -He caught at the conductor's sleeve. “You, monsieur—is there not -something that can be done?” - -“I don't know, sir,” said the conductor. “We'll be in Selkirk -now in a few minutes, and the best thing you can do is to see Mr. -Lanson, the superintendent.” - -The conductor retired. - -The Frenchman sat down in his chair, mopped his face with a -handkerchief, and stared from one to another of his fellow passengers. - -“Messieurs, it is necessary, it is imperative, that I catch the -steamer!” he cried frantically. “What am I to do?” - -“Lanson's a good head; he'll fix you up some way,” said the -reporter soothingly. “Don't you worry. I'm mighty sorry for you, -Doctor Meunier, upon my soul—but, say, this is some story—whale of a -climax!” - -The Frenchman glared for an instant; then, leaning forward, suddenly -shook his fist under the other's nose. - -“Young man, damn your story!” he snarled distractedly. - -The Hawk retired once more behind his newspaper. The reporter was -pacifying the excited Frenchman. The Hawk was not interested in that. -The message, that single word which had puzzled him, was transparently -clear now—and had been from the moment the conductor had spoken. The -surmise of the railroad officials, even if it were no more than surmise -on their part, was indubitably correct—barring the slight detail of -his own participation in the affair! The Wire Devils had blown up the -Rainy River bridge. This, as a detached fact, did not interest him -either—they were quite capable of blowing up a bridge, or anything -else. That was a detail. But they were quite incapable of doing it -without a very good and sufficient reason, and one that promised returns -of a very material nature to themselves. What was the game? Why the -Rainy River bridge? Why this morning? Why at this time? The Rainy River -bridge was but a few miles west of Selkirk, and—the Hawk's -eyes strayed over his newspaper again, and rested mildly upon the -Frenchman's little black handbag, that was quite slim, and not -over long, that was of such a size, in fact, that it might readily be -concealed under one's coat, for instance, without attracting undue -attention—and with the bridge out a passenger, say on the Coast -Limited this noon would experience an annoying, somewhat lengthened, -but unavoidable interruption in his journey. The passenger might even -be forced to spend the night in Selkirk, and very much might happen in -a night—in Selkirk! It was a little elaborate, it seemed as though it -might perhaps have been accomplished with a little less fuss—though -lack of finesse and exceeding cunning was, in his experience, an -unmerited reproach where that unknown brain that planned and plotted -the Wire Devils' acts was concerned; but, however that might be, the -reason that the Rainy River bridge was out now appeared quite obviously -attributable—to a very excited foreigner, and a little black handbag -whose contents were valued at the modest sum of one hundred thousand -dollars. - -“And I wonder,” said the Hawk almost plaintively to himself, “I -wonder which of us will cash in on that!” - -The Hawk rose leisurely from his chair, as the train reached Selkirk. -He permitted the Frenchman, the Selkirk physician and the reporter to -descend to the platform in advance of him; but, as they hurried -through the station and around to the entrance leading upstairs to the -divisional offices, obviously with the superintendent's office as -their objective, the Hawk, in the privileged character of an interested -fellow traveller, fell into step with the reporter. - -The four entered the superintendent's office, and from an unobtrusive -position just inside the door the Hawk listened to the conversation. He -heard Lan-son, the superintendent, confirm the conductor's story, and -express genuine regret at the Frenchman's plight, as he admitted it to -be a practical certainty that the other would miss his connection in -San Francisco. The Frenchman but grew the more excited. He suggested a -special train from the western side of the bridge—they could get him -across in a boat, he said. The superintendent explained that traffic -in the mountains beyond was already demoralised. The Frenchman raved, -begged, pleaded, implored—and suddenly the Hawk sucked in his breath -softly. The Frenchman was backing his appeal for a special with the -offer to pay any sum demanded, and had taken a well-filled pocketbook -from his pocket. The Hawk's eyes aimlessly sought the toes of his -boots. He had caught a glimpse of a fat wad of bills, a very fat wad, -whose denominations were of a large and extremely interesting nature. -The official shook his head. It was not a question of money; nor was the -other's ability to pay in question. Later on, he, Lanson, would -know better what the situation was; meanwhile he suggested that Doctor -Meunier should go to the hotel and wait—that there was nothing else to -do for the moment. The Selkirk physician here intervened, and, agreeing -with the superintendent, offered to escort the Frenchman to the Corona -Hotel. - -The Hawk, as one whose curiosity was satiated, but satiated at the -expense of time he could ill afford, nodded briefly to the reporter who -stood nearest to him, and quietly left the room. - - - - -XII—BLINDMAN'S-BUFF - -FIVE minutes later, standing in another room—his own—the Hawk -rapidly changed the light-grey suit he had been wearing for one of a -darker material. From the pockets of the discarded suit he transferred -to the pockets of the suit he had just put on, amongst other things, his -automatic and his bunch of skeleton keys. He opened his trunk, removed -the false tray, and smiled with a sort of grim complacency as his glance -inventoried its unhallowed contents; and particularly he smiled, as, -opening a little box, he allowed a stream of gleaming stones to trickle -out into the palm of his hand—the twenty thousand dollars' worth of -diamonds robbed from the Fast Mail three nights ago. - -“Some haul!” observed the Hawk softly. “And, with any luck, -there'll be something else there worth the whole outfit put together -before to-night is over.” He replaced the diamonds in the box, the box -in the tray, and spoke again, but now his smile was hard and twisted; -not an article there but he had scooped from under the noses of the -gang. “Yes, I guess I'd go out like you'd snuff a candle if they -ever get me, and I guess they're getting—querulous!” - -The Hawk, however, had not opened the trunk purely for the opportunity -it afforded of inspecting these few mementos, interesting as they might -be. It was an excellent safeguard to change his clothes, but it would -avail him very little if—well, any one, say—were still permitted to -recognise—his face! From the top of the tray, where it lay upon the -packages of banknotes that had once reposed in the paymaster's safe, -the Hawk picked up a mask and slipped it into his pocket. He fitted the -false tray back into the lid of the trunk, closed the trunk, locked it, -put on a wide-brimmed, soft felt hat, locked the door of his room behind -him, descended the narrow staircase, and stepped out on the street. - -His destination was the Corona Hotel, but there was no particular hurry. -Undoubtedly from the moment the Frenchman had left the train some, -or one, of the gang had fastened on the man's trail; but the -companionship of the Selkirk physician guaranteed the Frenchman's -immediate safety. His own plan, as far as it was matured, was very -simple. He meant to “spot” if he could, should that particular -member, or members, of the gang be unknown to him personally, the man, -or men, selected by the Wire Devils to shadow the Frenchman—and then -watch the gang! The Hawk had no intention whatever of making an attempt -on the Frenchman's property with the gang watching him—that would -have been little less than the act of a fool who was bent on suicide! -Since, therefore, he had no choice in the matter, he was quite content -to have the gang take the initiatory risk in relieving the Frenchman of -the handbag! After that—the Hawk's old twisted smile was back on his -lips as he walked along—after that it became his business to see that -the bag did not get very far out of his sight! - -He reached and crossed the city park upon which the Corona Hotel -fronted, entered the hotel, and, sauntering leisurely through the -lobby, approached the desk. He glanced casually over the register; then, -lighting a cigar, he selected a chair near the front windows where he -could command a general view of the lobby, and sat down. - -Doctor Meunier's room was Number 106. - -Once the Hawk's eyes lazily surveyed the lobby; thereafter they -appeared to be intent on what was passing in the street. He was in luck! -The first trick, at least, had gone to him. Lolling in a chair near the -elevator doors, and apparently drowsy from a heavy luncheon, was—the -Bantam. The Hawk smoked on. Half an hour went by. The Bantam appeared to -awaken with a start, smiled sheepishly about him, went over to the news -stand, bought a paper—and returned to his seat. The Hawk finished his -cigar, rose, strolled to the main entrance, and went out. The Bantam -could be safely trusted to see that Doctor Meunier did not vanish into -thin air! He would do the like for the Bantam! He crossed over into the -park. - -The Hawk chose a bench—strategically. Sheltered by a row of trees, he -had the corner upon which the hotel was built diagonally before him, -and could see both the side entrance on the cross street and the front -entrance on the main thoroughfare. - -The Hawk's vigil, however, was not immediately rewarded. An hour -passed—and yet another—and the greater portion of the afternoon. -Five o'clock came. A newsboy passed, crying the Evening Journal. The -Hawk bought one. A headline in heavy type on the front page instantly -caught his eye: ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS IN A LEAD CAPSULE - -And beneath this, still in assertive type: - -Famous French Surgeon en route to Japan with Fortune in Radium Misses -Connections Through Destruction of Railroad Bridge. - -Offers Company Large Sum of Money for Special Train to the Coast. - -“Yes,” observed the Hawk caustically, “and even if I hadn't -known anything about it before, I'd have had a look-in thanks to this! -Sting you, wouldn't it! The papers hand you a come-on—and then they -wonder at crime!” - -The “story” itself ran a column and a half. The Hawk began to -read—or, rather, to divide his attention between the story and the -hotel entrances. The reporter had certainly set out with the intention -of overlooking no detail that could be turned to account. His meeting -and conversation with the Frenchman in the car were breezily set forth; -the member of a “prominent family” in Japan artfully disguised, or, -perhaps better, disclosed no less august a personage than the Emperor -himself; the value of radium, both intrinsically and scientifically, was -interestingly dealt with; and the surgeon's black handbag, with its -priceless contents, was minutely described and featured. - -The Hawk had reached this point, when suddenly the newspaper and the -reporter's version of the story lost interest for him. Doctor Meunier, -gripping his little black handbag tenaciously, had stepped out through -the main entrance of the hotel, and was walking briskly down the street. -A moment later, the Bantam sauntered through the doorway and started in -the same direction, a hundred yards behind the Frenchman. The Hawk, with -a grim smile, folded his paper, stuffed it into his pocket, rose from -the bench, crossed the street, and fell into the procession—a hundred -yards behind the Bantam. - -It was still light, though it was beginning to grow dusk—too light -for any highway thuggery, and yet—the Hawk gradually closed the gap -between himself and the Bantam to half the original distance. - -The chase led on for a half dozen blocks, then turned into one of the -crowded streets of the shopping district, and proceeded in a downtown -direction. And then, abruptly, the Hawk dropped further behind the -Bantam again, and crossed to the opposite sidewalk. It was perhaps -only fancy, but intuitively he felt that he, too, in turn, was being -followed. His hat brim, hiding his face, was pulled a little farther -forward over his eyes, as he hurried now until he was abreast of the -Frenchman. Intuition or not, it was quite possible and even likely that -one of the gang might “cover” the Bantam. - -The Hawk scowled. He could not be sure; and he dared not put it to more -than a casual test, for he could not afford to lose sight of the Bantam. -He paused, took a slip of paper from his pocket, and, as though having -consulted it for an address, appeared to scan the signs and numbers on -the stores in his immediate vicinity. The Frenchman had passed by; the -Bantam was directly opposite to him now across the street. The Hawk's -keen eyes searched the stream of pedestrians behind the Bantam. And -then suddenly he shrugged his shoulders, and returned the paper to his -pocket—a man, in a light suit and brown derby hat, had stepped out -of the crowd, and was leisurely lighting a cigarette in a doorway just -across from where he, the Hawk, stood. - -The Hawk went on, but keeping in the rear of the Bantam now on the -opposite side of the street. He was still not sure; but, in any case, -neither could the man in the brown derby be sure that he, the Hawk, was -following the Bantam. So far then, granted that he was being followed, -it was an even break! - -At the next crossing the Frenchman accosted a policeman, and, as though -he had received directions, at once turned down the cross street. The -Hawk, as he followed, smiled grimly. The cross street automatically -verified the suspicions of the man in the brown derby—if the man in -the brown derby had any suspicions to verify; but, at one and the same -time, it also answered the Hawk's own question. - -The Hawk, in turn, made use of a doorway. He could afford to allow the -Bantam, temporarily, the lead of an extra half block now, for there were -fewer people on the cross street and he would still be able to keep the -other in sight. A minute, two, elapsed—and then the Hawk picked up the -Bantam's trail again. The man in the brown derby hat had passed by the -corner and continued on along the main street. - -And yet still the Hawk was not satisfied. And it was not until after -he had repeated the same manouvre some four or five times, as the -Frenchman, leading, turned into different streets, that he was finally -convinced that neither the man in the brown derby hat, nor any one else, -was interested in his movements. - -The chase, since leaving the main street, had wound its way through the -less populous wholesale district—it ended at the railway station. -The Frenchman passed along the front of the building, and disappeared -through the doorway leading upstairs to the divisional offices, his -object being, it now appeared obvious, to obtain another interview with -the superintendent; the Bantam disappeared inside the main entranceway -of the station, evidently to await the Frenchman's reappearance; and -the Hawk, on the far side of the street, slipped into the lane that had -served him many times as a thoroughfare between the station and his room -over the saloon two blocks away. - -It was growing dark now. A half hour went by. Still the Hawk crouched -in the shadow of the building that bordered the lane. The street lights -went on. The six o'clock whistle blew from the shops over across the -tracks. Either the Frenchman was a visitor not easy to get rid of, or -Lanson was out and the other was awaiting the superintendent's return. -But the Hawk's patience was infinite. - -Another fifteen minutes dragged away; then the office door opened, the -Frenchman emerged, and started back uptown. The Bantam appeared from -the main entranceway, and started after him. The chase was on again. The -Hawk followed. - -The Frenchman, seemingly sticking to rule of thumb and following the -directions he had received on the way down, took exactly the same -route on the way back. But now the neighborhood presented an entirely -different aspect. The wholesale houses were closed; the streets -deserted, dark, and poorly lighted. - -The Hawk hugged the shadows of the buildings craftily on the opposite -side of the street. Was it coming now? Certainly the gang would go -far before finding a more ideal opportunity, and the Bantam, if he had -realised that fact, could easily have sent, or telephoned, a message -from the station. He, the Hawk, had not cared to take the risk of -following the Bantam inside—the Bantam might remember having seen him -in the hotel lobby. - -And then the Hawk's lips thinned. Yes—it was the old, old game! They -were on the cross street, a little less than a block distant from the -main street ahead. The Bantam began to close up on the Frenchman. -The Hawk now, crouching low, slipped almost literally from doorway to -doorway. Two men, apparently drunk and quarrelling, were coming down the -block toward the Frenchman. The Bantam closed to within a few yards of -his quarry. The brawl attained its height as the two men reached the -Frenchman. One man struck the other. They clenched, and, smashing into -the Frenchman knocked him down. His hat flew in one direction, the -handbag in another. The brawlers curiously did not resume their quarrel, -but lounged a few paces away—within call of the Bantam. The Hawk, -squeezed in his doorway directly opposite the scene, kept his eyes on -the Bantam. If the play had lacked originality before, it did not lack -it now! The Bantam stooped, picked up the handbag, and, as he stooped -again for the hat, slipped the handbag under his coat, and slipped -another bag—evidently a carefully prepared duplicate—out from under -his coat and into his hand. The Frenchman was rising dazedly to his -feet. The Bantam stepped hurriedly forward, holding out hat and bag. - -“I hope you're not hurt, sir,” the Hawk heard him say—and then -the two moved on together toward the corner. - -The Hawk shook his shoulders in a queer, almost self-apologetic sort of -way, as he followed again. And then he smiled as queerly. The Bantam had -the bag now, and, if he, the Hawk, were permitted to hazard an opinion, -the Wire Devils had very kindly picked the fruit again for him to eat! - -At the corner, the Bantam shook hands with the Frenchman, and, stepping -out into the street, signalled an approaching car. Quick, alert on the -instant, the Hawk, safe in the protection of the crowded sidewalk, -moved swiftly along in the direction that the car would take, his eyes -searching the street on both sides for a taxicab. The street car passed -him, but stopped at the next corner, and he caught up with it again. And -then, over his shoulder, he saw a taxi coming up behind him. He stepped -from the curb, and stopped it. - -“Sorry, sir,” said the chauffeur. “I'm going after a fare.” - -“You've got one now—and a good one,” said the Hawk quietly. He -had opened the door—a ten-dollar bill lay in the chauffeur's hand. - -“Yes, but look here, sir,” said the chauffeur, a little dubiously, -“I'll get into trouble for this, and——” - -The Hawk had stepped inside, and lowered the window between himself and -the chauffeur. - -“Follow that car,” said the Hawk pleasantly. “And while we're on -the crowded streets don't get so far behind it that you can't close -up near enough to see who gets off every time it stops. And don't -worry about your trouble—there's another ten coming on top of the -regular fare. That's good enough, isn't it?” - -“I guess I'm not kicking!” admitted the chauffeur. The taxi -started forward. He looked back over his shoulder at the Hawk. -“What's the lay? Fly-cop?” - -“Maybe!” said the Hawk. “Mind yourself! It's stopping again. -Keep where I can see both sides of the car.” - -“I get you!” said the chauffeur. “Leave it to me!” - -Block after block was passed, the street car stopping frequently. The -Hawk, in the body of the taxi, knelt behind the chauffeur's back, his -eyes held steadily on the street car ahead. The Bantam did not alight. -The street car began to run out into the suburbs. The taxicab, with -lights out now, risking the city ordinance, dropped back to a more -respectful distance in the rear. The district became less settled, the -houses farther apart; the street lights were single incandescents now, -and these few and far between. There was one passenger left in the -car—the Bantam. - -The chauffeur spoke abruptly. - -“We're pretty near the end of the line,” he said. - -“All right,” the Hawk answered. “Stop when the car stops—keep -about this distance, we're not likely to be noticed.” A moment later -he stepped from the taxi. “Wait for me here!” he directed. - -The Bantam, leaving the street car, had started off at a sharp pace past -the end of the car line. It was little more than a country road now; -only a house here and there. The Bantam, just discernible in the -darkness, had a lead of perhaps a hundred yards, and the Hawk, moving -stealthily, began to creep nearer, and still nearer, until the hundred -yards were fifty—and then suddenly, with a low muttered exclamation, -he threw himself flat on the ground. The Bantam, abreast of a house from -which there showed a light in the side window, had turned in abruptly -from the road. A glow of light spread out as the front door opened. The -Hawk lay motionless. Then the Bantam entered, and the door was closed -again. A little later, a form appeared at the side window, a hand -reached up, and the shade was drawn. - -“Nice respectable neighborhood, too!” observed the Hawk tersely. -“Wonder if it's the lair, and if the Master Spider's in there -now?” - -He was creeping forward now across a small lawn. He neared the side -window; it was open, and the shade lacked a tiny, though inviting, space -of reaching to the sill. A murmur of voices came from within. There was -not a sound from the Hawk. And then, from beneath the window, which was -low and not more than four feet from the ground, he raised himself up -cautiously, and suddenly his dark eyes narrowed. It was not the Master -Spider—it was the Butcher, whose treachery had nearly done for him -that night in the paymaster's office, the man whom he had promised -should one day remember! - -He could hear now, and he could see. It was a sitting room such as -one might find anywhere in a house whose occupants were in comfortable -circumstances. It was cosily and tastefully furnished. It bore no sign -of criminal affiliation; it was, as it were, a sort of alibi in itself. -A telephone stood on the table beside a pile of magazines, the latter -flanked by an ornamental reading lamp; deep leather lounging chairs -added to the inviting and homelike appearance of the room—the -incongruity was in the Butcher's thin, hatchet-like face, and in the -coarse, vicious features of the short, stocky Bantam, as they faced each -other across the table. - -“Where's the others, d'ye say?” demanded the Bantam. - -“Out,” said the Butcher. “The chief called 'em an hour ago. I -don't know what's up. I guess you and I keep house here to-night; -he said you were to stay. Mouser and Jack were to report to Kirschell, -weren't they?” - -“Yes, that's what they said.” - -“Well, all right!” The Butcher shrugged his shoulders. “That's -none of our hunt. I suppose you got it, didn't you—or you wouldn't -be here?” - -“Sure, I got it!” answered the Bantam. “What d'ye think?” - -“Let's have a look,” said the Butcher eagerly. “The chief says -we can cash in on it for fifty thousand.” - -“Fifty thousand!” The Bantam growled, as he unbuttoned his coat, -and, taking out the bag, laid it on the table. “I thought it was worth -a hundred thousand!” - -“So it is.” The Butcher was opening the bag. “But it's no cinch -to turn it into money without a big split—savvy?” - -The Butcher opened the lead box, took out the lead cylinder, and -balanced it speculatively in the palm of his hand. - -The Bantam regarded it distrustfully. - -“It don't look like fifty cents to me!” he commented finally. - -“I know,” said the Butcher facetiously; “but your eyesight's -bum, Bantam! Have any trouble?” - -The Bantam grinned. - -“Not what you'd notice! After the Mouser and Jack smashed into him, -the poor old boob didn't know what had happened till I was handing him -his hat and the other bag. I guess he bumped his bean kind of hard on -the sidewalk.” - -The Butcher nodded approvingly. He was still twisting the lead cylinder -around and around in his hand. - -“Say,” suggested the Bantam impatiently, after a moment, “when -you've done chucking it under the chin, put it to bed somewhere, and -if there's any grub in the house lead me to it. I'm hungry!” - -“All right!” agreed the Butcher. He replaced the lead cylinder -in its box, and the box in the bag, crossed the room, opened a little -cupboard in the wall opposite the window, laid the bag inside, and -closed the cupboard door again. “Come on!” he said. - - - - -XIII—THE MAN WITH THE SCAR - -THE two men left the room. The Hawk did not move. He was fingering in -a curiously absent-minded sort of way the edges of the newspaper that -still protruded from his pocket. It was very simple, very easy. The -window was open, the cupboard was not locked, the room was empty, there -were only the Bantam and the Butcher to look out for, and they were in -another part of the house; he had only to lift aside the window -shade, step in, steal across the room, and steal out again—with a -hundred-thou-sand-dollar prize. It was very inviting. It seemed suddenly -as though it were a pressing invitation to enter that room—and never -leave it alive! - -Flashing quick through the Hawk's brain now was a résumé of the -afternoon, of each separate and individual occurrence since he had left -the train. Had he, after all, been followed? If so—how? Had the Bantam -been warned? He shook his head, as though impatient with himself. Even -apart from that, what he had begun to suspect now would be thoroughly -logical on the part of the gang. The newspaper supplied the key. He -would unquestionably have seen the newspaper that afternoon, and he -would, apart from being spared several aimless hours in the park, have -done exactly as he had done, and just as unquestionably be where he was -now at this precise moment even if he had not been with the Frenchman on -the train. The newspaper placed him in possession of the same facts -that the Wire Devils possessed. They must know that. They were therefore -justified in assuming that he, quite as rabidly as themselves, would -make an attempt to steal the bag. They knew, in that case, that he would -have discovered that they were already at work; and they knew that, on -a dozen occasions before, that had not prevented him from snatching the -prize they had already counted within their grasp. Were they on their -guard now—or a little more than on their guard! Were they offering -him, on the chance or with the knowledge that he was here now, the -opportunity to snatch another prize—and seeing to it that it was for -the last time! - -The Hawk edged back from the window; and, silent as a shadow now, -began to circuit the house. And then suddenly his suspicion became a -certainty. It was only a little thing—a slip—but it was enough. The -Butcher had made a misplay! There was no light in any other window—and -a man did not usually eat in the dark! It was fairly, even painfully, -evident now that the Bantam and the Butcher were in, say, the adjoining -room, waiting for him to enter through that window into their trap. - -But there was still the little black bag—and one hundred thousand -dollars! The Hawk's smile was more ominous than pleasant. There were -other ways apart from a window—and even two men, especially if -they were caught napping, had been known to be quite amenable to the -influence of the muzzle of an automatic! - -The Hawk found the back door entrance, found it locked—and used a -skeleton key. He was perhaps five minutes in opening the door; but in -those five minutes there was no click of lock as the handle turned by -infinitesimal fractions of an inch, no creak of hinge as the door little -by little swung back and was closed again. - -The silence was almost uncanny. It was utter blackness. By feeling out -with his hand he discovered he was in a passageway. He moved along, -guiding himself by the sense of touch against the wall, his weight -balanced and full upon one foot before he lifted the other for the next -step. - -It seemed a passage of interminable length, that led on and on through -blackness and silence. In reality he had come possibly thirty feet, -and had passed one door. And then he began to catch the sound of voices -whispering. The whisperings grew more distinct and became low, guarded -tones, as he moved forward—and now he could distinguish words. He -flattened back against the side of the passage. Opposite to him was an -open door; and within the room, instead of blackness now, was a sort of -murky gloom which was created by a ray of light that seeped in through -a partially open door at the far side of the room. The Hawk's fingers -slipped into his pocket—and slipped his mask over his face. He had his -bearings now. The room from which the light came was the baited trap; -the room immediately in front of him was the room from which the trap -was to be sprung! His hand went to his pocket again, and came out -with his automatic. It was their move now. If, when they finally grew -impatient, they went back into the lighted room, or turned on the light -in the room where they were now waiting, they sprang the trap upon -themselves. - -Came the Bantam's low growl—and the twitching of the Hawk's jaw -muscles. - -“I don't like it, I tell you! Where is he? What's he waiting for? -I know he followed me. You saw him yourself from the front room creeping -across the lawn out there. 'Twouldn't take him all this time to get -in through that window.” - -“Aw, shut up!” snarled the Butcher. “You'd give any one the -creeps!” - -“That's all right,” whispered the Bantam hoarsely; “but I said -from the start it was a fool game not to cover him close on the way -back, and——” - -“Yes—and scare him off!” sneered the Butcher. “There ain't -but one guy that'd pick up that trail—and that's the Hawk. He's -butted in enough, but he's butted in for the last time to-night! The -two of us are aplenty, aren't we? Sure—cover him close on the way -back—and scare him off! D'ye think he's a fool!” - -“No, I don't, curse him!” retorted the Bantam. “And if I'd had -my way, I'd have croaked him in broad daylight with a bullet through -his bean, and finished him for keeps the minute Jack spotted him -following me! Instead of that, Jack never even gets a look at his -mug.” - -“You're some bright guy!” grunted the Butcher. “We'd have -had a hot chance making a dead man tell us where he'd planted those -diamonds off the Fast Mail, not to speak of a few other little trifles -the swine did us out of!” - -“And you think——” - -“You bet, I do!” the Butcher cut in viciously. “He'll talk -to-night to save his life—and then I'll toss you, Bantam, if you -like, to see who bumps him off!” - -The Hawk's fingers played in a curious, caressing motion over the -stock of the automatic in his hand; the twist on his lips grew a little -harder, a little more merciless. - -There was movement in the room now. One of the two, the Bantam -undoubtedly, in growing uneasiness, was moving softly, erratically, up -and down the room. It proved to be the Bantam. - -“Well then, where the blazes is he!” he burst out nervously. - -“Aw, shut up!” snarled the Butcher savagely for the second time. - -The Bantam's shadow, as the man paced up and down, passed the doorway, -repassed, and passed again. - -“I tell you, I don't like it!” he flung out suddenly. -“Something's wrong! If he's outside the house, he can't see, -anyway. I'm going to take a chance, and——” - -There was a click, the light in the passageway went on—then a yell -from the Bantam in the doorway—a lightning spring from the Hawk, as -the other jerked a weapon upward—and the Bantam went down in a heap, -as the Hawk's clubbed weapon caught him on the head. It was quick, -like the winking of an eye. From back in the room, the Butcher sprang -forward for the doorway—and fired—and missed—and the Hawk's -left hand, as they came upon each other, darting out, closed with the -strength of a steel vise on the Butcher's right wrist, and with a -terrific wrench twisted the other's arm halfway around. It was -lighter now in the room—light enough to see. The two forms swayed -strangely—a little apart—the Butcher's body bent over, as though -queerly deformed. Slowly, remorselessly, the Hawk turned the other's -arm in its socket. Sweat sprang to the Butcher's forehead, his face -writhed with pain—and, with a scream of agony, his revolver clattered -to the floor. - -“You're breaking it—for God's sake, let go!” he moaned. - -The Hawk kicked the revolver to the other side of the room. - -“Take the Bantam by the shoulders and drag him into that lighted -room!” The Hawk's tones were flat, unpleasant. “I don't think I -hit him hard enough to take the chance of leaving him there alone!” - -The Butcher obeyed—with the muzzle of the Hawk's automatic pressed -persuasively against the small of his back. He left the Bantam in the -middle of the sitting room floor, and himself accepted a chair—at the -Hawk's invitation. - -“You again—eh, Butcher?” The Hawk's voice had become a drawl. -With his automatic covering the Butcher, he had backed to the cupboard, -opened it, and was feeling inside with his left hand. “My grateful -thanks, and you'll convey my compliments—the Hawk's, you know—to -our friend—the chief.” He had slipped the little black bag under his -arm, and now his hand was back in the cupboard again; he had felt a ball -of heavy cord there. “Sorry I haven't a phony ten-spot with me—my -card, you know—unpardonable breach of etiquette—really!” He smiled -suddenly. The ball of cord was in his hand, as he advanced toward the -Butcher's chair. He set the little black bag down on the table. - -The Butcher seemed to have lost all his characteristic ferocity; the -sharp little ferret eyes rested anywhere but on the Hawk, and on his -face was a sickly grin. - -“Stand up!” commanded the Hawk curtly—he was knotting the end -of the cord into a noose. “Now—your hands behind your back—and -together! Thank you!” He slipped the noose over the Butcher's hands, -and began to wind the cord around the other's wrists. - -The Butcher winced. - -“I'm sorry,” said the Hawk apologetically; “but it's all -I have. The cord is rather thin, and I'm afraid it may cut into -you—not strong enough to allow you any play, you know. And, by the -way, Butcher, I heard the Bantam say that I was spotted on the way -down—I presume he meant on the way down to the station. I'll -be honest and admit I'm disappointed in myself. Would you mind -explaining, Butcher—I was quite convinced there was no one behind -me.” - -“There wasn't!” The Butcher risked a sneer. “Mabbe the French -guy was heard telephoning to the station, and the Bantam passed on the -word. Nobody had to follow behind. All there was to do, knowing where -the Frenchy was going, was to dodge around the blocks ahead, and keep -hidden down the different intersecting streets, and see if the same guy -kept going by the corners after the Bantam.” - -“Thank you, Butcher,” murmured the Hawk gratefully. “That lets me -out a little, doesn't it?” He wound the cord again and again around -the Butcher's wrists, knotted it, shoved the other unceremoniously -back into the chair, and tied the Butcher's legs. - -The Hawk then gave his attention to the Bantam. The Bantam was just -beginning to regain consciousness. The Hawk knelt down, rolled the -man over on his side, and secured him in the same manner as he had the -Butcher. But with the Bantam he went a little farther. He transferred -the Bantam's handkerchief from the Bantam's pocket to the Bantam's -mouth—and tied it there. - -He turned once more to the Butcher. - -“I must apologise again,” he said softly. “I hate to -do this”—he felt for, and obtained, the Butcher's -handkerchief—“but the house is unfortunately close to the road, -and you might inadvertently make yourself heard before I got decently -away.” - -The Butcher's reply was a shrug of the shoulders. - -The Hawk, about to cram the handkerchief into the other's mouth, -paused. - -“Butcher,” said the Hawk, almost plaintively, “if you'll -permit me to deal in mixed metaphors, you appear to have shed your -spots—you're too awfully docile!” - -“You got the goods,” muttered the Butcher sullenly. “What more do -you——” - -He stopped suddenly. His eyes met the Hawk's. The telephone on the -table was ringing. - -The Hawk hesitated. Into the Butcher's eyes, narrowed now, there -seemed to have come a mocking gleam. The telephone rang again. And then -the Hawk reached out abruptly, and took the receiver from the hook. - -“Hello!” he said gruffly. - -“Four X. Who's that?” responded a voice. - -There was something familiar about the voice, but he could not on the -instant place it. The Hawk's mind, even as he answered, was swiftly -cataloguing every member of the gang known to him in an effort to -identify it. - -“The Bantam,” he said. - -“All right,” replied the voice. “Give me the Butcher.” - -“Hold the line,” answered the Hawk. - -He placed his hand over the transmitter. The voice was still eluding -him. He turned, and eyed the Butcher. - -“Four X wants you, Butcher.” All the drawl, all the insouciance was -gone now; his voice was hard with menace, cold as death. “And you're -going to speak to him—but you're going to say what I tell you to -say. But before you begin, I want you to remember the little account -between us that's been hanging over since that night in the -paymaster's office. If you make a break, if you try to frame -me—I'll settle that account here to-night, while you sit in that -chair. If you hesitate on a word, I'll fire—and not through my -pocket, you yellow cur! Understand? Don't kid yourself on this, -Butcher! If I nod my head, say 'yes'—and no more. Now!” - -The Butcher had sunk back in his chair. There was fear in his face; it -was white, and he circled his lips with his tongue. - -Beneath the mask, the Hawk's lips were a straight line. He laid down -his automatic on the table, placed the receiver to his own ear, and held -the transmitter to the Butcher's lips. - -“Go ahead!” ordered the Hawk. “Ask him what he wants.” His -fingers, cupped and pressed over the transmitter, lifted. - -“Hello!” said the Butcher. “What is it?” - -“That you, Butcher? Everything all right?” inquired the voice. - -The Hawk nodded. - -“Yes,” said the Butcher. - -“Well, open up a bit!” complained the voice. “Did you get him, -and——” - -The voice was speaking on. The Hawk's lips had set a little tighter. -He had recognised the voice now. His fingers were pressed over the -transmitter again. - -“Tell him you laid me out cold,” instructed the Hawk; “and that -I haven't regained consciousness, yet. Now!” The voice had ceased -speaking; the Hawk's fingers lifted again. - -“We beaned him,” said the Butcher morosely.. “He's still -asleep.” - -“Good!” chuckled the voice. “I'll be up there by and by, -and——” - -“Tell him to stay where he is, that it will be—safer.” The Hawk -clipped off his words. - -The Butcher delivered the message, the snarl in his voice entirely to -the Hawk's liking. - -“What?” questioned the voice. “I didn't get you.” - -“Repeat!” whispered the Hawk. - -The Butcher repeated. - -“O. K.,” came back the answer. “Yes, I guess you're right. So -long, Butcher.” - -“Say 'good-night,'.rdquo; prompted the Hawk. - -“'Night!” growled the Butcher. - -The Hawk replaced the receiver on the hook, and the instrument on the -table. - -The Butcher's lips were livid. - -The Hawk picked up his automatic and leaned forward, his eyes on a level -with the Butcher's. - -“What's that fellow's moniker, Butcher?” - -The Butcher hesitated. - -The automatic crept forward an inch. - -“Parson Joe.” The Butcher's voice choked with mingled rage and -fear. - -“Parson Joe, eh?” repeated the Hawk ruminatingly. “Was he the chap -who pulled that con game on the Riverdale Bank back in New York State -about six years ago, and afterwards got cornered by the police in Ike -Morrissey's gambling hell, and was caught because he nearly bled to -death, with his wrist half off, trying to get through a broken window -pane? He got four spaces. That him?” - -“If you say so, it must have been!” There was a leer in the -Butcher's voice. - -“Was it?” The automatic touched the Butcher's breast. - -“Yes,” said the Butcher. - -“Thank you!” smiled the Hawk. “Now——!” - -He gagged the Butcher with the handkerchief, tied it securely into -place, stood up, picked up the little black bag, switched off the -electric reading lamp, moved to the window, and drew aside the shade. -“We'll let that account stand open for a little while -longer, Butcher,” he said softly. “Just a little while -longer—good-night!” - -He swung out of the window, dropped to the ground, ran across the lawn, -and gained the road. His mask and automatic were back in his pockets. -His fingers felt and patted the little black bag under his coat. - -“Always play your luck,” whispered the Hawk confidentially to -himself. “It seems to me I saw a little loose change in Doctor -Meunier's pocket-book, and I don't think he's opened the duplicate -bag yet and stirred up a fuss. It isn't much compared with a hundred -thousand, or even fifty, to quote the Butcher, but 'every little bit -added to what you've got——'” He fell to whistling the tune -pleasantly under his breath, as he hurried along the road. - -A minute later he had regained the taxicab. - -“Drop me a block this side of the Corona—and give her all she's -got!” he directed crisply. - -“D'ye get him?” demanded the chauffeur eagerly. - -“My friend,” replied the Hawk gently, as he stepped into the taxi, -“if you'll think it over, you'll come to the conclusion that you -really don't want to know. Take it from me that the less you're wise -about to-night the wiser you will be to-morrow. Now, cut her loose!” - -It had taken a good thirty minutes on the trip up; it took less than -half of that, by a more direct route, for the return journey. At -the corner, a block from the hotel, the Hawk crumpled two generous -bank-notes into the chauffeur's hand, and bade the man good-night. -He traversed the block, entered the hotel lobby, and, ignoring the -elevators, leisurely and nonchalantly ascended the staircase to the -first floor. From the landing he noted the room numbers opposite to -him, and with these as a guide passed on along the corridor to where it -turned at right angles at the corner of the building, and halted before -room No. 106. A light showing above the transom indicated that the -Frenchman was within. He had passed one or two people. No one had paid -any attention to him. Why should they! He glanced up and down. The -corridor, for the moment, was empty. He tried the door gently—it was -locked. His right hand, in his side pocket, closed over his automatic. -He pressed close to the door, knocked gently with his left hand—and -with his left hand reached quickly into his pocket for his mask. - -“Who's there?” the Frenchman called out. - -“Message for you, sir,” the Hawk answered. - -Footsteps crossed the room, the key turned in the lock—and, in a -flash, the Hawk, slipping on his mask, had pushed the door open, closed -it behind him, and the Frenchman was staring into the muzzle of the -automatic. - -“Mon Dieu!” gasped the Frenchman faintly. - -“That's right!” said the Hawk coolly, “Don't speak any louder -than that, or——” He shrugged his shoulders significantly, as he -locked the door. - -The Frenchman, white-faced, was evidently fighting for his nerve. - -“What—what is it?” he stammered. “What is it that you want?” - -It was almost a reassuring smile that flickered on the Hawk's lips, -and his voice did not belie it—it was purely conversational in its -tones. - -“I was reading in the paper this afternoon about the famous Doctor -Meunier. I'm a bit of a scientist myself, in an amateur way, and -I'm particularly interested in radium when there's enough of it -to——” - -“Ah! My radium! That is what you want!” cried out the Frenchman -wildly. The duplicate bag lay on the bed. He ran for it, and snatched -it up. “No! That you shall not have! You come to steal my radium, -you——” - -“You jump at conclusions, doctor,” said the Hawk patiently. “Since -it is already stolen, I——” - -“Stolen!” The Frenchman stared—and then with feverish fingers -opened the bag. He looked inside. The bag dropped to the floor, -his hands went up in the air. “It is empty—empty!” he cried -distractedly. “It is gone—gone! Mon Dieu, my radium is gone! -What shall I do!” His hands were rumpling through his hair like one -demented. “What shall I do—it is gone!” - -“Well,” suggested the Hawk suavely, “I thought perhaps you might -like to buy it back again.” - -“Buy it back! Are you crazy? Am I crazy?” The man appeared to be -beside himself; he flung out his arms in mad gesticulation. “With what -would I buy it back? It is worth a hundred thousands dollars—a half -million francs!” - -“You are excited, Doctor Meunier,” said the Hawk calmly. From where -it bulged under his coat he drew out the black bag. “I said nothing -about a hundred thousand dollars.” - -The Frenchman reached out a shaking hand, pointing at the bag. - -“It is you then, after all, who stole it—eh? The bags—they -are identical! Mon Dieu, what does this mean? I am mad! I do not -understand!” - -There was a chair on each side of the small table near the bed. - -“Sit down!” invited the Hawk, indicating one with the muzzle of his -automatic. The Frenchman sat down with a helpless and abandoned gesture -of despair. The Hawk took the other chair. He opened the bag, opened -the lead box, and laid the lead capsule on the table. “Do you identify -this?” he inquired pleasantly. - -The Frenchman reached for it eagerly. - -The Hawk drew it back. - -“One moment, please, Doctor Meunier!” he murmured. “You recognise -it? You are satisfied that it is your tube of radium?” - -“Yes, yes—mon Dieu! But, yes!” - -“And it is worth, you say, a hundred thousand dollars?” - -“But, yes, I tell you!” cried the Frenchman. “A hundred -thousand—certainly, it is worth that!” - -“Quite so!” said the Hawk placidly. “Therefore, Doctor Meunier, -a comparatively small sum—eh?—you would be willing to pay that—a -sum, I might add, that would be quite within your means.” - -“Quite within my means?” repeated the Frenchman a little dazedly. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk sweetly. “And to be specific, let us -say—whatever is in your pocketbook.” The Frenchman drew back in his -chair. His face blanched. - -“You—you mean to rob me!” he exclaimed hoarsely. - -“I do not see it quite in that light.” The Hawk's voice was -pained. “But we will not discuss the ethics involved—we probably -should not agree. I did not steal your precious capsule from you, and I -am returning it, not, I might say, without having incurred considerable -personal risk in so doing. Perhaps we might better agree if we called -it—a reward.” - -“No!” said the Frenchman desperately. - -The Hawk's automatic tapped the table top with a hint of petulance. - -“And—and what guarantee have I,” the Frenchman burst out, “that -you will give me the tube after you have taken my money?” - -“My word,” said the Hawk evenly. “And—I am waiting, Doctor -Meunier!” - -The Frenchman hesitated, then, with an oath, flung his pocketbook upon -the table. The Hawk opened it, extracted the wad of bills that he had -seen exhibited in the superintendent's office, smiled as he fingered -them, and put them in his pocket. He pushed the lead capsule across the -table—and suddenly, as the other reached for it, the Hawk was on his -feet, his automatic flung forward, his left hand grasping the other's -sleeve. - -They held that way for an instant, eying each other—the Hawk's left -hand slowly pushing back the other's right-hand sleeve. And then -the Hawk's eyes shifted—to a long, jagged, white scar on the bare -forearm just above the wrist. - -“Shall I introduce myself—Parson Joe?” purred the Hawk. - -The other's face was a mottled red—it deepened to purple. - -“No, blast you!” he said between his teeth. “I know you—but -I didn't think you knew me. So you called the turn when the Bantam -followed me—eh?” - -The Hawk shook his head. - -“I never saw you in my life before to-day,” he said grimly; -“and, if it will do you any good to know it, I fell for that radium -plant—until you telephoned the Butcher half an hour ago.” - -“And how did you know me, then?” The other flung the question -fiercely. - -Again the Hawk shook his head. He had no desire that Parson Joe should -know he had been on the Limited that morning—Parson Joe might possess -an inconveniently retentive memory for faces, and he, the Hawk, did not -always wear a mask. - -“Maybe I guessed it, Parson!” he said insolently. “I must -have—it was the only thing that wasn't in the paper! What -encyclopedia did you get that 'Becquerel burn' dope out of? And was -the reporter lying, or how did you work it to get him on the train?” - -Parson Joe was leaning forward over the table, fingering the lead -capsule. He suddenly crushed it with a blow of his fist, twisted it in -two, and hurled the pieces across the floor. - -“We got him up the line on a fake that didn't come off!” he -snarled. - -There was an instant's silence, then the Hawk spoke. - -“Nice, amiable crowd, you are, Parson!” The Hawk's voice was -silken. “I'm just beginning to appreciate you. Let's see! You had -to pull a story that any newspaper would jump at and feature, didn't -you? And you had to have a big enough bait to make sure I'd rise to -it. And you had to account for the celebrated Doctor Meunier's layover -in Selkirk; and, not expecting I'd pick up the trail quite so quickly, -say, not until after the paper had been out a little longer and you -had made another baiting trip or two to Lanson's office, you had to -account for the famous gentleman's enforced stay through the night if -necessary; and it gave a big swing to the story, and let you work your -stunt for the special train that you knew you couldn't get; and -you figured I'd be even more sure to see it in the paper if it was -connected with some pleasant little episode of yours—and so, on -several counts, you blew up the bridge.” - -The man's teeth were clamped together. - -“Yes!” he choked. “And we'd blow a dozen more to get you!” - -“You flatter me!” said the Hawk dryly. “I'm afraid I've put -you to quite a little trouble—for nothing!” - -Sullen, red, furious, Parson Joe's face twitched. - -“You win to-night”—the heavy-lensed spectacles were off, and the -black eyes, the pupils gone, burned on the Hawk—“but you're going -out! As sure as God gave you breath, we'll get you yet, and——” - -“The Butcher told me that, and so did the Cricket—some time -ago,” said the Hawk wearily. “I'm—keep your hands above the -table—I'm sure you mean well!” He was backing toward the door. -“I won't bother to relieve you of your revolver; and I don't think -you'll telephone down to the office. It might be awkward explaining to -the police how Doctor Meunier lost his pocketbook—and got his medical -degree! I shall, however, lock the door on the outside, as I shall -require a minute or two to reach the street, and I cannot very well go -through the hotel corridor with—this”—he jerked his hand toward -his mask. - -The other's hands were above the table, obediently in plain view—but -they were clenching and unclenching now, the knuckles white. - -The Hawk reached behind him, took the key from the lock, listened, -opened the door slightly, and, still facing into the room, still -covering the other with his automatic, reached around the door and -fitted the key into the outside of the lock. - -“When you get out,” said the Hawk, as though it were an -afterthought, “I'm sure the Butcher will be glad to see you—I am -afraid he is not as comfortable as he might be!” - -The black eyes, with a devil's fury in them, had never left the -Hawk's. And now the other lifted one of his clenched hands above his -head. - -“I'd give five years—five years of my life—for a look at your -face!” he whispered hoarsely. - -The Hawk was backing through the door. - -“It's not enough, Parson,” he said softly. “Make it -another—pocketbook.” - - - - -XIV—THE CLUE - -TWO days had passed—two days, and a night. The Hawk's fingers -drummed abstractedly without sound on the table top; his eyes, in a -curiously introspective stare, were fixed on the closely drawn -window shade across the room. From the ill-favoured saloon below his -unpretentious lodgings, there came, muffled, a chorus of voices in -inebriated and discordant song—an over-early evening celebration, for -it was barely seven o'clock. - -The finger tips drummed on. At times, the strong, square chin was -doggedly outthrust; at times, a frown gathered in heavy furrows on -the Hawk's forehead. The net at last was beginning to tighten -ominously—every sign pointed to it. He would be a blind fool indeed -who could not read the warning, and a fool of fools who would not heed -it! - -His eyes strayed from the window, and rested upon the trunk that stood -between the table and the foot of the bed; and his fingers abruptly -ceased their restless movements. Within that trunk, concealed in its -false lid, was the loot, totalling many thousands of dollars, obtained -through his knowledge of the Wire Devils' secret code, which had -enabled him to-turn their elaborately prepared plans on more occasions -than one to his own account. But it was no longer a question of -outwitting them in order to add to that purloined store; it was a -question of outwitting them in order that—in very plain English—he, -the Hawk, might live! - -Nor was it the Wire Devils alone who threatened disaster. There were -other factors; and, even if these factors were less imminent, as it -were, less in a measure to be feared, they were by no means to be -ignored. The police were showing increasing activity. The police -circular, which he had once torn down from the station wall, was now -replaced by another, only with this difference that, where the reward -for the Hawk's capture had then stood at five thousand dollars, it now -stood at ten. Also, last night—quite inadvertently!—while crouched -under the window of the turner's “cubbyhole” at the rear of -the roundhouse, the chosen spot for Lanson's and MacVightie's -confidential conferences, he had overheard a conversation between the -division superintendent and the head of the railroad's detective force -that was certainly not intended for his ears. According to MacVightie, -a man by the name of Birks, the sharpest man in the United States Secret -Service, had been detailed by the Washington authorities to the case. -MacVightie had even taken a generous share of the credit for this move -to himself. Thefts there might be until the country rang with them, -murders might add their quota to the reign of terror, yet all this was -outside the province of the Secret Service. It was, so MacVightie had -said, through MacVightie's insistence that the systematised thefts and -murders were inseparable with the counterfeit notes then flooding the -country that had induced Washington to act. The Hawk and his gang, -according to MacVightie again, were at the bottom of both one and the -other—and counterfeiting was, very pertinently, within the province of -the Secret Service! - -The Hawk permitted a twisted smile to flicker across his lips. -MacVightie, the police in general, and Birks of the Secret Service in -particular, might be classed as complications, even decidedly awkward -complications, but his immediate peril lay, not in that direction, but -from those whose leadership MacVightie so blandly credited to—the -Hawk! - -The smile twisted deeper—into one of grim irony. While MacVightie -placarded the country with circulars offering rewards for the capture -of the Hawk and his gang, the “gang” was moving heaven and earth to -capture the Hawk for its own exclusive purposes—which purposes, in a -word, were an intense desire to recover the proceeds of the robberies -that he, the Hawk, had filched from under the gang's nose, and -thereafter, with such finality as might be afforded by a blackjack, a -knife thrust, or a revolver bullet, to expedite the Hawk's departure -from this vale of tears! - -The Hawk's hand curled suddenly into a clenched fist, and his face -grew set. He was facetious—and he had little enough warrant for -facetiousness! They had already shown their teeth. They had shown the -grim, ugly deadliness of their challenge in the thrust with which they -had opened their attack upon him. He had parried the thrust, it was -true—but there would be another—and another. There was something of -remorseless promise, that would stop at nothing, in the extravagantly -laid plans with which they had just attempted to lure him into the -open and trap him. They had failed, it was true, and he had even scored -against them again—but their cunning, their power, their resources, -their malignity remained unimpaired. They would try again. It was -like two adversaries in a dark room, each conscious of the other's -presence, each striving to place the other, each conscious that the -death of one was life for the other. That was the pith of the situation. - -The Hawk's teeth clamped together. It was quite certain that they -would run him to earth—unless he were first at the same game! An -organisation as widespread as the one against which he had elected to -pit his wits and play a lone hand, an organisation clever enough to have -seized and put to its own use the entire divisional telegraph system of -a railroad, an organisation callous enough to have counted a score of -murders but incidents in its schemes, and, above all, an organisation -guided by an unknown brain that was a master of cunning and unhampered -by scruples, was an antagonist as sinister as it was powerful. For days -now, in the great majority of cases, he, the Hawk, had turned their -plans to his own account, skimmed, as it were, the cream from their -milk—and there could be but one answer. And they had answered—and -in the opening attack they had just launched against him it was obvious -enough that every resource at their command was to be thrown into the -balance to settle scores with him. They might, and did, laugh at -the police, but to have their prizes pocketed and carried off by a -competitor admitted of but one solution—the annihilation of the -competitor! - -The Hawk rose abruptly from his seat, stepped over to the trunk, opened -it, and in an instant had removed the secret tray from the curvature of -the lid. He laid the tray down upon the table; and his fingers, brushing -aside a certain magnificent diamond necklace whose thousand facets -glittered in the light, delved swiftly in amongst pile after pile of -banknotes, and secured a package of papers. - -He pushed the tray to one side, sat down again at the table, removed the -elastic band from the package, and began to examine the papers. It was -not the first time he had done this—he did it again now in a sort -of desperation, and simply because it presented the one possibility at -which he might grasp in the hope of obtaining a clue. There were many -papers here, loose sheets, documents in envelopes, and, careful as -he had been before, there was a chance that he had missed the one -thing—in a sentence, in perhaps only a word, or a pencilled note-on -the back of an envelope—that would save him from disaster now. - -It was the night before last that Parson Joe, with his fake tube of -radium, had headed the gang in the attempt upon his, the Hawk's, life. -The twisted smile returned to the Hawk's lips, as he turned first one -paper and then another over in his hands. He had been fool enough to -imagine that, besides failure, they had left a well-marked and clearly -defined trail behind them—in the shape of that very comfortably, very -cosily furnished house just on the outskirts of the city, where the -Butcher had proposed to play the rôle of spider to his, the Hawk's, -rôle of fly! It had even seemed a childishly simple matter to pick up -such a thread and follow it. A house was neither rented nor furnished -out of thin air. But the next morning the house was closed and deserted. -It had been sublet—furnished. The subtenant, whose name was of no -consequence, since it was of course assumed, had vanished—that was -all. As far as the gang was concerned the house had lost its usefulness, -and, having lost its usefulness, had simply been evacuated, and, -together with the furniture, left to its own resources! - -And it had been the same, on a previous occasion, with Isaac -Kirschell's office. The morning after he, the Hawk, had appropriated -the contents of Kirschell's cash box and had recognised Kirschell -as one of the gang, the suite of rooms in the office building had been -vacant. - -The Hawk withdrew the last paper in the pile from its envelope, and -read it with a sort of miserable realisation that its perusal, like -the others, was foredoomed to futility. It was an alleged mortgage, -spurious, of course, for these were Kirschell's papers that had -been in the cash box, and, in the very nature of things, Kirschell's -business had been only a blind to cover a sort of branch headquarters -for the gang. He read it through, however, doggedly—and for his pains -the printed words in their precise legal phraseology seemed to mock at -him and chuckle with devilishly perverted humour. - -He tossed the document upon the table, and, his face strained, pushed -back his chair, got up, and began to pace the length of the room with -a tread that, in its quick, nervous litheness and its silence, was like -the pacing of a panther in its cage. - -Nothing! And yet there must be something—somewhere! It was his move -now, and there was little time to spare. It had become simply a -question of which of the two, he or the gang, would win this game of -blindman's-buff. It no longer sufficed that he should intercept those -secret code messages in the former haphazard way, for, consistently as -he had haunted the telegraph sounders, he was well enough aware that he -must of necessity have missed many of the messages. He could afford -to miss none of them now. Formerly, a message missed meant but a lost -opportunity to thwart their plans, to add a little more to the contents -of the trunk's false lid; now, since they had shown that they would -stop at nothing to trap him, his life was dependent on having, with -certainty, foreknowledge of their every plan. His defense lay in attack. -He must trace those messages to their source, and trace them quickly -before the Wire Devils should strike again, or leave the field to the -Wire Devils—in other words, quit and run for it! - -“Quit!” It was the first sound the Hawk had made, and it was only -a whisper—but the whisper was gritted out through set teeth. Quit! -He laughed a little, low, with menace, without mirth. It was not an -alternative—it was the sting of a curling whip-lash to spur him on. - -Well? What was he to do then? It was his move—and there was no time to -spare. He approached the table again, and began to rearrange the papers -into a pile, preparatory to replacing them in the tray. It was veritably -a game of blindman's-buff! They knew him through personal contact, but -only as a man who had always been masked; he knew many of them, and knew -them personally—but only in the play-off of their schemes, when he -had, as it were, snatched the plunder from their hands as he made his -own escape, had he ever seen any of them. Well—the question came -again, more insistent, more imperative, more vital—well, his life was -in the balance, what was he to do? Go out again to-night and haunt a -telegraph sounder, trust to—— - -He turned suddenly, the spurious mortgage, and the long envelope that -had contained it, in his hand. The document, for some reason or other, -refused to fit into the envelope as neatly or as readily as it had -previously done. He held the envelope up to the light—and the next -instant, flinging the document down on the table, he had ripped the -envelope apart, and from under the inner flap, where it had undoubtedly -been forced by the document itself and afterwards, as he had handled the -envelope, had obviously worked its way partially out again, he extracted -a small, thin slip of yellow paper. - -And then for a moment the Hawk stood motionless, but into the dark eyes -there leaped a triumphant flash. In his hand was the return portion of a -railroad ticket that read: - -Conmore to Selkirk City. - -He whipped the ticket over to scrutinise the date stamp on the back—it -was that of the day prior to his visit to Kirschell's office. And he -laughed a little again, but there was no bitterness in the laugh now. -The clue that he had sought, the clue that Lanson's men had in vain -patrolled and scoured the division's right of way to obtain, was in -his possession. - -“It fits—like a glove!” muttered the Hawk, with grim complacence. -“Kirschell had the envelope in his pocket, of course, and in putting -his return ticket in his pocket it slipped into the envelope without -his knowing it, got crowded under the flap, and he thought he had lost -it!” The Hawk turned sharply to the table. “Conmore—eh?” He was -working with feverish haste now, replacing the papers in the tray, and -fitting the tray back into the curvature of the trunk lid. “Number -Thirty-Eight, if she's on time, is due at seven-thirty.” He pulled -out his watch. “Seven-twenty! Conmore—eh?” The light was out, -the door locked behind him. “That's twenty-miles east of here, and -between here and Bald Creek.” He was out of the house now, and running -along the lane that gave on the station street. “Yes,” said the Hawk -again, and there was suppressed elation in his voice, “it fits! It -fits—like a glove!” - -The Hawk reached the station, and purchased a ticket; but, as usual, the -ticket did not indicate his destination—it read, not to Conmore, but -to several stations farther along the line. The local pulled in on time. -As it pulled out again, the Hawk, having appropriated the rear seat of -the smoker, lighted, though he inclined little toward that particular -form of tobacco, a cigar. - -His slouch hat was jerked a little forward over his eyes. He settled -back in his seat. Like links in a chain, the keen, alert brain was -welding the events of the days gone by into a concrete whole. The -headquarters of the gang, the heart of the web from which the Wire -Devils operated was, logically, as he had known, as MacVightie had -known, outside the city, where the telegraph line could be tapped -without observation and at will. MacVightie's initial and only attempt -to “ground out” the “tap” had indicated that the wire was -being tampered with between Selkirk and Bald Creek. Conmore was between -Selkirk and Bald Creek. And what interest could Kirschell, a New York -crook, have in a place like Conmore, that was little more than a hamlet? -What, then, had prompted Kirschell's trip to Conmore and return? The -Hawk smiled whimsically. - -It was not proof absolute, but in his own mind it was proof quite -sufficient. Kirschell's visit to Conmore had been a visit to the -headquarters of the gang. Also, material proof apart, he sensed -intuitively that he had struck the right trail. Those messages, keeping -the unknown brain that schemed and plotted each move in instant touch -with every unit of the widespread organisation, making it possible for -them to strike at a moment's warning at any point over a hundred miles -of country, emanated—from Conmore. - -The train stopped at a station, and went on again. The Hawk nursed his -cigar sedulously, and stared out of the window. Twenty minutes went by. -And then the train stopped again—at Conmore. - -The Hawk did not move, save that his eyes rested casually on a passenger -who was making a hurried and belated dash for the door. It was quite -possible that the man was not one of the gang, and equally possible that -the man was—he, the Hawk, did not recognise the other. But he would do -the Wire Devils less than justice to credit them with lack of interest -in passengers for Conmore—or in any occupant of any car who might -have left his seat and found the platform attractive, say, just before -Conmore was reached! If the man was a spy, then—well—the Hawk smiled -at his now burned-to-the-butt cigar—the man would have little to -report! - -The train jerked forward into motion again. The station was on the same -side as the Hawk's seat—the Hawk did not look out of the window, but -he was far from being oblivious to the fact that no platform lights had -shown through the car windows on the opposite side of the aisle. The -speed increased a little, but still the Hawk did not stir. The train -rattled over the east-end siding switch of the Conmore yard. And then -the Hawk rose languidly, tossed his cigar butt into the cuspidor, -brushed a very noticeable quantity of cigar ash from his vest, paused -for a drink at the water-cooler, and, as though, his smoke finished, he -was seeking the clearer atmosphere of a rear car, opened the door, and -stepped out on the platform. - -The Hawk dropped to the right of way from the side of the train opposite -to that of the station, landed as sure-footed as a cat, flung himself -instantly flat down at the edge of the embankment, and lay still. -The local racketed its way past—the red tail-lights winked, and -vanished—and there fell a silence, a drowsy night silence, broken -only by the chirp of insects and the far-distant mutter of the receding -train. The Hawk raised his head, and looked about him. A few hundred -yards away glinted the station semaphore and window lights; the siding -switch light, nearer, showed green like a huge glowing emerald in -the black; there was nothing else. There was no sign of -habitation—nothing—the little hamlet lay hidden in a hollow a mile -away on the station side of the track. - - - - -XV—THE LADYBIRD - -THE Hawk rose, and began to move forward. Conmore was certainly an -idealistic spot—from the Wire Devils' standpoint! He frowned a -little. There was no doubt in his mind but that in a general way he had -solved the problem, that somewhere in this vicinity the right of -way held the wire tappers' secret; but, as he was well aware, his -difficulties were far from at an end, and that particular spot might -be anywhere within several miles of Conmore, and it might, with equal -reason, be east or west of the station. And then the Hawk shrugged his -shoulders. The night was early yet, early enough to enable him to cover -several miles of track on both sides of the station, if necessary, -before daylight came. If he had luck with him, he was on the right -side now; if not, then, by midnight, he would start in on the other. It -required the exercise of a little philosophical patience, nothing more. - -It was black along the track—a black night, no moon, no stars. And it -was silent. A half hour passed. Like a shadow, and as silent as one, the -Hawk moved forward—from telegraph pole to telegraph pole. A pin point -of light showed far down the right of way, grew larger, brighter, more -luminous—and the Hawk-sought refuge, crouched beneath a culvert, as -a big ten-wheeler and its string of coaches, trucks beating at the -fishplates, quick like the tattoo of a snare drum, roared by over his -head. - -Still another half hour passed. It was slow work. He was perhaps, at -most, a mile and a half from the Conmore station. And then, suddenly, -the Hawk dropped to his hands and knees and crawled down the embankment, -and lay flat and motionless in the grass—faint, almost inaudible, a -footstep had crunched on the gravel of the roadbed ahead of him. The -Hawk's only movement now was the tightening of his fingers around the -stock of his automatic, as, out of the blackness, a blacker shape loomed -up, and a man sauntered by along the track. - -The Hawk's lips compressed into a grim smile. His caution had not been -exaggerated! The Wire Devils' guard! Luck, at least initial luck, was -with him, then! The “tap” was here east of the station, and at the -next pole probably. But it was more than likely that there was another -guard patrolling on the other side. They would certainly take no -chances, either of surprise, or of being unable to dismantle their -apparatus instantly at the first alarm—and it would almost necessarily -require more than one man for that. He crept forward again, and again -lay still. The man on the track returned—passed by—and, close to the -telegraph pole now, two blurred shapes showed; and then, low, there came -voices, and a laugh. - -But now the Hawk was wriggling swiftly away from the track. There was -no longer any need to examine the telegraph poles—the sense of touch -guiding him, he was following an insulated wire, two wires, that lay -along the ground, and, following these wires, he reached the barbed-wire -fence that enclosed the right of way, worked his way through, and here -paused. The wires had apparently disappeared abruptly into the ground. - -For perhaps a minute the Hawk lay still, save that his fingers worked -and dug at loose earth; and then, his coat extended on either side of -him, he raised himself an inch or two from the ground, and, beneath his -body, his tiny flashlight glowed for a brief instant, and was restored -to his pocket. - -The Hawk began to crawl forward again. He was on the edge of a ploughed -field—a piece of farm land. It was all very simple, and it was very -clear now. In the loose earth there was embedded a small, rough, wooden -box. In this receptacle was a junction box, and from the junction box, -through holes bored in the outer wooden casing, the wires continued -on into a small, flexible conduit. The Hawk smiled grimly. Lanson, and -Lanson's section men might search a thousand years and never solve -the problem. The Wire Devils were not limited to any one single or -particular telegraph pole. They were limited only in the radius of their -operations by the length of the “tap” wires they used. They had only -to tap the line, run their “tap” back, brush the loose earth away -from the top of the wooden casing, open the latter, connect with -the junction box, and their “tap” became an integral part of the -railroad's telegraph system. It was very simple! When they were not -operating—they reversed the process. They disconnected from the main -line, coiled their “tap” wires up, hid them in the wooden casing, -restored the loose earth over the latter's surface, and, save for -one of those thousands of splices on the main line incident to years -of service and differing in no way from any of its fellows, no sign or -vestige of their work remained. It required, of course, a lineman's -outfit and the necessary appliances for work at the top of the telegraph -pole—but that the Wire Devils were adequately equipped in this respect -was so obvious as to make any consideration of that detail absurd. For -the rest, the little conduit laid in a ploughed furrow with the earth -spread back over it completed in perfection and simplicity the unholy -little scheme! - -On the Hawk crawled across the field. All this premised a house, a farm -house probably, in the immediate vicinity. The ploughed field must, -of course, never be disturbed, therefore the tenancy of the land -axiomatically was for the moment vested in the Wire Devils, and——ah! -The Hawk, far enough from the railroad now to be secure from -observation, had risen from his hands and knees, and, in a crouched -position, was moving forward more rapidly. A small, wooded tract of -land was showing a little way in front of him; the house undoubtedly was -there. - -He gained the trees, made his way through what appeared to be an open -grove of pines, and, on the other side, at the edge of the clearing, -halted, and listened intently. He could just make out a little group of -buildings—the house itself, a barn, and one or two smaller structures, -probably wagon and implement sheds. No light showed from anywhere, -nor was there any sound. Cautiously, silently, the Hawk crossed the -clearing, and began to circuit the house. It was a little strange! The -place seemed absolutely deserted. Had he made a mistake? Naturally, he -could not follow the direction of the buried conduit! Was there another -house in the neighbourhood? He shook his head. There might be another -house, many of them for that matter, but the ploughed field, from its -location, surely belonged to this one. And yet—he halted once more, -and, listening again intently, looked sharply about him. - -He was around on the other side of the house now, and now his eyes were -fixed on one of the lower windows. It was not the window of a lighted -room, yet still a faint glow seemed to emanate most curiously from it. -He crept toward it, crouched beneath it, listened again, then partially -straightening up—the window sill was but breast high—peered in. -Of the room itself he could see nothing—only the dull glow of light, -extremely faint, that came, he now discovered, from an open door across -the room. He tried the window; and then, finding the catch unfastened, -with a deft pressure of his fingers upon the sash, he began to raise it -slowly, silently. - -And now into the Hawk's dark eyes there leaped for the second time -that night a triumphant flash. Yes, beyond doubt, beyond question, -beyond cavil, here was the heart of the spider's web at last! Muffled, -low, indistinct, barely audible, but equally unmistakable, there came -the clicking of a telegraph instrument. - -The Hawk drew his mask from his pocket, slipped it over his face, swung -noiselessly over the window sill, and began to creep across the room -toward the opened door and the glow of light. And, as the clicking of -the sounder grew more distinct and there mingled with it now a murmur of -voices, the Hawk's lips compressed into a thin, straight line. If he -were caught, if a single inadvertent sound betrayed his presence; it -needed no effort of the imagination to picture what would follow. Death, -if it were sudden, would be a very merciful ending—but it would not -be death, if the Wire Devils could prevent it, until they had exhausted -every means, torture ingenious and devilish, for instance, to extort -from him the whereabouts of the plunder taken from them, and which they -knew to be in his possession. He knew much now, he knew their lair at -last, and for a moment, as these thoughts flashed across his mind, he -was prompted to retreat again while he had the chance. An inner voice -called him a fool to persist; another bade him go on. But the latter -voice was right. He knew much—but he did not know enough. - -If his life was in peril in the one sense, it was equally in peril in -the other. He did not know enough. Who, for instance, was the master -brain behind the organisation? Where and how, for instance, was the next -trap they would set for him to be laid? - -Brief snatches of conversation now began to reach the Hawk, as he drew -nearer to the door: - -“... Twenty-five thousand dollars... Traders' National Bank... -superintendent's car... dummy package... counterfeit seals... that's -all right, but MacVightie says the Secret Service is sending a man by -the name of Birks out here....” - -And then a voice at which the Hawk involuntarily held his breath, and to -which, at the door now, he listened in a sort of stunned incredulity, -as though he were indeed the sport of his own ears. It was a very quiet -voice, very soft, a velvet voice, a voice whose tones were cultured -tones—and whose language was the language of a pirate of the Spanish -Main. - -“Time enough to attend to this Birks personage—what I want is the -Hawk!” came in limpid tones. “And if I were not tied down here in -this damned and double-damned wheel chair, I would have twisted his -throat for him long ago. I furnish brains—and I am cursed with a -miserable, crawling mob of gnats upon whom they are wasted! That's -it—gnats! Gnats—insects—moths—anything that, if shown the light, -knows nothing but to singe its own wings!” The voice was not raised; -it was like a mother's, like a woman's voice, talking plaintively -to a spoiled child—but there was something absolutely deadly in its -inflection. - -“The Ladybird!” The Hawk's lips framed the words without sound, -and in a sort of numbed hesitant way. “I—I thought he was dead.” - -The telegraph sounder kept on spluttering at intervals, but it was only -stray stuff, routine railroad business, going over the wires. The Hawk, -flat on the floor and at one side of the jamb now, stared through the -doorway. It was the doorway leading to the cellar. The stairs, halfway -down, turned abruptly at right angles. The Hawk was rewarded with a view -of the stone foundation wall of the house, nothing more. But for the -moment the Hawk was lost to his immediate surroundings. The Hawk's -criminal acquaintanceship was wide, varied and intimate, and his mind -was still not entirely recovered from the startled amazement which the -recognition of that voice had brought him. He was quite fully conversant -with the Ladybird's record—only he had thought the Ladybird dead! - -The Ladybird was not an ordinary criminal; instead of having spent -twenty years in Sing Sing, as was very justly his due, the police had -spent those twenty years in trying to put him there—and the Ladybird -was still to know the restrictions of a cage! Clever, fearless, cunning, -Napoleonic in the scope and breadth of his operations, the biggest -scoops on the blotters of the New York police, and, higher up, on -the Federal records, were laid to the Ladybird's door; but always, -somewhere, the thread of evidence broke—sometimes not till the door -itself was reached—but always it broke; the thread had never crossed -the threshold. The man himself was highly educated, a man now well on -toward fifty. In the underworld there were a thousand different stories -of his early life—that he had been a professor of science in a great -university; that he came of a rich family high up in the social scale; -that he had been, in fact, everything that the spice of imagination -could supply to enhance the glamour that surrounded him in the sordid -empire of Crimeland, where so many were his followers and worshippers. -But here, too, the thread was broken. None knew who he had been; -none knew where he had come from. They knew him only as one who was -invulnerable against the attacks and efforts of the police, as a peer -of their own unholy realm, as one whose name was a name to conjure -with—for in the name, the “moniker” they themselves had given the -Ladybird on account of his effeminate voice and manner, derision was -neither intended nor implied. There were limits and bounds to even the -underworld's temerity, and none knew better than the underworld the -sinister incongruity of those effeminate characteristics. Where another -might bellow and roar his rage, and threaten, the Ladybird lisped his -words—and struck. - -But he, the Hawk, had thought the Ladybird dead! The man had been badly -hurt a year ago in a railroad accident somewhere in the East, and the -report had spread, and had been credited even in the inner circles of -the underworld, that he was dead. The Hawk's lips twisted grimly. The -Ladybird had seen to it evidently that the report was not denied! And -so, instead, the man was a cripple now, weaving his plots, and scheming -with that black, cunning brain of his from a wheel chair! Well, he—— - -The Hawk reached quickly into his pocket for pencil and paper—there -would be just light enough to enable him to see. The sounder was -rattling a brisk, tattoo, but it was no longer stray stuff. The message, -in quick, sure “sending,” was coming in the Wire Devils' secret -code. Letter by letter the Hawk jotted it down: - -“pikxtfbmez byqetbqfsl kgqmbokufec srfijojeremb sthfgsbk bnfebvwq -jduuvsfpq xwfsnlipb ouflmnfsbg jeborr ettjupuj ohllsppn.” - -The sounder ceased abruptly. There was silence. The Hawk replaced pencil -and paper in his pocket. The minutes passed—the message was evidently -being decoded. Then the Ladybird's voice: - -“Very well! Code a message to Number One, and tell him Number Seven -has completed his work. Tell him again to take no chances by hurrying -things; that he is to wait until they are asleep. And warn him again -that under no circumstances is our hand to show in this to-night.” - -A slight confusion followed from below—the scuf-, fling of feet, the -murmur of voices mingling with curious, indefinable metallic sounds. And -then suddenly the Ladybird's voice again: - -“No—never mind that message! Damn my cursed, useless legs!” A -flow of unbridled oaths followed—the sacrilege the more horrible, the -menace the more ghastly for the languid, conversational tones in which -the blasphemy rolled so smoothly from the man's lips. “I'll trust -to no message tonight! Curse my legs! If I could only get there myself! -Failure! Failure! Failure! Gnats! But I will not have my plans ruined -to-night by any fool! Here, you, Dixer! Where's Dixer?” - -“I'm here,” a voice answered. - -“Listen, them!” murmured the Ladybird. “You haven't got any -more brains than any of the rest of them, but you're so cautious you -wouldn't take a chance on swapping a Mexican dollar for a gold eagle -unless you had a bottle of acid in your pocket—for fear the eagle was -bad! I want caution tonight, and I want orders obeyed to the letter, and -that's all I want. You take the runabout and go down there. You've -lots of time. Tell Number One you're in charge. I'll wire him to -that effect. And now pay attention to me so you won't have ignorance -for an excuse! It's time the police and the rags they call newspapers -around here had a little something to divert their attention—from us. -They're getting to be pests, and I want a lull in which to devote a -little more attention to—the Hawk. It's about time they understood -we are modest enough not to hog all the lime-light!” He laughed -a little, a low, modulated, dulcet laugh, that rippled like a -woman's—but in the ripple there was something that was akin to a -shudder. “Twice in the last month, the Traders' National has made -remittances to its banking correspondent at Elkhead for the mine country -pay rolls and on account of general business. They did it very neatly, -they fooled us completely—because the remittances were only piker -amounts, and because it was only a question of letting them get fed up -enough with their own cleverness to pull a good one! They're pulling -a good one to-night!” The Ladybird's laugh rippled out again. -“To outwit us, and paying us the compliment of not daring to trust to -ordinary means of shipment, they've had a little arrangement in force -with Lanson, the division superintendent. It was very simple. Lanson, -in his car, making a trip over the division, could never interest -us—certainly not! Why should it? Only they did not count on Number -Eleven inside the bank. Very well! They wrapped their banknotes up in -small packages, sealed them with the bank's seal, wrapped these small -packages up again into an innocent looking parcel without a seal, and -handed it over to a trusted young employé by the name of Meridan—Paul -Meridan. On both the former occasions, Meridan left the bank at the -usual closing hour, took the parcel with him, and went home; but, -later on, in the evening, he slipped down to the railroad yard, boarded -Lanson's private car, locked the parcel up in a small cupboard at the -bottom of the bookcase with which the main compartment of the car is -equipped, smoked a cigar with Lanson, turned in, the car was coupled to -the night express, and in the morning Meridan delivered his package in -Elkhead. - -“That was the way it was done before, Dixer”—the Ladybird's -voice, if anything, grew softer—“and that's the way it is being -done this time—only there are more little sealed packages in the -parcel to-night. And to-night Meridan will sneak out of his home again, -and go down to the private car with the money as usual. Your way, yours -and the Butcher's, and that of the rest of you, would be to lay a -blackjack over Meridan's head on the way to the railroad yard, and -snatch the parcel. It's not my way. It's too hot, as it is, around -here now, and there's got to be a big enough noise made to attract -attention to the other side of the fence and give us a breathing spell. -Paul Meridan stands for this to-night. There's nothing new about one -of those ubiquitous 'trusted employés' going wrong, but everybody -sucks in their breaths just the same every time it happens, and the -splash is always just as big. Understand? Number One has got a dummy -package identical in appearance with Meridan's—each of the small -packages is sealed with the bank's seal in dark-green wax, and the -whole is wrapped up with the bank's special wrapping paper and tied -precisely as is the one Meridan has in his possession. Number Eleven -did his work well. There was, of course, no opportunity to effect the -exchange in the bank itself, and the dummy parcel had to be made up -outside, but there was no difficulty in carrying away enough wrapping -paper and wax for the purpose—and, as far as the seal was concerned, -it was you, Dixer, who engraved it a week ago, wasn't it?” - -“Yes,” said Dixer. “You took me off the new twenty-spot plate for -that.” - -“Exactly!” lisped the Ladybird. “Well, though this exchange could -not be effected in the bank, there was no great ingenuity required to -get Meridan to handle, perhaps only to lift, say, a pile of the bank's -wrapping paper from one position on a table or desk to another. If -the under sheet happened to be slightly smeared, and so left a not too -evident, but still well-defined finger print, it was, I am afraid, our -friend Meridan's great misfortune! That was one of the sheets Number -Eleven took away with him. Very good! Meridan delivers his package to -his bank's correspondent in Elkhead to-morrow morning. When the seals -are broken, the little packages are found to contain—piles of blotting -paper, neatly and carefully cut to the size of banknotes! There could -be no reason for suspecting Meridan, the trusted employé—no one -would think of such a thing. He had simply been the victim of a clever -substitution. He was entirely blameless. Naturally! That would be the -way Meridan would reason, and that would be the way they would figure he -had reasoned when they read the letter from 'a friend' that we are -sending to-night, and which they will receive in the morning. Meridan -did have an ample opportunity to effect the substitution himself. The -letter simply suggests a close inspection of the wrappers for finger -prints, and directs attention to Apartment B, on the ground floor of The -Linden—a rather fashionable abode for a young and newly married bank -clerk—where there might possibly be found certain articles such as, -say, a counterfeit of the bank's seal, a quantity of the bank's -special dark-green wax, and some superfluous sheets of the bank's -particular wrapping paper!” - -There was utter silence from the cellar below for an instant, then there -came a callous guffaw. - -“Some plant, all right!” applauded a voice hoarsely. “And it was -twenty-five thousand dollars, you said, wasn't it, chief?” - -Again that rippling laugh, soft, low and silvery. - -“Twenty-five thousand dollars is correct,” corroborated the -Ladybird. “And now, Dixer, if you fail, you'll talk to me—you've -seen all the cards. Number One has a duplicate key to the private car, -and a duplicate key to the bookcase cupboard. Don't enter the car -until you are sure Meridan, Lanson and the porter are asleep. I want -caution—and I will settle with the man until he will wish he had never -been born who lets our hand show in this tonight. The car won't be -moved from the siding until the Eastern Express is made up at midnight, -but don't touch the car while it is on the siding at all if it means -taking any chances; in that case you and Number One can get berths in -the Pullman, and, with the private car right behind you, you can then -make the exchange sometime during the night. You'll find Number One -and the rest of them in the old freight shed near the roundhouse, and, -with the private car right behind you, you can then make the exchange -sometime during the night. You'll find Number One and the rest of them -in the old freight shed near the roundhouse, and——” - -The Hawk was wriggling silently back across the floor. There was no -scheme on foot to-night that was aimed at him; there was, instead, -twenty-five thousand dollars—in cash. He gained the window, and swung -to the sill. Footsteps, hurried, sounded from the direction of the -cellar stairs. The Hawk dropped to the ground, stole noiselessly around -the rear of the house, and reached the shelter of the grove of trees. -Here, he paused, slipped his mask into his pocket, and, for a moment, -a look of puzzled hesitation was in his face; then, running again, -but making a wide detour to avoid the guarded section of the track, he -headed for a point that would intercept the right of way quite close to -the Conmore station. And, as he ran, he jerked his watch and flashlight -from his pockets. It was a quarter past nine. It was early yet, very -early, and they certainly would not make any attempt on the car much -before midnight, but, for all that, the Hawk, who was intimately -conversant with the train schedules, shook his head impatiently, as he -sped along—there were twenty miles between himself and Selkirk, and -the quickest, as indeed the only way to get there, since, unlike Dixer, -he was not possessed of a runabout, was slow at best. There were no -westbound passenger trains scheduling Conmore for two hours or more, -and he would scarcely have dared to risk boarding one at the station if -there had been—there remained, then, not by choice, but by necessity, -the way freight. The way freight “made” Conmore at about ten -o'clock, and Selkirk at about eleven-thirty. - -It would serve admirably, of course, if——He shook his head again, -and then laughed shortly. There were no “ifs”—he would be a -passenger on the way freight. - - - - -XVI—AN EVEN BREAK - -IT took the Hawk some twenty-five minutes to reach the spot he had -selected as his objective, a spot some fifty yards east of the Conmore -siding switch, and here he lay down in the grass under the shelter of -the embankment. It was very quiet, very still, very dark; there was -nothing in sight save the winking station lights in the distance, and -the siding switch light nearer at hand. - -“Twenty-five thousand dollars!” said the Hawk very softly to -himself. He rolled the words like some sweet morsel on his tongue. -“Twenty-five thousand dollars—in cash!” - -The Hawk spread out one side of his coat, and under its protection, in -a diminutive but steady little glow of light, the tiny flashlight played -its ray upon the sheet of paper across which he had scrawled the Wire -Devils' code message. - -“Key letter—x. One-two-three—stroke at four,” muttered the -Hawk—and in parallel columns set down the letters of the alphabet, one -column transposed. - -It took the Hawk much longer to decode the message than it had taken -those in the house to perform the same task. The Hawk was working under -difficulties. A stone, none too flat, served to rest his paper upon, and -he had only two hands with which to manipulate pencil, flashlight and -coat. At the expiration of perhaps half an hour the result of his work -looked like this: - - - -0242 - -And then the Hawk looked up—the throb and mutter of a distant train -was in the air. Pencil, paper and flashlight were restored to his -pockets, and he drew further back from the right of way. Far down the -track the way freight's headlight flashed into view. A minute passed, -another, and still another. And now, where the Hawk had lain, the ground -was ablaze with light—then black again; there was the roar of steam, -a grind and clash and shatter ricochetting down the string of cars, the -scream and shriek of brake-shoes, and then, a panting thing, as though -the big mogul were drawing in deep breaths after great exertion, the way -freight came to a standstill a few yards from the siding switch. - -The Hawk crept forward, his eyes sweeping down the length of the train -in a keen, tense gaze. There was a flat car—it showed in a curious -open space, like a break in the black thread stretched along the -track—but it was too far away, and too perilously close to the -caboose. His eyes travelled back; and, being nearer to the train now -he discerned a boxcar, empty, its door open, almost in front of him. He -crawled forward until he was abreast of it, and until he lay close -up against the rails, looked cautiously up and down the length of the -train, sprang to his feet, and in an instant lay stretched out far back -in the interior of the car. - -The train moved forward, stopped again at the station, and again moved -forward. The Hawk reverted to his pencil, paper and flashlight. The code -message now read: - -seal waxp aper plan tedb ehin dlar gefr amed pict ureo verm ante lmer -idan ssit ting room - -It was now simply a matter of grouping the letters properly, and the -Hawk wrote out the message at the bottom of the sheet: - -Seal, wax (and) paper planted behind large framed picture over mantel -Meridan('.s sitting room. - -The Hawk stared at it grimly. - -“'Yea,” said the Hawk, “I guess that's right! I guess the job -is wished on the young fellow to a finish; he wouldn't have a hope, -and MacVightie would never look any further.” The Hawk was silent for -a moment. “Twenty-five thousand dollars—in cash!” murmured the -Hawk again. - -The way freight ran slowly, very slowly—and it had already been from -ten to fifteen minutes late in reaching Conmore. At the next station -the train crew seemed possessed of a perversity infernal for shifting, -shunting and lifting cars. The Hawk, fuming with impatience, consulted -his watch, as they finally pulled out into the clear again. It was -twenty-five minutes of eleven. - -The train rattled, bumped and jerked its way along—and at the -remaining intermediate stations there was more delay. And when, -approaching Selkirk at last, the Hawk consulted his watch again as the -train whistled, he was conscious that his impatience was tempered with -a sort of sullen, philosophical expectation of defeat. His luck had -been too abundant during the early part of the evening! It was now ten -minutes of twelve. He leaned out of the doorway, peering ahead. They -were just rolling into the Selkirk yard. - -The Hawk swung himself out from the car, dropped to the ground, darted -quickly to one side over several spur tracks, and stood still. The way -freight, like a snail, dragged past him, opening, as it were, a panorama -of the scene in the yard: the low switch lights, red, green, purple and -white, like myriad and variegated fireflies hovering everywhere over -the ground; the bobbing lantern of a yardman here and there; the dancing -gleam of a headlight, as the little yard engine shot fussily away from a -string of lighted coaches—the Eastern Express—which it had evidently -just made up and backed down on the main line beside the station; while -to his right, up the yard, on one of the spurs, perhaps a hundred yards -away, its platform showing in the glow of the dome light, stood the -superintendent's car; and to his left, not quite so far up the yard, -and therefore nearer to him than the private car, the Hawk could make -out the black, irregular outline of the old freight shed. - -The yard engine wheezed its way importantly up past the station, -stopped, a switch light winked, changed colour, and the shunter began to -puff its way back. The Hawk shrugged his shoulders resignedly. The game -was up and he was too late, unless Dixer had been forced to defer his -attempt until some time during the run that night, which was -hardly likely. The yard engine was backing down now to take the -superintendent's car up to the main line, preparatory to running -it back and coupling it to the string of coaches beside the station -platform. The Hawk smiled in the darkness without mirth, as he lost -sight of the little switcher on the other side of the private car. Well, -at least, he could gamble on the one chance that was left! There was -only one thing to do—go over to the station and get a Pullman berth. -If Dixer and the Butcher—the Butcher was “Number One”—were on -the Pullman, the money was still in the private car, and—— - -The Hawk's eyes narrowed suddenly. A man, crouched and running -swiftly, circled the end of the private car, and headed in the direction -of the freight shed—and like a flash the Hawk whirled and leaped -forward, running silently toward the same goal. The Hawk's brain, -stimulated, keen, alert, worked with lightning speed, and suddenly a -strange low laugh was on his lips. Their courses were convergent, his -and that black running shape's, and the other had not noticed him, and -there appeared to be something, a package, under the other's arm. -The Hawk, as he ran, slipped his mask over his face. Was it the dummy -package—or the twenty-five thousand in cash? Had the man succeeded, -or had the yard engine, backing down to couple on, disturbed him in his -attempt just at the psychological instant? Again that strange low laugh, -in a panting breath, was on the Hawk's lips. It did not matter! There -was a way now. He was not too late. If he got both of the packages -he could not lose—and there was a way to accomplish that, a wild, -dare-devil way, but a sure way! - -It was black, pitch black, in near the shed, and the Hawk, with -the shorter distance to cover, reached the edge of the freight shed -platform, and crouched down on the track. Came the faint crash and bump -of the yard engine coupling to the private car; then the short, quick -gasps of a runner out of breath, and a flying form bounded across -the tracks, sprang to the platform, and dashed for the freight shed -door—and the Hawk, his muscles, rigid, taut as steel, released -suddenly, as a coiled spring is released, leaped and hurled himself upon -the other. - -There was a yell of dismay, of surprise and fury, that seemed to echo -from one end of the yard to the other. The man went down in a heap -from the impact. The package, from under his arm, rolled off along the -platform—and the Hawk in a swoop was upon it. He snatched it up, and -running like a deer now, headed for the yard engine and the private car. - -Came another yell from behind him. He heard the freight shed door flung -violently open; and then, in grim emphasis of a sudden chorus of wild, -infuriated shouts from Dixer's waiting companions, the vicious -tongue flame of a revolver split the black, and the roar of the report -reverberated through the yard like a cannon shot. - -And now from the yard itself, the roundhouse and the station came -answering shouts. On the Hawk ran—he was alongside the private car -now, which was already in motion—and now he was opposite the cab of -the yard engine. The fireman, at the sudden pandemonium, head thrust -out, was hanging in the gangway. The Hawk's automatic swung to a line -with the other's head. - -“Get out!” gritted the Hawk coldly. “Both of you—you and your -mate! Get out—on the other side!” - -The man, with a dazed oath, retreated, and the Hawk sprang through the -gangway. The engineer, jumping from his seat, hesitated, and in the -yellow light of the cab lamp looked for the fraction of a second into -the muzzle of the Hawk's automatic, and into the hard, uncompromising -black eyes behind the mask—and followed the fireman in a hasty exit -through the opposite gangway. - -The Hawk snatched at the throttle, pulled it wider—and, like a beast -stung to sudden madness under the spur, the yard engine quivered, and in -a storm of exhausts, coughing the red sparks skyward from the stack, the -drivers racing, spitting fire as they sought to bite and hold the -steel, plunged forward. Ahead the way was clear to the main line, but -behind——The Hawk dropped his package on the floor of the cab, -leaned suddenly far out through the gangway, and as suddenly fired, his -automatic cutting a lane of flame through the darkness. He had fired -at the ground, but his shot had been effective. The engineer or the -fireman, he could not distinguish which, leaping to board the private -car by the rear platform, leaped back instead, and with a series of wild -gesticulations, in which arms and fists waved furiously, vanished in the -darkness. - -The yard engine, as though playing snap-the-whip with the private car -behind it, took the main line switch with a stagger and a lurch, and -straightened away into the clear. There was speed now, and the speed -was increasing with every second. The shouts, the yells, the cries, the -pandemonium from the yard was blotted out in the pound of the drivers -and the belch of the exhaust; and the station and switch lights -were lost to sight as engine and car flew on, heading west into the -foothills. The Hawk chuckled to himself. There would be wild confusion -in the dispatcher's office, and wild confusion all along the line west -of Selkirk, as regulars, extras and traffic of all sorts scurried for -safety to the sidings—but there would be no interference with him! -Where they would otherwise have ditched him, given him an open switch -at the first station and sent him to destruction without compunction, he -possessed, as it was, a most satisfactory hostage in the person of -the division superintendent, whom they would hesitate about sending to -eternity at the same time! - -Possibly a minute and a half, two at the outside, had passed since he -had jumped through the gangway. He eased the throttle a little now, -reducing the speed to a rate more nearly commensurate with safety; -and, placing the package on the driver's seat, ripped off the outside -wrapper. There was a queer, hard smile on the Hawk's lips, as his -fingers tore at the covering of one of the small sealed packets within. -Was it the dummy parcel—or the twenty-five thousand in cash? Had Dixer -succeeded—or was the money still behind him there in the private car? - -The cab lamp above the dancing gauge needles seemed to throw its -meagre yellow glow with strained inquisitiveness over the Hawk's -shoulder—and then the Hawk laughed softly, and laughed again. In his -hands were banknotes. He riffled the stack through his fingers. It was -here, in his possession—twenty-five thousand dollars in cash! - -And he laughed again, and glanced around him—through the cab glass -at the white ribbons of steel glistening under the headlight's glare, -around the murky cab that in its sway and jolt seemed to endow a legion -of shadowy with movement, vitality and life, at the platform of the -private car, which he could see by looking along the edge of the tender, -and which, like its fellow at the rear, was bathed in the soft radiance -of a dome light. Well, he might have known from the fact that the -occupants of the car had not made any move as yet, at least from the -forward end, that they had been in bed and asleep when the disturbance -began; and he might, on that count, if he had stopped to think, have -known that Dixer had succeeded even before he, the Hawk, had put it to -the proof by opening the parcel. - -A lurch of the cab sent him against the seat, and scattered the sealed -packages. He gathered them together again hurriedly. He had only to slow -down the engine a little more, jump to the ground, let the engine and -car go on, make his own way back through the fields, and he would be -safe unless—that strange, queer smile, half grim, half whimsical, was -flickering across his lips—unless he cared to risk his life for that -dummy package back there in the car behind, that contained nothing more -valuable than neatly trimmed pieces of blotting paper! - -The smile lost its whimsicality, and the grimness gathered until his -lips drooped in sharp, hard lines at the corners of his mouth—and, -abruptly, lifting up the seat, he swept the packages of banknotes into -the engineer's box, leaped across the cab, and began to claw his way -up over the coal, making for the back of the tender. - -“Twenty-five thousand in cash for me, and twenty years in the -'pen' for the kid, doesn't look like an even break,” muttered -the Hawk, as he clawed his way up. “Maybe I'm a fool—I guess maybe -I am—but it doesn't look like an even break. You see,” said the -Hawk, continuing to commune with himself, “they'll know, of course, -that some one who wasn't Meridan tried to get the package, but with -the package still there they'll think that the 'some one' made a -bull of it, and to-morrow morning when they open the package and spot -the finger prints, and get that bank seal in Meridan's home, -they'll hold him for it cold, because what's happened around here -to-night'll only look like somebody making a try for the goods without -knowing they were already gone. The kid wouldn't have a hope—the -Ladybird wasn't dealing any aces except to himself—the kid would -go up for having previously stolen the goods on his own account. Yes, I -guess he would—wax, seal and paper in his house to make dummy packages -with—yes, I guess the kid would stand a hot chance!” - -The Hawk rose to his feet at the rear of the tender, preparing to -negotiate a leap down over the ornamental brass platform railing of the -private car—and instantly flung himself back flat on his face on the -coal. The car door was flung open, and Lanson, the superintendent, in -pajamas, a revolver in his hand, stepped out on the platform. He -was closely followed by a young man—Meridan, the bank clerk, -obviously—also in pajamas, but apparently unarmed; and, behind Meridan -again, came the negro porter. - -Lanson's voice, raised excitedly, carried to the Hawk: - -“Damn it, there's no one in the cab! What the devil sort of a game -is this!” - -The Hawk edged up to the top of the coal again—and the next instant, -with catlike agility, he launched himself forward. Lanson, clambering -over the platform railing, with the very evident intention of making his -way via the tender to the throttle, gasped audibly over the racket of -the beating trucks, and in a sort of stunned surprise and irresolution -remained poised inertly on the railing, as the Hawk, clinging now with -one hand to the rear handrail of the switcher, his feet planted on the -buffer beam, thrust the muzzle of his automatic into Lanson's face. - -“Drop that gun!” invited the Hawk in a monotone. - -The weapon, from Lanson's hand, clattered down, struck the coupling, -and dropped to the track. - -The Hawk spoke again—with unpleasant curtness: - -“You—Sambo! Move back, and stand in the doorway! Yes—there! Now, -you, young man, you stand in front of Sambo—your back to him!” And -then, as Meridan too obeyed, though more slowly than the porter and with -a sort of defiant reluctance, the Hawk addressed the superintendent: -“Now, you—your name's Lanson, isn't it?” he snapped. “You, -Lanson, back up against the young fellow. Yes—that's it! Sambo, put -your hands on the young fellow's shoulders—and you, young fellow, -do the same on Lanson's!” The Hawk swung over to the' car -platform—and then the Hawk smiled uninvitingly. “It's the -lock-step backwards,” he explained insolently. “You get the idea, -don't you? If either of you two behind lift your hands, Lanson in -front here pays for it. Now—back with you!” - -They shuffled backward into the observation compartment of the car, -through this, and through a narrow side corridor, and emerged into the -main compartment of the car. The Hawk, guiding their movements by the -simple expedient of prodding the muzzle of his automatic none too gently -into Lanson's body, here ranged the three along the side of the car; -and, backing over to the opposite side himself, halted in front of the -bookcase, and stood surveying his captives with his former insolent -stare. The porter was patently reduced to a state of nervous terror; -Meridan, young, clean-cut, was white to the lips, and his lips quivered, -but his eyes, a hard, bitter light in them, never left the Hawk's -face; Lanson, too, was white, but there was a stern composure in his -face that was absent from the younger man's. - -It was Lanson who spoke. - -“I presume,” he said evenly, “that you are the abandoned -scoundrel, known as the Hawk, whom one of these days we are going—to -hang.” - -The Hawk shrugged his shoulders. - -“I haven't a calling card with me, but we'll let it go at that,” -he answered flippantly. - -The car swayed and lurched suddenly; the trucks beat a louder tattoo -as they clattered over a switch; lights, a row of them from without, -scintillated through the car windows—and were gone. They were not -running perilously fast, but fast enough to prohibit the possibility -of any one, even an acrobatic brakeman from a stalled train, swinging -aboard. The Hawk laughed low. Also, he had been quite right—they had -just passed a station, and, thanks to the superintendent's presence, -no attempt had been made to interfere with the train. - -From one of the Hawk's pockets—with his left hand—the Hawk -produced a small steel jimmy. He knelt down, and, still covering the -three men, inserted the jimmy in between the cupboard doors. There was -a creak, the rip and split and tear of rending wood and lock, and the -doors flew apart. The Hawk reached in, laughed again, as, with the dummy -package under his arm, he stood up and began to back away toward the -corridor leading to the forward end of the car—and the laugh died -on his lips. In the winking of an eye Meridan had swung his hands from -Lanson's shoulders, and was springing forward. - -“You'll never get it!” The boy's voice was a hoarse whisper. -“Not while I——” - -“Keep away, you fool!” snarled the Hawk, and fired—at the floor. -His brain seemed instantly in a riot of ironical mockery. He could not -fire at the boy—it was the boy who had brought him here—and now the -other was upon him—like a wild cat—snatching at the automatic. - -It was only another step backward to the opening of the corridor, and -the Hawk gained it; but still the boy clung on, fighting furiously. He -saw Lanson and the porter leap forward, but for the moment that mattered -little—no more than one at a time could get at him in the confined and -narrow space here. To hold the package rendered his left arm useless. He -dropped the package to the floor, and kicked it deftly back behind him, -as the boy, with both hands, wrenched and battled madly for possession -of the automatic. - -They were swaying now, the two of them, bumping their shoulders and -their arms and elbows against first one side of the corridor and then -the other. There was the crash of splintering glass as they lunged into -a window—another crash, louder, more ominous, and with it a tongue of -flame, as the automatic went off in their hands—and something like a -red-hot iron seared the Hawk's side, and a blur came before his eyes. - -He reeled, recovered himself, and, massing all his strength for the -effort, as, with a cry of triumph, Meridan closed again, he tore himself -free from the other's grasp. There was one way—he was still in -possession of the automatic—only one way now. - -With a lightning swing he whipped the hutt of the weapon to the -other's head, backed rapidly away as the boy slid a limp thing to the -floor, and, picking up the package as he moved backward, holding the -narrow corridor with his automatic, though Lanson was kneeling now at -Meridan's side, he reached the observation compartment, whirled, ran -for the door, opened it, and stepped out on the platform. - -He stood panting here, a little dizzy, a sort of nauseating weakness -upon him, as he fumbled in his pocket. He was not as quick as usual -in his work, not as expert now in the use of his skeleton keys, but, -swiftly for all that, he locked the car door. - -The car and the engine seemed to sway and lurch and pitch and toss -as they had never done before. Was the speed greater? What was it? He -stumbled and nearly fell as he climbed to the tender. He fell, unable to -maintain his footing in the shifting coal, as he reached the cab. There -was something hot and wet that seemed to be working its way down his -leg; his side was giving him intolerable pain. - -He looked at the package in his hands, looked at it queerly for a -moment, and then his drawn lips parted in the old whimsical smile, as -he lurched forward and opened the fire-box door. The red glow filled the -cab and spread upward, tinging the sky with a rosy light—and the Hawk -thrust the package into the fire, and, swaying unsteadily, watched it -burst into flame. - -He glanced at the gauge now. The steam was dropping rapidly. He swept -his hand across his eyes. He had two things to do, and it seemed as -though his brain clogged in its decision as to which he should do -first—he had to get more coal on the fire, or else the engine would -run down, and he did not want it to run down, for it must keep on going -a long way, a very long way if possible, after he left it; and he must -stop the flow of blood from his wound somehow, or else—— - -He put coal into the fire-box. It was painful, dizzy work, and he -spilled a great deal of it, and the lumps rolled over the floor of the -cab, and he stumbled over the lumps. - -The Hawk's teeth were biting into his bloodless lips, as he finally -shut the fire-box door, and, staggering to the side of the cab, lifted -up the engineer's seat again. Here, under the packages of banknotes, -he found a bunch of waste and some cord; and then, reeling with the -lurch of the cab, reeling with his own weakness that only an iron nerve -held back from mastering him, he examined his wound, found it, though -painful and bleeding profusely, to be only a bad flesh wound, and, -making a thick pad of the waste, he laid it against his side, and bound -it there by passing the cord tightly several times around his body. -It was a crude bandage, but it should, at least, check the flow of -blood—afterwards, if he had luck, there would be opportunity for a -better one! - -His mind reverted, seemingly without volition of his, to the fight in -the car, and he spoke aloud. - -“I guess,” said the Hawk, “I didn't hit him as hard as twenty -years in the 'pen' would have hit him—I guess I didn't hit him -that hard.” - -He rested for a moment, sitting on the floor of the cab; then from -the engineer's box he removed the sealed packages, the torn outside -wrapper, and likewise an evening newspaper which he found there. He -wrapped up the banknotes in the newspaper, tied the bundle securely with -the remainder of his cord, replaced the seat, and, crouched low enough -on the floor to be protected by the tender from, say, a shot fired -through the observation window of the private car, kept his eyes -fastened on the right of way ahead. - -The next station must be close at hand, and there was but one way in -which he could get back to Selkirk—and he must get back. There was -that letter—the Ladybird's letter—that would be received in -Elkhead in the morning! His brain was clearer now. He must be on Extra -No. 92, the eastbound fast freight's, running time, and she must be -somewhere very near here, must have taken to the siding at the next -station probably to avoid him, and to give clearance to what was, -undoubtedly now, coming behind him—a detective's special, with -MacVightie, naturally, in command. - -He straightened up painfully. Ahead, he had caught the glint of switch -and station lights. The siding was on the left-hand side. He moved to -the left-hand side of the cab, and lay on the cab floor by the gangway. -That letter! It seemed to obsess him now. If, when the letter was read, -the bank seal, the wax, and the wrapping paper were found hidden in the -boy's home, the fact that some one—he, the Hawk—had stolen the -package from the car in no way changed anything. The boy's apparent -prior guilt was as glaring as ever. On the other hand, with the package -gone, and if the seal and those other things were not found, the letter -became simply the expression of some practical joker's perverted sense -of humour, or the irresponsible work of some fool or crank. He frowned -in a sort of dazed irritation. He had known that all along, hadn't he? -He had known when he started after that dummy package in the first place -that he would have to go all the way—so why was his mind dwelling now -on useless repetitions! - -The Hawk raised his head slightly—a deafening racket was in his ears. -The freight was here—on the siding. He was roaring past it now. He -could not hope for an open boxcar on the fast freight. His eyes were -searching eagerly for a flat car—a flat car loaded with anything that -would afford him shelter. Yes—there was one—two of them—loaded -with steel girders. - -The roar subsided; he was past the station and into the clear -again—and now the Hawk was at the throttle, easing the speed craftily. -He did not dare to “shut off” entirely, for, behind there at the -station, they would know, if the sound of the exhaust ceased, that -he had stopped. He checked a little with the “air” now. And now, -calculating the speed reduced enough to risk a jump, he opened the -throttle to its former notch, took up his newspaper package, lowered -himself to the bottom gangway step, and swung off. - -He rolled down the embankment. The switcher and private car went by, -and, gradually gaining speed again, racketed on up the right of way. -With a groan, the Hawk readjusted his displaced and makeshift bandage, -and began to make his way back toward the station. If he had slowed -enough to allow of a safe landing for himself, he had, of course, given -Lanson the same opportunity—but he had no fear of that. Lanson might -have jumped, but Meri-dan, whom he had left unconscious, couldn't, and -Lanson would stick to Meridan. As for the porter—the Hawk shrugged his -shoulders, as he looked about him—the porter had not jumped. - -He stumbled on. If he were right, if they had started a posse on a -special in pursuit, he had plenty of time. The fast freight could -not pull out until the special had gone by. It seemed a long way, an -interminable way, an immeasurably greater distance than he had covered -coming up on the switcher. And then, at last, the tail-lights of the -stalled freight came into sight around a bend, and grew brighter. And -then, too, there came from the eastward the rumble of an approaching -train. He grew cautious now, and, creeping far out from the side of -the track, passed the caboose, crept in again toward the line of cars, -located the position of the flat cars, climbed aboard one of them, and -crawled in under the shored-up girders. - -The Hawk lay very quiet. He was weak again, and his head swam, and -he was dizzy. An engine and car—MacVightie and his posse -presumably—passed by on the main line; and then, presently, the -freight, with a clatter and bang echoing from one to another down the -length of cars, drew out of the station. - -When the Hawk moved again, it was as the train whistled and slowed for -the Selkirk yard. Perhaps twenty minutes had passed—the fast freight, -with no stops and already late, had made time. He put his mask in his -pocket, wormed his way out from under the girders, and peered ahead and -behind. They were just crawling into the upper end of the yard. He slid -to the ground, found himself a little more steady on his feet, slipped -across the spur tracks, dodged in between two buildings that flanked the -side of the yard, and came out on the street. - -Under a street lamp the Hawk looked at his watch. It was one o'clock. -He swayed a little again, but his lips set hard. There was not very much -time. Somewhere up the line the switcher and the private car would come -to a stop, and they would bring Meridan home—and once that happened, -with its consequent stir in Meridan's apartment, it would be -impossible to get in there, and the game, as far as the boy was -concerned, would be up. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk, as he forced himself along the street, -“I guess maybe that's right—I guess maybe I'm a fool—but it -wasn't an even break.” - -A street car at the next corner took him across town; and fifteen -minutes more found him standing in the unlighted vestibule of the -Linden Apartments. The tiny flashlight swept the ground floor apartment -doors—and an instant later the door of Apartment B yielded noiselessly -to the deft manipulation of a skeleton key. - -The Hawk closed the door, and stole forward. It was a rather fashionable -apartment, as the Ladybird had said, but it was also a very small one, -small enough to warrant the presumption that the young couple did not -keep a servant, and that there would probably be no one there except -Meridan's wife. A door at his right, as he felt out in the darkness, -he found to be open. He listened—for the sound of breathing. There was -nothing. The flashlight winked—and the Hawk stepped forward into the -room. It was the sitting room. The flashlight was sweeping about now in -an inquisitive little ray. A door, closed, leading to an inner room, was -on his right; facing him was a heavily portièred window, the portières -drawn; and a little to the left of the window was the mantel. - -The flashlight's ray wavered suddenly, unsteadily—and the Hawk -caught at the nearest thing to him, the table in the centre of the room, -for support, a sense of disaster upon him, a realisation that, lashed -on as it might be by force of will, there was a limit to physical -endurance, and that the limit had well nigh been reached. His hand -brushed across his eyes, and brushed across them again to clear his -sight, as he tried to follow the flashlight's ray to where it played -jerkily on a massively framed picture over the mantel. He bit his lips -now, bit them until they bled—and moved forward—and laid his parcel -of banknotes on the floor that he might have the use of both hands—and -climbed upon a chair, and felt in behind the picture. Yes—it was -there! His fingers closed on a roll of paper, twitched and shook a -little as they pulled it out—and a small package from inside the roll -fell with a slight thud to the mantel, and from the mantel bounded off -to the floor. - -The Hawk caught his breath, as he listened, and descended from the -chair. - -“Clumsy fool!” he gritted fiercely, as he knelt on the floor. -“I—I guess I'm pretty near the count to do a thing like that.” - -The flashlight came into play again, and disclosed a metal seal and -several pieces of dark-green wax peeping through the paper wrapper that -had been split apart in the fall. He picked them up, and put them in his -pocket; then, loosening his vest, he tucked the roll of wrapping paper -inside his shirt. Well, it was done now; he had only to get back to his -room, and there was surely strength enough left for that. Again his hand -swept across his eyes, and pressed hard against his temples—and then, -stooping swiftly, he clutched at his package of banknotes on the floor -beside him, and stood up, rigid and tense. - -Out of the darkness, almost at his elbow, with a startling clamour that -clashed and shattered through the silence, and seemed to set a -thousand echoes reverberating through the room, came the ringing of the -telephone. - -Some one in the inner room stirred. The Hawk drew back hurriedly into -the window recess behind the portières. The telephone rang again. There -came a step now, and now the room was flooded with light, and a woman, -a dressing gown flung hastily over her shoulders, crossed from the inner -doorway to the table, and picked up the instrument. - -“Yes?... Hello!... What is it?” she asked, a little sleepily. -“Yes, this is Mrs. Meridan... What?... My husband!” Her voice rang -out in sudden terror. “What did you say?” she cried frantically. -“Yes, yes—the Hawk—my husband—unconscious... You are not telling -me all the truth—you are trying to keep the worst from me—for -God's sake tell me the truth!... Not dangerous?... You are sure—you -are sure?... Yes, yes, I understand!... At the station in half an -hour... I will be there.” - -Mechanically she hung the receiver on the hook, and clung for a moment -to the table's edge, her face grey and bloodless; and then her lips -moved, and one hand clenched until the tight-drawn skin across the -knuckles was an ivory white. - -“I pray God they get this Hawk!” she whispered. “I pray God they -do! And I pray God they kill him! The coward! The miserable, pitiful -coward!” - -The Hawk's fingers were digging at the window sill, because somehow -his knees were refusing to support his weight. What was she saying? He -did not quite understand. Well, it did not matter, she was gone now into -that other room—only she had left the light on. It was very strange -the way his hand on the window sill seemed to keep pulling his body -around in circles! - -Time had lost concrete significance to the Hawk. She appeared again, -fully dressed now, and, switching off the light, went out into the hall, -and the front door closed behind her. - -The Hawk parted the portières, and staggered across the room—and, a -moment later, a dark form, a newspaper parcel clutched under its arm, -emerged stealthily from the vestibule, and, reeling like a drunken man, -disappeared in the darkness down the street. - - - - -XVII—A HOLE IN THE WALL - -THE wound was healed—partially, at least. If the Hawk had unduly -shortened his period of convalescence, he was perhaps justified, and not -wholly without excuse! He stood now in the black shadows, hugged close -to the wall of the roundhouse. And now he moved stealthily forward, -until, from a crouched position, he straightened up against the wall -at the side of one of the few windows which were lighted. Lanson had -strolled aimlessly across the tracks from the station some ten minutes -before, and, five minutes later, MacVightie had followed Lanson—to -their chosen spot for secret conferences, this little “cubbyhole” of -a turner's office in the roundhouse, as the Hawk, from more than one -experience in the past, had very good reason to know. They were in there -now, and, as the Hawk was likewise exceedingly well aware, the events -of the next few hours, and incidentally his own particular movements, -depended very pertinently upon the movements of MacVightie and Lanson. - -Lanson's voice in quietly modulated tones reached the Hawk: - -“Yes, both trains are on time to the minute; I've taken care of -that. And so far there doesn't seem to be a hitch anywhere, and with -your men boarding the trains west of here at different stations along -the line, and mixing quietly with the passengers, I don't see how any -one could be the wiser on that score. Yes, it looks as though everything -were all right—eh, MacVightie?” - -“I don't know; I hope so,” MacVightie's deep growl came in -reply. “Anyhow, we've carried out instructions from Washington, and -it's up to the Secret Service crowd as to how it pans out.” - -“No, it isn't!” declared Lanson, still quietly. “It isn't up -to a soul on earth except those of us who have got the responsibility -of this division on our shoulders! I believe the plan is a good one, but -because it came from Washington doesn't let us out—not for a minute! -What about Birks; has he shown up yet?” - -“Not yet,” MacVightie answered—and swore suddenly under his -breath. “And I don't mind admitting that the crowd down there in -Washington make me tired! It's over two weeks ago that I put it up to -them. They said they would take the matter under consideration, and in -any case would send one of their men, this Birks, out here to make an -investigation. But nothing doing! Then, as you know, I wrote them again -a week ago, when we knew this Alaskan gold shipment was coming through, -and you know their reply; they outlined a plan for us, and stated -definitely that Birks would be on deck to-night. Maybe he will—in time -to tell us what we should have done!” - -“The Secret Service isn't a police force,” said Lanson tersely. -“The only excuse they would have for acting at all would be if your -pet theory were correct—that the Hawk and his gang, apart from their -systematised murders and robberies, were also the ones who have been -flooding the country with those counterfeit ten-dollar notes. You had no -actual proof to offer, and Washington evidently hasn't felt quite so -sure about it as you have. However, there's no use discussing that -to-night. If Birks shows up, all right; if he doesn't—well, I -don't see that he could make any difference one way or the other -now.” - -There was silence for a moment, then Lanson spoke again. - -“What worries me as much as anything,” he said slowly, “is the -express company making a shipment of money at the same time—forty -thousand dollars in the car's safe. Of course, it's logical enough -with a half million to guard anyway, but it's an added incentive to -those, devils, that's all. A half million In raw gold isn't any -easy thing to pick up and walk off with, and there's more than an even -chance that the Wire Devils might pass it up on that account; but with -banknotes alone in so large an amount——” - -“If they know about it!” interrupted MacVightie brusquely. “And -it's not likely they do! You can't send a heavily guarded express -car on from the coast and keep it mum that gold is going through, -especially when the papers print pictures of the cases being swung -out of the steamer's hold on arrival from Alaska—but the other's -different. I'm not banking on them passing up the gold on any account, -though they may, at that; but in any case they'll be welcome to open -the safe now, won't they?” - -Again there was an instant's silence; and the Hawk now, as though -fearful of losing a word that might be spoken, strained forward closer -still to the side of the window. - -“Yes, that's right!” Lanson laughed now in a grimly humorous way. -“It's in the biggest case of all! Yes, I guess it's all right, -MacVightie; anyway, another hour or two will tell the story. The shift -should have been made at Mornleigh without any trouble, and the Limited -will come through here without a thing in the express car except the -guards! If they hold her up anywhere on the division, that's all -they'll find—the guards, and one of your posses. Yes, it ought -to work.” Lanson's voice took on a curiously monotonous drone, -as though he were checking over the details in his own mind, and -unconsciously doing so audibly. “The Limited takes water at Mornleigh, -and No. 18 always takes the siding there to let the Limited pass, so -there's nothing in that to arouse suspicion. In the darkness, with the -door of the Limited's express car only a foot or so away from the door -of No. 18'. baggage car, and a picked crew to transfer the gold, I -don't see how there could be any 'leak.' The Limited pulls in -here with its guarded express car—everything looks just as those Wire -Devils would expect it to look—and they know the gold left the coast -on that train, and in that car. Yes, I think we win to-night. If they -hold up the Limited they'll catch a Tartar, and without any risk on -our part as far as the gold is concerned. How many men in the posse -scattered through the cars on that train?” - -“Twenty,” said MacVightie tersely. - -“Good!” said Lanson approvingly. “That ought to be enough to round -them up—if they nibble at the bait at all. And if they don't, if -they let the Limited go through unmolested, it will be pretty nearly -safe to assume, as I said before, that they figure gold in the bulk is -too awkward a thing to handle, and too hard to get away with. But even -there we are not taking any chances; they might have discovered that it -had been transferred. How many men in the posse on No. 18?” - -“The same number,” replied MacVightie—and then MacVightie's -fist crashed down into the palm of his hand. “I hope they start -something!” he exclaimed savagely. “I'd give a year's salary -to get to grips with them, and if I ever do I'll clean 'em out! And -I'll see that some of them, and particularly that damned Hawk, swing -for it! I haven't forgotten the murder of old Mother Barrett's boy -in the express car that night, or a dozen others, or——” - -“That's your end of it, MacVightie,” said Lanson grimly. -“Mine's to see five hundred thousand dollars' worth of bullion and -forty thousand in cash over this division and safely on its way East. If -the plan——” - -The Hawk, slipping silently out of the shadows, began to cross the -railroad yard, heading for the station. - -“Forty thousand dollars,” said the Hawk softly to himself—and -chuckled suddenly. “Forty thousand dollars in a big packing case! The -biggest case of the lot, he said, wasn't it?” The chuckle died away, -and the Hawk's face grew hard. “I don't know!” muttered -the Hawk. “It's no cinch! I guess there'll be something doing -to-night!” - -A glance at the illuminated dial of the clock on the station tower -showed it to be half past eight, as the Hawk stepped to the platform. -He hesitated an instant in indecision, then went on into the general -waiting room. There was ample time. The Limited was not due for another -hour; and No. 18—in which alone he had now any concern—did not -schedule Selkirk until forty minutes after the Limited. Nearly two -hours! - -The Hawk, standing in the doorway of the waiting room, ostentatiously -consulted a time-table which he drew from his pocket, frowned, glanced -about him, and, finally, approaching the news-counter, which appeared -for the moment to be minus an attendant, helped himself to a newspaper, -tossed a copper on top of the pile, and appropriated the nearest seat. -The Hawk opened his paper in front of him—and over the top of the -paper inspected with some interest the view afforded by the open doorway -of the news-counter, which was directly facing him and but a few feet -away. The news-counter was a long, narrow affair, glass enclosed, with -big sliding windows, making one corner of the waiting room, and at its -further end boasted a little office of its own. The door of this private -domain was closed, but it, too, was glass panelled, and the apparent -absence of any attendant was explained. The Hawk permitted a curious -smile to flicker across his lips behind his newspaper. Inside the little -office a man, sprawled forward in a chair, his head resting on his arms, -which were outflung across the desk in front of him, appeared to be -sound asleep and magnificently oblivious to anything so grossly material -as business. - -The Hawk shifted his glance, this time for a more critical survey of the -waiting room. He found himself, strangely enough, quite sheltered from -observation. True, it was “between trains,” and there were very few -people in the room—he had noted several women and an elderly man with -a little boy, as he had come in—but these were now screened from his -view by the large, boxed-in posts, or pillars, that, in the remodelling -and enlargement of the station some years before, had sought to combine, -evidently, ornamentation with stability. - -The Hawk's eyes, under cover of his newspaper, reverted to the man at -the desk. The minutes passed—five, ten of them. The man's hours -were long undoubtedly, and usually there were two in charge of the -news-counter, which might perhaps account for the man's weariness, -and the profound slumber that was possible even in such an uncomfortable -position! The Hawk turned to the editorial page of his newspaper. There -were almost two hours before No. 18 was due, and, though he had a little -business of a purely personal and intimate nature to transact before -then, there was time in abundance and to spare, and it might possibly -be utilised as profitably here as anywhere else. In any case, there was -usually an editorial diatribe, interesting principally for the virulent -language in which it was couched, anent the Hawk and the Wire Devils, -with whose leadership he, the Hawk, was universally credited. The Hawk -smiled thinly. If leadership was vested in the lion's portion of the -spoils, then MacVightie, and Lanson, and the newspapers, and the public -generally were unquestionably right—but, since those spoils had -been snatched from under the noses of the Wire Devils, thanks to his -possession of their secret code, the Wire Devils and the Ladybird in -particular, that peer of the underworld who, as he had discovered a few -nights ago, was the moving spirit of the gang, held a very different and -even more decided opinion on the subject! - -He folded the paper over, and sprawled himself out lazily on his -seat—but if the editorial in question was on the sheet before him, he -did not see it. The man at the desk raised his head, yawned, stretched -himself, and, as though wearily resuming his work, reached into a small -drawer that stood open in the upper section of the roll-top desk, took -out a pad of paper, and began to write. - -Still another five minutes passed; and then the man tossed his pencil -away from him, and reached out for the telephone at his elbow. But now -he seemed to hesitate, then evidently changed his mind. He pushed -back his chair, stood up, tore the sheet of paper on which he had been -writing from the pad, replaced the pad in the drawer, closed the drawer, -and, turning quickly, opened the office door. He came down the narrow -space behind the news-counter itself, stepped out into the waiting -room, glanced hurriedly about him, and, breaking suddenly into a run, -disappeared through the waiting room door in the direction of the -platform. - -The Hawks lassitude seemed suddenly to have vanished. In a flash he had -covered the few feet of space that separated his seat from the doorway -of the news-counter, and now, crouched low, hidden by the counter -itself, he darted silently for the little office, gained it, wrenched -open the drawer of the desk—and over the Hawk's set, tense features -there flickered again that curious smile. Faint, muffled, but none the -less distinctly, there came from the interior of the drawer, which, -as he reached in his hand, he found was open through to the wall, the -clicking of a telegraph sounder. But, while he listened, the Hawk was -working with breathless haste. His fingers closed on the pad of paper, -and tore off the topmost sheet. Without folding or crushing the paper, -he laid it carefully inside his vest, buttoned his vest over it again, -closed the drawer of the desk noiselessly—and in another instant was -lolling again in his seat in the waiting room, apparently immersed once -more in his newspaper. - -It had taken the Hawk a matter of less than a minute to go and come, -but for all that his margin of safety had been small. The man returned -almost instantly, and again entered the office. The Hawk, finding that -for once the editorial which might have afforded him a genuine, if -passing, interest, was absent, turned another page of the paper, spent -a few minutes in the somewhat unprofitable perusal of what proved to -be massed columns of “Help Wanted” and “Situations Vacant” -advertisements, and, finally, throwing the paper down on the seat beside -him, got up leisurely, and strolled out through the main entrance of the -station to the street. - -The Hawk crossed the road, and slipped into the lane that was almost -opposite the station. This being accustomed ground to the Hawk, he made -his way quickly along in the blackness, reached the first intersecting -street, dove through the doorway of the dirty and squalid three-story -building, the ground floor of which was occupied by a saloon, and, -mounting the narrow staircase, entered the room that was directly over -the saloon on the first landing. The Hawk locked the door behind him. If -his temporary abode in Selkirk City could be so designated, the Hawk was -at home. - -He switched on the electric light, drew a chair up to the cheap and -somewhat dilapidated table that stood against the wall opposite the -door, and from under his vest took out the sheet of paper he had -purloined a few minutes before. He spread it out eagerly before him on -the table, scanned it closely, and into his dark eyes there came a half -mocking, half triumphant gleam. - -“I thought so!” murmured the Hawk. “He didn't dare telephone it. -I thought the messages must be coming in pretty hot to-night—the other -fellow must have gone up to the East End to shoot some mighty important -reply back, or else he'd never have left his pal short-handed. It's -no wonder I never tumbled to that lay until the Ladybird opened the bag! -I didn't recognise those news-counter fellows, did I? Why should I? -They're new ones just breaking into the game, or they'd never have -pulled a fool stunt like this!” - -The Hawk bent over the paper. In places the impression left by the -pencil was faint and, indeed, illegible, and had not come through from -the upper sheet at all; but the Hawk patiently and painstakingly settled -himself to his task. The first few lines were but a confused and, to all -outward appearances, meaningless jumble of letters run together—one -of the Wire Devils' code messages. And here, if this had been all, the -Hawk would have been hopelessly astray; but lower down on the sheet the -man had decoded the cipher, and here, where letters and words were too -faintly impressed on the paper or were missing altogether, the Hawk was -able to supply them by following the general sense of the message. -He began by tracing over the impressions carefully with a sharp lead -pencil, and at the expiration of a few minutes was staring, a grim smile -on his lips, at the following: - -“Gold transferred to No. 18 at Momleigh. Keep away from Limited. -Probably big posse on No. 18. Every man will join Number One on Train -18 to-night. Those boarding No. 18 at Selkirk must on no account excite -suspicion. All other details to stand.” - -The Hawk's remark, as he reached into his inside coat pocket and -brought out several small slips of paper, which he laid on the table in -front of him, was seemingly quite irrelevant. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk. “I've been curious ever since yesterday to -get a look at that desk—yes, I guess the Ladybird's no fool!” - -The Hawk arranged the slips of paper in what appeared to be a sort -of chronological order, and studied them for a moment. Prefacing -the message he had just obtained, these others, messages that he had -intercepted at intervals during the preceding few days, made a complete -and decidedly enlightening record. The first one, decoded, read: - -“Reported movement of half million in gold to be made from coast. -Number Three will proceed to coast, verify, and secure details.” - -The Hawk nodded shortly. Number Three was the Bantam. He passed on to -the next message: - -“Gold coming through on Limited on Thursday night. Express car well -guarded. Numbers One, Seven, Eight, Six and Four will board Limited -at different stopping points west of Mornleigh; all others to hold -themselves in readiness at Selkirk.” - -Again the Hawk nodded. This was Thursday night! Mornleigh was the -Limited's last stop west of Selkirk. Number One was the Butcher, and -the others were—he shrugged his shoulders. As he had once facetiously -remarked, somebody must have left the door of Sing Sing open! - -There was still another message: - -“Hold up train three miles East of Echo Rock. Detach express car, and -run to Willow Creek bridge. Load gold on wagon, and disperse.” - -The Hawk consulted his watch. It was a quarter past nine. He took -out his pipe, lighted it, put his feet up on the table, and gathering -together the various slips of paper abstractedly began to tear them into -shreds. - -Pieced together, the whole affair was quite simple. In a word, every -move that had been made by Larson and MacVightie at the instigation of -the Secret Service men, and, presumably, in particular by one Birks, -was known to the Ladybird and the Wire Devils. Lanson and MacVightie had -waited until the last moment before making the transfer at Mornleigh, -the final stop before Selkirk, but the Bantam was already accompanying -the gold east on the Limited, and, added to the Bantam by that: time, -there would have been those others who were detailed to board the -Limited at the various points still further west of Mornleigh. - -It was very simple. The Bantam had not been asleep at Mornleigh, and it -was not the contents of the express car alone that had been transferred -there—the Bantam and his companions had likewise transferred -themselves to No. 18! Also, either because the Bantam had spotted some -of MacVightie's men, or because logical deductions in the Ladybird's -very shrewd brain had led to that conclusion, it was known that No. 18 -harboured a posse. It was evident, however, that this in no way -dismayed the Ladybird; and it was equally evident that both Lan-son -and MacVightie were very far astray, in their estimate of the nerve and -resourcefulness of the brain behind the Wire Devils' organisation, to -have, even considered it as a possibility that the physical difficulty -in the way of handling a half million in raw gold would have caused the -Ladybird to hesitate an instant in an effort to get his hands upon it. A -half million—was a half million! That was the answer! The only change -the Ladybird had seen fit to make was to mobilise, as it were, the -entire, strength of the Wire Devils to offset MacVightie's posse. -Apart from that, according to the final message, the prearranged plan -was to stand. - -It was not a plan that was markedly original, paralleling very closely, -as it did, the Wire Devils' removal of the safe from the express car -of the last Mail on a certain night not very long since, but this could -hardly be held up against the Ladybird—there were limitations to -originality, and originality was a secondary consideration as compared -with feasibility and success. Echo Rock station was two stations east -of Conmore, the Wire Devils' headquarters—just far enough distant -to preclude the immediate search from spreading to the neighbourhood of -Conmore, and yet not too far away to make the transport of the gold to -the isolated old farmhouse impractical before daylight. The details of -the holdup itself required little elucidation. In whatever manner they -might elect to bring the train to a stop, all that was necessary, once -that was accomplished, was to keep MacVightie's men from No. 18'. -baggage car while the car itself, into which the Wire Devils would -naturally retreat, moved off down the line to the Willow Creek bridge -some two or three miles further on. - -The Hawk took his pipe from his lips, polished the bowl by rubbing it -along the side of his nose, and inspected the result critically. And -then the Hawk smiled pleasantly to himself. In none of the messages had -the Wire Devils given the slightest evidence of any knowledge of a fact -that was very near to his, the Hawk's, heart. It was quite possible, -even probable, that on one point, at least, Lanson and MacVightie were -right—that the Wire Devils were ignorant of the presence of that forty -thousand dollars in bills—but even supposing that they did know, they -would scarcely give him, the Hawk, credit for being in possession of the -knowledge as well. Therefore, bitter as was the feud between them, the -Ladybird would be almost certain to ignore his, the Hawk's existence -in so far as this night's work was concerned. The Hawk's smile -broadened. It was quite true, single-handed he would have no excuse on -earth for attempting the impossible feat of carrying away a half million -in gold—but forty thousand dollars in banknotes was not as prohibitory -in its weight! His problem, therefore, simplified itself into an -intimate investigation of No. 18'. baggage car before Echo Rock was -reached, and before either MacVightie's posse, or the Butcher and his -ungentle crowd in the cars behind, should have started anything on their -own account. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk confidentially to the toe of his boot, “yes, -I guess I'll sit in for a hand in the game myself; yes, I guess it -looks pretty good—if the luck holds.” - -The Hawk relapsed into silence, still studying the toe of his boot. His -last remark seemed suddenly to have obsessed him, and he frowned. If the -luck still held! It wasn't altogether luck—indeed, it was far from -luck. The Ladybird, and, for that matter, a half dozen others of the -Wire Devils whom he could name, were not to be lightly reckoned with. He -had no delusions on that score! Since the day he had begun to trespass -on the Wire Devils preserves, listening when and where he could, he had -intercepted enough of their cipher messages as they came over the wires -to enable him to pull from the fire and pocket for himself the chestnuts -they had been so carefully roasting for themselves, to turn in fact the -entire labour and effort of their organisation to his own account—and -in their turn they had sought by every means within their power to trap -him. And they had nearly caught him, very nearly caught him once, and -he had realised that the haphazard method in which, not knowing their -source, he had been able to obtain the cipher messages would no longer -do. It was through those messages alone that he could hope to get a hint -of, and thereby forestall, the next trap they might set for him. And -then the way had seemed to clear a little when he had at last discovered -that source in the old farmhouse near Conmore, and had discovered that -the Ladybird, thought dead and mourned by the underworld as one of its -greatest, from a wheel chair now, a maimed thing in all save brain, -moved and guided what MacVightie had been pleased to call the most -powerful and dangerous criminal organisation that had ever known -existence. Only on the night that he, the Hawk, had made those -discoveries he had been wounded! That was a week ago. For three days, -not daring to let it be known that a wounded man was in the house, he -had remained here in his room, nursing his hurt as best he could. It had -only been a flesh wound, and those three days were all he had allowed -himself to remain inactive; for in those three days, temporarily -blindfolded as to any move against him that the Ladybird might make, -he had lived like a hunted man, wary of every passing moment, of every -sound without his door, his automatic never for an instant out of reach. -After that, during the past four nights, he had resumed his vigil at the -farmhouse again. - -The Hawk smiled grimly. No, he laboured under no delusions as to the -craft, the cunning, and the power of those against whom he had elected -to play a lone hand! The four nights just past had resulted in something -more than the mere accumulation of those code messages he had just read, -in something besides a more intimate acquaintanceship with the farmhouse -and its surroundings, even including the underground passage, for -instance, that led from the wagon shed to a trapdoor in the cellar—it -had resulted, last night, in a still further insight into the ingenuity -and the sort of remorseless mastery of detail through which the -organisation attained its ends. The method by which they tapped the -wires, commandeering the telegraph system of the railroad, the -primary purpose of which was undoubtedly to supply them with the vital -information that must of necessity pass over the wires and on which they -based their own plans, this gold shipment to-night, for example, or the -shipment of diamonds from New York of a few weeks back, was ingenious -enough; but still more ingenious, when using their secret code and -putting the wires to another purpose, that of enabling the Ladybird to -direct his operations and send his orders as he had done to-night, was -the method by which those messages were received. Every sounder on the -line carried them, of course, and when, in isolated cases, the gang was -working at smaller places along the line, they could readily enough, if -expecting a message, as he, the Hawk, had often done, keep within sound -of an instrument by the simple expedient of occupying a waiting room, -or of lounging on the platform outside the operator's window; but the -vast majority of the messages were for those of the gang who maintained -a sort of branch headquarters in Selkirk, and such a method was neither -practical nor possible, since the first essential in making the scheme -of value was that, without the chance of a single message being missed, -the messages should reach their destination at any hour of the day and -night. - -Again the Hawk smiled grimly. It had puzzled him a good many times—but -it puzzled him no longer! Last night the Ladybird, quite unconscious -of a rapt audience, had, by a chance remark, disclosed the secret; and -to-night he, the Hawk, had seen the plan in operation! The news-counter! -It was simple enough; but it held a deadly significance in its proof of -the fact that there were no obstacles too great, no details too minute -to stand in the way between the Ladybird and the end he sought. The -news-counter was directly beneath the operator's room upstairs. In the -old days, before the station had been enlarged and modernised, it had -been a somewhat diminutive affair, and where the news-counter now stood -had been the superintendent's office. This had connected with the room -above by means of an old-fashioned speaking tube. When the alterations -had been made, the mouthpieces, both above and below, had been removed, -the room above had been papered over, and the waiting room had been -plastered; but, as the wall had been left intact, the speaking tube had -remained embedded—in the wall. Yes, it was very simple! Say, a dint in -the wall in the operator's room above, and a slight tear in the paper -that, if it attracted any attention at all in surroundings where the -call boys backed their chairs against the wall and kept their hair on -end with nickel thrillers, would at least never excite suspicion! And -below, with the desk in the little office of the news-counter backed up -against it, who was to know that a hole had been punched in the -wall, or, for that matter, in the back of the desk itself behind the -convenient little drawer, so that one could sit there and listen to the -sounder upstairs! Also, it was quite obvious now why, several months -ago, the old lessee of the news-counter had been bought out by some -newcomers! - -The Hawk's lips tightened. The game to its full extent was wide open -now. The news-counter ran day and night, operated by four of the gang -in pairs, one always on duty at the desk; while, should there, by any -chance or at any time, be an unwelcome intruder in the office, the -drawer had only to be shut and the sound was thereby eliminated. When -a message “broke” over the wires above, the man on duty had only to -decipher it and telephone it to what the Ladybird had referred to as the -“boarding house”—the disguise, it appeared now, under which the -gang maintained its headquarters in the city. That was all there was to -it! To-night, it was true, the operation had been a little different; -but the reason for that, as the Hawk had already decided in his own -mind, was obvious enough. With MacVigh-tie, Lanson, and the authorities -generally, on the alert, due to the gold shipment coming through, the -man had not dared to take the risk of telephoning any such message as -he had received, but had taken it outside to where one of the gang, -undoubtedly, in view of the importance of the night's work, was on -additional duty and in readiness to receive and transmit it on the -instant, say, to the local headquarters. As for the absence of the -second man at the news-counter, who ordinarily preserved the pretence of -catering to the public, it was quite possible, and indeed likely, that -he had gone on a similar errand with a previous message; or, if one of -the rare occasions when it was necessary to telegraph a cipher message -from Selkirk had arisen, he might have gone—according to the Ladybird -again—to the little suburban station at the East End of the city, -which was closed at night, but to which an entry and the subsequent -use of the wire would present little difficulty, since MacVightie had -finally given up as impossible the task of guarding all the numerous -stations of that description on the division. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk suddenly, under his breath, “I guess they'd -go a long way to get their hands on what I've got off their bat; and -I guess, after that, I'd go out—like a pricked bubble!” He sucked -meditatively at his brier for a moment; then a mirthless smile parted -his lips, and he spoke again. “Forty thousand dollars,” whispered -the Hawk. “Yes, I guess that's the play—and the last one! If I win -out to-night, and I guess I will, this is where the curtain drops, and -the Hawk makes his fade-away for parts unknown!” - - - - -XVIII—THE HAWK PACKS HIS VALISE - -THE Hawk looked at his watch again, removed his feet from the table, -knocked the ashes from the bowl of his pipe, stood up, and crossed -leisurely to the window. The window gave on the fire escape. He lifted -aside the shade, and stood there for a moment staring out into the -darkness, then drew the shade very carefully back into place again. From -the window he crossed to the door, reassured himself that it was locked, -and, as an extra precaution, draped his handkerchief on the door handle, -completely screening the keyhole. - -He returned now to the other side of the room, and from under the bed -pulled out a large, black valise. He laid this on the bed, and opened -it. It was quite empty. - -Between the bed and the table stood his trunk. He unlocked the trunk, -and threw back the lid. - -“It's quite possible,” muttered the Hawk, as his fingers worked -deftly and swiftly around the edges of the lid, “that I may not -return. I've forgotten just how I stand on my rent, though, I fancy -I've paid up for a week in advance! In any case, there's the trunk -for old Seidelberger downstairs, and likewise its contents, with the -exception, scarcely worth mentioning—of this!” There was a grim -chuckle on the Hawk's lips, as the false tray came away in his hands. -“Yes,” said the Hawk, as he laid the tray on the bed beside the -valise, “I hardly think that I'll be back! I guess they're pretty -peeved as it is, and after to-night I've a notion their sentiments -aren't going to improve any!” - -He stood looking down at the tray, that bulged to repletion with the -proceeds of a dozen robberies that were almost country-wide in fame, -and which, more pertinent still as far as the Hawk was concerned, -represented the loot that the Wire Devils had already counted their -own—when he, the Hawk, instead, had helped himself to the prize at -their expense! - -The Hawk began to transfer the contents of the tray to the valise. - -“I don't know how big the lot would size up, but it looks like a -garden villa at Palm Beach—which is going some!” observed the -Hawk softly. “Yes, just one more little play to-night, and I guess I -retire!” - -He held the magnificent diamond necklace up to the light, causing its -thousand facets to leap and gleam and scintillate in fiery flashes, -then laid it in a curiously caressing sort of way in the bottom of the -valise. The Hawk seemed peculiarly entranced with diamonds, as though -in their touch and in their responsive life and fire he found a pure and -unalloyed delight. From their little box he allowed the score or two of -unset stones to trickle into the palm of his hand, and again he brought -the light to flash and play upon them. And for a moment he held them -there—then a sudden hardness set his jaws and lips, and impulsively he -thrust the stones back into the box, and tossed the box into the valise. - -“Damn it!” said the Hawk through compressed lips. “They make me -think of the kid—and old Mother Barrett.” - -He laughed harshly, and shrugged his shoulders as though literally to -throw off the weight of an unpleasant memory—and reached again into -the tray. He worked more quickly now. Into the valise he packed away in -rapid succession a very large collection of valuables, amongst them -the ten thousand dollars in banknotes that he had taken from the -paymaster's safe, the contents of the cash box, amounting to some -three thousand dollars, of which he had once relieved one Isaac -Kirschell, and, still in its newspaper wrapper, the Trader's National -Bank's twenty-five thousand dollars, likewise in banknotes, which had -been his last venture, and which he had appropriated on the night he had -been wounded. - -The tray was empty now, save for a black mask, a steel jimmy, and a -neat little package of crisp, new, ten-dollar counterfeit notes. The two -former articles the Hawk laid aside on the table; and the latter, after -an instant's hesitation, was added to the horde in the valise. He -closed and locked the valise. There remained now but the empty tray. He -stared at this ruefully. - -“I hate to lose that trunk, upon my soul, I do!” he muttered. “But -I can't afford to take any chances of spilling the beans by trying to -get it out of here!” - -He took out his knife, and slashed away the canvas bottom of the tray, -then broke the framework into a dozen pieces. The lid of the trunk -itself was innocent of fastenings, or of any evidence that it had ever -concealed a tray; and the tray itself, when the Hawk was through with -it, was an unrecognisable debris of splintered wood and ribbons of torn -canvas. He made a bundle of this, tying it together with a strip of the -canvas. - -The Hawk now emptied his pockets, and proceeded to change his clothes. -If he were destined to sacrifice the greater part of his wardrobe, he at -least need not linger long in indecision over the choice of what should -be preserved! There was an exceedingly useful and ingeniously devised -pocket concealed in the back lining of a certain one of his coats. The -suit, of which this coat was an integral part, was a trifle worn and -threadbare, not in quite as good repair as any of the rest of his -clothing, and for that reason he had not worn it of late; but one could -not at all times afford to be fastidious! What he left behind would -be minutely searched and examined. The secret of that pocket, a little -invention of his own, was worth preserving from the vulgar eye, even at -the expense of sacrificing a better suit of clothes for the sake of it! -He resurrected the suit in question from the bottom of the trunk, and -put it on. And into the concealed pocket he tucked away his mask and his -bunch of skeleton keys. A side coat pocket, more instantly accessible, -served for his automatic—the other pockets for his various other -belongings, including the steel jimmy. - -The Hawk made a final and comprehensive survey of the room, then closed -and locked the trunk, and again consulted his watch. It was five minutes -after ten, and No. 18 scheduled Selkirk at ten-twenty. The Hawk nodded. -It was time to go—just time. He took from his pocket his automatic, -tested and examined its mechanism critically, and restored it to his -pocket. He crossed the room, turned out the light, unlocked the door -without opening it, and took his handkerchief from the keyhole. Without -a sound now the Hawk moved back to the bed, picked up the valise, tucked -the bundle of what had once been the tray under his arm, returned to -the door, opened it silently, and stood peering out into the dark -hallway—and the next instant, the Hawk, stealing like a shadow down -the stairs, gained the street, and in another had swung around the -corner into the lane. - -It was only the length of a block to the station, but here in the lane -the Hawk found means of disposing of the irksome bundle under his arm by -the simple expedient of dropping pieces of the wreckage in the various -refuse barrels as he went along. Nor had the Hawk, evidently, any -intention either of hampering his movements with the care of the valise, -or of risking the valise's contents in the night's work that lay -ahead of him. The Hawk was, perhaps, possessed of a certain ironical -sense of humour. Since his possession of the loot which the valise -contained was due in a more or less intimate degree to the railroad, it -seemed eminently fitting that it should be restored to the railroad -for safekeeping temporarily. The Hawk, as he entered the station, -nonchalantly exchanged his valise for a parcel-room check, paid down -the dime for the service to be rendered, and passed on into the general -waiting room. - -He glanced at the news-counter on his way through to the platform. Its -full complement of two attendants were present now; but, contrary to all -precedent, it being an all-night stand, obvious preparations for closing -it for the night were in progress—the two men were engaged in removing -the magazines, newspapers, and various small wares from the outside -ledge of the counter, and in pulling down the large sliding windows -that enclosed the place. The Hawk's dark eyes flashed a gleam of grim -appreciation. It was then literally a mobilisation of the Wire Devils -to the last man to-night! A half million in gold—was a half million in -gold! - -The Hawk bought a mileage book in lieu of a ticket to any specific -destination, both because his immediate destination was peculiarly his -own private concern, and because in the very near future he expected to -put a considerable quantity of mileage to excellent use. He strolled out -to the platform, and along to the east end of the station. - -Here, quite unobtrusively, he awaited the arrival of No. 18. The -platform was fairly well crowded—but not unusually so, or rather, -perhaps, not noticeably so. A half dozen, or even a dozen, extra men -circulating amongst the ordinary press of traffic would hardly be -expected to make any appreciable difference. The Hawk, back under -the shadows of the building, surveyed the lighted stretch of platform -narrowly. They were there, the Wire Devils' reserve, he knew; but -he recognised none of them. He smiled a little whimsically. His -acquaintanceship with the gang so far had been with its more prominent -members, as it were, and these, as likewise Mac-Vightie's posse, had -already boarded the train far west of Selkirk—that each might not -excite the other's suspicion! Nor was MacVightie himself in evidence. -Not that this surprised the Hawk! He was interested, that was all. It -was simply a question of whether MacVightie had elected to stay with -the gold, or had gone on with the first posse on the Limited on the -assumption that the Limited was the more likely to be attacked. It made -little difference, of course, as far as he, the Hawk, was concerned, -whether it was MacVightie or some one else who was in command of the -posse—his own plans would in no way be affected on that account. - -There was a stir along the platform. Up the yard, past the twinkling -switch lights on the spurs, the glare of a headlight flashed into sight -around the bend. Came the roar and rumble of a heavy train, and a -moment later No. 18, its big mogul panting like a thing of life from a -breathless run, its long string of coaches behind it, rolled into the -station. - -The Hawk did not stir. By coincidence, perhaps, the baggage car had come -to a stop directly opposite the position he had chosen. The rearmost -sliding door of the car was slammed back, and the baggageman, a -powerfully built, muscular fellow of perhaps thirty, appeared in -the doorway. The Hawk, from his place of vantage, eyed the other -appraisingly, and then his glance travelled on into the interior of the -car—what he could see of it. What he saw was a mass of trunks, some -of which the man now unloaded on the waiting trucks, and in turn piled -others, as they were heaved up to him from the platform, into the -formers' places. The Hawk nodded his head shortly. True, the forward -door of the car had not been, opened, but MacVigh-tie had done his work -well. There was no hint of concealment, the baggage car of No. 18 was as -frankly innocent in appearance on its run tonight as it had ever been. - -The train was starting into motion again when the Hawk finally moved. -He crossed the platform, and swung himself on the forward steps of the -smoker, that was immediately behind the baggage car. His slouch hat -pulled a little over his eyes, he opened the door, stepped into the car, -sauntered down the aisle, and out of the rear door to the vestibuled -platform of the first-class day coach behind. But here, the Hawk paused -a moment, and his face, impassive before, was stamped now with a twisted -smile. His reconnaissance of the train so far had proved fruitful. The -four men in the forward double seat of the smoker, a lap board across -their knees, and apparently engrossed in their card game, were the -Butcher, Whitie Jim, the Cricket and the Bantam! And further down -the aisle, unwittingly rubbing shoulders quite probably with some of -MacVightie's men, Parson Joe occupied a seat, and the keen, pale, thin -face of Kirschell peered out from another. - -“Yes, they're all here,” decided the Hawk, his voice drowned -in the rattle of the train. “Counting those who got on at Selkirk, -they're all here to the last man—except the Ladybird and his wheel -chair!” - -The Hawk moved forward, reached out for the handle of the day coach -door—and sucked in his breath, as he drew sharply back again. Through -the glass panel he had caught sight of two men he had not expected to -see. Sitting together on the right-hand side about a quarter of the -way down the aisle were MacVightie and Lanson. The Hawk frowned. He had -waited until the train was in motion, and he had not seen them get on; -and they, as witness that little conference in the roundhouse of a -while back, had not been amongst those who had boarded the train west of -Selkirk. And then the frown gave place to a sort of self-commiserating -expression. Where were his wits to-night! It was simple enough! They -had boarded the car from the yard side of the train, and not from the -platform, of course! - -Well, that put an end to any further reconnaissance through the train! -In one sense it was not altogether true that it made no difference -whether MacVightie was aboard or not. He and MacVightie were not -altogether strangers. They had met once in his, the Hawk's, room, -and on that occasion, the night, to be precise, he had cleaned out the -paymaster's safe of that ten thousand dollars, MacVightie had been in -a decidedly suspicious frame of mind. MacVightie, it was quite certain, -had not forgotten that night; nor, it was quite equally safe to assume, -had MacVightie forgotten his, the Hawk's face—and at that exact -moment the Hawk had no desire that MacVightie should recognise him -again! - -The Hawk turned, re-entered the smoker, found the always unpopular -crosswise seat behind the door vacant, and appropriated it. His eyes -straying forward over the car located two more acquaintances in the -person of Crusty Kline and French Pete, and came back to fix musingly on -the worn nickel faucet of the water-cooler. No. 18'. first stop was at -Barne's Junction, fifteen miles out from Selkirk, and some five miles -this side of Conmore; the next stop was Lorraine, and Lorraine was on -the other side—in fact a good many miles on the other side—of Echo -Rock and the Willow Creek bridge. The deduction was obvious; and the -Hawk's destination, in so far as his occupancy of a seat in the smoker -was concerned, was therefore quite plainly—the Junction. - -“Three miles east of Echo Rock,” repeated the Hawk to himself. -“No, I don't think so! This is where the Ladybird has another guess! -Maybe I couldn't get away with a half million—but maybe I'm not -the only one! There's one or two guys in this car that haven't -got the high-sign to my lodge! It seems to me I promised the Butcher -something the night he tried to shoot me through his pocket, and it -seems as though I promised Parson Joe something too—yes, it seems to -me I did!” - - - - -XIX—BIRDS OF A FEATHER - -IT took twenty minutes for the run to the Junction. And at the Junction, -as far as the Hawk could tell, since, yielding to what had become a sort -of habit with him, he descended to the ground on the opposite side from -the station, he was the only passenger for that stop. It was dark here; -strangely silent, and strangely lonely. Barne's Junction owed its -existence neither to a town site, nor to commercial importance—it -existed simply as a junction, and for purely railroad operating purposes -only. It was, in fact, the other extreme as compared to Selkirk with its -lighted and busy platform, its extensive yard, and its ubiquitous and, -perhaps, too inquisitive yardmen! - -The Hawk dropped on all fours and began to creep along the side of the -smoker toward the forward end of the train, his eyes strained warily -through the darkness against the possibility of one or other of the -engine crew descending from the cab. He passed the smoker and kept on -along the length of the baggage car, still crawling, moving without -a sound. When he rose from his knees finally, he was crouched down in -between the tender and the forward end of the baggage car; and a -moment later, as the train jerked forward into motion, he was crouched -again—this time on the end beam of the baggage car which, in lieu of -platform, served as a sort of wide threshold for the door. - -The train was beginning to gain momentum now, and against the jolt and -swing of the increasing speed the Hawk steadied himself by clinging with -one hand to the iron handrail at the side of the door—with the other -hand he tried the door cautiously, and found it locked. - -From the pocket in the back lining of his coat he produced his mask, -fingered it speculatively for an instant, then slipped it over his face. -True, this was to be his last venture in the Wire Devils' preserves, -but he had always worn a mask, and—there came a twisted grin—they -perhaps would not recognise him without it. And it was quite necessary -that they should recognise the Hawk—if he was to keep that promise to -the Butcher! It might be a farewell, as far as he was concerned, but he -intended that it should be a memorable one, and that no doubt should -be permitted to linger in their minds as to the identity of the parting -guest they had so lavishly, if ungraciously, entertained! - -From the same pocket came his skeleton keys. The Hawk now felt -tentatively with his finger over the keyhole, nodded his head briskly, -and from the bunch of keys, still by the sense of touch, selected one -without hesitation. The Hawk, however, for the moment, made no effort -to open the door. The rush of the wind was in his face now; like some -black, monstrous, uncanny wall confronting him, the tender clashed and -clattered, and swayed in dizzy lurches before his eyes; while heavenward -the sky was tinged with a deep red glow, and the cab was ablaze with -light from the wide-flung fire-box door, and the top of the baggage car -door, and the individual particles of coal on the top of the tender's -heap stood out in sharp relief against the background of the night. - -And then the darkness fell again. - -The Hawk's hand shot forward to the keyhole, lingered there an -instant, as he crouched again swaying with the lurch of the train, then -the skeleton keys were returned to the pocket in the back lining of his -coat—and the Hawk was in action. In a flash he had opened and closed -the door behind him, and, with his back against it, his automatic flung -significantly forward in his hand, he stood staring down the length of -the car. - -There was a hoarse, startled yell, that was lost in the roar of the -flying train, and the baggageman, from his chair at one side of the car -and in front of a shelf-like desk topped with a rack of pigeonholes, -leaped to his feet. - -“Sit down!” invited the Hawk coldly. - -The man hesitated, but the next instant dropped back into his chair, as -the Hawk moved suddenly forward to his side. - -“What do you want?” he demanded sullenly. - -“This—to begin with!” The Hawk's voice was an insolent drawl -now, as his deft fingers, like a streak of lightning, were into the -other's pocket and out again with the man's revolver. “How long -since they've been arming the baggagemen on this road? You needn't -answer—I'm only talking to myself. Those are the cases up there -by the forward door, aren't they? And the big one's got the green -boys—eh?” He was backing away from the man now. “Don't move, my -bucko—understand? That chair you're sitting in is the only health -resort in this car!” - -The man's hands clenched, as his eyes narrowed on the Hawk. - -“You damned thief!” he rasped out. “I—I'd like to——” - -“Quite so!” said the Hawk softly. “I know how you feel about it, -and if it helps any to get it off your chest, go to it! Nobody'll hear -you but me, and I'll try and make the best of it!” - -Piled along the side of the car from the doorway were a number of -solidly made, heavy-looking cases that obviously contained the gold -shipment. In front of these, between them and where the baggageman sat, -and acting too perhaps as a screen when the rear sliding door was -open, as, for instance, it had been at Selkirk, was a large, -innocent-appearing, flimsily-constructed packing case. The Hawk, beside -this now, moved it slightly. It was very light, so light as to warrant -the presumption that it might even be empty. - -The baggageman had relapsed into a scowling silence, his eyes still on -the Hawk. The Hawk took his steel jimmy from his pocket, shifted his -automatic to his left hand, and inserted the jimmy under the cover of -the case. There was a rip and tear of rending wood; the operation was -twice repeated—and the Hawk threw the shattered cover on the floor. -He glanced inside. At the bottom of the case lay a large paper package, -strongly tied, and heavily sealed with red wax. - -Under his mask, the Hawk's lips parted in a smile, as, his eyes on -the baggageman again, he noted that the other was watching his every -movement now with a sort of intense expectancy. The Hawk, however, made -no effort to reach down into the four-foot depth of the packing case; -he canted the box over, and picked up the package from the floor of -the car. With the point of his jimmy he tore a rent in the paper -wrapper—and his smile broadened. - -“I apologise,” said the Hawk, with an engaging nod to the sullen -figure in the chair. “They're not green boys—they're yellow -backs!” - -“You damned thief!” said the man, in a choked voice. - -The roar and sway of the train seemed suddenly to increase, as the -wheel trucks, jolting and beating at a siding switch, set up a sort -of infernal tattoo. They were passing the first station after the -Junction—Conmore. - -The smile left the Hawk's face. A little further along, and they would -stop the train. There came a sort of dare-devil set to the Hawk's -clamped jaws. - -He was taking chances, but he had already weighed those chances well. -The Wire Devils, the Butcher and his crowd, would be on the alert; but -equally so would be MacVightie—and the posse that must far outnumber -the gang. And there was that promise to the Butcher! With their -plans awry, and taken by surprise, instead of profiting by surprise -themselves, their chances, rather than of securing a half million in -gold, were most excellent of securing quite as generous a reward, though -of another nature—at the hands of MacVightie! - -“I'm going to get off here,” said the Hawk coolly to the figure in -the chair. “And the only way to get off without cracking my bean is to -let that guy there in the engine know that he's infringing the speed -laws! You remember what I told you—the only healthy place in this car -for you is where you're sitting now. Something may crack loose around -here—keep out of the wet!” - -The Hawk reached above his head for the bell cord, and pulled it -sharply. The engine crew, too, were evidently on the alert! The shrill -blast of the whistle answered the signal instantly. There was a sudden -jerk that almost threw the Hawk from his feet, the pound and slam -of buffer plates, and the vicious shriek of the “air.” The Hawk -recovered himself, and, cool and quick in every movement now, thrust his -jimmy into his pocket to free his hands, flung the package of banknotes -up the aisle made by trunks and boxes behind him, and began to retreat -toward the forward door, pulling the empty case along as a shield -between himself and the other end of the car. - -The rear door of the car smashed inward. The Hawk caught a blurred -glimpse of faces and forms surging through the doorway, and streaming -across the platform from the smoker behind—and, in the lead, the -Butcher's crafty face, with its little black, restless, ferret eyes -fixed down the trunk-made aisle of the car on him! - -“The Hawk!”—it came in a scream of abandoned fury from the -Butcher—then a headlong rush—a flash, the roar of the report, as the -Butcher fired—another, as the Hawk's automatic answered—and the -spat of a bullet splitting the panel of the forward door. - -The Hawk, stooped low behind the packing case now, still edged backward -toward the door, still dragging the case after him. A smile that was -deadly grim and far removed from mirth curved his lips downward in hard, -merciless lines. He had, at least, attained his object! There was no -doubt concerning their recognition of him as the Hawk! Well, he had -weighed the chances. They would be on him now, but only one at a -time; there was not room for more, with the packing case blocking the -way—and it would be the Butcher first. After that—well, after that, -he counted on MacVightie creating a diversion from the rear, and—— - -The Butcher had flung himself against the packing case. It toppled to -one side, and the Hawk, like a crouched tiger, sprang and closed, making -of the Butcher's body, as a substitute for the packing case now, -a shield from the onrush behind. There was a furious oath from the -Butcher; a lurch, a stagger, as the train jerked and jerked again—and -both men, gripped and locked together, went to the floor. - -For an instant they rolled over and over, the Butcher snarling like -a mad beast, wrenching and twisting for an opening at the Hawk's -throat—and then suddenly the car was in an inferno. A voice, -MacVightie's, rang out sternly from the rear door. It was echoed by -a yell from one of the Hawk's companions, then a shot, another, a -fusillade of them—and then a voice above the uproar: - -“It's MacVightie, an' de bulls!” - -There was a scurrying of feet, a stampede for cover behind trunks and -boxes by the Butcher's men—and the Butcher's grip was tense upon -the Hawk. - -“Cut it out!” he whispered hoarsely. “My God, we're -trapped—the lot of us! Make a break for the door—get me? -Crawl—that's the only chance!” Blue eddies of smoke hung in queer, -wavering, hesitant suspension up and down the length of the car; the air -was full of the acrid smell of powder. The firing broke out again. The -Hawk released his hold. - -“All right!” he panted. “I'm with you!” - -The Butcher was right, it was the only chance—and a chance that was -theirs alone, for, as they lay on the floor, the packing case hid them, -and it was barely two yards to the door. The train was almost at a -standstill now. MacVightie's men had gained an entrance and a position -for themselves behind the trunks at the lower end, firing as they crept -forward, while back on the smoker's platform, through the baggage -car's open door, others commanded the sweep down the center of the -car. - -The Hawk snatched at the package of banknotes, snuggled it under his -coat, and, with the Butcher beside him, began to wriggle toward the -door. - -MacVightie's voice rang out again from the rear of the car: - -“Marston, take ten men, and surround the car! And——” His voice -rose suddenly in a bull-like roar. “The forward door, there—two of -them! Watch which way they jump—not a man of them gets away to-night! -Quick!” - -The Hawk had wrenched the door open, and, with the Butcher behind him, -flung himself out, and leaped to the ground. With the Hawk leading, -running like hares, the two men dashed down the embankment, and hurled -themselves over the barbed-wire fence that enclosed the right of way. -Shouts, the crackle of shots, echoed from behind them—the short, -vicious tongue-flames of the revolvers, a myriad of them, it seemed, -stabbed yellow through the blackness. - -The Hawk glanced back over his shoulder. He could just make out perhaps -a half dozen dark forms in pursuit—and perhaps fifty yards away. The -darkness and the distance made the shooting at best uncertain. It was -only a chance shot that would get either the Butcher or himself, and -ahead, unless he was mistaken, for the train must have come to a stop at -just about that distance from Conmore, must be the wooded tract of -land that surrounded the old farmhouse. Yes—there it was! The -old dare-devil set clamped his jaws again. Yes, and so was the -Ladybird—there! Well, it was obvious enough that there was no other -cover! He glanced at the Butcher's face that he could just discern -in the darkness. The Butcher might decide against it, but the Butcher -evidently had not recognised his surroundings. The man's lips were -working, and he was cursing in abandon as he ran. - -The Hawk spoke in short, gasping breaths: “There's some trees over -there—to the right—a little—make for them—cover!” - -The Butcher swerved automatically in the direction indicated. - -“Curse you!” he wheezed out. “This is all your infernal, nosey -work! What did you want to butt in for to-night—you fool—you -couldn't have got that gold, anyway!” - -“You close your face!” snapped back the Hawk. “I'm running my -own show! There was a little cash—forty thousand bucks along with -that gold, that maybe you didn't know about. That's what I was -after—see? And that's what I got—see?” - -“Yes”—the Butcher's voice broke in infuriated passion—“yes, -and you got them all pinched, every last one of them—blast you! -I——” - -“You save your breath, and put it into running,” retorted the Hawk -savagely, “or else maybe you'll get pinched yourself! It's their -lookout! I don't owe any of you any candy, do I!” - -MacVightie himself was evidently one of those in pursuit behind, for -again the Hawk recognised the other's voice: - -“Spread out there to the right! And try and shoot a little -straighter—before they get into that belt of trees!” - -A renewed outburst of firing came in response—and the Hawk measured -grimly the few yards that still separated him from the trees, as a -bullet, drumming the air venomously, seemed to miss his cheek by but -the fraction of an inch. MacVightie's presence was evidence that the -detective was so well satisfied that the gang penned up in the car could -not escape, that he obviously counted his temporary absence from the -scene well warranted if thereby the clean-up were made complete in the -capture of——-The Hawk's mental soliloquy came to an abrupt end. -There was a low cry from the Butcher, and the man, as they ran shoulder -to shoulder, lurched against him. - -“What's wrong?” flung out the Hawk sharply. - -“They got me!” gasped the Butcher—and lurched again. “They got -me—in the leg.” - -The Hawk glanced backward again. They were still those fifty yards -behind, those dark, flitting, oncoming forms, those vicious yellow stabs -of flame in the blackness—it had been a dead heat so far, here to the -fringe of the trees. - -The Butcher stumbled. The Hawk swung his free arm around the other's -waist, and plunged in amongst the trees. It was slower work now, -desperately slow. He clutched at the package of banknotes beneath his -coat, and with his other hand tightened his grip upon the Butcher. The -man was evidently badly hit, and was beginning to sag limply. Came the -thrashing and branches, and the rush of feet behind them. The fifty -yards was ten now—the Hawk, with his burden, struggled on—and then -there came a cry again from the Butcher—they had gained the edge -of the clearing, and the old farmhouse and its outbuildings loomed up -before them. - -“It's—it's——” the Butcher's voice choked weakly. - -“I—I know where we are—my God, quick! They'll search the house! -I got to warn him now—quick!” The man, as though under a stimulant, -with new strength, had sprung forward alone into the clear, making -for the farmhouse door. It was only a few yards, but halfway there he -stumbled again—and again the Hawk pulled him to his feet. - -A yell went up behind them. MacVightie and his men, too, were now in the -clearing, and the ten yards' lead was cut to five, to three—and then -the door before them was flung suddenly open, and a voice challenged -hoarsely from within: - -“Who's there? What's——” - -The Butcher pitched across the threshold, dragging the Hawk down with -him in his fall. - -“The door, Jim—quick—slam it!” screamed the Butcher. “We're -done—the cellar!” - -The Hawk had leaped to his feet. The room was dark, unlighted, but from -across it came, as there had come that other night, the faint glow from -the open door of the cellarway. The Butcher had staggered up again, and -was making in that direction—and then the Hawk, too, was across the -room—but the next instant, turning to meet the rush from without, as -the front door, evidently before the man whom the Butcher had addressed -as Jim could fasten it, burst inward and crashed against the wall, he -was borne backward, and, losing his balance, half pitched, half rolled -down the cellar stairs. - -The fall must have stunned him for a moment. He realised that as he -struggled to his feet—to find himself staring into the muzzle of -MacVightie's revolver, and to find that the bulging package of -banknotes was gone from under his coat, as, too, were his automatic, his -jimmy and the baggageman's revolver that had been in the side -pockets of his coat. He raised his hand dazedly toward his eyes—and -MacVightie, reaching out, knocked his hand away. - -“I'll do that for you—we were just getting around to it!” said -MacVightie roughly—and jerked the Hawk's mask from his face. And -then MacVightie leaned sharply forward. “O-ho!” he exclaimed grimly. -“So it's you—is it? I guess you put it over me the night that ten -thousand was lifted at the station—but I've got you now!” - -The Hawk made no answer. He was staring, still in an apparently dazed -way, about him. The cellar was a veritable maze of work benches and -elaborate equipment—for counterfeiting work. A printing press stood -over in one corner; on the benches, plates and engravers' tools of all -descriptions were scattered about; and, near the wall by the stairway, -he made out a telegraph set. But the Hawk's glance did not linger on -any of these things—it fastened on a bent and twisted form that craned -its neck forward from a rubber-tired wheel chair; on a livid face, out -of which the coal-black eyes, narrowed to slits, smouldered in deadly -menace, and from whose thin lips, that scarcely moved, there poured -forth now a torrent of hideous blasphemy in that soft, silken voice -that had earned the Ladybird his name; on the hand, crooked into a claw, -that, pushing away the man who stood guard over him, reached out toward -where the Butcher lay upon the floor. - -“You ape, you gnat, you brainless pig! And you led them -here—here—here!” - -“I didn't know where I was until I was right on the house,” -mumbled the Butcher miserably. “I——” - -“Shut up—both of you!” ordered MacVightie gruffly. “What do you -say, Lanson? Is this the Hawk?” - -The Hawk had not seen the superintendent, and he turned now quickly. -Lanson's steel-grey eyes were boring into him coldly. - -“Yes,” said Lanson evenly, “I think I could swear he was the man -who held us up in the private car the other night—but it's easily -proved. If he is the Hawk, he has got a wound in his right side. I -saw him clap his hand there when the pistol went off in his fight with -Meridan.” - -“Well, we'll soon see!” snapped MacVightie. - -The Hawk licked his lips. - -“You needn't look,” he said morosely. “It's there.” - -“So you admit it, do you?” MacVightie's smile was unpleasant. -“Well, then, since you seem to be so thick with that pack of curs -back there in the train, perhaps you'll admit to a hand in this little -counterfeiting plant as well?” - -“No; I won't!” said the Hawk shortly. “I never had anything to -do with this! I don't admit anything of the kind! Ask him!”—the -Hawk jerked his hand toward the Ladybird. - -“Oh, all right!” MacVightie smiled unpleasantly again. “Let it -go at that for now, if you like it that way. It doesn't much matter. -You're birds of a feather, anyway, and there's enough on all of you -to go around!” He reached behind him, and picked up the package of -banknotes from where he had evidently laid it on the nearest bench. -“How did you know this was on the train, and how did you know where it -was in the car—and tell the truth about it!” - -“I heard you and Mr. Lanson talking about it tonight,” said the -Hawk. - -“Where?” - -“In the roundhouse. I was outside the window. And”—the Hawk's -voice thinned in a sudden snarl—“you go to the devil with your -questions!” - -The Ladybird was craned forward again in the wheel chair listening -intently, he sank back now and scowled murderously at the Hawk. -MacVightie shrugged his shoulders, handed the package to one of his -three men who were with him in the cellar, and drew a pair of handcuffs -from his pocket. - -“Get that cash down to the train, and put it back with the gold where -it will be under guard, MacGregor!” he ordered brusquely. “And you -two carry this fellow”—he rattled his handcuffs in the Butcher's -direction—“down there, too. Tell Marston to let you have three or -four more men. The chap that Williams has got upstairs there will have -to be carried, too, I guess; and our friend here, in the invalid buggy, -with the thanksgiving expression on his face, will have to have somebody -to push him along over the ruts. Yes, and I'll want a couple to put in -the night here—tell Marston to make it four. And now, beat it! You run -ahead, MacGregor, and get back as soon as you can—we don't want to -tie up the traffic all night!” - -The two men picked up the Butcher, and, preceded by their companion -with the package of banknotes, went up the stairs. MacVightie caught -the Hawk's arm roughly, snapped one link of the steel cuffs over the -Hawk's right wrist, and yanked the Hawk ungently over to a position -beside the wheel chair. - -He snapped the other link over the Ladybird's left wrist, and smiled -menacingly. - -“I guess there's dead weight enough there to anchor you for a few -minutes while I take a look around here!” he said curtly—and turned -to Lan-son. - -The Hawk was licking at his lips again. Upstairs, the tramp of feet was -dying away: There would be no one there now but the other member of the -gang who, it seemed, had been hurt when the house was rushed, and the -one man who was guarding the prisoner. The Ladybird's cultured voice -at the Hawk's side poured out an uninterrupted stream of abandoned -oaths that were like a shudder in the nonchalant, conversational tones -in which they fell from the twitching lips. MacVightie and Lanson were -moving here and there about the place. Snatches of their conversation -reached the Hawk: - -...Well, I reckon I called the turn, all right, when I said it was -the same crowd that was turning out the phony stuff, eh?... Yes, the -telegraph set. - -... Can't trace the wires until daylight, of course. - -... Sure, a clean-up....” - -The Hawk's eyes travelled furtively around the cellar. They rested -hungrily on a spot in front of him, where, in the centre of the floor, -but partially hidden by one of the workbenches, was the bolted trapdoor -of the underground passage that led out to the wagon shed. He circled -his lips with his tongue again, and furtively again, his glance -travelled on—to the door at the head of the cellar stairs that had a -massive bolt, and that, evidently swinging back of its own accord after -the men had passed through, now hung just ajar—to a long, narrow -window, most tantalising of all because it was wide open, that was -shoulder high, just above the stonework of the cellar and evidently on a -level with the ground outside. - -And then suddenly the Hawk's lids drooped—to hide a quick flash and -gleam that lighted the dark eyes. MacVightie had stooped, and throwing -back the bolt, had lifted up the trapdoor. - -“Hello!” he ejaculated. “What's this? Here, Lanson! It looks -like a passage of some sort.” He was leaning down into the opening. -“Yes, so help me, that's what it is!” He lowered himself hurriedly -through the trapdoor, and his voice came back muffled into the cellar. -“Come down here a minute, Lanson; they certainly had things worked out -to a fine point!” - -Lanson's back, as, following MacVightie, he lowered himself through -the opening, was turned to the Hawk—and in a flash the Hawk's free -hand had swept behind him under his coat to the concealed pocket in the -back lining, and his eyes were thrust within an inch of the Ladybird's -as he lowered his head. - -“You understand?”—the Hawk's lips did not move, he was breathing -his words, while a skeleton key worked swiftly at the handcuff on his -wrist—“you understand? It's you or me! You make a sound to queer -me, and I'll get you—first!” - -The livid face was contorted, working with impotent fury, but, perhaps -for the first time that it had ever been there, there was fear In the -Ladybird's burning eyes. The Hawk's hand was free now. Lanson's -shoulders were just disappearing through the opening, and with a -lightning spring the Hawk reached the trapdoor, swung it down, bolted -it, and, running without a sound, gained the head of the cellar stairs, -pulled the door gently shut, slid the bolt silently into place—and the -next moment the Hawk, returning, darted to the window, swung himself up -to the ledge, and vanished. - - - - -XX—“CONFIDENTIAL” CORRESPONDENCE - -TWO days later MacVightie received a letter that had been posted the day -before from a city quite a number of miles nearer the East than -Selkirk was. In the left-hand, lower corner of the envelope, heavily -underscored, was the word: “Confidential.” What MacVightie read, -when he opened the letter, was this: - -“Dear Mr. MacVightie:— - -“I feel that you are entitled to an explanation—I will not call it -an apology, for I am sure you will recognise with me the unavoidable -nature of the circumstances existing at the time—of my somewhat -informal leave-taking of you two evenings ago; and I am afraid that my -actions on that occasion have not enhanced your opinion of—the Hawk. I -shall try and redeem myself. You have, I make no doubt, already -searched that room where I first had the pleasure of making your -acquaintance—and have found nothing. Let me begin, then, by saying -that the diamond necklace belonging to His Excellency the Governor's -wife, a certain well-known shipment of unset stones, and cash in varying -amounts derived from sources with which you are acquainted, are in -a black valise which you will find in the parcel room of the Selkirk -station—and for which I enclose herewith the parcel-room check. - -“I imagine that you are sceptical. I wonder, then, if it would also -occasion you surprise to know that Birks of the Secret Service was, -after all, 'on deck' the night that the Wire Devils fell into your -hospitable hands? Yes, it is quite true—I am Birks. The newspaper -biographies of the Hawk, the apparent authenticity of his prison record -and release from Sing Sing was but 'inspired' fiction supplied from -'authoritative' sources. The East was being swamped with one of -the cleverest counterfeit notes that the Federal authorities, popularly -called the Secret Service, had ever had to deal with; and it was evident -at once that the gang at work possessed an organisation against which -ordinary methods would be of no avail. Facts in the possession of the -Federal authorities indicated that the headquarters of the gang was -in the West, and, indeed, as you later concluded yourself, that the -so-called Wire Devils, who were just beginning to operate over the wires -around Selkirk, were the men we wanted. That, because of my knowledge of -telegraphy, I was detailed to the case, and how, almost at the outset, I -was fortunate enough to secure the key to their cipher, need not be gone -into here. Knowing their code, then, it would have been a simple enough -matter to have run one or two of them to earth at almost any time, but -that was not enough; it was necessary that the entire organisation, and -especially its head, should be caught. The rôle of the Hawk furnished -the solution to the problem. It enabled me to frustrate their plans, -while at the same time I was working on the case, and it enabled me to -do this without arousing their suspicions that the Secret Service was on -the track of their counterfeiting plant. 'Birds of a feather,' you -called us, Mr. Mac-Vightie; and 'birds of a feather' I am going to -ask you to allow us, in the public's eyes, and particularly in the -eyes of those you now have behind the bars, to remain. - -“I am sure you will readily acquiesce in this. You will instantly -see that my usefulness would be destroyed if the Hawk became known and -recognised as Birks of the Secret Service by every crook in the country, -as would result if he now figured in the case in his proper person. And -this leads to a word of explanation in reference to the final act in our -little drama of two nights ago. I had discovered the headquarters of the -gang, and I had found that cleverest of unhung crooks, the Ladybird, -to be in command. The plan outlined to you from Washington was at my -suggestion, and was simply a trap to collect them all into one net; a -trap, I might add, which they walked into, as they believed, with their -eyes wide open, for they were well aware of every move you had made. The -purpose of the money in banknotes accompanying the gold shipment was to -supply the Hawk with a reason for his appearance on the scene. It was -not altogether a question of coincidence that the train was stopped just -outside Con-more; nor that the chase led you to the farmhouse and the -Ladybird. The rest you know. It was necessary that I should be captured -and arrested in their presence, be caught in fact with the 'goods,' -and also that my escape should in their eyes appear equally genuine, if -I was to preserve the Hawk's identity. As for this last point, things -turned out a little differently than I had planned, for I had expected -to be taken to jail with the common herd, and there had intended to -arrange some sort of an escape to keep up appearances. As it turned out, -however, I am sure you will agree with me that there are worse things at -times than a trapdoor in a cellar floor! - -“I think that is all—save for one little detail. I would suggest -that you account for the recovery of the 'swag' and the black valise -through the fact that, dissatisfied with your first search of that room -over our friend Seidel-berger's saloon, you searched it again more -minutely, found a parcel-room check ingeniously hidden, say, behind the -wall bracket of the electric-light fixture—and by so doing permit me -to remain, - -“Ever and most sincerely yours, - -“The Hawk.” THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wire Devils, by Frank L. -Packard - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIRE DEVILS *** - -***** This file should be named 52084-0.txt or 52084-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/0/8/52084/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously provided by the -Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be -renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and -trademark. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: -www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, including -how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to -our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - - diff --git a/old/52084-0.zip b/old/52084-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a9b9488..0000000 --- a/old/52084-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52084-8.txt b/old/52084-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8907097..0000000 --- a/old/52084-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8521 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wire Devils, by Frank L. Packard - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Wire Devils - -Author: Frank L. Packard - -Release Date: May 16, 2016 [EBook #52084] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIRE DEVILS *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - -THE WIRE DEVILS - -By Frank L. Packard - -Author Of - -"Greater Love Hath No Man," - -"The Adventure of Jimmie Dale," Etc. - -A. L. Burt Company Publishers New York - -1918 - -[Illustration: 0001] - -[Illustration: 0007] - - - - -THE WIRE DEVILS - - - - -I--THE SECRET CODE - -TWO switch lights twinkled; one at the east, and one at the west end of -the siding. For the rest all was blackness. Half way between the -switch lights, snuggled close against the single-tracked main line, -the station, little more than a shanty and too insignificant to boast a -night operator, loomed up shadowy and indistinct. Away to the westward, -like jagged points sticking up into the night and standing out in relief -against the skyline, the Rockies reared their peaks. And the spell of -the brooding mountains seemed to lie over all the desolate, butte-broken -surrounding country--for all was utter silence. - -And then there came a sound, low at first, like a strange muttering from -somewhere to the westward. - -It died away, grew louder, was hushed again--and broke into a sustained -roar. Came then the quick, short gasps of the exhaust--it was a -freight, and a heavy one. And suddenly, from up the track, circling -an intervening butte, an electric headlight cut streaming through the -black. It touched the little station in a queerly inquisitive way in the -sweep of its arc, lingered an instant over the platform, then swung to -the right of way, and held there, the metals glistening like polished -silver ribbons under the flood of light. - -Straining, panting at its load, reddening the sky as the fire-box door -was flung open, the big tenwheeler stormed by, coughing the sparks -heavenward from its stack. The roar in the still night grew deafening, -as boxcar, flat and gondola, lurching, swaying, clanking, groaning, -an endless string, tugging at one another, grinding their flanges, -screaming as they took up the axle play, staggered with a din infernal -past the lonely and unlighted station. - -The roar sank into a gradually diminishing murmur. The tail-lights -winked like mischievous little red eyes in the distance--and vanished. - -All was stillness and that brooding silence again. - -And then a man's form, like a black shadow in the darkness, rose from -the trackside, and crept to the platform, and along the platform to the -station door. - -The man bent forward, and the round, white ray of a pocket flashlight -played upon the lock. He examined the lock for an instant appraisingly, -then drew a bunch of skeleton keys from his pocket, and, selecting one -of the number without hesitation, unlocked the door, stepped inside, and -closed the door behind him. - -The flashlight swept in a circle around the interior of the little -station. There were but two rooms--the small waiting room which he had -entered, and in which he now stood; and, partitioned off from this, the -door open, a still smaller inner room, the agent's office. He moved at -once into the latter, and his flashlight, swiftly now, searched around -the walls and held upon the clock. It was six minutes to ten. - -"Pretty close work!" muttered the man. "Six minutes to wait." - -The ray travelled now over the operator's table, and from the table to -the switchboard. He reached out, "cut in" the office circuit, listened -for an instant as the sounder began to chatter--then the ray swept over -the table again. Under a newspaper, that the day man had apparently -flung down at haphazard on leaving the office, he found a pad of -telegraph blanks, from which, evidently wary of the consequences of -using a pad with its resultant tell-tale impressions on the under -sheets, he tore off a sheet and laid it down ready to hand before him. - -This done, he nodded complacently, sat down in the operator's chair, -tilted the chair back, put his feet up on the table, and coolly picked -up the newspaper. It was the evening edition of the Selkirk City -_Journal_, that had presumably been tossed off at the station by a -charitable train crew of some late afternoon train out from the city. -He held the paper in one hand, the flashlight in the other, scanned the -page, which happened to be an inner one, cursorily, turned it over, -and suddenly leaned forward a little in his seat. He was staring at the -headline at the top right-hand corner of the front page. - -NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL RELEASED FROM SING SING - -POLICE ARE WARNED THAT MAN MAY BE IN THIS VICINITY - -HARRY MAUL, ALIAS THE HAWK, KNOWN TO BE IN THE WEST - -The telegraph sounder chattered volubly for an instant, as though to -challenge and silence the raucous ticking of the clock, and ended in a -splutter of wrath, as it were, at the futility of its attempt. The clock -ticked on. There was no other sound. And then the man spoke aloud. - -"That's me," he said. "The Hawk." The paper rattled in his hand. There -was a twisted smile on his lips in the darkness. "I guess I'm pretty -well known." - -The Hawk's eyes fixed on the text, and he began to read: - -"It is reported that Harry Maul, better known to the police as the Hawk, -safe-breaker, forger and thief, one of the cleverest 'gentleman' crooks -in the country, who is at large again after a five-years' penitentiary -term, is somewhere in the West. - -"The crime wave that has recently been sweeping over Selkirk City -and its vicinity, and particularly the daring and, in too many cases, -successful outrages with which the railroad officials and detectives -have been called upon to cope of late, may, as a very plausible theory, -have lured the Hawk here as to a promising field in which to resume his -criminal operations. Certain it is that, while we have been the victims -of a band of mysterious desperadoes for some time past, the last week -or so has seen a very marked increase in the number of crimes that have -been committed--a significant coincidence with the Hawk's release from -Sing Sing. - -"A twenty-thousand-dollar diamond necklace was stolen from a private car -two nights ago; there was an express car robbery on Monday of this week; -and a sleeping car was thoroughly and systematically looted the night -before. True, it is mere conjecture to connect the Hawk with these in -any way, since the gang that has been operating in this neighbourhood -has proved itself quite capable of all and more than this without any -outside and highly specialised assistance, and it would appear is in no -whit inferior in resource and devilish ingenuity to the best, or worst, -that Sing Sing has to offer in the shape of this so-called Hawk; but, -out of conjecture, one question naturally suggests itself. - -"Granting the presence of the Hawk, is he here as a rival of the -criminals of whose existence we are already only too well aware, or -is he one of them through old-time associations before Sing Sing put a -temporary check upon his activities?" - -There was more--a virulent outpouring of wrath at the intolerable extent -to which the community, its life and property, was being endangered, and -a promise of summary vengeance upon the criminals if caught. - -"Quite so!" murmured the Hawk, lowering his feet slowly to the floor. "I -guess it wouldn't be healthy to get caught around these parts. I have a -feeling that it would be the nearest telegraph pole instead of a trial!" - -He tossed the newspaper back on the table. The sounder, spasmodic in its -chatter, for the moment was still. All was silence, profound, absolute. -Then the clock struck, loud, resonant, smashing through the silence, -startling. And at the same instant the sounder broke into a quick -tattoo. The Hawk snatched a pencil from his pocket, and jerked his body -forward--then relaxed again. - -"Stray stuff," he muttered. "Got in ahead of him. We'll get it in a -minute now." - -Pencil poised in his hand, the flashlight playing on the blank sheet -of paper before him, the Hawk waited. The sounder ceased--and almost -instantly broke again, rattling sharply through the room. The Hawk -nodded, as his pencil began to travel across the paper. - -"'mtlky'--stroke at five. Two-three-one tonight," he said aloud. - -Without pause, without hesitation, without the slightest indication of -spacing to break its continuity, the sounder rattled on--and finally, as -abruptly as it had begun, it stopped. - -On the sheet of paper the Hawk had written this: - -_mtlkyeqodktrpcvkqlmtp kpwrtrgtftuqcyqtnt tsghv ukopgfkxtiku kqprelcn -rcatocuvgdatf gumttlvgpvjf qwucpmtfkp uckjihg vqptkijvrsa wvpxodtt dgtqprg -qplqosd_ - -He reached out for the pad, tore off another sheet, and in two parallel -columns set down the letters of the alphabet, one column transposed. -There was a faint smile on his lips, as he turned again to the cipher -and began to write in another line of letters under the original -message. - -"I wonder what Poe and his predominant 'e' would do with this!" he -chuckled. "'Combi'--stroke two. Key letter--stroke three." He frowned -the next instant. "What's this! Ah--stroke three, instead of one." He -completed the transposition, stared at the several lines which were now -scattered with vertically crossed-out letters, whistled low under his -breath, and a grim look settled on his face. - -The message now read: - -_---combi--natio---ninup-perdr--eftsi--dediv--sion--al -paymasterdesk--fousan dinsaj--feton-ight-autnum---beron-eonjob_ - -Mechanically, he separated words and sentences, and, eliminating the -superfluous letters, wrote out the translation at the bottom of the -sheet: - -_"Combination in upper drawer left side divisional paymaster ('s) desk. -Ten thousand in safe to-night. Put Number One on job_." - -The Hawk stood up, "plugged out" the station circuit, and, gathering -up the two sheets of paper he had used, put them in his pocket; then, -leaving the door of the operator's room open behind him, as he had -found it, he stepped out from the station to the platform, and, with his -skeleton key, relocked the station door. He stood for a moment -staring up and down the track. The switchlights blinked back at him -confidentially. He listened. The eastbound freight, from which he -had jumped some twenty minutes before, would cross Extra No. 83, the -westbound way freight, at Elkton, seven miles away, but there was no -sound of the latter as yet. - -He turned then, and, jumping from the platform to the track, swung into -a dog-trot along the roadbed. The Hawk smiled contentedly to himself. -It was all timed to a nicety! A mile or so to the west, the right of way -rose in a stiff grade that the way freight would be able to negotiate at -no better speed than the pace at which a man could crawl. He could make -the distance readily, board her there, and the way freight would get him -to Selkirk--and the divisional paymaster's office!--by about midnight. - -He ran on, the swing and ease of a trained athlete in his stride. And, -as he ran, he took the sheets of paper from his pocket, and, tearing -them into small fragments, scattered the pieces at intervals here and -there. - -He reached the foot of the grade, and paused to look back along the -track, as suddenly from behind him came the hoarse scream of an engine -whistle. That was the way freight now, whistling perfunctorily for the -deserted station! He had made the grade in plenty of time, though the -nearer to the top he could get the better, for the freight, requiring -all the initial impetus it could attain, would hit the foot of the grade -wide open. - -The Hawk broke into a run again, glancing constantly back over his -shoulder as he sped on up the grade. And then, when he was well on -toward the summit, opening the night like a blazing disk as it rounded a -curve, he caught the gleam of the headlight. It grew larger and -larger, until, beginning to fling a luminous pathway up the track -that, gradually lengthening, crept nearer and nearer to him, he -swerved suddenly, plunged down the embankment, and, well away from the -trackside, dropped flat upon the ground. - -The engine, slowed, was grunting heavily on the incline as it strained -by the spot where he lay; there was the glimmer of the front-end -brakeman's lamp from the top of one of the forward cars--and, with a -quick, appraising glance to measure the length of the train, the Hawk, -on hands and knees, crawled forward, and up the embankment, and, in the -shadow of the rolling cars themselves, stood up. There would be sharp -eyes watching from the cupola of the caboose. He laughed a little. And -not only the train crew there, perhaps! The railroad detectives, at -their wits' ends, had acquired the habit of late of turning up in the -most unexpected places! - -A boxcar rolled by him, another, and still another--but the Hawk's eyes -were fixed a little further along toward the rear on an open space, -where, in the darkness, a flat car gave the appearance of a break in the -train. The flat car came abreast of him. He caught the iron foot-rung, -jumped, and, with a powerful, muscular swing, flung himself aboard. - -The car was loaded with some kind of carriage, or wagon, -tarpaulin-covered. The Hawk crawled in under the tarpaulin, and lay down -upon his back, pillowing his head on a piece of timber that blocked the -carriage wheels. - -The train topped the grade, gained speed, and roared on through the -night. Occasionally, during what was close to a two-hours' run, it -stopped at intermediate stations, and the Hawk peered furtively out from -under the tarpaulin to locate the surroundings, with which he appeared -to be intimately familiar; and once, nearing the end of the run, as the -faint-suffused glow from the city's lights in the distance showed under -the shadows of the towering peaks, he spoke aloud, "Ten thousand -dollars," remarked the Hawk pleasantly. "Nice picking for a few hours' -work--ten thousand dollars!" - - - - -II--THE TEN-DOLLAR COUNTERFEIT NOTE - -THE Hawk crawled out from under the tarpaulin and dropped to the -ground, as the freight, slowing down, began to patter in over the spur -switches of the Selkirk yard. He darted, bent low, across several spurs -to escape the possibility of observation from the freight's caboose; -then began to make his way toward the roundhouse ahead of him. He would -have to pass around behind the roundhouse in order to get up opposite -the station and the divisional offices. The Hawk glanced sharply -about him as he moved along. He dodged here and there like some queer, -irresponsible phantom flitting amongst the low, myriad red, green and -purple lights that dotted the yard; and he carefully avoided those other -lights, the white lights of the yardsmen, now bobbing as the men ran up -and down, now swinging from the footboard of a passing switcher, that -seemed to be unusually ubiquitous--for the Hawk was secretive, and for -certain good and valid reasons was possessed of an earnest desire that -no stranger should be reported prowling around the railroad yard that -night. - -He reached the roundhouse, stepped close up against the wall to take -advantage of the security afforded by the shadows, and began to circle -the building. The Hawk was treading silently now. Halfway around the -building he halted abruptly, his head cocked suddenly in a listening -attitude toward a small, open and lighted window on a level with his -shoulders, and in order to pass which he had just been on the point of -stooping down. - -"I think," said the Hawk softly to himself, "I think this sounds as -though it interested me." - -He crept cautiously forward, and from the edge of the window glanced -inside. It was the turner's "cubbyhole," or office. The door was closed, -and two men were standing there, talking earnestly. The Hawk's face, -dimly outlined now in the window light, smooth-shaven, square-jawed, the -eyes and forehead hidden by the brim of the slouch hat that was pulled -forward almost to the bridge of his nose, set with a curious and -significant smile. It was not a bad place for a private conference! He -had thought he had recognised the voice--and he had not been mistaken. -The big, heavy-built, thin-lipped, pugnacious-faced man was MacVightie, -the head of the railroad's detective force; the other, a smaller man, -with alert grey eyes, his forehead furrowed anxiously, whose clenched -hand rested on the table, was Lanson, the division superintendent. - -"I don't know, damn it, MacVightie!" Lanson was saying savagely. "I -don't know what to think, or believe--I only know that a Pullman hold-up -one night, a twenty-thousand-dollar necklace stolen the next, an express -car looted, and several other little pleasant episodes all jammed one on -top of the other, means hell to pay out here and nothing to pay it with, -unless we can do something almighty quick!" - -"Any more of those messages?" inquired MacVightie--there was an ominous -abstraction in his tones. - -"Yes--to-night." - -"Make anything of it?" - -"No," said Lanson; "and I think it's about time to put a kink in that -little business, whether they mean anything or not. This cat-and-mouse -game we've been playing isn't----" - -"We'll get back to that in a minute," interrupted MacVightie quietly. -"Here's a little something else that may possibly fit into the -combination." He reached into his pocket, took out his pocketbook, -opened it, and handed the division superintendent a crisp new ten-dollar -note. - -The Hawk's lips thinned instantly, and he swore sharply under his -breath. - -"What's this?" asked Lanson, in surprise. "Phony!" said MacVightie -laconically. "Counterfeit!" Lanson turned the note over in his hands, -staring at first one side and then the other. "Are you sure? I'd take it -any time." - -"You'd have lots of company with you"--there was a sudden rasp in the -detective's voice. "Pretty good one, isn't it? The East is being -flooded with them. Two of them showed up in the banks here in the city -yesterday, and one to-day." - -Lanson frowned perplexedly. - -"I don't get you, MacVightie," he said. - -"Suppose they were being struck off around here," suggested MacVightie -curtly. "I don't say they are, but suppose it were so. They'd likely -be shoved out as far away from this locality as possible, wouldn't -they--back East, say. They're so good that a jag of them got by before -they began to be detected--and now suppose we assume that they're -beginning to sift back around the country." - -"Well?" - -"Well"--MacVightie caught the superintendent up quickly--"I didn't say -I could prove it; but, coupled with the fact that I happen to know that -the police have traced the work back to somewhere west of Chicago, I've -got a hunch that the gang that is operating around here and the crowd -that is turning out the phony money is the same outfit. The Lord -knows"--he smiled bitterly--"they're clever enough! And to go back to -those messages now. If there was anything in them at all, anything more -than some irresponsible idiot tampering with a key somewhere, we -were face to face, not with a mere gang of train robbers, but with an -organised criminal league as dangerous and powerful as has ever existed -in this country--and that's what made me hesitate. We couldn't afford to -take any chances, to start out after a mare's nest, and we had to make -as nearly sure of our ground as possible before we played a card. We -went on the principle that if it was only somebody playing the goat, -he'd get tired of it before long if no one paid any attention to him; if -it meant anything more than that, he'd keep on." MacVightie's pugnacious -face screwed up into a savage grimace. "Well, maybe this counterfeiting -idea has had something to do with deciding me, but, anyway, I'm -satisfied now. He _has_ kept on. And I'm satisfied now that those -messages are a cipher code that the gang is using, and that our -cat-and-mouse play, as you call it, instead of being abortive, is -exactly what's going to land our men for us. That's one thing I came -to tell you to-night--that I'm ready now to take the gloves off on this -wire game." - -Lanson smashed his fist down on the table top. "Good!" he exclaimed -grimly. "I'd like to make things hot for somebody, and it'll at least -be easy enough to catch whoever is using the wire." MacVightie shook his -head. - -"Oh, no; it won't!" he said evenly. "I didn't mean to give you that -impression, and don't you make the mistake of under-estimating the -brains we're up against, Lanson. I'm no expert on telegraphy, that's -your end of it, but I know they wouldn't sit in on any game where they -didn't hold trumps up their sleeves. Get me? Now let's see what it looks -like. As I understand it, these messages, no matter from what point -on the division they are sent, would be heard on every sounder on the -line--that's right, isn't it?" - -"Yes--sure! Of course!" agreed Lanson. - -"And it might be an operator working with them as an inside man; or, -with the necessary outfit, the wire could be tapped at any point, -couldn't it?" - -"Yes," said Lanson; "but the minute he starts in, we could begin to -'ground' him out." - -"Go on!" invited MacVightie. "I'm listening." - -"We could tell whether he was working east or west of any given point," -explained the superintendent; "and, with the operators instructed -beforehand, practically narrow him down to, say, between two stations." - -The Hawk, as he, too, listened, permitted an amused smile to flicker -across his lips. - -"Um!" said MacVightie. "And would he be aware that this 'grounding' -process was going on?" - -"Yes--naturally," admitted Lanson. "We can't prevent that." - -MacVightie shook his head again. - -"That doesn't sound good to me," he said slowly. "All he'd have to do -would be to beat it then--and the next time start in fifty miles away, -and you'd have to begin all over again. And, besides, who's _receiving_ -the messages? You can't put any tabs on that. Every sounder from -Selkirk City to Rainy River registers them, and all a man's got to do is -_listen_. You see, Lanson, it's not so easy--eh?" - -Lanson frowned. - -"Well, what do you suggest?" he asked uncomfortably. "We can stop it." - -"But we don't _want_ to stop it!" returned MacVightie. "We could have -done that from the first. What we want is our man now. And it strikes -me that the first thing to do is to find out whether one of our own -operators is in on this or not. Unless the line is tapped somewhere, -it's a cinch that a station key is being used, isn't it? Send some -linemen that you can trust over the division. If they find anything at -all, they'll find the spot where the messages are coming from, won't -they? If they find nothing, we'll know we've got to look nearer -home--amongst our own men." - -Lanson, in his turn, shook his head. - -"Not necessarily," he objected. "We've a number of small stations where -there's no night operator. They might have got into one of those. The -messages all come through at night." - -"Well, I'll call the turn there!" responded Mac-Vightie, with a short -laugh. "See that I get a list of those stations in the morning, and I'll -detail men to take care of that end of it." - -The Hawk drew back a little, shifting his strained position--the amused -smile was no longer on his lips. - -"And as for that 'ground' business," went on Mac-Vightie, "go slow with -it till you get your linemen's report. Don't do any more than try it out -with some operator you can absolutely depend upon, say, about halfway -down the line. You say you would be able to tell whether the messages -were coming from east or west of that point; that'll cut the division in -half for us as far as our search is concerned, and that's worth taking a -chance on. But don't overdo it, Lanson. We don't want to throw any scare -into him--yet." - -"All right," agreed Lanson. "I'll start things moving to-night. Martin, -at Bald Creek, will be the best man, I guess. I'll send a letter down to -him on No. 8." - -"And warn him to make no reports by _wire_," cautioned MacVightie. - -"All right--yes, naturally," agreed the superintendent again. Then, -after a short pause, anxiously: "Anything turned up at all, MacVightie? -Any clue to that necklace? The governor's wife is making a holler that's -reached from here to the road's directors down in Wall Street." - -"Damn it," growled MacVightie. "I'm well enough aware of it--but the -necklace isn't any more important than any one of the other affairs, is -it? No; there's nothing--not a blamed thing!" - -"Well, what about this Sing Sing convict, the Hawk, that the papers are -featuring to-night?" Lanson asked. "Anything in that?" - -"I don't know--maybe," McVightie answered viciously. "He's only one -more, anyway. This gang was operating before he was released--and it's -likely enough, if they're old pals of his, that he's come out here to -give them a hand. The New York police say he went to Chicago immediately -after his release, two weeks ago. The Chicago police reported him there, -and then he disappeared; then Denver spotted him a few days later--and -that's the last that's been seen of him. You can make what you like of -that. He's certainly been hitting a pretty straight trail west. He -wasn't stopped, of course, because he isn't 'wanted' at present; he's -only a man with a bad record, and labelled dangerous. We were warned to -look out for him, that's all." - -"Got his description?" inquired Lanson. - -"Yes"--MacVightie's laugh was a short bark. "Medium height, -broad-shouldered, muscular, black hair, black eyes, straight nose, -good-looking, and gentlemanly in appearance and manner, dresses well, -age twenty-four to twenty-six, no distinctive marks or disfigurement." - -"There's probably not more than twenty-five thousand men in Selkirk -City who would answer to every detail of that!" Lanson commented -sarcastically. - -"Exactly!" admitted MacVightie. "And that's----" - -The Hawk was creeping forward again in the shadows of the roundhouse. - -"Yes, I guess it interested me," muttered the Hawk; "I guess it did. I -guess I'm playing in luck to-night." - - - - -III-THE PAYMASTER'S SAFE - -FROM the roundhouse it was only a few yards to the rear of the long, -low-lying freight sheds and, unobserved, the Hawk gained this new -shelter. He stole quickly along to the further end of the sheds; and -there, crouched down again in the shadows, halted to make a critical -survey of his surroundings. . - -Just in front of him, divided only by a sort of driveway for the -convenience of the teamsters, was the end wall of the station, and, in -the end wall--the window of the divisional paymaster's office. The -Hawk glanced to his left. The street upon which the station fronted, an -ill-savoured section of the city, was dark, dimly lighted, and deserted; -the only sign of life being the lighted windows of a saloon on -the corner of a narrow lane that bisected the block of somewhat -disreputable, tumble-down wooden structures that faced the station. To -his right, on the other side of the freight shed, the railroad yard -had narrowed down to the station tracks and a single spur alongside the -shed. There was no one in sight in either direction. - -The Hawk's eyes strayed back to the paymaster's window. The station, -like its surrounding neighbours, was an old wooden building; and, being -low and only two-storied, the second-story window offered inviting -possibilities. From the sill of the lower window, a man who was at all -agile had the upper window at his mercy. Against this mode of attack, -however, was the risk of being seen by any one who might pass along -the street, or by any one who might chance upon the end of the station -platform. - -"What's the use!" decided the Hawk, with an abrupt shrug of his -shoulders. "Play safe. There's a better way." - -The Hawk crept across the driveway, reached the street side of the -station, peered cautiously around the corner of the building, and, -satisfied that he was unobserved, edged down along the building for -a short distance, paused in a doorway, glanced quickly about him -again--and then the door opened and closed, and he was standing in a -murky passageway, that was lighted only by a single incandescent far -back by a stair well. - -He stood motionless, listening. From above, through the stillness, came -the faint drumming of a telegraph key. There should be no one upstairs -now but the dispatcher, whose room was at the opposite end of -the building from the paymaster's office--and, possibly, with the -dispatcher, a call boy or two. And the hallway above, he could see, was -dark. - -Moving stealthily forward, as noiseless as a cat in his tread, the Hawk -took a mask from his pocket, slipped it over his face, and began to -mount the stairs. He gained the landing--and halted again. It was pitch -black here, since even the door of the dispatcher's room, where there -would be a light, was closed. - -And then once more the Hawk moved forward--and an instant later, the -paymaster's door at the extreme end of the corridor, under the deft -persuasion of his skeleton keys, had closed behind him. - -It was not quite so dark here. The lights from the platform and the yard -filtered in through the window in a filmy sort of way; but it was too -dark to distinguish objects in anything more than grotesque, shapeless -outlines. - -The Hawk produced his flashlight, and turned it upon the lock he had -just picked. It was a spring lock, opened readily from the inside by the -mere turning of the doorhandle. He tried it carefully, assuring himself -that it could not be opened from the corridor without a key--and then -his light swept around the room. It played in its circuit upon the -paymaster's flat-topped desk against the wall, and upon a large safe -in the corner, near the window, whose polished nickel dial sent back -an answering flash under the darting ray; but the Hawk, for the moment, -appeared to be interested in neither desk nor safe. The flashlight was -holding in a kind of dogged inquisitiveness upon another door close to -the window, and directly opposite the safe. - -He stepped without a sound across the room, and, reaching this door, -snapped off his flashlight. He tried the door cautiously, found it -unlocked, and very softly opened it the space of an inch. He listened -attentively. There was no sound. He pushed the door open, switched on -his flashlight again, and stepped through the doorway. It appeared to be -a clerks' office--for the paymaster's staff, presumably. The Hawk seemed -to possess a peculiar penchant for doors. The only thing in the room -that apparently held any interest for him now was the door that opened, -like the paymaster's, upon the corridor. He slipped quickly across the -room, and, as before, examined the lock. Like the other, it was a spring -lock; and, like the other, he tested it to make sure it was locked on -the outside. - -"Ten thousand dollars," confided the Hawk to the lock, "isn't to be -picked up every night; and we can't afford to take any chances, you -know." - -He began to retrace his steps toward the paymaster's office, but now, -obviously, with more attention to the details of his surroundings, for -his flashlight kept dancing quick, jerky flashes in all directions about -him. - -"Ah!" The exclamation, low-breathed, came suddenly. "I thought there -ought to be something like this around here!" - -From, beside a desk, he stooped and picked up an empty pay satchel; -then, returning at once to the other office, but leaving the connecting -door just ajar, he dropped the pay bag in front of the safe, and went -silently over to the desk--a mouse running across the floor would have -made more commotion than the Hawk had made since his entry into the -station. - -"... Upper drawer, left side," he muttered, "Locked, of course--ah!" -A tiny key, selected from its fellow outlaws, was inserted in the -lock--and the Hawk pulled out the drawer, and began to rummage through -its contents. - -From the back of the drawer, after perhaps a minute's search, he picked -up a card, and with a nod of satisfaction began to study it. - -"'Left--two right; eighty-seven, one quarter--left; three... '" The -Hawk's eyes travelled swiftly over the combination. He read it over -again, "Thank you!" murmured the Hawk whimsically--and dropped the card -back in the drawer, and locked the drawer. - -A moment more, and the white beam of the flashlight was playing on the -face of the safe, and the silence of the room was broken by the faint, -musical, metallic whirring of the dial. Bent forward, a crouching form -in the darkness, the Hawk worked swiftly, a sure, deft accuracy in every -movement of his fingers. With a low thud, as he turned the handle, the -heavy bolt shot back in its grooves, and the ponderous door swung open. -And now the flashlight's ray flooded the interior of the safe, and the -Hawk laughed low--before him, lying on the bottom of the safe, neatly -banded as they had come from the bank, were a dozen or fifteen little -packages of banknotes. - -The Hawk dropped on his knees, and reached for the pay bag. Ten thousand -dollars was not so bulky, after all--if the denominations of the notes -were large enough. He riffled one package through his fingers--twenties! -Gold, yellow-back twenties! - -There was a sort of beatific smile on the Hawk's lips. He dropped the -package into the bag. - -Tens, and twenties, and fives--the light, in a curiously caressing way, -was lingering on the little fortune as it lay there on the bottom of the -safe. There was only a pile or two of ones, and the rest was--_what was -that!_ - -The smile vanished from the Hawk's lips, and, in a rigid, tense, -strained attitude, he hung there, motionless. What was that--that dull, -rasping, sound! It was like some one clawing at the wall outside. The -_window!_ - -With a single motion, as though stirred to life by some galvanic shock, -the Hawk's hand shot out and swept the packages of banknotes into the -bag. He snapped off his flashlight. The room was in darkness. - -That sound again! And now a creak! The window was being opened. -Something black was bulking there on the sill outside--and something -queerly white, a man's face, was pressed against the pane, peering in. - -The Hawk glanced sharply around him. Inch by inch he was pushing the -safe door shut. He could not reach the door leading to the clerks' -office, for he would have to pass by the window, and--he shrank back -quickly, the safe door closed but still unlocked, and crouched low in -the corner against the wall. The window slid up to the top, and with a -soft _pad_, like some animal alighting on the floor, the man had sprung -into the room. - -The Hawk's fingers crept into his pocket and out again, tight-closed now -upon an automatic pistol. The other's flashlight winked, went out, then -shot across the room, locating the desk--and once more all was darkness. - -There was not a sound now, save the short, hurried breathing of the -other, panting from the exertion of his climb. Then the man's step -squeaked faintly crossing the room--and the Hawk, a few inches at a -time, began to edge along the wall away from the neighbourhood of the -safe. - -Then the man's flashlight gleamed again, lighting up the top of the -desk. There was a sharp, ripping sound, as of the tearing of wood under -pressure, and the upper drawer, forced open by a steel jimmy, was pulled -out. - -"Birds of a feather!" said the Hawk grimly to himself. "Number One, of -the Wire Devils! I didn't beat him to it by as much margin as I thought -I would!" - -The Hawk shifted his automatic to the hand that was clutching the pay -bag, and, with the other hand, began to feel in wide sweeps over the -wall above his head. The electric-light switch, he had noticed in that -first quick glance when he had entered the room, a glance that had -seemed to notice nothing, and yet in which nothing had escaped the -sharp, trained eyes, was somewhere about here. - -"Dangerous--for both of us--if it's seen outside," communed the Hawk -with himself again. "But when he finds the safe unlocked, and the goods -gone, there'll be trouble. If he gets a flashlight on me, he's got -me where he wants me. Ah--here it is!" The Hawk's fingers touched the -switch. He lowered the pay bag cautiously to the floor between his feet, -his automatic free in his hand again. - -There was a rustling of papers in the drawer; then the man's hand, -holding a card, was outlined as though thrown upon a screen, as, with -his other hand, he focused his flashlight upon it. Then the flashlight -swung an arc over the opposite wall, and pointed a pathway to the safe, -as the man turned abruptly and stepped back across the room. - -The Hawk, one hand raised to the switch on the wall, his automatic -outflung a little in the other, tense, like an animal in leash, watched -the other's movements. - -The dark-outlined form was in shadowy relief against the light, that -played now upon the glistening knob and dial of the safe. The man gave -a preliminary, tentative twist at the handle. Came a quick, dismayed, -hissing sound, like the sharp intake of 'breath. The safe door was -wrenched open with a jerk. There was a low, angry cry now. The man -sprang back, and as though involuntarily, in a sort of uncertain, -panic-struck search, his flashlight shot along the wall--and fell full -upon the Hawk. - -The Hawk's finger pressed the switch. The room was ablaze with light. -With a startled, furious oath, the man's hand was sweeping significantly -toward his pocket. - -"No, you don't!" snarled the Hawk, covering the other. "No, you don't! -Cut that out!" His eyes, behind the mask, narrowed suddenly. "Hello!" -he sneered. "It's 'Butcher' Rose--I might have known from the way you -opened that drawer!" - -It was a moment before the man answered. - -"Blast you!" he whispered finally. "You gave me a bit of a start, you -did! I thought at first you were a 'bull'!" His eyes fastened on the -pay bag at the Hawk's feet. The top gaped open, disclosing the banknotes -inside. The man raised his eyes to the Hawk's, and a cunning look came -over his thin, hatchet-like face. "Caught with the goods this time, eh?" -he jerked out. - -The Hawk smiled unpleasantly. - -"Yes," he said. "The nest's empty. What is it they used to tell us in -the nursery?--it's the early bird that grabs the worm. How long you been -out in these parts, Butcher?" - -"Look here," said the Butcher ingratiatingly, ignoring the question, "I -guess it's a case of split--eh?" - -"You've got a nerve!" ejaculated the Hawk coolly. - -"Well, put that light out, then, and we'll talk it over," suggested the -Butcher. "If it's seen from outside, we'll both get caught." - -"I'd rather take a chance on that, than a chance on you," replied the -Hawk curtly. "There's nothing to talk over. I've got the coin, and -you've got a frost--all you've got to do now is beat it." - -Sharp, little, black, ferret eyes the Butcher had, and they roamed -around the room now in an apparently aimless fashion--only to come back -and fix hungrily on the bag of banknotes again. A sullen look came into -his face, and the jaw muscles twitched ominously. - -"So you're the Hawk they're talking about, eh?" he said, trying to speak -smoothly. "Well, there's no use of us quarrelling. If you know me, we -must be old pals. Take off that mask, and let's have a look at you. -There ain't any reason why we can't be pals again." - -"Nix!" said the Hawk softly. "Nothing doing, Butcher! It suits me pretty -well the way it is. I've made it a rule all my life to play a lone hand, -and the more I see of the raw work that guys like you try to get -away with, the more I pat myself on the back. Savvy? Why, say, even a -drag-worker on Canal Street wouldn't show his face to a self-respecting -crook for a month, he'd be so ashamed, if he took a crowbar to a desk -drawer the way you did, you poor boob!" - -The Butcher's face flushed, and he scowled. - -"You're looking for trouble, ain't you!" he said hoarsely. "Well, mabbe -you'll get it--and mabbe you'll get more than you're looking for. How'd -you get wise to this game to-night?" - -"It's the way I make my living--getting wise. How'd you suppose?" -queried the Hawk insolently. - -The Butcher was chewing at his lips angrily; his eyes, closed to slits, -searched the Hawk's masked face. - -"This is the second time!" he said, between his teeth. "You pinched that -necklace, and----" - -"O-ho!" exclaimed the Hawk, with a grin. "So _you_ were after that, too, -were you?" - -The Butcher's flush deepened. - -"That's none of your damned business!" he gritted. "And if I -thought----" He bit his lips quickly. - -"Go on!" invited the Hawk sweetly. "Don't mind me. If you -thought--what?" - -"You've had the luck with you," mumbled the Butcher, half to himself. -"It can't be anything else, there's no chance of a leak. But I'm going -to tell you something--your luck's going to get a hole kicked in it. -I'll tell you something more. There's a few of us that have picked -out this little stamping ground for ourselves, and we ain't fond of -trespassers. Get that? It ain't going to be healthy for you to linger -around here over more than one train!" - -"Are the rest of 'em all like you?" inquired the Hawk maliciously. - -"You'll find out quicker than you'll want to, perhaps!" the Butcher -retorted furiously. - -"All right!" said the Hawk. "And now I'll tell you a little something. -I don't know who are in this gang of yours, but you might take them a -little message from me. If they're finding it crowded out here, they'd -better move on to somewhere where competition isn't so likely to -put them out of business through lack of brains, because I'm kind of -figuring on hanging around until it gets time to open my chteau down at -Palm Beach and stick my feet up on the sofa for a well-earned rest. -Do you stumble to that? And"--the Hawk was drawling now--"I might -say, Butcher, that I don't like you. My fingers are crossed on that -trespassing gag. It don't go! I don't scare for any half-baked outfit -of near-crooks! I stick here as long as there's anything worth sticking -for." - -The Butcher's eyes seemed to be fascinated by the pay bag--they were on -it again. He choked a little, swallowing hard; and, attempting a change -of front, forced a smile. - -"Well, don't get sore!" he said, in a whining tone. "Mabbe I was only -trying to chuck a bluff, and got called. But, say, how'd you like to -break in here to-night like I did, and find another fellow'd got all -the swag? Say, it's damned rough, ain't it? Say, it's fierce! And, look -here, I'm in on it now, anyhow. I know who took it. I'm going to keep -my mouth shut, ain't I? You ain't going to leave me out in the cold, are -you? All I ask is a split." - -"It's not much!" said the Hawk, in a velvet voice. "It hardly seems -enough. You're too modest, Butcher. Why don't you ask for the whole of -it? You might as well--you'd stand just as much chance of getting it!" - -The smile faded from the Butcher's lips, and his face became contorted -with rage again. He raised his fist and shook it at the Hawk. He cursed -in abandon, his lips livid, beside himself with passion. - -"You'll get yours for this!" He choked, in his fury, over his words. -"You think you're slick! I'll show you what you're up against inside of -twenty-four hours! You'll crawl for this, d'ye hear, blast you--you'll -_crawl!_--you'll----" - -The Hawk's automatic, dangling nonchalantly in his hand, swung suddenly -upward to a level with the other's eyes. - -"That's enough, you cheap skate!"--there was a cold, menacing ring in -the Hawk's voice now. "I've heard enough from you. You and your hot-air -crowd of moth-eaten lags! If you, or any of you, run foul of me again, -you won't get off so easy! Tell 'em that! Tell 'em the Hawk said so! And -you beat it! And beat it--_now!_" He caught up the pay bag, and advanced -a step. - -The Butcher retreated sullenly. - -"Get out of that window!" ordered the Hawk evenly. "And take a last tip -from me. If you try to plant me, if you let a peep out of you while I'm -making my own getaway, I'll _get_ you for it, Butcher, if it's the last -thing I ever do. Go on, now! Step quicker!" - -Still sullenly, mumbling, his mouth working, the Butcher retreated -backward toward the window. The Hawk, his lips like a thin straight line -just showing under the mask, followed grimly, step by step. And then, -suddenly, both men halted, and their eyes met and held each other's in a -long tense gaze. - -From outside in the corridor came the sound of voices and footsteps. The -footsteps drew nearer; the voices grew louder. The Hawk shot a glance -toward the door. He drew in his breath sharply. No, there was -no fanlight, the light would not show in the hall. That was the -superintendent's voice. That letter Lanson was going to send down on -No. 8! The other, probably, was MacVightie. Yes; it _was_ MacVightie--he -caught the detective's gruff tones now. The door on the opposite side of -the corridor from the paymaster's room opened. - -The Butcher licked his lips. - -"Me for the window, and for it quick!" he muttered under his breath. - -He turned, and, his back to the Hawk now, tiptoed to the window, turned -again sideways, as though to throw one leg over the sill--and his right -hand, hidden, suddenly lifted the side of his coat. - -It came quick, quick as the winking of an eye. Racketing through room -and building, like the detonation of a cannon in the silence, came the -roar of a revolver shot, as the Butcher fired through his coat pocket. -Mechanically, the Hawk staggered backward; and then, the quick, keen -brain working like lightning, he reeled, dropped the pay bag, and -clutched wildly at his side. He was not hit. The Butcher had missed. -So that was the man's game! Clever enough! They'd break in here at the -sound of the shot, and find him dead or wounded on the floor! - -The Butcher, a devil's triumph in his face now, came leaping back from -the window, and, stooping, snatched at the pay bag. - -"I'd put another in you to make sure," whispered the Butcher fiercely; -"only they'll get you anyway, you----" - -The Hawk straightened, his arm streaked outward from his side, his -pistol butt crashed on the Butcher's skull, and he was upon the other -like a flash, his free hand at the Butcher's throat. - -From the room opposite came startled cries; across the corridor came the -rush of feet--then the doorhandle was tried, the door shaken violently. - -The Butcher was struggling but feebly, making only a pitiful effort to -loosen the Hawk's clutch upon his throat, hanging almost limply in the -Hawk's arms, half dazed by the blow upon his head. White to the lips -with passion, the Hawk whipped his hand into the other's pocket, whipped -out the other's revolver, and flung the man away from him. And then, -as the Butcher reeled and lurched backward to the window, and, clawing -frantically at the sill, attempted to work his way out, the Hawk ran -silently back, picked up the pay bag, and, jumping to the window again, -caught the Butcher roughly by the collar of the coat. - -The Butcher, white, haggard-faced with fear, moaned. - -"For God's sake!" he pleaded piteously. "Let me go! Let me go! For God's -sake, let me go--they'll get me!" - -There was a terrific crash upon the door, as of some heavy body hurled -against it. The Hawk laughed mirthlessly. - -"If I let you go, you'd break your neck!"--the Hawk's words were coming -through clenched teeth. "Don't worry, Butcher! They'll not get you. I -don't want _them_ to get you. I want to get you myself for this. Some -day, Butcher, some day _I'll_ do the getting!" He pushed the Butcher's -feet over the sill. "Feel with your toes for the window casing beneath! -Quick!" He leaned out, gripping at the Butcher's collar, lowering the -man--his lips were close against the Butcher's ear. "Some day--for -this--you yellow cur--you and me, Butcher--remember--_some day!_" - -A crash again upon the door! The Butcher's feet were on the lower sill; -but here the man lost his hold, and toppled to the ground. The Hawk -glanced backward into the room. The door was yielding now. He looked out -of the window again. The Butcher had regained his feet, and was swaying -against the wall, holding to it, making his way slowly, weakly toward -the corner. - -The Hawk threw one leg over the sill. With a rip and tear, the door -smashed inward, sagging from its lower hinge. Came a hoarse yell. -MacVightie was plunging through the doorway. - -Instantly the Hawk, hugging the pay bag, drew back his leg, and dove -into the clerk's room through the door which he had left ajar. There -would have been no use in letting the Butcher go at all if he led the -chase through the window--the man was barely crawling away. Across the -room, light enough now from the open doorway behind him to point the -way, raced the Hawk. He reached the corridor door, as MacVightie lunged -through the connecting door in pursuit. - -MacVightie's voice rose in a bellow of warning: - -"Look out there, Lanson! The next door--quick!" - -But the Hawk was the quicker. He tore the door open, and dashed -through, just eluding the superintendent and another man--the dispatcher -probably, attracted by the row--as they sprang forward from the -paymaster's door. - -Running like a deer, the Hawk made for the stairway. It was lighter now -in the hall. The dispatcher's door along at the farther end was open. At -the head of the stairs, a call boy, wide-eyed, gaped, openmouthed. The -Hawk brushed the boy aside incontinently, and, taking the stairs three -and four at a time, leaped downward, MacVightie's bull-like roar echoing -behind him, the top stairs creaking under the detective's rush. - -The street door opened outward, and as the Hawk reached it, and, -wrenching at the knob, pushed it open, there was a flash, the report of -a revolver shot--and, with a venomous _spat_, the bullet buried itself -in the door jamb, not an inch from his head, it seemed, for the wind of -the bullet was on his cheek. - -Cries sounded now from the railroad yard; but the street in front of -him, deserted, was still undisturbed. He was across it in a twinkling, -and, passing the saloon that was now closed, darted into the lane. - -He flung a glance over his shoulder--and his lips set hard. MacVightie, -big man though he was, was no mean antagonist in a race. The detective, -quicker in initiative, quicker on his feet, had outdistanced both Lanson -and the dispatcher, and was already halfway across the street. - -Again MacVightie fired. - -On the Hawk ran. If he could reach the next corner--providing there was -no one about the street--there was a way, a risky way, but still a -way, his best chance of escape. The cheap combination lodging house and -saloon, that was just around the corner, was where he had a room. Yes, -it was his _one_ chance! He must get to cover somewhere without an -instant's delay. With MacVightie firing now, emptying his revolver up -the lane, with the yells and shouts growing constantly in volume from -farther back toward the station, it was only a question of minutes -before the whole neighbourhood would be aroused. - -Again he glanced behind him. It was very dark in the lane. He was -grimly conscious that it was the blackness, and not MacVightie's poor -marksmanship, that had saved him so far. That flash of the other's -revolver was perhaps fifty yards away. He had gained a little, then! If -there was any one around the corner, the plan of reaching his room would -not serve him, and he would still have to run for it. Well, he would see -in an instant--it was only two yards more--a yard--now! - -Without slackening his pace, at top speed he swung from the lane--and, -with a gasp of relief at sight of an empty street, slipped into a -doorway just beyond the now dark entrance to a saloon that occupied most -of the ground floor of a dirty and squalid three-story building. - -The door gave on a narrow flight of stairs, and up these the Hawk sprang -swiftly and with scarcely a sound. And now, as he ran, he pulled his -mask from his face and thrust it into the pay bag; a pocket-book from -his inside coat pocket followed the mask, and, with the pocketbook, the -flashlight, and the two pistols, his own and the Butcher's. He opened -a door at the head of the landing, and stepped into a room, leaving the -door partly open. - -He was not safe yet--far from it! He did not under-estimate MacVightie. -It would be obvious to MacVightie that he was not far enough ahead to -have disappeared in any but one way--into some building within a very -few yards of the lane! And the presumption, at least, would be that this -was the one. - -The Hawk worked now with almost incredible speed. He switched on the -light, ran to the window that opened on the rear of the building, felt -with one hand along the sill outside, lifted the pay bag out of the -window, let go of it, and turned instantly back into the room. He -hung up his hat on a wall peg, and tearing off his jacket, flung it -haphazardly upon the bed. There was a small table against the wall near -the foot of the bed. The Hawk opened a drawer, snatched up a pack of -cards, and sat down at the table. - -The street door opened and closed. A quick, heavy tread sounded on the -stairs. - -In his shirt sleeves, his back to the door, the Hawk was coolly playing -solitaire. - -"I guess I'd better be smoking," murmured the Hawk. "Maybe I'm breathing -a little hard." - -He picked up a pipe from the table, lighted a match--and, half the deck -of cards in one hand, the lighted match in the other, swung around in -his chair with a startled jerk. - -The door slammed back against the wall. MacVightie had unceremoniously -kicked it wide open. MacVightie was standing on the threshold. - -The Hawk, in a sort of surprised gasp, sucked the flame of the match -down into the bowl of his pipe, and stared at MacVightie through a -curtain of tobacco smoke. The detective's eyes travelled sharply from -the Hawk around the room, came back to the Hawk, narrowed, and, stepping -into the room, he shut the door with equal lack of ceremony behind him. - -"Say, you got a gall!" ejaculated the Hawk. - -"You bet your life I have!" flung out MacVightie. "Now then, my bucko, -what are you doing, here?" - -"Say," said the Hawk, as though obsessed with but a single idea, "say, -you got a gall! You got a gall, busting into a fellow's room and asking -him what he's doing there! Say, maybe you might answer the same question -yourself--eh? What are you doing here?" - -"Your room, is it?" snapped MacVightie. - -"Sure it's my room!" replied the Hawk, a little tartly. - -"How long you been here?" - -"'Bout a week"--the Hawk was growing ungracious. - -"Boarding here?" - -"Yes." - -"Where'd you come from?" MacVightie was clipping off his words. "What do -you do for a living?" - -"Say," said the Hawk politely, "you go to hell!" - -MacVightie stepped forward toward the Hawk, with an ominous scowl; and, -throwing back the lapel of his coat, tapped grimly with his forefinger -on a shield that decorated his vest. - -The Hawk whistled low. - -"O-ho!" said the Hawk, with sudden cordiality. "Well, why didn't you say -so before?" - -"I'm saying it now!" snarled MacVightie. "Well, where do you come from?" - -"Chicago," said the Hawk. - -"What's your business?"--MacVightie's eyes were roving sharply again -around the room. - -"Barkeep--when I can get a job," answered the Hawk; and then, -insinuatingly: "And, say, I'm looking for one now, and if you can put me -on to anything I'd----" - -"I guess you've got to show me!" growled Mac-Vightie, uncompromisingly. - -"Look here," ventured the Hawk, "what's up?" - -"I'm waiting!" prompted MacVightie significantly. - -"Oh, all right!" The Hawk flared up a little. "If you love your grouch, -keep on hugging it tight!" He jerked his hand toward the coat that was -lying on the bed. "I must have lost the letter the pastor of my church -gave me, but there's a couple there from the guys back in Chicago that I -worked for, and there's my union card with them. Help yourself!" - -MacVightie picked up the coat brusquely, shoved his hand into the inside -pocket, brought out several letters, and began to read them. - -The Hawk shuffled the half deck of cards in his hand monotonously. - -There was a puzzled frown on MacVightie's face, as he finally tossed the -letters down on the bed. - -"Satisfied?" inquired the Hawk pleasantly. - -MacVightie's frown deepened. - -"Yes, as far as that goes," he said tersely; and then, evenly, his eyes -boring into the Hawk: "About five minutes ago a man ran into this house -from the street. What's become of him?" - -The Hawk started in amazement--and slowly shook his head. - -"I guess you've got the wrong dope, ain't you?" he suggested earnestly. - -"Don't try that game!" cautioned MacVightie grimly. "And don't lie! He -had to come up these stairs, your door was partly open, and he couldn't -have passed without you knowing it." - -"That's what I'm saying," agreed the Hawk, even more earnestly. "That's -why I'm saying you must have got the wrong dope. Of course, he couldn't -have got by without me hearing him! That's a cinch! And, I'm telling you -straight, he didn't." - -"Didn't he?" MacVightie's smile was thin. "Then he came in _here_--into -this room." - -"In here?" echoed the Hawk weakly. His gaze wandered helplessly around -the room. "Well, all you've got to do is look." - -"I'm going to!" announced MacVightie curtly--and with a sudden jerk he -yanked the single bed out from the wall. He peered behind and beneath -it; then, stepping over to a cretonne curtain in the corner that served -as wardrobe, he pulled it roughly aside. - -There were no other places of possible concealment. MacVightie chewed at -his under lip, and eyed the Hawk speculatively. - -The Hawk's eyes were still travelling bewilderedly about the room, as -though he still expected to find something. - -"Are you dead sure he came into this house," he inquired heavily, as -though the problem were entirely beyond him. - -MacVightie hesitated. - -"Well--no," he acknowledged, after a moment. "I guess you're straight -all right, and I'll admit I didn't see him come in; but I'd have pretty -near taken an oath on it." - -"Then I guess he must have ducked somewhere else," submitted the Hawk -sapiently. "There wasn't no one went by that door--I'm giving it to you -on the level." - -MacVightie's reluctant smile was a wry grimace. - -"Yes, I reckon it's my mistake." His voice lost its snarl, and his -fingers groped down into his vest pocket. "Here, have a cigar," he -invited placatingly. - -"Why, say--thanks"--the Hawk beamed radiantly. "Say, I----" - -"All right, young fellow"--with a wave of his hand, MacVightie moved to -the door. "All right, young fellow. No harm done, eh? Good-night!" - -The door closed. The footsteps without grew fainter, and died away. - -The Hawk, staring at the door, apostrophised the doorknob. - -"Well, say, what do you know about that!" he said numbly. "I wonder -what's up?" - -He rose from his chair after a moment as though moved by a sort of -subconscious impulse, mechanically pushed his bed back against the wall, -and returned to his chair. - -He dug out his pipe abstractedly, filled it, and lighted it. He gathered -up the cards, shuffled them, and began to lay them out again on the -table--and paused, and drummed with his fingers on the table top. - -"They're after some guy that's ducked his nut somewhere around here," he -decided aloud. "I wonder what's up?" - -The Hawk spread out his remaining cards--and swept them away from him -into an indiscriminate heap. - -"Aw, to blazes with cards!" he ejaculated impatiently. - -He put his feet up on the table, and sucked steadily at his pipe. - -"It's a cinch he never went by that door," the Hawk assured the toe of -his boot. "I guess he handed that 'bull' one, all right, all right." - -The minutes passed. The Hawk, engrossed, continued to suck on his pipe. -Then from far down the stairs there came a faint creak, and an instant -later the outer door closed softly. - -The Hawk's feet came down from the table, and the Hawk smiled--grimly. - -"Tut, tut!" chided the Hawk. "That treadmill diminuendo on the top step -and the keyhole stunt is pretty raw, Mr. MacVightie--pretty raw! You -forgot the front door, Mr. MacVightie--I don't seem to remember having -heard it open or close until just now!" - -The back of the Hawk's chair, as he pushed it well away from the table -and stood up, curiously enough now intercepted itself between the -keyhole and the interior of the room. He stepped to the door, and -slipped the bolt quietly into place; then, going to the window, he -reached out, and, from where it hung upon a nail driven into the sill, -picked up the pay bag. - -"That's a pretty old gag, too," observed the Hawk almost apologetically. -"I was lucky to get by with it." - -The Hawk's attention was now directed to his trunk, that was between the -table and the foot of the bed. He lifted the lid back against the wall, -and removed an ingeniously fashioned false top, in the shape of a tray, -that fitted innocently into the curvature of the lid. The Hawk stared at -a magnificent diamond necklace that glittered and gleamed on the bottom -of the tray, as its thousand facets caught the light--and grinned. - -"If you'd only known, eh--Mr. MacVightie!" he murmured. - -From the pay bag the Hawk took out the packages of banknotes, the -flashlight, the mask, the two pistols, and packed them neatly away in -the tray. The only article left in the bag was his pocketbook. He opened -this, disclosing a number of crisp, new ten-dollar bills. He held one of -them up to the light for a moment, studying it admiringly. - -"I guess these won't be much more good around here, according to that -little conversation between MacVightie and the superintendent," he -muttered--and, with a shrug of his shoulders, tossed the entire number -into the tray. - -He fitted the false top back into the lid, and closed the trunk. There -remained the empty pay bag. He frowned at it for an instant; then, -picking it up, he tucked it under the mattress of his bed. - -"I'll get rid of that in the morning"--he nodded his head, as he turned -down the bed covers. - -The Hawk began to undress, and at intervals voiced snatches of his -thoughts aloud. - -"Pretty close shave," said the Hawk, "pretty close.... Ten thousand -dollars is some haul.... All right as long as they don't find out I've -got the key to their cipher.... And so Butcher Rose is one of the gang, -eh?... Number One--Butcher Rose.... Guess he got away all right--from -MacVightie.... He nearly did me.... Pretty close shave...." - -The Hawk turned out the light, and got into bed. - -"I guess I played in luck to-night," said the Hawk softly, and for the -second time that night. "Yes, I guess I did." - - - - -IV--AT BALD CREEK STATION - -IT was twenty-four hours later. A half mile away, along a road that -showed like a grey thread in the night, twinkled a few lights from the -little cluster of houses that made the town of Bald Creek. At the rear -of the station itself, in the shadow of the walls, it was inky black. - -There was stillness! Then the chattering of a telegraph instrument--and, -coincident with this, low, scarcely audible, a sound like the gnawing of -a rat. - -The chattering of the instrument ceased; and, coincident again, the -low, gnawing sound ceased--and, crouched against a rear window, the Hawk -chuckled a little grimly to himself. Within, and diagonally across from -the window, an otherwise dark interior was traversed by a dull ray -of light that filtered in through the open connecting door of the -operator's room beyond. Inside there were Lan-son, the division -superintendent, and Martin, the trusted Bald Creek operator; while at -any minute now, MacVightie would be up on No. 12. They were preparing -to spring their trap for the Wire Devils to-night! The Hawk was quite -well-informed on this point, for the very simple reason that the Hawk -himself had not been entirely idle during those twenty-four hours that -were just past! - -Again the sounder broke into a splutter; but this time the gnawing sound -was not resumed--the window fastenings were loosened now. - -Came then the distant rumble of an approaching train; the rumble -deepening into a roar; the roar disintegrating itself into its component -sounds, the wheel trucks beating at the rail joints, the bark of the -exhaust; then the scream of the brakeshoes biting at the wheel tires; -the hiss of steam--and in the mimic pandemonium, the Hawk raised the -window, and crawled in over the sill. - -And again the Hawk chuckled to himself. Up and down the line to-night, -at all stations where there were no night operators, the road's -detectives, stood guard over the telegraph instruments. It had been -MacVightie's plan, originated the night before. It was very clever of -MacVightie--if somewhat abortive! Also, quite irrelevant of course, and -quite apart from that little matter of ten thousand dollars which he, -the Hawk, had taken from the paymaster's safe last night, MacVightie -to-night was likely to be in no very pleasant mood! - -The engine without, blowing from a full head of steam, drowned out all -other sounds. The Hawk picked his way across the room to a position near -the connecting door, and composedly seated himself upon the floor behind -a number of piled-up boxes and parcels. With a grin of acknowledgment to -the escaping steam, he coolly moved two of the parcels a few inches to -right and left, thus providing himself with an excellent view into -the operator's room. From one pocket he took an exceedingly small -flashlight, and from another a notebook, and from his hip pocket his -automatic pistol. This latter he transferred to his right-hand coat -pocket. Bunching the bottom of his coat over his hand, he flashed on the -tiny ray, found a convenient ledge formed by one of the boxes, and upon -this laid down his notebook. The first page, as he opened the book, -contained a neatly drawn sketch of the interior of Bald Creek station. -He turned this over, leaving the book open at a blank page, and switched -off his light. - -The door from the platform opened and closed, as the train pulled out -again, a man stepped into the operator's room--and in the darkness the -Hawk smiled appreciatively. It was MacVightie, and Mac-Vightie's thin -lips were drawn tighter than usual, and the brim of the slouch hat, -though pulled far forward, did not hide the scowl upon MacVightie's -countenance. - -"Well, you're here all right, Lanson, eh?" he flung out brusquely. -"Nothing yet, by any chance, of course?" - -Lanson, from a chair at the operator's elbow, nodded a greeting. - -"Not yet," he said. - -MacVightie was glancing sharply around him. - -"Martin," he ordered abruptly, "close those two ticket wickets!" - -The operator rose obediently, and pulled down the little windows that -opened, one on each side of the office, on the men's and women's waiting -rooms. - -"What's that door there?" demanded MacVightie, pointing toward the rear -room. - -"Just a place I had partitioned off for stores and small express stuff," -Martin answered. "There's no back entrance." - -"All right, then," said MacVightie. He pulled up a chair for himself -on the other side of the operator, as Martin returned to his seat. "You -know what you're here for, Martin--what you've to do? Mr. Lanson has -told you?" - -"Yes," Martin replied. "I'm to test out for east or west, if there's any -of that monkeying on the wire to-night." - -"Show me how it's done," directed MacVightie tersely. . - -The operator reached over to the switchboard and picked up a key-plug. - -"I've only got to plug this in--here--or here. Those are my ground wires -east and west. The main batteries are west of us at Selkirk, you know. -If I ground out everything east, for instance, and he's working to the -east of us the sounder'll stop because I've cut him off from the main -batteries, and we'll hear nothing unless I adjust the relay down to get -the weak circuit from the local batteries. If he's working west of us -the sounder will be much stronger because the main batteries at Selkirk, -with the eastern half of the division cut out, will be working on a -shorter circuit." - -"'T see." MacVightie frowned. "And he'd know it--so Mr. Lanson told me -last night." - -"Yes; he'd know it," said Martin. "The same as we would." - -"Well, you can do it pretty quick, can't you?" suggested MacVightie. -"Sort of accidentally like! We don't want to throw a scare into him. -You'd know almost instantly whether he was east or west, wouldn't you? -That's all that's necessary--_to-night!_ Then let him go ahead again. -We'll have found out what we want to know." He turned to Lanson, his -voice rasping suddenly. "Did you see the _Journal_ on the 'Crime Wave' -this afternoon?" - -Lanson's alert, grey eyes took on an angry glint. "No; I didn't see it, -but I suppose it's the old story. I wish they'd cut it out! It hurts the -road, and it doesn't get them anywhere." - -"Perhaps not," said MacVightie, with a thin smile; "but it gets _me!_ -Yes, it's about the same--all except the last of it. Big headlines: 'Ten -thousand dollars stolen from paymaster's safe last night--What is being -done to stop this reign of assassination, theft, outrage, crime?--Has -the clue afforded by the Hawk's release from Sing Sing been thoroughly -investigated?' And then a list of the crimes committed in the last ten -days--two murders, one in the compartment of that sleeping car; the -theft of the diamond necklace; the express robbery; and so on through -the list, ending up with last night. Then a nasty shot at the local -police; and, finally, prefacing the remark with the statement that the -crimes were all connected with the railroad, a thinly veiled hint that I -am either a boy on a man's job, or else asleep, in either of which cases -I ought to be--well, you understand?" MacVightie's fist came down with a -crash on the operator's table. - -Lanson, with a worried look, nodded his head. - -"Damn it!" said MacVightie. "I----" He stopped abruptly, and laid his -hand on the operator's sleeve. "Look here, Martin," he said evenly, -"you're the one man that Mr. Lanson has picked out of the division, -you're the one man outside of Mr. Lanson and myself who has any inkling -that these secret messages coming over our wires have anything to -do with these crimes--you understand that, don't you? This is pretty -serious business. The newspaper didn't exaggerate any. We're up against -a gang of crooks, cleverly organised, who will stop at nothing. Murder -appears to be a pastime with them! Do you get me--Martin?" - -For a long second the two men looked each other steadily in the eyes. - -"Yes," said Martin simply. - -"All right!" said MacVightie. "I just want you to realise the necessity -of keeping anything you may hear, or anything that may happen here -to-night, under your hat." He turned to Lanson again, the scowl heavy -upon his face once more. "I was going to say that I know who the man is -that slipped through my fingers last night." - -"You--_what!_" Lanson leaned sharply forward in his chair. "But he got -away! You said he----" - -"It was the Hawk"--MacVightie bit off the words. - -"The Hawk?" - -"The Hawk!" - -"But how do you know?" demanded Lanson incredulously. "You said yourself -that he had left no clue to his identity. How do you know?" MacVightie -reached into his pocket, took out his pocketbook, and from the -pocketbook passed a new, crisp ten-dollar banknote to Lanson. - -"What's this?" inquired Lanson. "The counterfeit ten-dollar bill you -showed me last night?" - -"No--another one," MacVightie answered curtly. "Look on the other side." - -Lanson turned the banknote over, stared at it, and whistled suddenly -under his breath. - -"'With the compliments of the Hawk!'" he read aloud. He stared now at -MacVightie. "Perhaps it's a fake, inspired by that newspaper article -yesterday evening," he suggested. - -"It's no fake," declared MacVightie grimly. "The Hawk wrote that there -all right--it was inside the _pay bag_ in which the ten thousand was -carried away from the paymaster's office last night." - -"You mean--you recovered the bag?" cried Lanson eagerly. "Where? When?" - -The Hawk, watching MacVightie's face, grinned wickedly. MacVightie's -jaws were clamped belligerently, and upon MacVightie's cheeks was an -angry flush. - -"Oh, yes, I 'recovered' it!" MacVightie snapped. "He's got his nerve -with him! The bag was found reposing in full view on the baggage counter -at Selkirk this afternoon--addressed to me. Nobody knows how it got -there. But"--MacVightie's fist came down again upon the operator's -table--"this time he's overplayed his hand. We knew he had been released -from Sing Sing, and that he had come West, but it was only surmise that -he was actually around here--now we _know_. In the second place, it's -pretty good evidence that he's in with the gang that's flooded the -country with those counterfeit tens, and you'll remember I told you -last night I had a hunch it was the same gang that was operating out -here--well, two and two make four!" - -"You think he's----?" Lanson swept his hand suggestively toward the -telegraph instruments. - -"Yes--and the leader of 'em, now he's out here on the ground!" returned -MacVightie gruffly. - -The Hawk had taken a pencil from his pocket, and was scribbling -aimlessly at the top of the page in his notebook. - -"Sure!" confided the Hawk to himself. "I thought maybe you'd dope it out -like that." - -There was silence for a moment in the office, save for the intermittent -clicking of the sounder, to which the Hawk now gave his attention. His -pencil still made aimless markings on the top of the page--it was only -routine business going over the wire. Then Lanson moved uncomfortably in -his chair, and the chair legs squeaked on the bare floor. - -MacVightie spoke again: - -"Well," he said bluntly, "you've got all of my end of it, except that -I've placed men in hiding at every station on the line where there -are no night operators. What about you? Started your outside line -inspection?" - -"Yes," Lanson answered. "I've had three men out with section crews -working from different points. But it's slow business making an -inspection that's careful enough to be of any use, and even then it's a -pretty tall order to call the turn on anything when there's already so -many legitimate splices and repairs on the wires." - -"Well--any results?" asked MacVightie. - -Lanson shook his head. - -"We found what we thought was a new splice in one place, but it turned -out to have been made by one of our own men two weeks ago, only he had -forgotten to report it." - -MacVightie's eyes narrowed. - -"One of our _own_ men--eh?" he repeated curtly. "Who was it?" - -"Nothing doing there!" Lanson shook his head again, emphatically this -time. "It was Calhoun." - -"Calhoun--eh?" observed MacVightie softly. - -Lanson bridled slightly. - -"What's the matter with Calhoun?" he inquired testily. "Got anything -against him?" - -"Never heard of him before," said MacVightie, with a short laugh. "But -I'll take pains to make his acquaintance." - -"Then you might as well spare yourself the trouble," advised Lanson. "I -can tell you before-hand that he carries a good record on this division, -and that he's one of the best linemen we've got." - -"I daresay," admitted MacVightie coolly. "But amongst other things we're -looking for _good_ linemen to-night--who forget to make reports. You -needn't get touchy, Lanson, because one of your men's names comes up. -You can make up your mind to it there's an inside end to this, and----" - -The tiny ray of the Hawk's flashlight shot suddenly upon the notebook's -open page, as the sounder broke into a sharp tattoo. - -";wtaz'--stroke at four," he muttered, as he began to write. -"Three--one--two. They've changed the code to-night--'qxpetlk----'" - -There was a sharp exclamation from the other room. - -"Listen! There he is now!" Martin cried. Chairs were pushed back--the -three men were on their feet. - -"What's he sending?" questioned MacVightie instantly. - -The Hawk scowled at the disturbance, as, over their voices, he -concentrated his attention upon the sounder. He wrote steadily on: - -"... huwkmuh hdtlqgvh... - -"Same as usual," Martin replied. "Just a jumble of letters." - -"Well then, get ready to throw that ground, or whatever you call it, -into him!" ordered MacVightie tensely. - -"I'm ready," said Martin. - -"All right then--_now!_" - -The Hawk nodded to himself, as his pencil unflaggingly noted down letter -after letter. The sounder was very perceptibly stronger. - -"West!" Martin cried out. "You noticed the difference in strength, -didn't you? He's somewhere between here and Selkirk. That's----" - -The sounder had suddenly ceased. - -"But he's stopped," said MacVightie; "and you said if he stopped----" - -"That's nothing to do with it!" Martin interposed hurriedly. "The wire -isn't grounded now." - -"He's taken to cover, I guess," said Lanson. "I was afraid he would -scare, no matter how----" He broke off abruptly. "Wait! What's that!" - -The sounder was clicking again; but the sharp, quick tattoo was gone, -and in its place, as though indeed it drawled, the sending came in -leisurely, deliberate fashion. - -The Hawk's pencil resumed its labours--and then, with a queer smile, the -Hawk scratched out what he had just written. It was no longer code--it -was in exceedingly plain English. - -Martin was reading directly from the sounder: - - -"'Try--that--game--just--once--more--and--the--division--goes--up-- -in--the--air--and--a--train--or--two--maybe--to--a-- -place--that--Mister--MacVightie--will--some--day--honour--with-- -his--presence. That's--quite--plain--isn't--it? -If--you--think--this--is--a--bluff--call--it. -Now--keep--off--the--wire--or--have--it--cut. Suit--yourselves.'" - -"Well, of all the infernal nerve!" exploded MacVightie furiously. - -"And the worst of it," said Lanson shortly, "is that he's got us where -he wants us!" - -Once more the sounder broke into the old quick tattoo. The Hawk was -writing steadily again. There was silence now between the three in the -office. - -A minute, two, three went by--the sounder ceased--the Hawk closed his -notebook. Then in its leisurely drawl the sounder broke again; and again -Martin read aloud: - -"'Pleasant--evening--isn't--it? -Ask--MacVightie--if--he--has--seen--anything--of--the--Hawk. -Good-night.'" - -But this time there was only a menacing smile on MacVightie's lips. - -"He's west of here, you say?" he shot at Martin. "Yes," said Martin -briefly. - -"And that splice of Calhoun's, Lanson? Where was that?" - -Lanson, drumming with his fingers on the edge of the operator's table, -looked up with a frown. - -"Nothing but coincidence," he said tersely. "Yes, it was west of -here--pretty near Selkirk." He moved toward the door. "There's nothing -more we can do here to-night. I'm going back on No. 17. Let's get out on -the platform until she shows up." - -The Hawk very carefully replaced his notebook, his flashlight and his -pencil in his pockets, and, as MacVightie and the superintendent went -out of the door, he retreated softly back to the rear window. The window -being up, he quite as noiselessly slipped out over the sill. He debated -a moment about the window, and decided that if any significance were -attached to the fact that it was found open, MacVightie, for instance, -was fully entitled to make the most of the significance! Then, the -rattle of a wagon sounding from the direction of the road, the Hawk -moved along to the end of the station, and waited. - -The wagon, in the light of its own smoky oil lamps, proved to be the -town hotel bus. There were evidently other passengers for Selkirk -besides himself and the two officials, as several people alighted from -the bus. In view of this fact the Hawk calmly lighted a cigarette, -though the glow of the match exposed his face only to the blank wall of -the station, and walked around to the front platform. - -He located MacVightie and Lanson; and, thereafter, at a safe distance, -did not lose sight of them. MacVightie's memory for faces would hardly -be over-rated if credited with being able to bridge a matter of some -twenty-four hours, particularly as MacVightie had evidenced unusual -interest in the occupant of the room on the first landing over a -certain ill-favoured saloon the night before! The Hawk, therefore, was -unostentatiously attentive to MacVightie's movements; so much so that, -when No. 17 pulled in and MacVightie and Lanson boarded the chair car at -the rear of the train, the Hawk, when No. 17 pulled out, quite logically -boarded the smoking car at the forward end. - -The Hawk chose the most uncomfortable seat in the car--the rear seat -with stiff, upright, unyielding back, that was built against the -wash-room--and, settling himself down, produced his notebook and pencil. -The water-cooler could be quite confidentially trusted not to peer over -his shoulder! - -On the second page of the notebook--the first having been devoted to -the sketch of Bald Creek Station---the Hawk, as he had taken it from the -sounder, had written this: - -"_wtaz qxpetlkhu wkmuh hdtlq gvhmmpy hqltvd df rmnluvpo nfkhomovfdh -gvkerkmmawrq fljkwte dvsoedtdqqh mgfdoifk rxqkuvwruh gsruwmtdoo -ommtlqhvksol foghvklst rvrzqmqxpe mkhurqjkh hvdbfvkdzc mnvohrtpqg -hutzklwkj hkdqm mo g v pdlqlfxoq uhgpifthglxg pkhlmfj kwhttwb hv d p q -g kdrllu eomosdfnhta shqkjvlyhtg mwdlomruhgegf orwmpqk hvwtzrwk -mmrxvddg iqggrqo odusnvrx wmfkriu hkvhuymt hixqljtg wrqpxpeh houwkdmd -gwsxws vdexmuooh wtjqlqklmp_" - -The Hawk tore out a page from the back of the notebook, and set down the -letters of the alphabet in a column. Opposite these he painstakingly set -down another column of letters. After that the Hawk worked slowly. It -was not quite so simple as it looked--not merely the substitution of -letters in a different order of rotation. Nor, apparently, from the -Hawk's observations as he muttered to himself, were all messages to -be deciphered alike--the code appeared to possess within itself an -elasticity for variation. - -"At four... key letter changed... stroke!" muttered the Hawk. -"N-u-m-b... pass three... e-r-t-h... stroke one...." - -The Hawk's notebook, closed, was reposing idly on the window ledge and -the Hawk was lighting another cigarette, as the conductor came down the -aisle. The Hawk presented the return stub of a ticket to Selkirk. The -conductor punched it, and passed on--and the Hawk picked up his notebook -again. - -Again he was interrupted--and again. The water-cooler, after all, was -not proving an unmixed blessing. It seemed as though every man in the -car were possessed of an inordinate thirst. They were well on toward -Selkirk when the Hawk finally completed the deciphering of the message. - -It now ran: - -[Illustration: 0074] - -He arranged the scattered letters into words, and the words into -sentences: - -_"Number Three and Seven Isaac Kir-schell(')s cash box to-night as -planned. Calhoun to report all line splices his own. Number One says -Hawk slender white hands, manicured, medium height, eyes and hair black, -expensive tailored clothes. Two thousand dollars out of reserve fund to -Number that puts a bullet in him._" - -The Hawk inspected his hands, and smiled whimsically. Number One was -the Butcher. He had not given the Butcher credit for being so observant! -Presently he stared out of the window. - -"Wonder how much of a haul I can make tonight?" he murmured. "Regular -El Dorado--having 'em work it all up and handing it to you on a gold -platter. Pretty soft! Hope they won't get discouraged and quit picking -the chestnuts out of the fire for me--while there's any chestnuts left!" - -And then the Hawk frowned suddenly. The chestnuts appeared to be only -partially picked for him to-night. What was the game--as planned? -There must have been a previous message that had got by him. His frown -deepened. There was no way of remedying that. To hope to intercept them -all was to expect too much. There was no way whereby he could spend -twenty-four hours out of twenty-four in touch with a sounder. He -shrugged his shoulders philosophically after a moment. Perhaps it was -just as well. They credited him with playing a lone hand, believing -that his and their depredations were clashing with one another simply -by virtue of the fact that their mutual pursuits were of a competitive -criminal nature, that was all. If it happened with _too_ much -regularity, they might begin to suspect that he had the key to their -cipher, and then--the Hawk did not care to contemplate that eventuality. -There would be no more chestnuts! - -The Hawk read the first part of the message over again. Who was Isaac -Kirschell? The name seemed to be familiar. The Hawk studied the toe of a -neatly-fitting and carefully polished shoe thoughtfully. When he looked -up again, he nodded. He remembered now. He had lunched the day before -in a restaurant that occupied a portion of the ground floor of an office -building, the corridor of which ran through from street to street. In -going out, he had passed along the corridor and had seen the name on the -door panels of two of the offices. - -He resumed the study of his boot toe. It was not a very vital matter. -A moment spent in consulting the city directory would have supplied the -information in any case. He nodded again. MacVightie was unquestionably -right. Some one on the inside, some railroader, and probably more than -one, was in on the game with the Wire Devils--and it was perhaps as well -for this Calhoun that MacVightie, already suspicious, was not likewise -possessed of the key to the cipher! Also, Lanson had been right. It was -no easy task to locate a new splice on a wire that was already scarred -with countless repairs. Still, if Lanson's men went at it systematically -and narrowed down the radius of operations, it was not impossible that -they might stumble upon a clue--if Calhoun did not placidly inform them -that it was but another of his own making! But even then, granted that -the wire was found to have been tapped in a certain place one night, -that was no reason why it should not, as Mr. MacVightie had already -suggested, be tapped fifty miles away the next! The Hawk grinned. -Mr. Lanson and his associates, backed even by Mr. MacVightie, were -confronted with a problem of considerable difficulty! - -"I wonder," communed the Hawk with himself, "who's the spider that spun -the web; and I wonder how many little spiders he's got running around on -it?" - -He perused the message once more; but this time he appeared to be -concerned mainly with the latter portion. He read it over several times: -"Two thousand dollars to the Number that puts a bullet in him." - -"Nobody seems to like me," complained the Hawk softly. "MacVightie. -doesn't; and the Butcher's crowd seem peeved. Two thousand dollars for -my hide! I guess if I stick around here long enough maybe it'll get -exciting--for somebody!" - -The Hawk tore up the message, the sheet on which he had deciphered it, -the sketch of Bald Creek station, tore all three into small fragments, -opened the window a little, and let the pieces flutter out into -the night. He closed the window, returned the notebook, innocent of -everything now but its blank pages, to his pocket--and, pulling his -slouch hat down over his eyes, appeared to doze. - - - - -V--IN WHICH A CASH BOX DISAPPEARS - -TWENTY minutes later, as No. 17 pulled into Selkirk, the Hawk, his -erstwhile drowsiness little in evidence, dropped to the platform while -the train was still in motion, and before MacVightie and Lanson in -the rear car, it might be fairly assumed, had thought of leaving their -seats. The Hawk was interested in MacVightie for the balance of the -night only to the extent of keeping out of MacVightie's sight--his -attention was centered now on the office of one Isaac Kirschell, and the -possibilities that lay in the said Isaac Kirschell's cash box. - -He glanced at the illuminated dial of the tower clock. It was eighteen -minutes after ten. - -"That's the worst of getting the dope a long way down the line," he -muttered, as he hurried through the station and out to the street. -"But I had to get a look at MacVightie's cards to-night." He struck off -toward the downtown business section of the city at a brisk pace. "It -ought to be all right though tonight--more than enough time to get in -ahead of them--they're not likely to pull any break in that locality -until well after midnight. Wonder what Kirschell's got in his cash box -that's so valuable? I suppose they _know_, or they wouldn't be after it! -They don't hunt small game, but"--the Hawk sighed lugubriously--"there's -no chance of any such luck as last night again. Ten thousand dollars in -cash! _Some_ haul! Yes, I guess maybe they're peeved!" - -The Hawk, arrived at his destination, surveyed the office building from -the opposite side of the street. The restaurant on the ground floor was -dark, but a lighted window here and there on the floors above indicated -that some of the tenants were working late. It was therefore fairly safe -to presume that the entrance door, though closed, was unlocked. The Hawk -crossed the street unconcernedly, and tried the door. It opened under -his hand--' but noiselessly, and to the extent only of a bare inch, in -view of the possibility of a janitor being somewhere about. Detecting -no sound from within, however, the Hawk pushed the door a little further -open, and was confronted with a dimly lighted vestibule, and a long, -still more dimly lighted corridor beyond. There was no one in sight. -He slipped inside--and, quick and silent now in his movements, darted -across the vestibule and into the corridor. - -Halfway along the corridor, he halted before a door, on whose glass -panel he could just make out the words "Isaac Kirschell," and, beneath -the name, in smaller letters, the intimation that the entrance was next -door. The Hawk's decision was taken in the time it required to produce -from his pocket a key-ring equipped with an extensive assortment of -skeleton keys. If by any chance he should be disturbed and had entered -by the designated office door, his escape would be cut off; if, on the -other hand, he entered by this unused door, and left it unlocked behind -him, he would still be quite comfortably the master of the situation in -almost any emergency. - -The door seemed to offer unusual difficulties. Even when unlocked, it -stuck. The Hawk worked at it by the sense of touch alone, his eyes busy -with sharp glances up and down the corridor. Finally, succeeding -in opening it a little way, it was only to find it blocked by some -obstruction within. He scowled. A desk, probably, close against it! The -door was certainly never used. He would have to enter by the other -one, after all, and--no! He had reached his arm inside. It was only a -coat-stand, or something of the sort He lifted it aside, stepped in, and -closed the door behind him. - -The Hawk's flashlight--not the diminutive little affair that had served -him for his notebook--began to circle his surroundings inquisitively. He -was in a small, plainly furnished private office. There was a desk, two -chairs, and a filing cabinet. Also there were two doors. The Hawk opened -the one at his left, and peered out. It gave on what was presumably the -general office; and at the upper end was a partition with the name, "Mr. -Kirschell," upon the door. He looked at the panel of the door he had -just opened. It bore no name. - -"This belongs to Kirschell's secretary probably," he decided. "The other -door from here opens, of course, into Kirschell's private office. Wonder -what Mr. Isaac Kirschell's business is?" - -He closed the door leading into the outer office, and moved across -the room to the second door that already stood wide open, and almost -directly faced what he had taken for granted was the secretary's desk. -He stepped over the threshold. Mr. Kirschell's sanctum was somewhat more -elaborately furnished. Apart from a rather expensive flat-topped desk -in the centre of the room, there was a massive safe, new and of modern -design, a heavy rug upon the floor, and several very comfortable -leather-up holstered chairs. A washstand, the metal taps highly -polished, and a mahogany towel rack occupied the far corner. The Hawk -inspected the safe with the eye of a connoisseur, scowled unhappily by -way of expressing his opinion of it, and turned to the desk. He opened -a drawer, and picked up a sheet of business stationery. The letterhead -read: - -ISAAC KIRSCHELL - -LOANS, MORTGAGES & GENERAL EXCHANGE - -"Ho, ho!" observed the Hawk. "Sort of a glorified pawnbroker, eh? I----" - -The sheet of paper was shot back into the drawer, the flashlight was -out--and on the instant the Hawk was back in the other office, and -crouched on the floor behind the desk. Some one had halted outside in -the corridor before the main office door, and now a key was turned in -the lock. The door was opened and closed, footsteps crossed the general -office, paused for a moment outside Mr. Kirschell's door, then the -lights in Mr. Kirschell's room went on, a man entered, tossed his hat -on a chair, and sat down at the desk. It was obviously Mr. Kirschell -himself. - -Through the wide opening between the ends of the desk that sheltered -him, the Hawk, flat on the floor, took stock of the other. The man was -rather small in stature, with a thin, palish face, sharp, restless, very -small black eyes, and he was extremely well dressed--the Hawk noted the -dainty little boutonnire in the lapel of the man's coat, and smiled -queerly. From Mr. Kirschell's face he glanced at the face of Mr. -Kirschell's safe, then back at Mr. Kirschell again--and fingered his -automatic in the pocket of his coat. - -The Hawk, however, made no further movement--Mr. Kirschell's actions -suggested that it would be unwise. The man, though apparently occupied -with some mail which he had taken from his pocket, kept glancing -impatiently at his watch. It was quite evident that he was expecting -some one every moment. The Hawk frowned perplexedly. The message that -night, even when deciphered, left much, too much, to the imagination! It -was quite possible that Mr. Kirschell was to be relieved of his cash box -with more address and finesse than by the bald expedient of ruining Mr. -Kirschell's safe! This appointment, for instance, might--and then the -Hawk smiled queerly again. - -The corridor door had opened and closed for the second time. A heavy -step traversed the outer office, and a man, hat in hand, in cheap store -clothes, stood before Mr. Krischell's desk. - -"Mentioned in dispatches!" said the Hawk very softly to himself. "I -guess that's Calhoun. So that's the game--eh?" - -"You're late, Mr. Calhoun!" Kirschell greeted the other sharply. "Five -minutes late! I have put myself to considerable inconvenience to give -you this appointment." - -Calhoun's hair was tossed, there was a smudge across his cheek, and his -hands were grimy, as though he had just come from work. He was a big -man, powerfully shouldered. His grey eyes were not friendly as they met -Kirschell's. - -"I couldn't help it," he said shortly. "I've been up the line all day. I -told you I couldn't get here until about this time." - -"Well, all right, all right!" said Kirschell impatiently. "But, now that -you are here, are you prepared to settle?" - -"I can give you a small payment on account, that's the best I can do," -Calhoun answered. - -Kirschell tilted back in his swivel chair, and frowned as he tapped the -edge of his desk with a paper cutter. - -"How much?" he demanded coldly. - -"Forty dollars"--Calhoun's hand went tentatively toward his pocket. - -"Forty dollars!" There was derision in Kirschell's voice, an uninviting -smile on Kirschell's lips. "That's hardly more than the interest!" - -"Yes," said Calhoun, snarling suddenly, "at the thieving rates you, and -the bloodsuckers like you, charge." - -Kirschell's uninviting smile deepened. - -"Considering the security, the rate is very moderate," he said evenly. -"Now, see here, Calhoun, I told you plainly enough this thing had to be -settled to-day. You don't want to run away with the impression that I'm -a second Marakof, to be staved off all the time. I bought your note from -the pawnbroker's estate because the executors didn't like the look of -it, and weren't any too sure they could collect it. Well, I can! I'm new -out here, but I'm not new at my business. Excuses with me don't take the -place of cash. I hold your note for five hundred dollars, which is past -due, to say nothing of six months' interest besides--and you come here -to-night and offer me forty dollars!" - -"I would have paid Marakof," said Calhoun, in a low voice; "and I'll pay -you as fast as I can. You know what I'm up against--I told you when you -first got after me, as soon as you got that note. My brother got into -trouble back East. What would you have done? That five hundred kept -him out of the 'pen.' He's only a kid. Damn it, don't play the shark! -Marakof renewed the note--why can't you?" - -"Because I don't do business that way," said Kir-schell curtly. - -Calhoun's voice grew hard. - -"How much did you pay for that note, anyway?" - -Kirschell shrugged his shoulders. - -"I didn't say I wasn't taking _any_ risk with you," he replied tersely. -"That's the profit on my risk. And as far as you are concerned--it's -none of your business!" - -Calhoun shrugged his shoulders in turn, and, taking a small roll of -bills from his pocket, smoothed them out between his fingers. - -"I got a wife, and I got kids," said Calhoun slowly. "And I'm doing the -best I can. Do you want this forty, or not?" - -"It depends," said Kirschell, tapping again with his paper cutter. "How -about the rest?" - -"I'll pay you what I can every month," Calhoun answered. - -"How much?"--bluntly. - -"What I can!" returned Calhoun defiantly. - -The two men eyed each other for a moment--and then Kirschell tossed the -paper cutter down on the desk. - -"Well, all right!" he decided ungraciously. "I'll take a chance for a -month--and see how you live up to it. Hand it over, and I'll give you a -receipt." - -Calhoun shook his head. - -"I don't trust the man who don't trust me," he said gruffly. "I don't -want that kind of a receipt. You'll indorse the payment on the back of -the note, Mr. Kirschell, if you want this forty." - -"What?" inquired Kirschell, staring. - -"You heard what I said," said Calhoun coolly. "I'm in the hands of a -shark, and I know it. That's plain talk, isn't it?" - -"But," Kirschell flared up angrily, "I----" - -Calhoun calmly returned the money to his pocket. - -"Suit yourself!" he suggested indifferently. "I ain't asking for -anything more than I have a right to." - -"Very well, my man!" said Kirschell icily. "If our dealings are to be -on this basis, I hope you will remember that the basis is of your own -choosing." He swung around in his chair, and, rising, walked over to the -safe. - -And then, for the first time, the Hawk moved. He edged silently back -along the floor until far enough away from the doorway to be fully -protected by the darkness of the room, and stood up. Kirschell was -swinging the heavy door of the safe open. The cash box was to be -produced! Lying down, the Hawk could not hope to see its contents if it -were opened on the desk; standing up, he might be able to form a very -good idea of how tempting its contents would prove to be. - -Kirschell took a black-enamelled steel box from the safe, and returned -to the desk. He opened this with a key, threw back the cover--and -the Hawk stuck his tongue in his cheek. A few papers lay on the -top--otherwise it was crammed to overflowing with banknotes. Kirschell -selected one of the papers, and picked up a pen in frigid silence. - -But the Hawk was no longer watching the scene. His head was cocked to -one side, in a curious, bird-like, listening attitude. He could have -sworn he had heard the outer office door being stealthily opened. And -now Calhoun was speaking--rapidly, his voice raised noticeably in a -louder tone than any he had previously employed. - -"I ain't looking for trouble, Mr. Kirschell," he stated Hurriedly, as -though relenting, "and I don't want you to think I am, but----" - -There was a sharp cry from Kirschell. The room was in darkness. Came a -quick step running in from the outer office, no longer stealthy now--the -crash of a toppling chair--a gasping moan in Kirschell's voice--the thud -of a falling body--a tense whisper: "All right, I've got it!"--then the -steps running back across the outer office--the closing of the corridor -door--and silence. - -The Hawk, grim-lipped, had backed up against the wall of the room. - -Calhoun's voice rose hoarsely: - -"Good God, what's happened! Where's the electric-light switch?" - -Kirschell answered him faintly: - -"At--at the side of the door--just--outside the partition." - -The lights went on again, and the Hawk leaned intently forward. Calhoun -was standing now in the doorway between the outer and the private -office, his eyes fixed on Kirschell. The swivel chair had been -overturned; and Kirschell, a great crimson stream running down his cheek -from above his temple, was struggling to his knees, clutching at the -edge of the desk for support. The cash box was gone. - -Kirschell's eyes swept the top of the desk haggardly, as though hoping -against hope. He gained his feet, lurching unsteadily. A crimson drop -splashed to the desk. - -"My chair!" he cried out weakly. "Help me!" - -Calhoun stepped forward mechanically, and picked up the chair. Kirschell -dropped into it. - -"You're hurt!" Calhoun said huskily. "You're badly hurt!" - -"Yes," Kirschell answered; "but it--can wait. The police first--there -was--three thousand dollars--in my cash box." With an effort he reached -out across the desk for the telephone, pulled it toward him--and, on the -point of lifting the receiver from the hook, slowly drew back his hand. -A strange look settled on his face, a sort of dawning, though puzzled -comprehension; and then, swaying in his chair, his lips thinned. He -drew his hand still further back until it hovered over the handle of the -desk's middle drawer. His eyes, on Calhoun, were narrowing. - -"You devil!" he rasped out suddenly. "This is your work! I was a fool -that I did not see it at first!" - -Calhoun's face went white. - -"What do you mean?" he said thickly. - -"What I say!" Kirschell's voice was ominously clear now, though he sat -none too steadily in his chair. - -"Then you lie!" said Calhoun fiercely. "You lie--and if you weren't -hurt, I'd----" - -"No, you wouldn't!"--Kirschell had whipped the drawer open, and, -snatching out a revolver, was covering Calhoun. He laughed a -little--bitterly. "I'm not so bad that I can't take care of myself. It -was pretty clever, I'll give you credit for that. You almost fooled me." - -"Damn you!" snarled Calhoun. "Do you mean to say I've got your cash -box?" - -"Oh, no," said Kirschell. "I can _see_ you haven't. I don't even know -which of you two struck me. But I do know that you and the man who _has_ -my cash box worked up this plant together." - -Calhoun stepped forward threateningly--only to retreat again before the -lifted muzzle of the revolver. - -"You're a fool!" he snarled. "You've nothing on me!" - -"That's for the police to decide," returned Kirschell evenly. "It would -have been a pleasant way of disposing of that note, wouldn't it--if you -hadn't under-rated me! And your pal for his share, I daresay, was to -take his chance on whatever there might be in the cash box! Why did you -say you couldn't come until _night_, when I gave you until to-day as -the last day in which to settle? Why did you insist on my indorsing the -payment on the note, which necessitated my opening the safe and taking -out the cash box in which you knew the note was kept, for you saw me -put it there a week ago, when you first came here? And just after I -was knocked down I heard your accomplice whisper: '_All right, I've got -it._" - -"It's possible the police might form the same opinion I have as to _whom_ -those words were addressed!" Calhoun's face had grown whiter. - -"It's a lie!" he said scarcely above a whisper. "It's a lie! I had -nothing to do with it!" - -"I want my three thousand dollars!" Kirschell's lips were set. He held a -red-stained handkerchief to his cheek. "If I call the police now they'll -get _you_--but it's your accomplice that's got my money. And it's my -money that I want! I'll give you half an hour to go to him, and bring -the money back here--and leave the police out of it. If you're not here -in that time, I put it up to the police. Half an hour is time enough -for you to find your pal; and it's not time enough for you to attempt to -leave the city--and get very far!" Kirschell laid his watch on the desk. -"You'd better go--I mean half an hour from _now_." - -Calhoun hung hesitant for a moment, staring at the muzzle of Kirschell's -revolver. He made as though to say something--and instead, abruptly, -with a short, jarring laugh, turned on his heel, and passed out of the -room. - -The Hawk was already edging his way along the wall toward the corridor -door. - -"Three thousand dollars!"--the Hawk rolled the words like so many dainty -morsels on his tongue, as he communed with himself. "I guess it's my -play to stick to Mr. Calhoun!" - - - - -VI--SOME OF THE LITTLE SPIDERS - -THE Hawk reached the door, as Calhoun stepped into the corridor from -the general office and passed by outside, evidently making for the main -entrance of the building. He opened the door cautiously the width of a -crack--and held it in that position. A man's voice, low, guarded, from -the corridor, but from the opposite direction to that taken by Calhoun, -reached him. - -"Here! Calhoun! Here!" - -Calhoun halted. There was silence for an instant, then Calhoun retraced -his steps and passed by the door again. There were a few hurried words -in a whisper, which the Hawk could not catch; and then the footsteps of -both men retreated along the corridor. - -The Hawk opened the door wider, and peered out. The two men were well -down the corridor now; and now, as they passed the single incandescent -that lighted that end of the hall, Calhoun's companion reached up and -turned it out. - -"Why, say---thanks!" murmured the Hawk, and stepped out into the -corridor himself. - -It was now quite dark at that end, and the men had disappeared. The Hawk -moved silently and swiftly along, keeping close to the wall. Presently -he caught the sound of their voices again, and nodded to himself. He -remembered that in going out this way yesterday he had noticed that the -corridor, for some architectural reason, made a sharp, right-angled jut -just before it gave on the side-street entrance. He stepped now across -to the other side of the corridor, and stole forward to a position where -he could look diagonally past the projecting angle of the jut. The two -men, standing there, showed plainly in the light from a street arc that -shone into the entranceway through the large plate-glass square over the -door. The Hawk, quite secure from observation, nestled back against -the wall--and an ominous smile settled on the Hawk's lips. The face of -Calhoun's companion was covered with a mask. - -"There's nothing to be leery about here," the man was saying. "There's -no one goes out or comes in this way at night. Well, it's a nice mess, -eh? So the old Shylock called the turn on you, did he?" - -There seemed to be a helpless note in Calhoun's voice. He passed his -hand heavily across his eyes. - -"What's the meaning of this?" he cried out. "What do you know about what -happened in there?" - -"Nothing much," said the other coolly. "Except that I'm the guy that -pinched the swag, and hit Kirschell that welt on the head." - -"_You!_" Calhoun involuntarily stepped back. "Yes, sure--me!" The man -shrugged his shoulders. "Me and a pal who was outside. He's away now -putting the cash box where it won't come to any harm--savvy? He'll be -back pretty soon." - -The Hawk's lips moved. - -"Number Three and Number Seven," whispered the Hawk gently. - -"I--I don't understand," said Calhoun dazedly. "Then why are you -telling me this. And why are you staying here? And how did you know that -Kirschell accused me of being in it?" - -"That's another one that's easy," announced the man evenly. "Because it -was part of the game to _make_ him think so." - -Calhoun seemed to stiffen up. - -"What! You mean, you----" - -"You're getting it!" said the other shortly. "But you'd better wait -until you get it all before you start spitting your teeth out! Mabbe -you've heard of a little interference with the telegraph wires, and -a few small jobs pulled off around here where some innocent parties -accidentally got croaked? Ah--you have, eh! Well, that's where you come -in, Calhoun. We want you--and when we want anything, we get it! See? -We knew about that note, and we've been expecting the railroad crowd -to wake up some time, and we had you picked out to place our bets on -against them. They woke up to-day and began to nose over the line. It -ain't likely to do them much good, but there's a chance--and we ain't -taking chances. We don't want much from you, Calhoun, just a little -thing, and it'll bring you more money than you ever saw in your life -before and without you running any risk. All you've got to do is stand -for anything in the shape of a splice or tap on the line that they're -suspicious of--you can say it's a repair job of your own, see?" - -An angry flush was tinging Calhoun's cheeks. - -"Is that all?" he burst out passionately. "Well, I'll see you damned -first!" - -"Will you?" returned the other calmly. "All right, my bucko! It's your -funeral. Take your choice. That--or twenty years in the penitentiary. -You're in cold on this. Think it over a bit. For instance, how did you -come to make the break of wanting Kirschell to indorse the payment on -the back of the note, which made him open his safe?" - -"How do you know I did?" Calhoun flashed back sharply. - -"Mabbe I'm only guessing at it," said the man nonchalantly; "and mabbe I -was back in the outside room when you did. But, say, you don't happen -to remember, do you, a little talk you had with a stranger up the line -to-day? And how the conversation got around to loan sharks, and how he -told about a trick they had of giving receipts that were phony, and -how he beat one of them to it by making the shark indorse on the paper -itself? Kind of sunk in, and you bit--eh, Calhoun? We don't do things by -halves. We happen to _need_ you. And what do you think I made the break -of whispering so Kirschell would hear me for?" - -The color was ebbing from Calhoun's face. - -"It's not proof!" The defiant ring in his voice was forced. "I----" - -"It's enough to make Kirschell believe it, and that's all we wanted for -a starter. We'll take care of the rest!" stated the man grimly. "What -did he say to you?" - -Calhoun answered mechanically: - -"He said if I didn't return in half an hour with the cash box, he'd -notify the police." - -"Oh, ho!" The man's lips widened in a grin under the edge of his mask. -"So he's going to wait here, eh? Well, so much the better! It'll save us -a trip to his house. Now, see here, Calhoun, let this sink in!" He put -his hand in his pocket and drew out a slip of paper. "Here's your note. -It was on the desk where Kirschell was writing on it, and I pinched it -when I pinched the cash box. We didn't figure we were going to make the -haul we did to-night--we were after you. But there's _some_ money in -that cash box, as you saw for yourself. Here's the idea: Kirschell's -read a thing or two about what's going on around here--enough to make -him know that there ain't much our gang'll stop at. If you say you're -with us, me and my pal 'll go in there and throw the fear of God into -him. Do you get it? He'll think himself lucky to get off by keeping his -mouth shut about to-night when he finds out who he's up against. Also -you get the note back, and a share of the cash--and more to come later -on." - -"No!" Calhoun cried out. "No! I'm no thief!" - -"All right!" agreed the other indifferently. - -"That's one side of it. Here's the other: Kirschell certainly believes -you took it. He's a shark all right, and he thinks more of his money -than he does of anything else, or he wouldn't have given you the chance -he did. But when you don't show back there with the coin, he'll take -the only other hope he's got of getting his money and turn on the police -tap--see? What are you going to do then? Make a break for it, or let -'em get you? Well, it doesn't matter which. This note and a chunk of the -cash gets mailed to-night--and the police get tipped off to watch your -mail in the morning. Kind of reasonable, isn't it? Your pal, not being -able to find you, and not tumbling to the fact that the police have got -you until too late, comes across with your share like an honest little -man! I think you said something about proof, Calhoun? And I think I told -you before that we didn't do things by halves. How about that on top of -Kirschell's story--do you think it would cinch a jury, or do you think -they'd believe any little fairy story you might tell them, say, about -meeting me? Does it look any more like twenty years than it did?" - -There was a sudden agony in Calhoun's face. - -"My God!" he whispered. "You--you wouldn't do that?" - -The man made no answer. He still held the note-in his hand--but in the -other now he carelessly dangled a revolver. - -"You wouldn't! You wouldn't!" Calhoun's voice was broken now. "I've a -wife and children, and--my God, what am I to do!" - -"That half-hour Kirschell gave you is slipping along," suggested the -other uncompromisingly. "Here's the note, and there's easy money waiting -for you." - -Calhoun turned on the other like a man demented. - -"Do you think I'd touch that cash! Or touch that note--I _owe_ it! I may -not have been able to pay it--but I owe it!" - -"Oh, well, suit yourself as to that, too!" said the man cynically. "It's -the other thing _we_ want. What's the wife and the kids you're talking -about going to do if you go up for twenty years?" - -Calhoun, with a miserable cry, buried his face in his hands. - -There was silence--a minute dragged by. - -"Well?" prompted the man curtly. - -Calhoun dropped his hands, met the other's eyes for an instant--and -turned his head away. - -"Ah, I thought you would!" said the man calmly. "My pal ought to be back -by now, and as soon as he comes we'll go in there and hand Kirschell -his little jolt, and----" He stopped. There was a light rapping on the -entrance door. "Here he is now! We'll----" - -The Hawk was retreating back along the corridor. Again he opened the -door of what he had designated to himself as the secretary's office, and -for the second time that night stepped silently into the room, closing -the door behind him. The sound of running water came from Kirschell's -private office, but there was no other sound--the Hawk made none as he -once more gained his place of vantage behind the desk. Kirschell was -bending over the washbowl, his back turned, bathing his temple and face, -and now, straightening up, he bound a towel tightly around his head. - -The Hawk watched the proceedings impassively, his head, in that -bird-like, listening attitude, cocked on one shoulder toward the outer -door. Steps were coming along the corridor. But this time Kirschell, -too, heard them--for he turned, and, as the corridor door opened, -started toward his desk. He reached it and sat down, as Calhoun entered -the room. - -"Ah, ha!" snapped Kirschell triumphantly. "So you've thought better of -it, have you? I imagined you would! Well, where's the----" The words -seemed to freeze on his lips; there was a sudden terror in his face. -"What--what does this mean?" he faltered. - -Two masked men, the one who had been with Calhoun in the corridor, and a -taller, more heavily built man, had stepped in behind Calhoun, and were -advancing toward the desk. - -The short man pointed a revolver at Kirschell's head. - -"Calhoun says he keeps a gun in the middle drawer of the desk," he -grunted to his companion. "Get it!" - -The other, leaning over, pulled the drawer open, and, appropriating -Kirschell's revolver, stuck it in his pocket. - -Kirschell's tongue circled his lips. He looked wildly from one to the -other. - -"We just dropped in to make a confession, Mr. Kirschell," said the -short man, with an ugly jeer. "We don't like to see an innocent man -suffer--understand? I'm the one that lifted your cash box, you measly -shark--me and my pal there. I heard you trying to stick it on Calhoun. -We ain't asking any favours for ourselves, and when we get through with -you, you can tell the police it was us, and that we're part of the crowd -that's been making things lively around these parts--you've been reading -the papers, ain't you?--but you open your mouth about Calhoun, you put -him in bad when he had nothing to do with it, and inside of twenty-four -hours you'll be found in a dark alley somewhere with a bullet through -you! Get me? You know who you're up against now, and you've got fair -warning!" - -Kirschell was huddled in his chair. His little black eyes were no longer -restless--they were fixed in a sort of terrified fascination on the -speaker. - -"Yes." He licked his lips again. "Yes, I--I understand," he mumbled. - -From his pocket the Hawk took a mask, which he slipped over his face; -and from his pocket he took his automatic. - -"I don't think he believes you," sneered the second masked man, with -a wicked grin. "Perhaps mabbe we'd better twist his windpipe a little, -just to show him in a friendly way that there ain't any mistake about -it--eh?" - -"No, no!" Kirschel's voice was full of fear. "No, no! I believe--I----" -His words ended in a choked scream. - -The man's hands had shot swiftly out, and closed on Kirschell's throat. -He was shaking, twisting, and turning Kirschell's head from side to -side. His companion laughed brutally. Came a series of guttural moans -from Kirschell--and Kirschel's body began to slip limply down in his -chair. - -Calhoun had gone white to the lips. - -"Stop it! My God, stop it!" he burst out frantically. "You promised me -you wouldn't do him any harm." - -"You mind your own business!" snarled the man with the revolver. "We -know how to handle his breed. Give him enough to hold him for a while -Jim! We----" - -"Drop that revolver! _Drop it!_" The Hawk was standing in the doorway. - -There was a startled oath from the leader of the two men as he whirled -around, a gasp as he faced the Hawk's automatic--and his weapon -clattered to the floor. The other, in a stunned way, still hung over -Kirschell, but his hands had relaxed their hold on Kirschel's throat. - -"Thank you!" drawled the Hawk. "I must say I agree with Mr. Calhoun. -It's not a pleasant sight to watch a man being throttled." His voice -rang suddenly cold. "You, there!" His automatic indicated the man beside -Kirschell. "Stand back at the end of the desk, and put up your hands!" - -Calhoun had not moved. He was staring numbly at the Hawk. Kirschell, -making guttural sounds, was clawing at his throat. - -"Mr. Calhoun," requested the Hawk coolly, "as I happen to know that you -have little reason to love either of these two gentlemen, will you be -good enough to pick up that revolver and hand it to me?" Calhoun stooped -mechanically, and extended it to the Hawk. - -"And now our friend over there with his hands up, Mr. Calhoun," -purred the Hawk. "You will find two in his pockets--his own, and Mr. -Kirschell's. Mr. Kirschell, I am sure, is already fairly well convinced -that you are in no way connected with the robbery of his cash box, and -I am equally sure that in no way could you better dispel any lingering -doubts he might still entertain than by helping to draw these -gentlemen's teeth." - -Calhoun laughed a little grimly now. - -"I don't know who you are," he said, his lips set, as he started toward -the man; "but I guess you're right. I'd like to see them get what's -coming to them." - -"Quite so!" said the Hawk pleasantly. He accepted the two remaining -revolvers from Calhoun; and from his pocket produced his skeleton keys. -He handed them to Calhoun, designating one of the keys on the ring. "One -more request, Mr. Calhoun," he said. "I entered by the door that opens -on the corridor from this other office here. Will you please lock it; -and, on your way back, also lock this connecting door through which I -have just come in--the key of the latter, I noticed, is in the lock." - -Calhoun nodded, took the keys, and stepped quickly from the room. -Kirschell, evidently not seriously hurt from the handling he had -received, though still choking a little and clearing his throat with -short coughs, was regarding the Hawk with a questioning stare. The eyes -of the other two men were on the Hawk's revolver. The shorter of the two -suddenly raised a clenched fist. - -"The Hawk!" he flashed out furiously. "You cursed snitch! You'll wish -you were dead before we're through with you!" - -"So the Butcher told me last night." The Hawk smiled plaintively. "Move -a little closer together, you two--yes, like that, at the far end of -the desk beside each other. Thank you! You are much easier to cover that -way." - -Calhoun returned, locking the connecting door behind him, and handed the -door key, together with the key-ring, back to the Hawk. - -The Hawk moved forward to the desk. He was alert, quick, ominous now. -The drawl, the pleasantry was gone. - -"Out there in the hall," he said coldly, "I heard Mr. Calhoun refuse -to take back his note--from a thief. You"--his revolver muzzle jerked -toward the short man--"hand it out!" - -The man reached viciously into his pocket, and tossed the note on the -desk. - -The Hawk pushed it toward Kirschell. - -"Mr. Kirschell," he said quietly, "you no doubt had good reasons for it, -but you have none the less falsely accused Mr. Calhoun. Furthermore, Mr. -Calhoun has been instrumental in laying these two who have confessed by -the heels. Under the circumstances, if you are the man I think you are, -you will tear that up." - -Kirschell lingered the note for an instant. He looked from Calhoun to -the Hawk, and back at Calhoun again. - -"Yes," he said abruptly--and tore it into several pieces. "I suppose -I could hardly do less. You are quite right! And, Mr. Calhoun, I--I -apologise to you." - -A flush spread over Calhoun's face. He swallowed hard, and his lips -quivered slightly. - -"Mr. Kirschell," he stammered, "I--I----" - -"That's all right!" interposed the Hawk whimsically. "Don't start -any mutual admiration society. I dislike embarrassing situations; and -besides, Mr. Calhoun"--his eyes travelled from one to the other of the -two masked men--"I think you had better go now." - -"Go?" repeated Calhoun, somewhat bewilderedly. - -"Yes," supplemented the Hawk. "As far as you are concerned, you are -clear and out of this now. Stay out of it, and say nothing--that's the -best thing you can do." - -"Well, that suits me," said Calhoun with a wry smile, "if Mr. -Kirschell----" - -"Exactly! I see!" approved the Hawk. "It does you credit. But Mr. -Kirschell and I are quite capable of settling with these two; and you -can thank Mr. Kirschell further to-morrow if you like--when I'm not -here! Now--if you please!" - -Calhoun turned, and walked to the door. His footsteps echoed back from -the general office. Then the corridor door closed behind him. - -The Hawk addressed the two masked men. - -"Last night," remarked the Hawk gently, "it was the Butcher, and -to-night it is--pardon me"--he was close in front of the two now, and, -with a jerk, snatched the masks from their faces--"Whitie Jim, and the -Bantam! Well, I might have known from the Butcher! You're all out of the -same kind of cocoons! The poor old simp at the head of your gang is sure -stuck with a moth-eaten lot! He's sure collected a bunch of left-overs! -Why, say, back there in New York, where a _real_ crook couldn't keep the -grin off his face every time he met you, even the police had you passed -up as harmless cripples!" - -"You go to blazes!" growled the Bantam, with an oath. "You'll sing -through the other side of your mouth for this yet!" - -"You are not nice to me, Bantam," said the Hawk, in a pained voice. "You -don't appreciate what I'm doing for you. It was a piker game you tried -to hand Calhoun; but, even at that, I wouldn't have queered it if it -would have helped you work out a few more little deals, so that I could -skim the cream off them. But it wouldn't! I don't see what you gain by -interfering with the telegraph lines, but I'll let you in on something. -I've been keeping an eye on MacVightie because MacVightie's been -keeping an eye on me, and I overheard him talking to the superintendent -to-night. MacVightie's got an idea that Calhoun's fooling with the wires -now. See where you would have been? If Calhoun had ever got started on -the real thing, some of you would have been nipped--and, say, there's -nothing like that going to happen if I can help it! You and your crowd -are too valuable to me to take any chances of your getting in wrong -anywhere. I'm not wringing the neck of the goose that lays my golden -eggs! Tell that to the guy that's supposed to have the brains of your -outfit, will you? And you might add that I don't want any thanks. I'm -getting well paid." - -"You'll get paid, curse you!" The Bantam's voice was hoarse with fury. -"You butted in once too often last night. The Butcher warned you. -There ain't any more warnings. You've got the drop on us here to-night, -but----" - -"It's getting late," said the Hawk wearily. "And I'm sure Mr. Kirschell -agrees with me that it is about time to produce that cash box--do you -not, Mr. Kirschell?" - -Kirschell made no reply. - -The Hawk smiled--unhappily. - -"I don't think you put it back in the safe--I see that the door is still -wide open. A drawer in the desk, then, perhaps? Ah--_would you!_" There -was a sudden deadly coldness in the Hawk's voice. The Bantam had edged -around the corner of the desk. "If any of you move another inch, I'll -drop you as quick as I'd drop a mad dog! Now then--if the Cricket will -oblige? I'll give him until I count three. One--two----" - -"Damn you!--Kirschell's face was livid and contorted. He wrenched a -lower drawer open, and flung the cash box on the desk. - -"The Butcher, Whitie Jim, the Bantam, and the Cricket," murmured the -Hawk. "It's good to see old New York faces out here, even if you do size -up like bush-leaguers trying to bust into high society. You can -take that towel off, if you like, Cricket, it doesn't become you -particularly--and, as you've washed off the heart-rending effect of that -little bag of liquid stain you smashed over your temple, I'm sure you'll -look less like a comic opera star! No? Well, please yourself!" The Hawk -was coolly transferring the contents of the cash box to his pockets -with his left hand. "These papers," mused the Hawk deliberately aloud, -"appear to be some securities you lifted on that Pullman car raid. -Rather neat idea, this, establishing this office--sort of a clearing -house, I take it, for the gang's drag-net--'loans, mortgages and general -exchange!' I take back part of what I said--this shows a first faint -glimmer of brains. Well, keep the office going, your interests are mine! -You'll notice that I was considerate enough to get Calhoun out of the -way before the show-down. You were very generous, magnanimous even, -Cricket--I admire you! Calhoun'll swear Mr. Kirschell is the squarest -man on earth--and don't forget that's another little debt of gratitude -you owe the Hawk. Three thousand dollars!" The Hawk's pockets were -bulging. "Must have been what you separated some one from when I wasn't -looking! Glad you weren't stingy with your bait for Calhoun! I heard -to-day that Mr. Kirschell kept a good deal of cash in his safe, but I -had no idea that Mr. Kirschell was the Cricket--not till I came here -this evening to take a look at Mr. Kirschell's safe. I must say it has -been a surprise--a very pleasant surprise." - -The cash box was empty. The Hawk backed away from the desk. - -None of the three men spoke--they were eying him like caged and -infuriated beasts. - -The Hawk reached the doorway. - -"You will observe," smiled the Hawk engagingly, "that this is now the -only exit, and that as I walk backward across the outer office any one -who steps into this doorway will be directly in the line of fire." He -bowed facetiously, backed through the doorway and across the general -office, and, still facing the inner room, opened the corridor door and -stepped out. - -And then the Hawk spoke again. - -"I bid you good evening, gentlemen!" said the Hawk softly. "You will -pardon me if I put you to the inconvenience of locking this door--on the -outside." - - - - -VII--WANTED--THE HAWK--DEAD OR ALIVE - -MACVIGHTIE had become troublesome. For two days MacVightie had very -seriously annoyed the Hawk. It was for that reason that the Hawk now -crept stealthily up the dark, narrow stairs, and, on the landing, -listened in strained attention before the door of his own room. - -Reassured finally, he opened the door inch by inch, noiselessly. The -bolt, in grooves that were carefully oiled, made no sound in slipping -into place, as the Hawk entered and closed the door behind him. So far, -so good! He was quick, alert, but still silent, as, in the darkness, -he crossed swiftly to the window, and crouched down against the wall. -A minute, two, went by. The fire-escape, passing at an angle a short -distance below the window sill, and at first nebulous in the blackness, -gradually took on distinct and tangible shape. Still the Hawk held there -motionless, searching it with his eyes--and then, abruptly, satisfied -that it sheltered no lurking shadow, he straightened up, thrust his -automatic back into his pocket, pulled down the shade, and, turning back -into the room, switched on the light. - -MacVightie, it appeared, still had lingering suspicions of this room -over the somewhat disreputable saloon below, and still had lingering -suspicions of its occupant. All that afternoon the Hawk was quite well -aware that he had been shadowed--but the result had been rather in his -favour than in Mac-Vightie's. From the moment he had discovered that he -was being followed, he had devoted his time to making applications for -a job--for MacVightie's benefit--that being the reason he had given -MacVightie for his presence in Selkirk. Later on, when it had grown -dark, having business of his own, he had left MacVightie's satellite -standing on a street corner somewhat puzzled just which way to turn! -That, however, had no bearing on the watch that had been, or might be at -the present moment, set upon this room. - -The Hawk, in apparent abstraction, was flipping a coin up in the air and -catching it. There was a slight frown on the Hawk's face. MacVightie's -suspicions were still lingering for the simple reason that MacVightie, -utterly at sea, was clutching at the only straw in sight, unless--the -coin slipped through the Hawk's fingers and fell beside his trunk. He -stooped to pick it up--yes, not only had the room been searched, but the -trunk had been opened! The single strand of hair, almost indiscernible -against the brass and quite innocently caught in the lock, was broken. -Well, he had not finished that mental sentence. Unless--_what?_ - -He tucked the coin into his pocket, and, standing up, yawned and -stretched himself. With the toe of his boot he lazily pushed a chair -out from the wall. The chair fell over. The Hawk picked it up, and quite -casually set it down--near the door. He took off his coat, and flung it -over the back of the chair. - -The Hawk's face was greyer now, as it set in rigid lines, but there was -no tremor in the hand that inserted the key in the lock of the trunk. -He flung back the lid--and his eyes, for an instant, searched the room -again sharply. The window shade was securely drawn; the coat over -the back of the chair completely screened the keyhole of the door. He -laughed a little then--mirthlessly. Well, the trunk had been opened! Had -MacVightie found _all_--or nothing? - -His fingers were working swiftly, deftly now around the inside edges -of the lid. He was either caught here, cornered, at bay--or MacVightie, -once for all, would be satisfied, and, as far as MacVightie was -concerned, the coast would hereafter be clear. The Hawk's dark eyes -narrowed, the square under jaw crept out and set doggedly. It had been a -close call, perilously close, that other night when he had taken the ten -thousand dollars from the paymaster's safe, and MacVightie had followed -him here to this room. He had pulled the wool over MacVightie's eyes for -the moment--but MacVightie had returned to the old trail again. Well, -the cards were on the table now, and it was a gamble that was grim -enough! Either he was quit of MacVightie, could even count on MacVightie -as a sort of sponsor for his innocence; or--"Ah!" The ingeniously -fashioned false tray in the curvature of the lid had come away in -the Hawk's hands. He was safe! MacVightie had missed it! In the tray, -untouched, where he had left them, lay the packages of banknotes from -the paymaster's safe; in the tray still glittered the magnificent -diamond necklace, whose theft from the wife of His Excellency the -Governor of the State had already furnished more than one of the big -dailies back in the East with attractive copy for their Sunday editions; -and there, undisturbed, were the contents of Isaac Kirschell's cash box, -a trifling matter of some three thousand dollars; and there too, snugly -tucked away in one corner, was the bundle of crisp, new, counterfeit -ten-dollar bills. The Hawk grinned maliciously, as his eyes rested -on the counterfeit notes. The one he had sent, inscribed with his -compliments, to MacVightie, when he had returned the otherwise empty -paymaster's bag to the detective, had not pleased MacVightie! - -Quite at his ease now, the Hawk fitted the false top back into the lid, -closed the trunk, locked it, drew a chair up to the table, and sat down. -With MacVightie removed as a possible factor of interruption, there was -another, and very pressing little matter to which he was now at liberty -to give his attention. He produced a folded sheet of paper from his -inside vest pocket, spread it out on the table before him, and inspected -it with a sort of cynical curiosity. In each corner were tack holes. -He had removed it less than half an hour ago--not through any misguided -dislike to publicity, but simply because he had urgently required a -piece of paper--from a conspicuous position on the wall of the railroad -station. It was a police circular. The Hawk had not before had an -opportunity to absorb more than the large type captions--he filled his -pipe calmly now, as he read it in its entirety: - -$5,000 REWARD--FOR EX-SING SING CONVICT - -Five Thousand Dollars Reward Will Be Paid For Information Leading to the -Arrest and Conviction of THE HAWK, Alias HARRY MAUL. - -Here followed a description tallying with the one given by MacVightie -to Lanson, the division superintendent, and which Lanson had caustically -remarked would not fit more than twenty-five thousand men in Selkirk -City; followed after that a rsum of the crimes recently committed on -the railroad, amongst them the theft of the diamond necklace and the -robbery of the paymaster's safe; and, at the end, in bold-faced type -again: - -$2,000 REWARD - -Two Thousand Dollars Reward Will Also be Paid For Information Leading -to the Arrest and Conviction of Each and Every One of THE HAWK'S -Confederates. - -The Hawk smiled broadly, as he held the flame of a match to his pipe -bowl. The last paragraph was exquisitely ironical. Those whom MacVightie -so blithely called the "Hawk's confederates" were vying with each other -at that exact moment, and for the exact amount of two thousand dollars -offered by the Master Spider of the gang, for the privilege of putting -an even more conclusive end--in the shape of a knife thrust, a bullet, -or a blackjack--to the Hawk! - -"And," said the Hawk softly, as he turned the circular over, "I guess -they'd make it a whole lot more if they knew that I had--_this!_" - -The back of the circular was covered with line after line of what, -seemingly, was but a meaningless jumble of scribbled letters--nor, in -this case, were the letters any too well formed. The Hawk had laboured -under difficulties when the telegraph sounder had "broke" unexpectedly -with the message. He had been listening--as he was always listening when -within sound of a telegraph instrument--but he had never known a message -from the Wire Devils to come through at so early an hour in the evening -before. He had shaken MacVightie's man off the trail and had gone down -to the depot, intending to go up the line to the first small station, -where, with little chance of being discovered, he could spend the night -within earshot of the operator's instrument--in the hope that his vigil -would not, as it sometimes did, prove futile. He had been standing -under the dispatcher's open window waiting for a train, when the police -circular tacked on the station wall had caught his eye. The large type -was readily decipherable, but the platform lights were poor, and he -had stepped closer to read the remainder--and instead, glancing quickly -about him to see that he was not observed, he had snatched the circular -from the wall, and, whipping a pencil from his pocket, had scrawled on -the reverse side, as best he could, the message that was rattling -in over the dispatcher's sounder from the room above. He had taken -chances--but he had played in luck. No one had noticed him, and--well, -he was here now with the message; and, since it must sooner or later -have been put to the proof in any case, he was back here, too, to find -that he was quit of MacVightie. - -"Yes," confided the Hawk to himself, as he reached for a blank sheet of -paper in the drawer of the table, "I guess I played in luck--both ways. -Wonder if there's another ripe little melon here going to be shoved my -way on a gold platter by the Butcher and his crowd?" - -The Hawk studied the cipher for a moment. - -"lqrtvy... key letter... stroke at six...two-three-one," he murmured. - -He drew the fresh sheet of paper toward him, and began to work busily. -Occasionally he paused, staring dubiously at a letter--he had taken the -message under far from ideal conditions, and a mistake here and there, -if not fatal, was annoying and confusing. Finally, however, the Hawk -leaned back in his chair, and whistled low under his breath. The -message, deciphered and arranged into words and sentences, ran: - -_Final orders. Number One, Three, and Six hold up Fast Mail three miles -east of Burke's Siding to-night. Cut wires on approach. Express car next -to engine. Uncouple and proceed. Diamond shipment in safe. Messenger -drugged. No interference with remainder of train. Deliver safe five-mile -crossing to Number Four and Seven. Number One, Three, and Six take -engine and car further along the line. Return separately to Selkirk._ - -Again the Hawk whistled low under his breath--and for the second time -reached into his inside vest pocket. He took out a letter that was -addressed, care of general delivery, to Mr. J. P. Carrister. The Hawk -puffed pleasantly at his pipe as he read it: - -"Dear Friend: The folks are all well, and hope you are the same. I -haven't had time to write much lately. I like my new job fine. Say, I -felt like a Fifth Avenue dook for about umpty seconds to-day. One of the -fellows in the office let me hold a package of diamonds in my hand just -to see what it felt like. Gee! Say, you could almost shove it in your -vest pocket, and it was invoiced through customs at twenty thousand -plunks. They were unset stones, and came in from Amsterdam. It made me -feel queer. - -"I wouldn't like to be the fellow that has to keep his eye on it any -of the way from here to San Francisco, where it's going to-morrow by -express. If you see any bright lights flashing around your burg that you -can't account for about 11:15 next Wednesday night, you'll know it's the -diamonds going through in the express-car safe. I'm getting to be some -joker, eh? We all went down to Coney last Sunday. It's been fierce and -hot here. Say, don't be a clam, write us a line. Well, I guess there -ain't any more news. Yours truly, Bud." - -The Hawk, instead of folding up the letter and returning it to his -pocket, began meditatively to tear it into minute shreds, and with it -the police circular and the sheet of paper on which he had worked out -the cipher message. The Fast Mail scheduled Selkirk at 11:15--_and this -was Wednesday night!_ - -"Twenty thousand dollars," said the Hawk gently under his breath. -"Thanks, Bud, old boy! You were there with the goods all right, but it -wasn't a one-man job, and I didn't think there was going to be anything -doing." The Hawk grinned at the ceiling. "And just as I was about -passing up the last check, here they go and fix it for me to scoop the -whole pot! Three miles east of Burke's Siding, eh?" - -The Hawk relapsed into silence for a moment; then he spoke again. - -"Yes," said the Hawk, "I guess that ought to work. She won't make the -three miles from the siding under five or six minutes. She's due -at Burke's at ten-ten. I can make it on the local out of here at -eight-thirty. Twenty thousand dollars--in _unset_ stones! Just as good -as cash--and a lot easier to carry!" - -The Hawk looked at his watch. It was five minutes of eight. He rose -leisurely from his chair, stooped for a precautionary inspection of the -trunk lock, put on his coat, and, moving toward the door, switched off -the light. - -"If I get away with this," observed the Hawk, as he went down the stairs -and let himself out through the street door, "it'll be good-night for -keeps if any of the gang ever pick up my trail--and they won't quit -until they do! And then there's MacVightie and the police. I guess -there'll be some little side-stepping to do--what? Oh, well"--he -shrugged his shoulders--"I guess I'll get a bite of supper, -anyway--there's no telling when I'll have a chance to eat again!" - - - - -VIII--THREADS IN THE WEB - -IT was not far to the station--down through the lane from the Palace -Saloon--and close to the station, he remembered, there was a little -short-order house that was generally patronised by the railroad men. Old -Mother Barrett's short-order house, they called it. She was the wife of -an engineer who had been killed, he had heard, and she had a boy working -somewhere on the railroad. Not that he was interested in these details; -in fact, as he walked along, the Hawk was not interested in old Mother -Barrett in a personal sense at all--but, as he reached the short-order -house and entered, his eyes, as though magnetically drawn in that -direction, fixed instantly on the little old woman behind the counter. - -The Hawk was suddenly very much interested in old Mother Barrett. It was -not that she made a somewhat pathetic figure, that she drooped a little -at the shoulders, that her face under her grey hair looked tired, or -that, though scrupulously neat, her clothes were a little threadbare--it -was none of these things--it was old Mother Barrett's hands that for -the moment concerned the Hawk. She was in the act of adjusting her -spectacles and picking up a very new and crisp ten-dollar bill, that -a customer from the stool in front of her had evidently tendered in -payment for his meal. The Hawk shot a quick glance up and down the room. -There were several other customers at the long counter, but the stool -beside the owner of the ten-dollar bill was vacant--and the Hawk -unostentatiously straddled it. - -He glanced casually at the man at his elbow; allowed his eyes to stray -to the kindly, motherly old face with its grey Irish eyes, that was -puckered now in a sort of hesitant indecision--and glanced a little -more than casually at the banknote she kept turning over and over in her -hands. No, he had not been mistaken. It was one of those counterfeits -which, according to MacVightie, had flooded the East and were now making -their appearance in Selkirk, and it was a duplicate of those in the -false tray of his trunk. His eyes perhaps were sharper than old Mother -Barrett's--in any case, his identification was the quicker, for his gaze -had wandered to the coffee urn, and he was drumming idly on the counter -with his finger tips before the little old woman finally spoke. - -"I--I'm afraid I can't take this," she said slowly, handing the banknote -back across the counter. - -"What's the matter with it?" demanded the man gruffly. - -"Why--it's--it's counterfeit," she said a little anxiously, as though -she were fearful of giving offence. - -The Hawk's eyes, with mild and quite impersonal interest, were on the -man's face now. The man had picked up the bill, and was pretending to -examine it critically. - -"Counterfeit!" echoed the man shortly. "Say, what are you giving us! -It's as good as wheat! Give me my change, and let me get out--I'm in a -hurry!" He pushed the bill toward her again. - -She did not pick it up from the counter this time. - -"I'm sorry." She seemed genuinely disturbed, and the sweet old face was -full of sympathy. "I'm sure you did not know that it was not good, and -ten dollars is a great deal to lose, isn't it? It's too bad. Do you -remember where you got it?" - -"Look here, you're dippy!" snapped the man. "I tell you it's not -counterfeit. Anyway, it's all I've got. If you want your pay, take it!" - -"You owe me thirty-five cents, but I can't take it out of this." She -shook her head in a troubled way. "This is a counterfeit." - -"You seem to be pretty well posted--on counterfeits!" sneered the man -offensively. "How do you know it's a counterfeit--eh?" - -"Because I've seen one like this before," she said simply. "My son -showed me one the last time he was in from his run, and he warned me to -be careful about taking any." - -"Oh, your son--eh?" sneered the man again. "Some son! Wised you up, did -he? Carries it around with him--eh? And who does _he_ shove it off on?" - -There was a queer little sound from the old lady--like a quick, hurt -catch of her breath. The Hawk's eyes travelled swiftly to her face. She -had turned a little pale, and her lips were trembling--but she was drawn -up very proudly, and the thin shoulders were squared back. - -"I love my boy," she said in a low voice, and tears came suddenly into -her eyes, "I love him with all my heart, but I should a thousand times -rather see him dead than know him for a thief. And a man who attempts to -pass these things knowingly is a--_thief_. I have been very respectful -to you, sir, and I do not deserve what you have said. I assumed that -you had been swindled yourself, and that you were perfectly honest in -offering the bill to me, but now from your----" - -"What's the trouble, Mother Barrett?"--a big railroader farther up the -counter had laid down his knife and fork, and swung round on his stool. - -With a hurried glance in that direction, the man hastily thrust the -counterfeit note into his pocket, laid down thirty-five cents on the -counter--and, with a dive across the room, disappeared through the door. - -The Hawk stared thoughtfully after him. - -"I couldn't butt in on that, and hand him one," said the Hawk to himself -almost apologetically. "Not with twenty thousand in sight! I couldn't -afford to get into a row, and maybe miss the local, and spill the beans, -could I?" - -He looked around again to find the little old woman wiping her -spectacles, and smiling at him a little wistfully. - -"I'm sorry that you had to listen to any unpleasantness," she said. "My -little place isn't very pretentious, but I would not like to have you, -a stranger, think that sort of thing was customary here. What can I get -you, sir?" - -It was no wonder that the railroaders evidently swore by old Mother -Barrett, and that one of them had been quick to shift her trouble to his -own shoulders! - -"I guess he was a bad one, all right!" growled the Hawk. - -She shook her head regretfully. There was no resentment left--it was as -though, indeed, the man was a charge upon her own conscience. - -"He meant to be dishonest, I am afraid," she admitted reluctantly; "but -I am sure he cannot be thoroughly bad, for he wasn't very old--just a -young man." - -She was a very simple, trusting little old lady--as well as a sweet -little old lady. Why should her illusions be dispelled? The Hawk nodded -gravely. - -"Perhaps," suggested the Hawk, "perhaps he hasn't had any one to -keep him straight. Perhaps he hasn't got what keeps a good many chaps -straight--a good mother." - -The mist was quick in her eyes again. He had not meant to bring that--he -had meant only to show her a genuine admiration and respect. - -"Perhaps not," she answered slowly. "But if he has, I hope she will -never know." She shook her head again; and then: "But you have not told -me yet what you would like, sir?" - -The Hawk gave his order. He ate mechanically. Back in his mind he was -reviewing a rather extensive acquaintanceship with certain gentry whose -morals were not wholly above reproach. Failing, however, to identify the -individual with the counterfeit note as one of this select number, he -finally dismissed the man somewhat contemptuously from his mind. - -"Just a piker crook, I guess," decided the Hawk. "I'd like to have found -out though how many more of those he's got, and who the fool was that -let an amateur skate like that loose with any of the goods!" - -He finished his meal, paid his bill, smiled a goodnight to old Mother -Barrett, walked out of the short-order house, and made his way over to -the station. Five minutes later, having purchased a magazine, the Hawk, -with a ticket in his pocket for a station a number of miles beyond -Burke's Siding, curled himself up with his pipe on a seat in the smoker -of the local. - -The train started, and the Hawk apparently became immersed in his -magazine. The Hawk, however, though he turned a page from time to time, -was concerned with matters very far removed from the printed words -before him. The game to-night was more hazardous, more difficult, and -for a vastly greater stake than any in which he had before pitted his -wits or played his lone hand against the combined brains of the Butcher, -his fellows, and their unknown leader, who collectively were referred to -by the papers as--the Wire Devils. - -The Hawk tamped down the ash in the bowl of his pipe with a wary -forefinger. He, the Hawk, according to MacVightie, was the leader -of this ingenious criminal league! It was very complimentary of -MacVightie--very! Between MacVightie and the Wire Devils themselves, he -was a personage much sought after! MacVightie, however, was not without -grounds for his assertion and belief--the Hawk grinned pleasantly--he, -the Hawk, had certainly, and for some time back, helped himself to the -leader's share of the spoils, and helped himself very generously! - -The grin died away. He had beaten them so far, appropriated from under -their very noses the loot they had so carefully planned to obtain, and -he had mocked and taunted them contemptuously in the doing of it; but -the cold fact remained that luck sometimes was known to turn, and -that the pitcher that went too often to the well ran the risk of -getting--smashed! If they ever caught him, his life would not be worth -an instant's purchase. He knew some of them, and he knew them well for -what they were, and he laboured under no delusions on that score! The -Butcher, for example, who was the Number One of the message, had already -nearly done for him once; and the Butcher had nothing on Number Three, -who was the Bantam, or on Number Seven, who was Whitie Jim--or, it -was safe to presume, on any of the others that he had not yet -identified--this Number Four and Number Six, for instance, who were -mentioned in the cipher message to-night. And how many more were there? -He did not know--except that there was the Master Spider of them all. - -The Hawk had ceased now even to turn cursorily the pages of the -magazine. He was staring out of the window. - -"I wonder," muttered the Hawk grimly, "when I'll run up against _him?_ -And who he is? And where the head office is?" - -He nodded his head after a moment. MacVightie had called the turn. The -Wire Devils formed as powerful and dangerous a criminal organisation as -had probably ever existed anywhere. And not for very long would they put -all their resources at work to pull off some coup, only to find that he, -the Hawk, had made use of their preparations to snatch the prize away -from them; they were much more likely to put all their resources at -work--with the Hawk as their sole objective! - -The Hawk's lips tightened. He might under-estimate, but he could not -exaggerate, his danger! The man in the seat behind him might be one of -them for all he knew. Somewhere, hidden away in his web, at the end of -a telegraph wire, was the Master Spider directing the operations; and -there must be very many of them--the little spiders--spread all over the -division. Where there was a telegraph sounder that sounder carried -the messages, the plans, the secret orders of the brain behind the -organisation; and the very audaciousness with which they made themselves -free of the railroad's telegraph system to communicate with each other -was in itself a guarantee of success. If one of their messages was -interfered with, they threatened to cut the wires; and that meant, if -luckily it meant no more, that train operating was at an end until -the break could be located and repaired. Were they tapping the wire -somewhere? What chance was there to find out where? There were hundreds -of old splices on the wires. Or, if found, what would prevent them -tapping the wire on the next occasion many miles away? Also the sources -of information that they tapped must be far-flung. How, for instance, -unless they too had a "Bud" back there in New York, did they know of -this diamond shipment coming through to-night? - -The Hawk's lips grew still a little tighter. His safety so far had -depended on the fact that he possessed the key to their cipher messages, -which not only enabled him to reap where they had sown, but warned -him of any move they might make against him. But it was becoming -increasingly difficult to intercept those messages. He had MacVightie -to thank for that. Where before he had only to crawl into some little -way-station where there was no night operator, MacVightie now had every -one of those stations securely guarded. Yes, it had become exceedingly -more difficult! If only he could find out _where_ those messages -emanated from, or the system in force for receiving them! - -The Hawk slid further down in his seat, tossed the magazine to one -side, pulled his hat over his eyes, and appeared to sleep. All that was -neither here nor there--_to-night_. He _had_ the message to-night--but -he had not yet got that twenty thousand dollars in unset stones! He -would perhaps do well, now that he had the leisure, to give the details -of that matter a little more critical attention than they had received -when he had made up his mind that his best chance lay in the three -miles between Burke's Siding and the point where the Butcher and his men -planned to hold up the train. According to the message, the implication -was that there would be nobody in the express car at that time except -a drugged messenger. And now, somehow, he did not quite like the -appearance of that. It seemed a little queer. What was the object of -drugging the man if they did not take immediate advantage of it? He -pondered the problem for a long time. No, after all, it was logical -enough--since they meant to remove the safe bodily. There evidently was -not a specialised cracksman amongst them who had lifted his profession -to the plane of art, no "knob-twirler" such as--well, such as himself! -The Hawk opened his eyes sleepily to inspect the tips of his carefully -manicured fingers. Otherwise, with no one to interfere but a drugged -messenger, they could have opened the safe, looted it, and, since the -Fast Mail carried only through express matter, have slipped away from -the car at the first stop, with no one being the wiser until, somewhere -up the line, the messenger returned to life and gave the alarm. - -Yes, it was very craftily worked out. The Master Spider was far from -a fool! They would have to "soup" the safe, and blow it open. If they -attempted that while the train was en route they ran the risk of being -heard, and trapped like rats in the car; and if they were heard, even -if they managed to stop the train and make their escape, they invited -instant and definite pursuit on the spot. The reason for drugging the -express messenger became quite evident now. If the man were already -helpless when they held up the train, they, at one and the same time, -assured their access to an otherwise guarded car without danger to -themselves, and without danger of being balked at the last moment of -their reward--which the messenger, with a small package like that, might -easily have been able to accomplish if he were a game man. He could have -opened the safe, say, the instant the first alarm came as they tried to -force the car door, taken out the package, and secreted it somewhere. -It needed only the nerve after that to defy them, and they had evidently -given him credit for it whether he possessed it or not. - -Yes, decidedly, the Master Spider was no fool in the spinning of his -web! As it was, the safe, which would only be a small affair anyhow, -would disappear bodily; and between the point where the train was held -up and the point where they finally left the engine and express car -there would be a distance of at least ten miles, even allowing that they -approached no nearer than within two miles of Bradley, the first station -west of Burke's Siding. With the wires cut and the coaches of the Fast -Mail stalled three miles out of Burke's, considerable time must elapse -before any one could make a move against them; and even when the pursuit -finally started, MacVightie, for instance, would be confronted with that -somewhat illusive stretch of ten miles in which to decide _where_ the -pursuit should begin. Ten miles was some little distance! MacVightie -would be quite at liberty to make his guess, and there was the chance, -with the trifling odds of some few odd thousand to one against it, that -he might guess right--unless he guessed that the safe had been removed -at the point where the engine and car were finally left, in which case -MacVightie would guess wrong. - -If the Hawk was asleep, he was perhaps dreaming--for the Hawk smiled. -The chances were just about those few odd thousand to one that -MacVightie would guess exactly that way--wrong. Yes, it was an -exceedingly neat little web that the Master Spider had spun. If he, the -Hawk, were permitted to make a guess, he would guess that the safe would -never be found! - -His mind reverted to the cipher message. The safe was to be delivered at -"five-mile crossing." Where that was the Hawk did not know--except that -it must necessarily be somewhere between the point where the train -was held up and Bradley. However, that was a detail with which he -need hardly concern himself. Long before this "five-mile crossing" -was reached, his vest pocket, if he played in luck, would be very -comfortably lined! He would enter the express car as the Fast Mail -pulled out of Burke's Siding, trust to certain long and intimate -experience to open the safe--and get off the train as it slowed down -at the Butcher's very thoughtful request! For the rest, the -details--circumstances must govern there. In the main, that would be his -plan. - -The Hawk "slept" on. Station after station was passed. His mind now -dealt in little snatches of thought. There was MacVightie and the police -circular; and the search of his room that day; and speculation as to -how they had managed to drug the express messenger; and the man with the -counterfeit ten-dollar bill in old Mother Barrett's short-order house; -and the little old woman herself, with her shabby clothes and her tired, -gentle face--and finally the Hawk stirred, glanced at his watch, and, -as the train whistled, picked up his magazine and sauntered down the car -aisle to the door. - -They were approaching Burke's Siding. The Hawk opened the door, went out -on the platform, and descended to the lowest step. The train slowed. -A water-tank loomed up, receded--and the Hawk dropped to the ground. -A minute later, as the tail-lights winked by and came to a stop at the -station a short distance down the track, he had made his way back, to -the water-tank, crossed to the opposite side of the track, and stretched -himself out on the grass in the hollow at the foot of the embankment. -The Fast Mail's sole excuse for a stop at Burke's Siding was the -water-tank--which would bring the express car to a halt directly in -front of the spot where he now lay. - -The local pulled out, and racketed away into the night. The tail-lights -vanished. Silence fell. There was only the chirping of the insects -now, and the strange, queer, indefinable medley of little night-sounds. -Burke's Siding was a lonely place. There was a faint yellow gleam from -the station windows, and there was the twinkle of the switch lights--no -other sign of life. It was pitch black--so black that the Hawk could -just barely distinguish the outline of the water-tank across the track. - -"It's a nice night," observed the Hawk pleasantly to himself. "A very -nice night! It's strange how some people prefer a moon!" - - - - -IX--THE LOOTING OF THE FAST MAIL - -THE minutes went by, ten, fifteen, twenty of them--a half hour--and -then, from far down the track, hoarse through the night, came the -scream of a whistle. From his pocket the Hawk took out his diminutive -flashlight, thin as a pencil. It might have been the winking of a -firefly, as he played it on the dial of his watch. - -"On the dot!" murmured the Hawk. "Some train--the Fast Mail! I guess, -though, she'll be a little late, at that, to-night--when she pulls into -Selkirk!" A roar and rumble was in the night again, increasing steadily -in volume. Down the right of way, in the distance, a flash of light -stabbed through the black. It grew brighter and brighter. The Hawk, wary -of the spread of the powerful electric headlight, edged further away -from the trackside. And now the rails gleamed like polished silver--and -the water-tank stood up out of the darkness, a thing of monstrous size. -There was the hiss of steam, the rasp and grind of the setting brakes, -the glinting rays from the windows of a long string of coaches that -trailed back to the station platform, and a big ten-wheeler, like some -human thirsty thing, was panting beside the water-tank. - -The engineer, with his torch, swung from the gangway for an oil around. -There was the creak of the descending spout, the rush of water, and, -silhouetted against the water-tank, the Hawk could make out the -fireman standing on the back of the tender. And now, poking with his -long-spouted oil can, weirdly swallowed up in the darkness at intervals -as he thrust the torch far in under the big machine, the engineer moved -slowly along the side of the engine, and finally disappeared around the -end of the pilot. - -The Hawk stole forward closer to the track again, his eyes on the -fireman, who, now that the engineers torch was on the other side, was -more sharply outlined than before. Came then the swish and gush of water -as it overflowed, the spout banged back against the water-tank, and the -fireman scrambled back over the tender into the cab. It was the -moment the Hawk had been waiting for. Swiftly, but still crawling as a -safeguard against being seen by any of the train crew in the rear, he -moved up the embankment, and in an instant had swung himself up between -the tender and the forward door of the express car. There was no -platform here, of course, but the end beam of the car, making a sort of -wide threshold, gave him ample room on which to stand. - -The roar of escaping steam drowned out all other sounds; the back of the -tender hid him from any chance of observation from the cab. He tried the -door cautiously. It was locked, of course--there were twenty thousand -dollars' worth of stones in the safe inside! The Hawk felt carefully -over the lock with his fingers, classifying it in the darkness, as it -were, by the sense of touch, and produced from his packet his bunch of -skeleton keys. He inserted one of the keys, worked with it for a -moment, then shook his head, and selected another. This time he felt -the lock-bolt slide back. The train was jerking into motion now. He -exchanged his keys for his automatic, turned the knob softly, opened the -door an inch, and listened. Even the Wire Devils were not infallible, -and if by any chance the messenger-- - -The Hawk whistled low and contentedly under his breath. He had caught a -glimpse of the interior of the car--and now he slipped quickly through -the door, closing the door behind him. - -A quarter length down the car, in the aisle made by the express packages -which were piled high on either side, the messenger, a young man of -perhaps twenty-two, was huddled, apparently unconscious, in his chair. -In a flash the Hawk was down the car, and bending sharply over the -other. The man sat in a helpless, sagging attitude; he was breathing -heavily, and his head, hanging forward and a little to one side, swayed -limply with the motion of the car. There was no question as to the -messenger's condition--he was drugged, and well drugged. From the man, -the Hawk's eyes travelled to a sort of desk, or ledge, built out from -the side of the car, and topped by a pigeonholed rack stuffed with -express forms and official-looking manila envelopes. On the desk was a -small leather satchel containing some lunch, and a bottle of what was -evidently cold tea, now but barely a quarter full; and, as though to -supply further evidence that the man had succumbed in the midst of his -meal, a little to one side lay a meat sandwich, half eaten. - -The Hawk nodded quietly to himself, as again his eyes shifted--this time -to a small safe, about three feet square, that stood beneath the -desk. It was quite easy to understand now. The Wire Devils had only to -ascertain the fact that it was the messenger's habit to eat his lunch -at a certain time, choose the point of attack on the line to correspond -therewith, and see that a sufficient quantity of knockout drops was -introduced into the cold tea--not a very weighty undertaking for the -Wire Devils! - -Well, it was a bit rough on the boy--the Hawk was kneeling now in front -of the safe--but he, the Hawk, was greatly indebted to the Wire Devils! -Twenty thousand dollars was a snug little sum--quite a snug little sum! - -The figure in the chair, with swaying head, breathed stertorously; there -was the pound, quick in its tempo, of the trucks beating at the rail -joints; the give-and-take of the car in protesting little creaks; and, -over all, a muffled roar as the Fast Mail tore through the night--but -the Hawk heard none of this. His ear was pressed close against the face -of the safe listening for the tumblers' fall, as his fingers twirled the -dial knob. - -After a little while the Hawk spoke aloud. - -"Left, twenty-eight, one quarter... two right, fourteen... two left, -eighteen, one-half," he said. - -He straightened up, swung the handle of the safe--and a dismayed, -anxious look flashed across his face. There was not much time, very -little time---and he had missed it! How far along those three miles from -Burke's Siding to where the Butcher was waiting had the train already -come? - -He tried again, coolly, methodically--and again he missed. - -"I guess I'm out of practice to fall down on a tin box like this!" he -muttered grimly. "But the first two are right, that's sure--it's the -last turn that's wrong somewhere. Give me another minute or two"--he was -twirling the dial knob with deft, quick fingers once more--"that's all I -ask, and----" - -A sudden jolt flung him forward against the safe. Came the scream of the -whistle, the screech of the tight-set brakes, the bump, and jerk, and -pound, and grind of the flying train coming to an emergency stop. The -limp form of the messenger, sliding down, was almost doubled over the -arm of the chair. - -In an instant the Hawk had recovered his balance, and, his face set like -iron, his jaws clamped hard, he snatched at the knob, and with desperate -haste now made another attempt. There were a few seconds left, a few -seconds before the train would come finally to a standstill and--no, -they were gone now, those seconds--and he had missed again! - -His automatic was in his hand as he stood up. It was no longer a -question of twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset diamonds--it was a -question of his life. There was a bitter smile on his lips, as he ran -for the forward door. It looked as though the pitcher had at last gone -once too often to the well! The train had stopped now. He reached the -door, and opened it guardedly a little way. A great red flare from -somewhere ahead lighted up the night. He heard and recognised the -Butcher's voice, menacing, raucous, punctuated with vicious oaths: - -"Get out of that cab, and get out _damned_ quick! Down you come--jump -now! Now, boys, run 'em back, and keep firing down the length of the -train as you go; and if these guys don't run faster than you do, let 'em -have it in the back! Beat it now--beat it like hell! I'll pull out the -minute you're uncoupled. You two grab the rear end as she moves, there's -room enough for you, and you can bust in the door, and----" - -A fusilade of shots rang out. Flashes cut the black. The Butcher's two -companions, evidently driving the engineer and fireman before them, were -coming on the run along the trackside from the cab. The Hawk retreated -back a step, and closed the car door. He heard the men rush past -outside. The fusilade seemed to redouble in intensity; and now, added to -it, were shouts and yells from the rear of the train itself, and--if he -were not mistaken--answering shots. - -His hand on the doorknob, he stood waiting tensely. With the Butcher on -guard out there in front, it would have been equivalent to suicide -to have opened the door again until he knew the other was back in the -cab--against the background of the lighted interior he would have made a -most excellent mark for the Butcher! - -His eyes swept past the huddled form of the young messenger in the -chair, and fixed speculatively on the safe. He nodded suddenly, grimly. -Twenty thousand dollars! Well, he wasn't beaten yet--not till he threw -down his own hand of his own accord--not till he lost sight of the safe -for keeps! - -Over the shouts and revolver shots came the sharp, vicious hiss of the -air-hose, as it was uncoupled; and then, with a violent jerk, the car -started forward, as the Butcher evidently whipped the throttle open. -And, coincidently, there was a smash upon the rear door--and the Hawk -opened the forward door and slipped out again. - -A din infernal was in his ears. Like a maddened thing under the -Butcher's unscientific spur, the big ten-wheeler was coughing the sparks -heavenward in a volleying stream, while the huge drivers raced like -pinwheels in another shower of sparks as the tires sought to bite and -hold. And now the rear door of the car crashed inward; the shots came -fast as a gatling, and shouts, screams and yells added their quota to -the uproar. - -The Hawk, crouched by the door, moved suddenly to one side, as he caught -the dull, ominous _spat_ of a bullet against one of the panels. The -train crew and those of the passengers who were armed were, very -obviously, keeping up a running fight from the stalled section of the -train, and pumping their bul-lets through the broken rear door and up -the aisle of the express car as long as they could hold the range; and, -from within, he could distinguish the duller, muffled reports of the -Butcher's confederates firing in return, preventing any attempt being -made to rush the rear of the car. - -And then the sounds began to recede and die away. The men inside the car -ceased firing, and he could hear them now moving the safe out from the -side of the car. It seemed as though a very long interval of time had -been consumed in the hold-up; but in reality he knew it had been little -more than a matter of seconds--the time it had taken the two men to run -the length of the car, uncouple it, and leap on the rear end. The fight -afterwards could hardly count, for once the express car began to pull -away the thing was done. - -They were moving fast now, and with every instant the speed was -increasing. The Hawk clutched at the handrail, and lowered himself to -the iron foot-rung which, on the express car, served in lieu of steps. -Here, having chosen the opposite side to that of the Butcher at the -throttle in the cab, he ran no risk of being observed. This "five-mile -crossing," wherever it was, promised to concern him a great deal more -than he had anticipated! He leaned out, and clung there, staring ahead. - -The big ten-wheeler was swaying and staggering like a drunken thing; the -rush of the wind whipped at his face; a deafening roar sang in his ears. -The Fast Mail usually ran _fast_; but the Butcher was running like a -dare-devil, and the bark of the exhaust had quickened now into a single -full-toned note deep as thunder. - -With a sort of grim placidity, the Hawk clung to the lurching rail. Far -ahead along the right of way, a shaft of light riven through walls of -blackness, played the headlight. Shadowy objects, trees that loomed up -for an instant and were gone, showed on the edge of the wavering ray. -They tore through a rock cut, and, in the confined space and in the -fraction of a second it took to traverse it, the roar was metamorphosed -into an explosion. And then suddenly, as though by magic, the headlight -shot off at a tangent, and the glistening lines of steel, that were -always converging but never meeting, were gone, and the ray fell full -upon a densely wooded tract where leaves and foliage became a soft and -wonderful shade of green under the artificial light. The Hawk braced -himself--and just in time. The ten-wheeler, unchecked, swung the curve -with a mighty lurch, off drivers fairly lifted from the rails. She -seemed to hang there hesitantly for a breathless instant, then with a -crunch, staggering, settled back and struck into her stride again. - -The thunder of the exhaust ceased abruptly, and the speed began to -slacken. The Butcher had slammed the throttle shut. At the end of the -headlight's ray, that was straight along the track again, a red light -flashed up suddenly three times and vanished. The Hawk leaned farther -out, tense now, straining his eyes ahead. It was evidently Number Four -and Number Seven signalling from "five-mile crossing." - -The Butcher began to check with the "air." And now, in the headlight's -glare, the distance shortened, the Hawk could discern a large wagon, -drawn by two horses, that appeared to be backed up close to the -right-hand side of the track. Two forms seemed to be tugging at the -horses, which equally seemed to be plunging restively--and then, being -on the wrong side of the car, the angle of vision narrowed and he could -see no more. - -The Hawk turned now--his eyes on the door of the car. There was a -possibility, a little more than a possibility, that the men inside, -knowing that they had reached their destination, would come out this -way. No--he had only to keep hidden from the men out there with the -wagon until the car stopped--the men within were sliding back the side -door. He swung himself still farther out on the foot-rung; then, curving -back with the aid of the handrail, flattened himself against the side of -the car. - -They were close up to the wagon now, and he could hear voices cursing -furiously at the horses, as the frightened animals stamped and pawed. -And then the car bumped and jerked to a standstill, and the Butcher was -bawling from the cab: - -"Take the horses out, you blamed fools, and tie 'em back there on the -road a bit till we're gone! We'd have a sweet time loading the wagon -with them doing the tango every second! Take 'em out! We'll back the -wagon up against the car." - -The Hawk lowered himself silently to the ground--to find that the car -had come to a stop directly over a road crossing. The men in the car had -joined their voices with the Butcher's, and in the confusion now the -Hawk slipped quickly along the side of the car, stole around the rear -end, and from that point of vantage stood watching the Butcher and his -men at work. - -He could see quite plainly, thanks to the light from the car's wide-open -side door that flooded the scene. The horses had been unharnessed, and -were being led away along the road. One of the men in the car jumped -to the ground, as the Butcher called out, and together they backed the -wagon close up against the car doorway; and then, presently, the men who -had accompanied the horses, one carrying a lantern, came running back. -The Hawk's eyes, from a general and comprehensive survey of the scene, -fixed on the man who until now had not left the car, but who had now -sprung down into the wagon and was running a short plank, to be used -as a skid evidently, up to the threshold of the car door, which was a -little above the level of the wagon. The light shone full in the man's -face. - -"Number Six--Crusty Kline!" confided the Hawk softly to himself. "I'm -glad to know that. The last time I chummed with Crusty was back in -little old Sing Sing. Guess he got out for good behaviour--thought he -was elected for five spaces yet!" - -Crusty spoke now, as he jumped back into the car. - -"Look here, Butcher, I'm telling you again, this guy in here's in pretty -bad shape." - -"Never mind about that!" replied the Butcher roughly. "Get the safe out! -All hands now! We've got no time to monkey with him. He'll come around -all right, I guess--anyway, it's none of our lookout!" - -The men were bunched together now, three in the doorway of the car and -two in the wagon, the safe between them. The Hawk was studying one of -the two who stood in the wagon. One was Whitie Jim, as he already knew, -but the other had had his back half turned, and the Hawk had not been -able to see his face. The safe slid down the plank, and was levered and -pushed forward into the middle of the wagon. - -"French Pete!" said the Hawk suddenly and as softly as before, as the -man he had been watching straightened up and turned around. "Say, I -guess Sing Sing's gone out of business--or else somebody left the door -open!" - -But if the Hawk's words were indicative of a facetious mood, his actions -were not. There was a sort of dawning inspiration in the dark, narrowed -eyes; and the strong jaw, as it was outthrust, drew his lips into a -grim, hard smile. They were spreading a huge tarpaulin over the wagon -and safe--and abruptly the Hawk drew back, dropped to his hands and -knees, crawled along the trackside on the opposite side of the car again -until almost opposite the wagon, and there lay flat and motionless at -the side of the road. There was a chance yet, still a chance, a very -good chance--for that twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset stones. - -"All right, now!" It was the Butcher's voice. "Pull her away a few feet -into the clear!" The wagon creaked and rattled. "That's enough! Now get -a move on--everybody!" - -Steps crunched along the trackside--the Butcher and his two companions -obviously making for the cab--and a moment later came the cough of the -engine's exhaust, and the express car began to glide past the spot where -the Hawk lay. - -The Hawk raised himself cautiously on his elbows. Two dark forms and a -bobbing lantern were already speeding toward where the horses had been -left. The Hawk crawled forward, crossed the track--and paused. The -engine and express car were fast disappearing in the distance; the -lantern glimmered amongst the trees at the side of the road a good -hundred yards away. - -There was no shadow to fall across the back of the wagon. - -"I said it was a nice night, and that it was strange how some people -preferred a moon!" observed the Hawk cheerfully--and, lifting the end -of the tarpaulin, he swung noiselessly under it into the wagon, and -stretched himself out beside the safe. - - - - -X--THE THIRD PARTY - -The Hawk felt upward with his hand over the safe. It was faced, he -found, toward the rear of the wagon. This necessitated a change in his -own position. He listened tensely. They were coming back with the horses -now, but they were still quite a little way off. He shifted quickly -around until his head and shoulders were in front of the safe. - -"It was the last turn of the combination that I fell down on, though I -don't see how it happened!" muttered the Hawk. - -He felt above his head again, this time rubbing his fingers critically -over the tarpaulin--and then the diminutive little flashlight winked, -winked again as it played around him, and finally held steadily on the -nickel dial. There were no inadvertent openings, and, particularly, no -holes in the tarpaulin, and the texture of the tarpaulin was a guarantee -that the tiny rays of light would not show through. - -They were harnessing the horses into the wagon now. The Hawk, in a -somewhat cramped position, due to the wagon's narrow width, his legs -twisted at right angles to his body as he lay on his back, reached up -and began to twirl the dial knob slowly and with painstaking care. - -"Left, twenty-eight, one quarter," murmured the Hawk; and, a moment -later: "Two right, four----" - -The Hawk swore earnestly under his breath. The jolt of the wagon, coming -unexpectedly as it started forward, had caused him to spin the knob too -far around. - -It was hot, stifling hot, under the heavy tarpaulin, that, slanting -downward from the little safe, lay almost against his face. A bead of -sweat had gathered on his forehead. He brushed it away, and began -again to work at the dial. It was more difficult now--the wagon bumped -infernally. And as he worked, he could hear the muffled clatter of the -horses' hoofs, and occasionally the voices of the two men on the seat. - -And then suddenly the Hawk's fingers travelled from the dial knob to the -handle. Had he got it this time, or--yes! The handle swung easily--there -was a low metallic thud--the bolt had slipped back to the end of its -grooves. The safe was unlocked! - -"Twenty thousand dollars!" said the Hawk very softly--and, without the -slightest sound, he edged his body backwards to afford space for the -swing of the opening door. "Twenty thousand doll----" - -The word died, half uttered, on the Hawk's lips. The flashlight was -illuminating the interior of the safe. On the bottom lay a single, -crisp, ten-dollar counterfeit note, over the face of which was scrawled -in ink--"_With the Hawk's compliments!_" Otherwise the safe was empty. - -For a moment, like a man dazed, he stared at the counterfeit note. -He could not seem to believe his eyes, Empty--the safe was empty! The -diamonds were gone--gone! Gone--and these poor fools were driving an -empty safe to the Master Spider--and another poor fool, with dropped -jaw, was staring, gaping like an imbecile, into one! And then, a grip -upon himself again, he laughed low, grimly, unpleasantly. "With the -Hawk's compliments!" He had sent a bill like that once to MacVightie -inscribed--"With the Hawk's compliments!" This was very neat, very -clever of--_somebody_. Of somebody--who must have known what the Wire -Devils were up to to-night! There would be no doubt in the minds of -the Wire Devils, who would have heard of that little episode with -MacVightie, but that the Hawk had again forestalled them, and left them -a ten-dollar counterfeit bill in exchange for--twenty thousand dollars' -worth of unset diamonds! Only it was this somebody, and not he, the -Hawk, who was twenty thousand dollars the richer for it! - -He reached in, picked up the bill to put it in his, pocket--and suddenly -laid it back again, and closed and locked the safe. Why deprive the -Master Spider of a little joy; and, besides, it would carry a message -not perhaps so erroneous after all--for, in a flash, logically, -indisputably, apparently impossible though it appeared to be on the -surface, he knew who that _somebody_ was. The shelving of the theft to -the Hawk's shoulders would have defeated its own object unless the -theft were committed and discovered on this particular division of -the railroad where the Hawk and, incidentally, his supposed gang of -desperadoes were known to be operating. The messenger certainly had not -been in a drugged condition when he went on duty, and, since it was only -reasonable to assume that he would have satisfied himself everything was -all right at that time, it was evident, as he had given no alarm, that -the contents of the safe had been intact when he took charge--whether as -a "through" man in New York, or at the eastern terminus of the road, -or at the last divisional point--it did not matter which. The robbery, -then, had been committed while the messenger was present in the car--and -it had been committed on this division. The safe had not been forced, -it showed not the slightest sign of violence--it had been opened on the -combination. Some one then, an expert safe-worker, in the first stages -of the messenger's drugged condition, had happened into the car just -ahead of him, the Hawk, and had done exactly what he, the Hawk, had -intended to do? - -"No," said the Hawk. "No, I guess not." He was wriggling noiselessly -backward, and his feet were hanging out now over the end of the wagon. -"No--coincidences like that don't happen--not very often!" The Hawk's -head and shoulders were still under the tarpaulin, but his feet now -could just feel the ground beneath them. "I guess," said the Hawk, as he -suddenly withdrew his head, and, crouching low, ran a few steps with the -wagon, then dropped full length in the road, "I guess it's--the third -party." - -The wagon disappeared in the darkness. The Hawk rose, and, turning, -broke into a run back along the road. - -He had been longer in the wagon than he had thought--it took him ten -minutes to regain the railroad tracks. - -Here, without pause, still running, he kept on along the right of -way--but there was a hard twist to his lips, and the clenching of his -fists was not wholly due to runner's "form." How far had the Butcher -taken the car before deserting it? A mile? Two miles--three? He could -not run three miles under half an hour, and that would be _fast_ over -railroad ties! How long would it be before the train crew of the stalled -Mail got back to Burke's Siding and managed somehow, in spite of the cut -wires, to give the alarm--or how long before the dispatcher at Selkirk, -with the Fast Mail reported "out" at Burke's Siding and no "O. S." from -Bradley, would smell a rat? It would take time after that, of course, -before anything could be done; but, at best, the margin left for him was -desperately narrow. - -He ran on and on; his eyes, grown accustomed to the darkness, enabling -him to pick out the ties with a fair degree of accuracy. There was not -a sound save that of his own footsteps. He stopped for breath again and -again; and again and again ran on at top speed. It seemed as though he -had run not three miles, but six, when finally, far ahead, he caught a -glow of light. The Butcher and his confederates had evidently not taken -the trouble to close the side door of the car! - -Instinctively, the Hawk, in caution, slowed his pace--and the next -instant, smiling pityingly at himself for the act, ran on the faster. -The Butcher and the other two would long since have made their getaway! -There was only the messenger--and the messenger was drugged. That was -all that need concern him now--the messenger--to find some way to rouse -the man so that he could talk. - -The Hawk reached the car, ran along the side to the open door--and stood -suddenly still. And then, with a low, startled cry, he swung himself -up and through the doorway, and running forward, knelt beside a huddled -form on the floor. It was the messenger, sprawled on his face now, -motionless, and it was no longer a case of being drugged--_the man had -been shot!_ There was a dark, ugly pool on the flooring, and a thin red -stream had trickled away in a zigzag course along one of the planks. The -Hawk's lips were tight. The Butcher's work! But why? _Why?_ Yes! Yes, -he understood! The Butcher, too, in some way had discovered that the -messenger was--the third party! - -The boy--he was even more of a boy now in appearance, it seemed to the -Hawk, with his ashen face and colourless lips--the boy moaned a little, -and, as the Hawk lifted him up, opened his eyes. - -The Hawk produced a flask, and forced a few drops between the other's -lips. - -"Listen!" he said distinctly. "Try and understand what I am saying. Did -they get the diamonds from you after they shot you?" - -The boy's eyes widened with a quick, sudden fear. Perhaps the drug had -begun to wear off--perhaps it was the wound and the loss of blood that -had cleared his brain. - -"The diamonds?" he faltered. - -"Yes," said the Hawk grimly. "The diamonds! You took them. Did you tell -those men where they were?" - -"It's--it's a lie!" The boy seemed to shiver convulsively. Then, his -voice scarcely audible: "No, it's--it's true. I--I did. I--I guess I'm -going out--ain't I? It's--it's true. But I--I didn't tell. -There weren't any men--I----" He had fainted in the Hawk's arms. - -"My God!" whispered the Hawk solemnly. "It's true--the kid's dying." - -He held the flask to the other's lips again. It wasn't the Butcher, -then, who had shot the boy; and, besides, he saw now that the wound was -in a strangely curious place--in the back, below the shoulder blade; the -boy had been sitting in his shirt sleeves, and the back of his vest was -soaked with blood. And the Hawk remembered the fusillade of bullets that -had swept up the interior of the car, and the _spat_ upon the forward -door panel as he had crouched there outside--and he understood. The -boy, sitting in a stupor in his chair facing the forward door, had been -directly in the line of fire, and a stray bullet had found its mark. - -"I--I don't know how you knew"--the boy had roused, and was speaking -again--"but--but I'm going out--and--and it's true. Two days ago, a man -gave me a hundred dollars to stand for--for knockout drops on the run -to-night. I--I couldn't get caught--I--I was safe--whatever happened. -I'd be found drugged--and--and no blame coming to me--and----" He -motioned weakly toward the flask in the Hawk's hand. "Give me--give me -some more of that!" - -He did not speak for a moment. - -"And, instead," prompted the Hawk quietly, "you double-crossed the -game." - -"I--I had a counterfeit ten-dollar bill," the boy went on with an -effort. "I'd heard about the Hawk--and--and MacVightie. I knew from -what:--the fellow said--that the Hawk--wasn't one of them. I--I got to -thinking. All I had to do was empty the safe--and--and write just what -the Hawk did on the bill--and--and shove it in the safe--and--and take -the diamonds--and--and then drink the tea that had the drops in it. I--I -would be drugged, and they--they'd think the Hawk did it while I was -drugged before they--they got here--and--and that's what I did." - -The boy was silent again. It was still outside, very still--only the -chirpings of the insects and the night-sounds the Hawk had listened to -while he had lain below the embankment waiting for the train at Burke's -Siding. There was a set, strained look on the Hawk's face. The kid -was paying the long price--for twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset -diamonds! - -"To make it look like--like the real thing"--the boy's lips were moving -again--"I--I cleaned out everything in the safe--but--but of course -there mustn't any of that be found--and--and I tied the stuff -up--and--and weighted it, and dropped it--into--the--river as we came -over the bridge at Moosehead. And then I had to--to hide the diamonds so -they wouldn't be found on me, and yet so's they--they'd come along with -me--and--and not be left in the car. I was afraid that when some of the -train crew found me drugged--they--they'd undress me--and--and put me to -bed--and--and so I didn't dare hide the diamonds in my clothes. -They're--they're--in----" He raised himself up suddenly, clutched -frantically at the Hawk's shoulders and his voice rang wildly through -the car. "Hold me tight--hold me tight--don't let me go out yet--I--I -got something more to say! Don't tell her! Don't tell her! I'll tell -you where the stones are, they're in the lining of my lunch satchel--but -don't--oh, for God's sake, don't tell her--don't let her know that--that -I'm a--thief! You don't have to, do you? Say you don't! I'm--I'm -going out--I--I've got what's coming to me, and that's--enough--isn't -it--without her knowing too? It--it would kill her. She was a good -mother--do you hear!" - -He was stiffening back in the Hawk's arms. "And this ain't coming to -her. She was a good mother--do you hear--everybody called her mother, -but she's _my_ mother--you know--old Mother Barrett--short-order -house--you know--old--Mother--Barrett--good----" - -The boy never spoke again. - -The Hawk laid the still form gently back on the floor of the car, and -stood up. And there was a mist in the Hawk's eyes that blotted out his -immediate surroundings, and in the mist he seemed to see another scene, -and it was the picture of a gentle, kindly-faced old woman, who had -silver hair, and who wore clothes that were a little threadbare, and -whose grey Irish eyes behind the spectacles were filled with tears, and -he seemed to see the thin shoulders square proudly back, and he seemed -to hear her speak again: "I love my boy, I love him with all my heart, -but I should a thousand times rather see him dead than know him for a -thief." - -Mechanically the Hawk moved over to the desk where the lunch satchel -still lay, and emptied out the remainder of the food. - -"No," said the Hawk, "I guess she'll never know; and I guess I'd have to -take the stuff now, anyway, whether I wanted to or not--if she's not -to know." He was examining the inside of the satchel. It was an old and -well-worn affair, and a torn piece of the lining, stuck down with paste -at the edges, would ordinarily have attracted no attention. The Hawk -loosened this, and felt inside. At the bottom, carefully packed away, -were strips of cotton wadding. He took one out. Embedded in this were -a number of diamonds, which, as he drew the wadding apart, flashed -brilliantly in the light of the oil lamps above his head. He wrapped the -stones up again, and put them in his pocket--took out the remainder from -the satchel, put these also in his pocket, and replaced in the satchel -the portion of the lunch he had removed. It mattered little about the -torn lining now! - -"He kind of put it up to me," said the Hawk slowly. "Yes, and she did -too--without knowing it--old Mother Barrett. It's kind of queer she -should have said that--kind of queer." The Hawk pulled the drawer of the -desk open, and nodded as he found and took out the messenger's revolver. -"Thought he'd have one, and that it would most likely be here," he -muttered. - -He crossed the car, and listened intently at the open side door. There -was no sound--nothing, for instance, coming from Bradley yet. He closed -the door, and stood for an instant looking down at the boy's form on the -floor. - -"I guess I can fix it for you, kid--maybe," he said simply. "I guess I -can." - -In rapid succession he fired five of the seven shots from the revolver; -then, stooping, laid the weapon, as though it had dropped at last -from nerveless fingers, just beside the boy's outstretched hand. He -straightened up, stepped to the side door, and slid it open again. - -"It'll let the smoke out before anybody gets here," said the Hawk. "The -Butcher isn't coming forward with any testimony, and with all those -shots fired at the time of the hold-up who's to know the boy didn't -fight till he went down and out? And now I guess I'll make my own -getaway!" He dropped to the trackside, and started forward at a brisk -pace. "I'll keep on a bit until I hear something coming," he decided. -"Then I'll lay low while they're cleaning up the line, and wait till I -can hop a freight, east or west, that will get me out of this particular -locality. After that, there's nothing to it!" - -A hundred yards farther on the Hawk spoke again, and there was a twisted -smile on the Hawk's lips. - -"It'll break her heart anyway, I guess," he said; "but it'll help -some maybe to be proud of him. Yes, I guess they'll tell her that, all -right--that he died a game kid." - - - - -XI--THE LEAD CAPSULE - -THE Hawk yawned. He had been almost forty-eight hours without sleep. He -had slept all day after he had regained his room, following the night at -"Five-Mile Crossing," but after that---- - -He frowned in a perturbed and puzzled way. Ensconced now in a wicker -lounging chair in the observation car of the Coast Limited, he was -apparently engrossed in the financial page of his newspaper, and -apparently quite oblivious of his fellow travellers, some four or five -of whom lounged and smoked in their own respective wicker chairs around -him. On a little pad of paper, which he held in his left hand, he might -even, without serious tax upon the imagination, have appeared to be -calculating the effect of the market's fluctuations upon personal, and -perhaps narrowly held, margins--for again he scowled unhappily. The -Hawk, however, at the moment, was engrossed solely with a few curiously -assorted letters of the alphabet, which were scrawled across the top of -the pad. They ran: - -pzudl kmlqpb. - -Beneath this his pencil had already been at work, and he had transformed -the line as follows: - -He was staring at this result now in a bewildered way. Then his pencil -picked out the remaining five unscored letters, and mechanically set -them down as a third line: - -"Rainy"--there was one word, just one word--"rainy." What did it mean? -What was the significance of the word? No message in the Wire Devils' -cipher, once the message was decoded, but had been at once clear and -unmistakable in its meaning before. Had they resorted now to _code_ -words as well, to a cipher within a cipher? Into the grimness of the -Hawk's smile there crept a hint of weariness, as he slipped the pad into -his pocket, allowed the newspaper to drop to his knees, and, edging his -chair around, gazed out of the window. - -For once his knowledge of their cipher was obviously useless to him--and -useless when a foreknowledge of their plans at that moment meant -scarcely less than a matter of life and death to him in a very -unpleasantly real and literal sense. Not a word had come from them; not -a message had gone over the wires on either of the two preceding nights; -not a sign of existence had they given since three nights ago when, with -an empty safe as the sole reward for their elaborately laid plans, he, -the Hawk, had enriched himself with the twenty thousand dollars' worth -of diamonds it had once contained. There had been something sinister, -something ominous in their silence, as compared with the almost insane -ravings of MacVightie, the police, and the press--yes, and the railroad -men as well, who were particularly incensed over the "murder" of the -young messenger found dead at his post in the express car with his -revolver partially emptied on the floor beside him. - -The Hawk drummed abstractedly with his finger tips upon the window pane. -MacVightie, the police, and the press made no doubt but that he, the -Hawk, was the leader of the desperadoes who were terrorising that -particular section of the country; on the other hand, the gang itself -had already had occasions enough and in plenty to be painfully aware -that he, the Hawk, played always a lone hand--and won! A smile, grim and -ironical, parted the firm, set lips. The police and the Wire Devils had -a common interest--the Hawk. He was the storm centre. - -The smile faded, the strong jaws clamped, and the dark eyes narrowed on -the flying landscape. It was not the police who concerned him, it was -not the impotent frothings of the press--it was the _silence_ that the -Wire Devils had not broken since that night until they had broken it -this morning with the single word that, now that he had deciphered -it, still meant nothing to him. A dozen times, stealing their cipher -messages, he had turned all their carefully prepared plans to his own -account, and snatched away the prize, even as they were in the act -of reaching for it. But he was not a fool to close his eyes to the -inevitable result. He was pitted against the cleverest brains in the -criminal world; all the cunning that they knew would be ruthlessly -turned against him; and, already out to "get" him, a price already -guaranteed to the lucky member of the band out of the common funds, -the empty safe of three nights before, with its jeering ten-dollar -counterfeit bill flung in their faces, crowned, he feared, their -injuries at his hands, and marked the turning point where they would -leave no stone unturned to wreak their vengeance upon him. - -And he did not like this silence of theirs since that night. Were they -suspicious at last that he had the key to their cipher? He did not think -so, and yet he did not know--it was always a possibility. But in any -case, wary of any move they might make, he had, as far as it was humanly -possible, remained within sound of a telegraph instrument ever since. -Last night, for example, taking advantage of some repairs that were -being made on the station at Elk Head, fifty miles east of Selkirk, he -had lain hidden behind a mass of building material in the dismantled -waiting room within earshot of the telegraph sounder--and there had been -nothing. Forced to retire from there by the advent of the workmen, he -had eaten a very leisurely breakfast at the lunch counter--still within -earshot of the sounder. He had lingered around the station as long as -he had dared without running the risk of exciting suspicion, and then he -had taken the local east for Bald Creek--and taken the chance, because -he had no choice, that nothing would "break" over the wires during -the three-quarters of an hour that he was on the train. The Limited -scheduled Bald Creek, and that would give him an excuse for remaining -there, an innocent and prospective patron of the road, until the -Limited's arrival some two hours later. After that, if nothing happened, -he had intended to go back on the Limited to Selkirk--and get some -sleep. - -The Hawk yawned heavily again. Yes, after an almost uninterrupted vigil -of forty-eight hours one needed sleep. Well, he was on his way back to -Selkirk now--on the Limited. Only something _had_ happened. Almost at -the moment that the Limited had pulled into Bald Creek, the Wire Devils -had broken their silence, and a cipher message had flashed over the -wires. He had waited for it, fought for it, schemed for it, gone without -sleep for two days and nights for it--and he had been rewarded. He had -intercepted the message, deciphered it, he had got it at last--he had it -now! It was the one word--"rainy." And the word to him meant--nothing! - -The Hawk's fingers ceased their drumming on the window pane, his head -inclined slightly to one side, and he listened. His fellow travellers -had evidently scraped up acquaintanceship. The conversation had become -general--and suddenly interesting. - -"... Yes, unquestionably! The amount I have with me is worth quite -easily a half million francs--a hundred thousand dollars. It is not -my personal property, I regret to say. Quantities sufficient to be of -material service are for the most part institutionally held." - -The Hawk swung around in his chair, and with frank interest surveyed -the little group. He had scanned them once already, critically, -comprehensively--at the moment he had first entered the car. The man -who sat nearest to him was a doctor from Selkirk; and, it being the -ingrained policy of the Hawk to know a reporter as he would know a -plain-clothes man, he had recognised one of the others as a young -reporter on the staff of the Selkirk _Evening Journal_. The others -again, of whom there were three, were strangers to him. His eyes -rested--with frank interest--on the man who had just spoken. There had -been just a trace of accent in the other's perfect English, and it bore -out the man's appearance. The man was perhaps forty-five years of age, -rather swarthy in complexion, and, though slight in build, commanding -in presence. The black Vandyke beard, as well as the mustache, was -carefully trimmed; and his face had an air of the student about it, an -air that was enhanced by the extraordinarily heavy-lensed spectacles -which he wore. The excellent clothes were unmistakably of foreign cut. - -"Great Scott!" ejaculated the reporter. "Is that straight?" He twisted -his cigar excitedly from one corner of his mouth to the other. "I say, I -don't suppose there's a chance of getting a squint at it, eh?" - -"A--squint?" The foreigner's face was politely puzzled. - -"I mean a chance to see it--to see what it looks like," interpreted the -reporter, with a laugh. - -"Oh, yes, of course--a squint. I will remember that!" The foreigner -joined in the laugh. "One learns, monsieur, always, eh--if one keeps -one's ears open!" He reached down and picked up a small black bag from -the floor beside his chair. "No, I am afraid I cannot actually show it -to you, monsieur, owing to the nature of the container; but perhaps -even the manner in which it is carried may be of interest, and, if so, I -shall be delighted." - -The others, the Hawk among them, leaned spontaneously forward in their -chairs. From the bag the man produced a lead box, some four inches -square. He opened this, and, from where it was nested in wadding, took -out what looked like a cylindrical-shaped piece of lead of the thickness -and length of one's little finger. He held it out in the palm of his -hand for their inspection. - -"Inside this sealed lead covering," he explained, "is a glass tube -hermetically sealed. The lead, of course, absorbs the rays, which -otherwise would render the radium extremely dangerous to handle. You -perhaps remember the story--if not, it may possibly be of interest. -Radium, you know, was discovered in 1898 by Monsieur and Madame Curie; -but the action of radium on human tissues was unknown until 1901, when -Professor Becquerel of Paris, having incautiously carried a tube in his -waistcoat pocket, there appeared on the skin within two weeks the severe -inflammation which has become known as the famous 'Becquerel burn.' -Since that time, I may add, active investigation into the action of -radium has been carried on, resulting in the establishment in Paris in -1906 of the Laboratoire Biologique du Radium." - -The doctor from Selkirk reached out, and, obtaining a smiling -permission, picked up the lead cylinder from the other's hand. The -reporter sucked noisily on the butt of his cigar. - -"And d'ye mean to say _that's_ worth one hundred thousand dollars?" he -demanded helplessly. - -"Fully!" replied the foreigner gravely. "I should consider myself very -fortunate if I had the means and the opportunity of purchasing it at -that price. There are only a few grains there, it is true, and yet even -that is a very appreciable percentage of the world's entire output for -a single year. The Austrian Government, when it bought the -radium-producing pitchblende mines at Joachimsthal, you know, acquired -what is practically a world's monopoly of radium. And since the annual -production of ore from those mines is but about twenty-two thousand -pounds, and that from those twenty-two thousand pounds only something -like forty-six grains of radium are obtained, it is not difficult to -understand the enormous price which it commands." - -The little lead cylinder passed from hand to hand. It came last to the -Hawk. He examined it with no more and no less interest than had been -displayed by the others, and returned it to its owner, who replaced it -in the black handbag. - -"Look here," said the reporter impulsively, "I don't want to nose into -personal affairs; but, if it's a fair question, what are you going to do -with the stuff?" - -It was the doctor from Selkirk who spoke before the foreigner had time -to reply. - -"I was being tempted to ask the same question myself," he said quickly. -"I am a physician--Doctor Moreling is my name--and from what you have -said I imagine that possibly you are a medical man yourself?" - -"And you are quite right," the other answered cordially. "I am Doctor -Meunier, and I come from Paris." - -"What!" exclaimed the Selkirk physician excitedly. "Not Doctor Meunier, -the famous cancer specialist and surgeon of the Salptrire Hospital!" - -The other shrugged his shoulders protestingly. - -"Well," he smiled, a little embarrassed, "my name is certainly -Meunier, and it is true that I have the honour to be connected with the -institution you have mentioned." - -The reporter had a notebook in his hand. - -"Gee!" he observed softly. "You don't mind, do you, Doctor Meunier? This -looks like luck to me. I'm on the _Evening Journal_--Selkirk." - -"Ah--a reporter!" The dark eyes seemed to twinkle humorously from behind -the heavy lenses. "I have met some--when I landed in New York. They were -very nice. I liked them very much. Certainly, young man, why should you -not say anything I have told you? You have my permission." - -"Fine!" cried the reporter enthusiastically. "And now, Doctor Meunier, -if you'll just round out the story by telling us why the celebrated -Paris surgeon is travelling in America with a hundred thousand dollars' -worth of radium, I'll be glad I got panned on the story I went after -this morning and so had to take this train back." - -"Panned?" inquired the other gravely. - -"Yes." The reporter nodded. "It blew up, you know." - -"Blew up! Ah!" The foreigner's face was at once concerned. "So! You were -in an accident, then?" - -"No, no," laughed the reporter. "There wasn't anything in the story. It -didn't have any foundation." - -"Again I learn," observed the foreigner, with an amused drawl. He -studied the reporter for an instant quizzically. "And so I am to supply -the place of the panned story that blew up--is that it? Well, very well! -Why not? I see no reason against it, if it will be of service to you. -Very well, then. I have been summoned to Japan to attend a case of -cancer--radium treatment--and I am on my way there now." He smiled -again. "I have noticed that American reporters are observant, and it may -occur to you that I might have reached my destination quicker by way -of Russia. As a matter of fact, however, I was in New York attending -a convention when I received the summons. I cabled for the radium, -and--well, young man, that pretty well completes the story." - -"Yes--thanks!" said the reporter. He wrote rapidly. "Operation on a -Japanese?" - -"Why, yes, of course--on a Japanese." - -"'Summoned,' you said. That listens as though it might be for one of the -Emperor's family," prodded the reporter shrewdly. - -"I did not say so," smiled the other imperturbably. - -"And even if it were so----" He shrugged his shoulders significantly. - -"I get you!" grinned the reporter. "Well, there's no harm in saying a -'High Personage' then, is there? That sounds good, and it would have -to be some one on the top of the heap to bring a man like you all this -way." - -"Let us be discreet, young man, and say--well, let us say, a member of -prominent family," suggested the other, still smiling. - -"All right," agreed the reporter. "I won't put anything over on you, I -promise you. And now, doctor, tell us something more about radium, -how it acts and all that, and how an operation is performed with it, -and----" - -The Hawk had apparently lost interest. He settled back in his chair, and -picked up his previously discarded newspaper--yet occasionally his eyes -strayed over the top of his newspaper, and rested meditatively on the -little black handbag on the car floor beside the Frenchman's chair. The -doctor from Selkirk, the reporter, and the French specialist talked on. -The Limited reached the last stop before Selkirk. As the train pulled -out again, the Hawk, as it were, summed up his thoughts. - -"A hundred thousand dollars," confided the Hawk softly to himself. -"Maybe it wouldn't be easy to sell, but it would make a very nice -haul--a very nice haul. It would tempt--almost anybody. Yes, bad stuff -to handle; the fences would be leery probably, because I guess every -last grain on this little old globe is catalogued as to ownership, and -they'd be afraid it would be an open-and-shut game that what they -were trying to shove would be spotted as the stolen stuff--not that -it couldn't be done though, at that! There's always somebody to take a -chance--on a hundred thousand dollars! And what about the institution -that owns it coming across big and no questions asked to get it back -again? Yes, I guess it would make a nice haul--a very nice haul. I -wonder----" - -The conductor had entered the car, had said something that the Hawk had -not caught--and now the French specialist was on his feet. - -"How long did you say?" he demanded excitedly. - -"I didn't say," replied the conductor; "I only guessed--twelve hours -anyway, and if we're through under twenty-four it'll be because some one -has performed a miracle." - -"Twelve hours--twenty-four!" echoed the Frenchman wildly. "But, _mon -Dieu_, I have not that to spare to catch my steamer for Japan in San -Francisco!" - -"But what's wrong, conductor?" asked the Selkirk doctor. "You haven't -told us that." - -"The Rainy River bridge is out," the conductor answered. - -The _Rainy_ River bridge! The Hawk reached into his pocket, withdrew his -cigarette case, and made a critical choice of one of the six identical -cigarettes the case contained. - -"Out! How?" the doctor from Selkirk persisted. - -"No details," said the conductor; "except that it was blown up a little -while ago and that they think it's the work of the Hawk's gang. They -just got word over the wire at the last stop." - -"Jumping whiskers!" yelled the reporter. "Is that right, conductor?" - -"Yes, I guess it's right, fast enough," said the conductor grimly. He -turned to the Frenchman. "It's tough luck, sir, to miss transpacific -connections; but I guess that's the man you've got to thank for it--the -Hawk." - -"The Hawk? What is that? Who is the Hawk?" The Frenchman had lost his -poise; he was gesticulating violently now. - -"I'll tell you," said the reporter briskly. "He's the man that's got -your original reign of terror skinned a mile--believe me! He's an -ex-Sing Sing convict, and he's the head, brains and front of a gang of -criminals operating out here compared with whom, for pure, first-water -deviltry, any one of Satan's picked cohorts would look as shy and -retiring as a maiden lady of sixty who suddenly found herself in a -one-piece bathing suit--in public. That's the Hawk! Yes, sir--believe -me!" - -Doctor Meunier waved his hands, as though to ward off a swarm of buzzing -bees. - -"I do not understand!" he spluttered angrily. "I do not care to -understand! You do not speak English! I understand only of the delay!" -He caught at the conductor's sleeve. "You, monsieur--is there not -something that can be done?" - -"I don't know, sir," said the conductor. "We'll be in Selkirk now in -a few minutes, and the best thing you can do is to see Mr. Lanson, the -superintendent." - -The conductor retired. - -The Frenchman sat down in his chair, mopped his face with a -handkerchief, and stared from one to another of his fellow passengers. - -"Messieurs, it is necessary, it is imperative, that I catch the -steamer!" he cried frantically. "What am I to do?" - -"Lanson's a good head; he'll fix you up some way," said the reporter -soothingly. "Don't you worry. I'm mighty sorry for you, Doctor Meunier, -upon my soul--but, say, this is _some_ story--whale of a climax!" - -The Frenchman glared for an instant; then, leaning forward, suddenly -shook his fist under the other's nose. - -"Young man, damn your story!" he snarled distractedly. - -The Hawk retired once more behind his newspaper. The reporter was -pacifying the excited Frenchman. The Hawk was not interested in that. -The message, that single word which had puzzled him, was transparently -clear now--and had been from the moment the conductor had spoken. The -surmise of the railroad officials, even if it were no more than surmise -on their part, was indubitably correct--barring the slight detail of his -own participation in the affair! The Wire Devils had blown up the -Rainy River bridge. This, as a detached fact, did not interest him -either--they were quite capable of blowing up a bridge, or anything -else. That was a detail. But they were quite incapable of doing it -without a very good and sufficient reason, and one that promised returns -of a very material nature to themselves. What was the game? Why the -Rainy River bridge? Why this morning? Why at this time? The Rainy River -bridge was but a few miles west of Selkirk, and--the Hawk's eyes strayed -over his newspaper again, and rested mildly upon the Frenchman's little -black handbag, that was quite slim, and not over long, that was of such -a size, in fact, that it might readily be concealed under one's coat, -for instance, without attracting undue attention--and with the bridge -out a passenger, say on the Coast Limited this noon would experience -an annoying, somewhat lengthened, but unavoidable interruption in -his journey. The passenger might even be forced to spend the night in -Selkirk, and very much might happen in a night--in Selkirk! It was -a little elaborate, it seemed as though it might perhaps have been -accomplished with a little less fuss--though lack of finesse and -exceeding cunning was, in his experience, an unmerited reproach where -that unknown brain that planned and plotted the Wire Devils' acts was -concerned; but, however that might be, the reason that the Rainy River -bridge was out now appeared quite obviously attributable--to a very -excited foreigner, and a little black handbag whose contents were valued -at the modest sum of one hundred thousand dollars. - -"And I wonder," said the Hawk almost plaintively to himself, "I wonder -which of us will cash in on that!" - -The Hawk rose leisurely from his chair, as the train reached Selkirk. -He permitted the Frenchman, the Selkirk physician and the reporter to -descend to the platform in advance of him; but, as they hurried -through the station and around to the entrance leading upstairs to the -divisional offices, obviously with the superintendent's office as their -objective, the Hawk, in the privileged character of an interested fellow -traveller, fell into step with the reporter. - -The four entered the superintendent's office, and from an unobtrusive -position just inside the door the Hawk listened to the conversation. He -heard Lan-son, the superintendent, confirm the conductor's story, and -express genuine regret at the Frenchman's plight, as he admitted it to -be a practical certainty that the other would miss his connection in -San Francisco. The Frenchman but grew the more excited. He suggested a -special train from the western side of the bridge--they could get him -across in a boat, he said. The superintendent explained that traffic -in the mountains beyond was already demoralised. The Frenchman raved, -begged, pleaded, implored--and suddenly the Hawk sucked in his breath -softly. The Frenchman was backing his appeal for a special with the -offer to pay any sum demanded, and had taken a well-filled pocketbook -from his pocket. The Hawk's eyes aimlessly sought the toes of his boots. -He had caught a glimpse of a fat wad of bills, a very fat wad, whose -denominations were of a large and extremely interesting nature. The -official shook his head. It was not a question of money; nor was the -other's ability to pay in question. Later on, he, Lanson, would know -better what the situation was; meanwhile he suggested that Doctor -Meunier should go to the hotel and wait--that there was nothing else to -do for the moment. The Selkirk physician here intervened, and, agreeing -with the superintendent, offered to escort the Frenchman to the Corona -Hotel. - -The Hawk, as one whose curiosity was satiated, but satiated at the -expense of time he could ill afford, nodded briefly to the reporter who -stood nearest to him, and quietly left the room. - - - - -XII--BLINDMAN'S-BUFF - -FIVE minutes later, standing in another room--his own--the Hawk rapidly -changed the light-grey suit he had been wearing for one of a darker -material. From the pockets of the discarded suit he transferred to -the pockets of the suit he had just put on, amongst other things, his -automatic and his bunch of skeleton keys. He opened his trunk, removed -the false tray, and smiled with a sort of grim complacency as his glance -inventoried its unhallowed contents; and particularly he smiled, as, -opening a little box, he allowed a stream of gleaming stones to trickle -out into the palm of his hand--the twenty thousand dollars' worth of -diamonds robbed from the Fast Mail three nights ago. - -"Some haul!" observed the Hawk softly. "And, with any luck, there'll be -something else there worth the whole outfit put together before to-night -is over." He replaced the diamonds in the box, the box in the tray, -and spoke again, but now his smile was hard and twisted; not an article -there but he had scooped from under the noses of the gang. "Yes, I guess -I'd go out like you'd snuff a candle if they ever get me, and I guess -they're getting--querulous!" - -The Hawk, however, had not opened the trunk purely for the opportunity -it afforded of inspecting these few mementos, interesting as they might -be. It was an excellent safeguard to change his clothes, but it would -avail him very little if--well, any one, say--were still permitted to -recognise--his face! From the top of the tray, where it lay upon the -packages of banknotes that had once reposed in the paymaster's safe, -the Hawk picked up a mask and slipped it into his pocket. He fitted the -false tray back into the lid of the trunk, closed the trunk, locked it, -put on a wide-brimmed, soft felt hat, locked the door of his room behind -him, descended the narrow staircase, and stepped out on the street. - -His destination was the Corona Hotel, but there was no particular hurry. -Undoubtedly from the moment the Frenchman had left the train some, or -one, of the gang had fastened on the man's trail; but the companionship -of the Selkirk physician guaranteed the Frenchman's immediate safety. -His own plan, as far as it was matured, was very simple. He meant to -"spot" if he could, should that particular member, or members, of the -gang be unknown to him personally, the man, or men, selected by the Wire -Devils to shadow the Frenchman--and then watch the _gang!_ The Hawk had -no intention whatever of making an attempt on the Frenchman's property -with the gang watching him--that would have been little less than the -act of a fool who was bent on suicide! Since, therefore, he had no -choice in the matter, he was quite content to have the gang take -the initiatory risk in relieving the Frenchman of the handbag! After -that--the Hawk's old twisted smile was back on his lips as he walked -along--after that it became his business to see that the bag did not get -very far out of his sight! - -He reached and crossed the city park upon which the Corona Hotel -fronted, entered the hotel, and, sauntering leisurely through the -lobby, approached the desk. He glanced casually over the register; then, -lighting a cigar, he selected a chair near the front windows where he -could command a general view of the lobby, and sat down. - -Doctor Meunier's room was Number 106. - -Once the Hawk's eyes lazily surveyed the lobby; thereafter they appeared -to be intent on what was passing in the street. He was in luck! The -first trick, at least, had gone to him. Lolling in a chair near the -elevator doors, and apparently drowsy from a heavy luncheon, was--the -Bantam. The Hawk smoked on. Half an hour went by. The Bantam appeared to -awaken with a start, smiled sheepishly about him, went over to the news -stand, bought a paper--and returned to his seat. The Hawk finished his -cigar, rose, strolled to the main entrance, and went out. The Bantam -could be safely trusted to see that Doctor Meunier did not vanish into -thin air! He would do the like for the Bantam! He crossed over into the -park. - -The Hawk chose a bench--strategically. Sheltered by a row of trees, he -had the corner upon which the hotel was built diagonally before him, -and could see both the side entrance on the cross street and the front -entrance on the main thoroughfare. - -The Hawk's vigil, however, was not immediately rewarded. An hour -passed--and yet another--and the greater portion of the afternoon. Five -o'clock came. A newsboy passed, crying the _Evening Journal_. The Hawk -bought one. A headline in heavy type on the front page instantly caught -his eye: - -ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS IN A LEAD CAPSULE - -And beneath this, still in assertive type: - -Famous French Surgeon en route to Japan with Fortune in Radium Misses -Connections Through Destruction of Railroad Bridge. - -Offers Company Large Sum of Money for Special Train to the Coast. - -"Yes," observed the Hawk caustically, "and even if I hadn't known -anything about it before, I'd have had a look-in thanks to this! Sting -you, wouldn't it! The papers hand you a come-on--and then they wonder at -crime!" - -The "story" itself ran a column and a half. The Hawk began to read--or, -rather, to divide his attention between the story and the hotel -entrances. The reporter had certainly set out with the intention of -overlooking no detail that could be turned to account. His meeting and -conversation with the Frenchman in the car were breezily set forth; the -member of a "prominent family" in Japan artfully disguised, or, perhaps -better, disclosed no less august a personage than the Emperor himself; -the value of radium, both intrinsically and scientifically, was -interestingly dealt with; and the surgeon's black handbag, with its -priceless contents, was minutely described and featured. - -The Hawk had reached this point, when suddenly the newspaper and the -reporter's version of the story lost interest for him. Doctor Meunier, -gripping his little black handbag tenaciously, had stepped out through -the main entrance of the hotel, and was walking briskly down the street. -A moment later, the Bantam sauntered through the doorway and started in -the same direction, a hundred yards behind the Frenchman. The Hawk, with -a grim smile, folded his paper, stuffed it into his pocket, rose from -the bench, crossed the street, and fell into the procession--a hundred -yards behind the Bantam. - -It was still light, though it was beginning to grow dusk--too light for -any highway thuggery, and yet--the Hawk gradually closed the gap between -himself and the Bantam to half the original distance. - -The chase led on for a half dozen blocks, then turned into one of the -crowded streets of the shopping district, and proceeded in a downtown -direction. And then, abruptly, the Hawk dropped further behind the -Bantam again, and crossed to the opposite sidewalk. It was perhaps -only fancy, but intuitively he felt that he, too, in turn, was being -followed. His hat brim, hiding his face, was pulled a little farther -forward over his eyes, as he hurried now until he was abreast of the -Frenchman. Intuition or not, it was quite possible and even likely that -one of the gang might "cover" the Bantam. - -The Hawk scowled. He could not be sure; and he dared not put it to more -than a casual test, for he could not afford to lose sight of the Bantam. -He paused, took a slip of paper from his pocket, and, as though having -consulted it for an address, appeared to scan the signs and numbers on -the stores in his immediate vicinity. The Frenchman had passed by; the -Bantam was directly opposite to him now across the street. The Hawk's -keen eyes searched the stream of pedestrians behind the Bantam. And -then suddenly he shrugged his shoulders, and returned the paper to his -pocket--a man, in a light suit and brown derby hat, had stepped out -of the crowd, and was leisurely lighting a cigarette in a doorway just -across from where he, the Hawk, stood. - -The Hawk went on, but keeping in the rear of the Bantam now on the -opposite side of the street. He was still not sure; but, in any case, -neither could the man in the brown derby be _sure_ that he, the Hawk, -was following the Bantam. So far then, granted that he _was_ being -followed, it was an even break! - -At the next crossing the Frenchman accosted a policeman, and, as though -he had received directions, at once turned down the cross street. The -Hawk, as he followed, smiled grimly. The cross street automatically -verified the suspicions of the man in the brown derby--if the man in the -brown derby had any suspicions to verify; but, at one and the same time, -it also answered the Hawk's own question. - -The Hawk, in turn, made use of a doorway. He could afford to allow the -Bantam, temporarily, the lead of an extra half block now, for there were -fewer people on the cross street and he would still be able to keep the -other in sight. A minute, two, elapsed--and then the Hawk picked up the -Bantam's trail again. The man in the brown derby hat had passed by the -corner and continued on along the main street. - -And yet still the Hawk was not satisfied. And it was not until after -he had repeated the same manouvre some four or five times, as the -Frenchman, leading, turned into different streets, that he was finally -convinced that neither the man in the brown derby hat, nor any one else, -was interested in his movements. - -The chase, since leaving the main street, had wound its way through the -less populous wholesale district--it ended at the railway station. -The Frenchman passed along the front of the building, and disappeared -through the doorway leading upstairs to the divisional offices, his -object being, it now appeared obvious, to obtain another interview with -the superintendent; the Bantam disappeared inside the main entranceway -of the station, evidently to await the Frenchman's reappearance; and -the Hawk, on the far side of the street, slipped into the lane that had -served him many times as a thoroughfare between the station and his room -over the saloon two blocks away. - -It was growing dark now. A half hour went by. Still the Hawk crouched -in the shadow of the building that bordered the lane. The street lights -went on. The six o'clock whistle blew from the shops over across the -tracks. Either the Frenchman was a visitor not easy to get rid of, or -Lanson was out and the other was awaiting the superintendent's return. -But the Hawk's patience was infinite. - -Another fifteen minutes dragged away; then the office door opened, the -Frenchman emerged, and started back uptown. The Bantam appeared from -the main entranceway, and started after him. The chase was on again. The -Hawk followed. - -The Frenchman, seemingly sticking to rule of thumb and following the -directions he had received on the way down, took exactly the same -route on the way back. But now the neighborhood presented an entirely -different aspect. The wholesale houses were closed; the streets -deserted, dark, and poorly lighted. - -The Hawk hugged the shadows of the buildings craftily on the opposite -side of the street. Was it coming now? Certainly the gang would go -far before finding a more ideal opportunity, and the Bantam, if he had -realised that fact, could easily have sent, or telephoned, a message -from the station. He, the Hawk, had not cared to take the risk of -following the Bantam inside--the Bantam _might_ remember having seen him -in the hotel lobby. - -And then the Hawk's lips thinned. Yes--it was the old, old game! They -were on the cross street, a little less than a block distant from the -main street ahead. The Bantam began to close up on the Frenchman. -The Hawk now, crouching low, slipped almost literally from doorway to -doorway. Two men, apparently drunk and quarrelling, were coming down the -block toward the Frenchman. The Bantam closed to within a few yards of -his quarry. The brawl attained its height as the two men reached the -Frenchman. One man struck the other. They clenched, and, smashing into -the Frenchman knocked him down. His hat flew in one direction, the -handbag in another. The brawlers curiously did not resume their quarrel, -but lounged a few paces away--within call of the Bantam. The Hawk, -squeezed in his doorway directly opposite the scene, kept his eyes on -the Bantam. If the play had lacked originality before, it did not lack -it now! The Bantam stooped, picked up the handbag, and, as he stooped -again for the hat, slipped the handbag under his coat, and slipped -another bag--evidently a carefully prepared duplicate--out from under -his coat and into his hand. The Frenchman was rising dazedly to his -feet. The Bantam stepped hurriedly forward, holding out hat and bag. - -"I hope you're not hurt, sir," the Hawk heard him say--and then the two -moved on together toward the corner. - -The Hawk shook his shoulders in a queer, almost self-apologetic sort of -way, as he followed again. And then he smiled as queerly. The Bantam had -the bag now, and, if he, the Hawk, were permitted to hazard an opinion, -the Wire Devils had very kindly picked the fruit again for him to eat! - -At the corner, the Bantam shook hands with the Frenchman, and, stepping -out into the street, signalled an approaching car. Quick, alert on the -instant, the Hawk, safe in the protection of the crowded sidewalk, -moved swiftly along in the direction that the car would take, his eyes -searching the street on both sides for a taxicab. The street car passed -him, but stopped at the next corner, and he caught up with it again. And -then, over his shoulder, he saw a taxi coming up behind him. He stepped -from the curb, and stopped it. - -"Sorry, sir," said the chauffeur. "I'm going after a fare." - -"You've got one now--and a good one," said the Hawk quietly. He had -opened the door--a ten-dollar bill lay in the chauffeur's hand. - -"Yes, but look here, sir," said the chauffeur, a little dubiously, "I'll -get into trouble for this, and----" - -The Hawk had stepped inside, and lowered the window between himself and -the chauffeur. - -"Follow that car," said the Hawk pleasantly. "And while we're on the -crowded streets don't get so far behind it that you can't close up near -enough to see who gets off every time it stops. And don't worry about -your trouble--there's another ten coming on top of the regular fare. -That's good enough, isn't it?" - -"I guess I'm not kicking!" admitted the chauffeur. The taxi started -forward. He looked back over his shoulder at the Hawk. "What's the lay? -Fly-cop?" - -"Maybe!" said the Hawk. "Mind yourself! It's stopping again. Keep where -I can see both sides of the car." - -"I get you!" said the chauffeur. "Leave it to me!" - -Block after block was passed, the street car stopping frequently. The -Hawk, in the body of the taxi, knelt behind the chauffeur's back, his -eyes held steadily on the street car ahead. The Bantam did not alight. -The street car began to run out into the suburbs. The taxicab, with -lights out now, risking the city ordinance, dropped back to a more -respectful distance in the rear. The district became less settled, the -houses farther apart; the street lights were single incandescents now, -and these few and far between. There was one passenger left in the -car--the Bantam. - -The chauffeur spoke abruptly. - -"We're pretty near the end of the line," he said. - -"All right," the Hawk answered. "Stop when the car stops--keep about -this distance, we're not likely to be noticed." A moment later he -stepped from the taxi. "Wait for me here!" he directed. - -The Bantam, leaving the street car, had started off at a sharp pace past -the end of the car line. It was little more than a country road now; -only a house here and there. The Bantam, just discernible in the -darkness, had a lead of perhaps a hundred yards, and the Hawk, moving -stealthily, began to creep nearer, and still nearer, until the hundred -yards were fifty--and then suddenly, with a low muttered exclamation, -he threw himself flat on the ground. The Bantam, abreast of a house from -which there showed a light in the side window, had turned in abruptly -from the road. A glow of light spread out as the front door opened. The -Hawk lay motionless. Then the Bantam entered, and the door was closed -again. A little later, a form appeared at the side window, a hand -reached up, and the shade was drawn. - -"Nice respectable neighborhood, too!" observed the Hawk tersely. "Wonder -if it's _the_ lair, and if the Master Spider's in there now?" - -He was creeping forward now across a small lawn. He neared the side -window; it was open, and the shade lacked a tiny, though inviting, space -of reaching to the sill. A murmur of voices came from within. There was -not a sound from the Hawk. And then, from beneath the window, which was -low and not more than four feet from the ground, he raised himself up -cautiously, and suddenly his dark eyes narrowed. It was not the Master -Spider--it was the Butcher, whose treachery had nearly done for him that -night in the paymaster's office, the man whom he had promised should one -day _remember!_ - -He could hear now, and he could see. It was a sitting room such as -one might find anywhere in a house whose occupants were in comfortable -circumstances. It was cosily and tastefully furnished. It bore no sign -of criminal affiliation; it was, as it were, a sort of alibi in itself. -A telephone stood on the table beside a pile of magazines, the latter -flanked by an ornamental reading lamp; deep leather lounging chairs -added to the inviting and homelike appearance of the room--the -incongruity was in the Butcher's thin, hatchet-like face, and in the -coarse, vicious features of the short, stocky Bantam, as they faced each -other across the table. - -"Where's the others, d'ye say?" demanded the Bantam. - -"Out," said the Butcher. "The chief called 'em an hour ago. I don't know -what's up. I guess you and I keep house here to-night; he said you were -to stay. Mouser and Jack were to report to Kirschell, weren't they?" - -"Yes, that's what they said." - -"Well, all right!" The Butcher shrugged his shoulders. "That's none of -our hunt. I suppose you got it, didn't you--or you wouldn't be here?" - -"Sure, I got it!" answered the Bantam. "What d'ye think?" - -"Let's have a look," said the Butcher eagerly. "The chief says we can -cash in on it for fifty thousand." - -"Fifty thousand!" The Bantam growled, as he unbuttoned his coat, and, -taking out the bag, laid it on the table. "I thought it was worth a -hundred thousand!" - -"So it is." The Butcher was opening the bag. "But it's no cinch to turn -it into money without a big split--savvy?" - -The Butcher opened the lead box, took out the lead cylinder, and -balanced it speculatively in the palm of his hand. - -The Bantam regarded it distrustfully. - -"It don't look like fifty cents to me!" he commented finally. - -"I know," said the Butcher facetiously; "but your eyesight's bum, -Bantam! Have any trouble?" - -The Bantam grinned. - -"Not what you'd notice! After the Mouser and Jack smashed into him, the -poor old boob didn't know what had happened till I was handing him his -hat and the other bag. I guess he bumped his bean kind of hard on the -sidewalk." - -The Butcher nodded approvingly. He was still twisting the lead cylinder -around and around in his hand. - -"Say," suggested the Bantam impatiently, after a moment, "when you've -done chucking it under the chin, put it to bed somewhere, and if there's -any grub in the house lead me to it. I'm hungry!" - -"All right!" agreed the Butcher. He replaced the lead cylinder in its -box, and the box in the bag, crossed the room, opened a little cupboard -in the wall opposite the window, laid the bag inside, and closed the -cupboard door again. "Come on!" he said. - - - - -XIII--THE MAN WITH THE SCAR - -THE two men left the room. The Hawk did not move. He was fingering in -a curiously absent-minded sort of way the edges of the newspaper that -still protruded from his pocket. It was very simple, very easy. The -window was open, the cupboard was not locked, the room was empty, there -were only the Bantam and the Butcher to look out for, and they were in -another part of the house; he had only to lift aside the window -shade, step in, steal across the room, and steal out again--with a -hundred-thou-sand-dollar prize. It was very inviting. It seemed suddenly -as though it were a pressing invitation to enter that room--_and never -leave it alive!_ - -Flashing quick through the Hawk's brain now was a rsum of the -afternoon, of each separate and individual occurrence since he had left -the train. Had he, after all, been followed? If so--how? Had the Bantam -been warned? He shook his head, as though impatient with himself. Even -apart from that, what he had begun to suspect now would be thoroughly -logical on the part of the gang. The newspaper supplied the key. He -would unquestionably have seen the newspaper that afternoon, and he -would, apart from being spared several aimless hours in the park, have -done exactly as he had done, and just as unquestionably be where he was -now at this precise moment even if he had not been with the Frenchman on -the train. The newspaper placed him in possession of the same facts -that the Wire Devils possessed. They must know that. They were therefore -justified in assuming that he, quite as rabidly as themselves, would -make an attempt to steal the bag. They knew, in that case, that he would -have discovered that they were already at work; and they knew that, on -a dozen occasions before, that had not prevented him from snatching the -prize they had already counted within their grasp. Were they on their -guard now--or a little more than on their guard! Were they offering -him, on the chance or with the knowledge that he was here now, the -opportunity to snatch another prize--and seeing to it that it was for -the _last_ time! - -The Hawk edged back from the window; and, silent as a shadow now, -began to circuit the house. And then suddenly his suspicion became a -certainty. It was only a little thing--a slip--but it was enough. The -Butcher had made a misplay! There was no light in any other window--and -a man did not usually eat in the dark! It was fairly, even painfully, -evident now that the Bantam and the Butcher were in, say, the adjoining -room, waiting for him to enter through that window into their trap. - -But there was still the little black bag--and one hundred thousand -dollars! The Hawk's smile was more ominous than pleasant. There were -other ways apart from a window--and even two men, especially if -they were caught napping, had been known to be quite amenable to the -influence of the muzzle of an automatic! - -The Hawk found the back door entrance, found it locked--and used a -skeleton key. He was perhaps five minutes in opening the door; but in -those five minutes there was no click of lock as the handle turned by -infinitesimal fractions of an inch, no creak of hinge as the door little -by little swung back and was closed again. - -The silence was almost uncanny. It was utter blackness. By feeling out -with his hand he discovered he was in a passageway. He moved along, -guiding himself by the sense of touch against the wall, his weight -balanced and full upon one foot before he lifted the other for the next -step. - -It seemed a passage of interminable length, that led on and on through -blackness and silence. In reality he had come possibly thirty feet, -and had passed one door. And then he began to catch the sound of voices -whispering. The whisperings grew more distinct and became low, guarded -tones, as he moved forward--and now he could distinguish words. He -flattened back against the side of the passage. Opposite to him was an -open door; and within the room, instead of blackness now, was a sort of -murky gloom which was created by a ray of light that seeped in through -a partially open door at the far side of the room. The Hawk's fingers -slipped into his pocket--and slipped his mask over his face. He had his -bearings now. The room from which the light came was the baited trap; -the room immediately in front of him was the room from which the trap -was to be sprung! His hand went to his pocket again, and came out -with his automatic. It was their move now. If, when they finally grew -impatient, they went back into the lighted room, or turned on the light -in the room where they were now waiting, they sprang the trap upon -themselves. - -Came the Bantam's low growl--and the twitching of the Hawk's jaw -muscles. - -"I don't like it, I tell you! Where is he? What's he waiting for? I know -he followed me. You saw him yourself from the front room creeping across -the lawn out there. 'Twouldn't take him all this time to get in through -that window." - -"Aw, shut up!" snarled the Butcher. "You'd give any one the creeps!" - -"That's all right," whispered the Bantam hoarsely; "but I said from -the start it was a fool game not to cover him close on the way back, -and----" - -"Yes--and scare him off!" sneered the Butcher. "There ain't but one guy -that'd pick up that trail--and that's the Hawk. He's butted in enough, -but he's butted in for the last time to-night! The two of us are -aplenty, aren't we? Sure--cover him close on the way back--and scare him -off! D'ye think he's a fool!" - -"No, I don't, curse him!" retorted the Bantam. "And if I'd had my way, -I'd have croaked him in broad daylight with a bullet through his bean, -and finished him for keeps the minute Jack spotted him following me! -Instead of that, Jack never even gets a look at his mug." - -"You're some bright guy!" grunted the Butcher. "We'd have had a hot -chance making a dead man tell us where he'd planted those diamonds off -the Fast Mail, not to speak of a few other little trifles the swine did -us out of!" - -"And you think----" - -"You bet, I do!" the Butcher cut in viciously. "He'll talk to-night to -save his life--and then I'll toss you, Bantam, if you like, to see who -bumps him off!" - -The Hawk's fingers played in a curious, caressing motion over the -stock of the automatic in his hand; the twist on his lips grew a little -harder, a little more merciless. - -There was movement in the room now. One of the two, the Bantam -undoubtedly, in growing uneasiness, was moving softly, erratically, up -and down the room. It proved to be the Bantam. - -"Well then, where the blazes is he!" he burst out nervously. - -"Aw, shut up!" snarled the Butcher savagely for the second time. - -The Bantam's shadow, as the man paced up and down, passed the doorway, -repassed, and passed again. - -"I tell you, I don't like it!" he flung out suddenly. "Something's -wrong! If he's outside the house, he can't see, anyway. I'm going to -take a chance, and----" - -There was a click, the light in the passageway went on--then a yell -from the Bantam in the doorway--a lightning spring from the Hawk, as the -other jerked a weapon upward--and the Bantam went down in a heap, as -the Hawk's clubbed weapon caught him on the head. It was quick, like the -winking of an eye. From back in the room, the Butcher sprang forward for -the doorway--and fired--and missed--and the Hawk's left hand, as they -came upon each other, darting out, closed with the strength of a steel -vise on the Butcher's right wrist, and with a terrific wrench twisted -the other's arm halfway around. It was lighter now in the room--light -enough to see. The two forms swayed strangely--a little apart--the -Butcher's body bent over, as though queerly deformed. Slowly, -remorselessly, the Hawk turned the other's arm in its socket. Sweat -sprang to the Butcher's forehead, his face writhed with pain--and, with -a scream of agony, his revolver clattered to the floor. - -"You're breaking it--for God's sake, let go!" he moaned. - -The Hawk kicked the revolver to the other side of the room. - -"Take the Bantam by the shoulders and drag him into that lighted room!" -The Hawk's tones were flat, unpleasant. "I don't think I hit him hard -enough to take the chance of leaving him there alone!" - -The Butcher obeyed--with the muzzle of the Hawk's automatic pressed -persuasively against the small of his back. He left the Bantam in the -middle of the sitting room floor, and himself accepted a chair--at the -Hawk's invitation. - -"You again--eh, Butcher?" The Hawk's voice had become a drawl. With his -automatic covering the Butcher, he had backed to the cupboard, opened -it, and was feeling inside with his left hand. "My grateful thanks, and -you'll convey my compliments--the Hawk's, you know--to our friend--the -chief." He had slipped the little black bag under his arm, and now his -hand was back in the cupboard again; he had felt a ball of heavy -cord there. "Sorry I haven't a phony ten-spot with me--my card, you -know--unpardonable breach of etiquette--really!" He smiled suddenly. The -ball of cord was in his hand, as he advanced toward the Butcher's chair. -He set the little black bag down on the table. - -The Butcher seemed to have lost all his characteristic ferocity; the -sharp little ferret eyes rested anywhere but on the Hawk, and on his -face was a sickly grin. - -"Stand up!" commanded the Hawk curtly--he was knotting the end of the -cord into a noose. "Now--your hands behind your back--and together! -Thank you!" He slipped the noose over the Butcher's hands, and began to -wind the cord around the other's wrists. - -The Butcher winced. - -"I'm sorry," said the Hawk apologetically; "but it's all I have. The -cord is rather thin, and I'm afraid it may cut into you--not strong -enough to allow you any play, you know. And, by the way, Butcher, I -heard the Bantam say that I was spotted on the way down--I presume -he meant on the way down to the station. I'll be honest and admit I'm -disappointed in myself. Would you mind explaining, Butcher--I was quite -convinced there was no one behind me." - -"There wasn't!" The Butcher risked a sneer. "Mabbe the French guy was -heard telephoning to the station, and the Bantam passed on the word. -Nobody had to follow behind. All there was to do, knowing where the -Frenchy was going, was to dodge around the blocks ahead, and keep hidden -down the different intersecting streets, and see if the same guy kept -going by the corners after the Bantam." - -"Thank you, Butcher," murmured the Hawk gratefully. "That lets me out -a little, doesn't it?" He wound the cord again and again around the -Butcher's wrists, knotted it, shoved the other unceremoniously back into -the chair, and tied the Butcher's legs. - -The Hawk then gave his attention to the Bantam. The Bantam was just -beginning to regain consciousness. The Hawk knelt down, rolled the -man over on his side, and secured him in the same manner as he had the -Butcher. But with the Bantam he went a little farther. He transferred -the Bantam's handkerchief from the Bantam's pocket to the Bantam's -mouth--and tied it there. - -He turned once more to the Butcher. - -"I must apologise again," he said softly. "I hate to do this"--he -felt for, and obtained, the Butcher's handkerchief--"but the house -is unfortunately close to the road, and you might inadvertently make -yourself heard before I got decently away." - -The Butcher's reply was a shrug of the shoulders. - -The Hawk, about to cram the handkerchief into the other's mouth, paused. - -"Butcher," said the Hawk, almost plaintively, "if you'll permit me to -deal in mixed metaphors, you appear to have shed your spots--you're too -awfully docile!" - -"You got the goods," muttered the Butcher sullenly. "What more do -you----" - -He stopped suddenly. His eyes met the Hawk's. The telephone on the table -was ringing. - -The Hawk hesitated. Into the Butcher's eyes, narrowed now, there seemed -to have come a mocking gleam. The telephone rang again. And then the -Hawk reached out abruptly, and took the receiver from the hook. - -"Hello!" he said gruffly. - -"Four X. Who's that?" responded a voice. - -There was something familiar about the voice, but he could not on the -instant place it. The Hawk's mind, even as he answered, was swiftly -cataloguing every member of the gang known to him in an effort to -identify it. - -"The Bantam," he said. - -"All right," replied the voice. "Give me the Butcher." - -"Hold the line," answered the Hawk. - -He placed his hand over the transmitter. The voice was still eluding -him. He turned, and eyed the Butcher. - -"Four X wants you, Butcher." All the drawl, all the insouciance was gone -now; his voice was hard with menace, cold as death. "And you're going to -speak to him--but you're going to say what I tell you to say. But before -you begin, I want you to remember the little account between us that's -been hanging over since that night in the paymaster's office. If you -make a break, if you try to frame me--_I'll settle that account here -to-night_, while you sit in that chair. If you hesitate on a word, I'll -fire--and not through my pocket, you yellow cur! Understand? Don't kid -yourself on this, Butcher! If I nod my head, say 'yes'--and no more. -Now!" - -The Butcher had sunk back in his chair. There was fear in his face; it -was white, and he circled his lips with his tongue. - -Beneath the mask, the Hawk's lips were a straight line. He laid down his -automatic on the table, placed the receiver to his own ear, and held the -transmitter to the Butcher's lips. - -"Go ahead!" ordered the Hawk. "Ask him what he wants." His fingers, -cupped and pressed over the transmitter, lifted. - -"Hello!" said the Butcher. "What is it?" - -"That you, Butcher? Everything all right?" inquired the voice. - -The Hawk nodded. - -"Yes," said the Butcher. - -"Well, open up a bit!" complained the voice. "Did you get him, and----" - -The voice was speaking on. The Hawk's lips had set a little tighter. -He had recognised the voice now. His fingers were pressed over the -transmitter again. - -"Tell him you laid me out cold," instructed the Hawk; "and that -I haven't regained consciousness, yet. Now!" The voice had ceased -speaking; the Hawk's fingers lifted again. - -"We beaned him," said the Butcher morosely.. "He's still asleep." - -"Good!" chuckled the voice. "I'll be up there by and by, and----" - -"Tell him to stay where he is, that it will be--_safer_." The Hawk -clipped off his words. - -The Butcher delivered the message, the snarl in his voice entirely to -the Hawk's liking. - -"What?" questioned the voice. "I didn't get you." - -"Repeat!" whispered the Hawk. - -The Butcher repeated. - -"O. K.," came back the answer. "Yes, I guess you're right. So long, -Butcher." - -"Say 'good-night,'" prompted the Hawk. - -"'Night!" growled the Butcher. - -The Hawk replaced the receiver on the hook, and the instrument on the -table. - -The Butcher's lips were livid. - -The Hawk picked up his automatic and leaned forward, his eyes on a level -with the Butcher's. - -"What's that fellow's moniker, Butcher?" - -The Butcher hesitated. - -The automatic crept forward an inch. - -"Parson Joe." The Butcher's voice choked with mingled rage and fear. - -"Parson Joe, eh?" repeated the Hawk ruminatingly. "Was he the chap who -pulled that con game on the Riverdale Bank back in New York State -about six years ago, and afterwards got cornered by the police in Ike -Morrissey's gambling hell, and was caught because he nearly bled to -death, with his wrist half off, trying to get through a broken window -pane? He got four spaces. That him?" - -"If you say so, it must have been!" There was a leer in the Butcher's -voice. - -"_Was it?_" The automatic touched the Butcher's breast. - -"Yes," said the Butcher. - -"Thank you!" smiled the Hawk. "Now----!" - -He gagged the Butcher with the handkerchief, tied it securely into -place, stood up, picked up the little black bag, switched off the -electric reading lamp, moved to the window, and drew aside the shade. -"We'll let that account stand open for a little while longer, Butcher," -he said softly. "Just a little while longer--good-night!" - -He swung out of the window, dropped to the ground, ran across the lawn, -and gained the road. His mask and automatic were back in his pockets. -His fingers felt and patted the little black bag under his coat. - -"Always play your luck," whispered the Hawk confidentially to himself. -"It seems to me I saw a little loose change in Doctor Meunier's -pocket-book, and I don't think he's opened the duplicate bag yet and -stirred up a fuss. It isn't much compared with a hundred thousand, or -even fifty, to quote the Butcher, but 'every little bit added to what -you've got----'" He fell to whistling the tune pleasantly under his -breath, as he hurried along the road. - -A minute later he had regained the taxicab. - -"Drop me a block this side of the Corona--and give her all she's got!" -he directed crisply. - -"D'ye get him?" demanded the chauffeur eagerly. - -"My friend," replied the Hawk gently, as he stepped into the taxi, "if -you'll think it over, you'll come to the conclusion that you really -don't want to know. Take it from me that the less you're wise about -to-night the wiser you will be to-morrow. Now, cut her loose!" - -It had taken a good thirty minutes on the trip up; it took less than -half of that, by a more direct route, for the return journey. At -the corner, a block from the hotel, the Hawk crumpled two generous -bank-notes into the chauffeur's hand, and bade the man good-night. -He traversed the block, entered the hotel lobby, and, ignoring the -elevators, leisurely and nonchalantly ascended the staircase to the -first floor. From the landing he noted the room numbers opposite to -him, and with these as a guide passed on along the corridor to where it -turned at right angles at the corner of the building, and halted before -room No. 106. A light showing above the transom indicated that the -Frenchman was within. He had passed one or two people. No one had paid -any attention to him. Why should they! He glanced up and down. The -corridor, for the moment, was empty. He tried the door gently--it was -locked. His right hand, in his side pocket, closed over his automatic. -He pressed close to the door, knocked gently with his left hand--and -with his left hand reached quickly into his pocket for his mask. - -"Who's there?" the Frenchman called out. - -"Message for you, sir," the Hawk answered. - -Footsteps crossed the room, the key turned in the lock--and, in a flash, -the Hawk, slipping on his mask, had pushed the door open, closed -it behind him, and the Frenchman was staring into the muzzle of the -automatic. - -"_Mon Dieu!_" gasped the Frenchman faintly. - -"That's right!" said the Hawk coolly, "Don't speak any louder than that, -or----" He shrugged his shoulders significantly, as he locked the door. - -The Frenchman, white-faced, was evidently fighting for his nerve. - -"What--what is it?" he stammered. "What is it that you want?" - -It was almost a reassuring smile that flickered on the Hawk's lips, and -his voice did not belie it--it was purely conversational in its tones. - -"I was reading in the paper this afternoon about the famous Doctor -Meunier. I'm a bit of a scientist myself, in an amateur way, and I'm -particularly interested in radium when there's enough of it to----" - -"Ah! My radium! That is what you want!" cried out the Frenchman wildly. -The duplicate bag lay on the bed. He ran for it, and snatched it up. -"No! That you shall not have! You come to steal my radium, you----" - -"You jump at conclusions, doctor," said the Hawk patiently. "Since it is -already stolen, I----" - -"Stolen!" The Frenchman stared--and then with feverish fingers opened -the bag. He looked inside. The bag dropped to the floor, his hands -went up in the air. "It is empty--empty!" he cried distractedly. "It is -gone--gone! _Mon Dieu_, my radium is gone! What shall I do!" His hands -were rumpling through his hair like one demented. "What shall I do--it -is gone!" - -"Well," suggested the Hawk suavely, "I thought perhaps you might like to -buy it back again." - -"Buy it back! Are you crazy? Am I crazy?" The man appeared to be beside -himself; he flung out his arms in mad gesticulation. "With what would -I buy it back? It is worth a hundred thousands dollars--a half million -francs!" - -"You are excited, Doctor Meunier," said the Hawk calmly. From where it -bulged under his coat he drew out the black bag. "I said nothing about a -hundred thousand dollars." - -The Frenchman reached out a shaking hand, pointing at the bag. - -"It is you then, after all, who stole it--eh? The bags--they are -identical! _Mon Dieu_, what does this mean? I am mad! I do not -understand!" - -There was a chair on each side of the small table near the bed. - -"Sit down!" invited the Hawk, indicating one with the muzzle of his -automatic. The Frenchman sat down with a helpless and abandoned gesture -of despair. The Hawk took the other chair. He opened the bag, opened -the lead box, and laid the lead capsule on the table. "Do you identify -this?" he inquired pleasantly. - -The Frenchman reached for it eagerly. - -The Hawk drew it back. - -"One moment, please, Doctor Meunier!" he murmured. "You recognise it? -You are satisfied that it is your tube of radium?" - -"Yes, yes--_mon Dieu!_ But, yes!" - -"And it is worth, you say, a hundred thousand dollars?" - -"But, yes, I tell you!" cried the Frenchman. "A hundred -thousand--certainly, it is worth that!" - -"Quite so!" said the Hawk placidly. "Therefore, Doctor Meunier, a -comparatively small sum--eh?--you would be willing to pay that--a sum, I -might add, that would be quite within your means." - -"Quite within my means?" repeated the Frenchman a little dazedly. - -"Yes," said the Hawk sweetly. "And to be specific, let us say--whatever -is in your pocketbook." The Frenchman drew back in his chair. His face -blanched. - -"You--you mean to rob me!" he exclaimed hoarsely. - -"I do not see it quite in that light." The Hawk's voice was pained. "But -we will not discuss the ethics involved--we probably should not agree. -I did not steal your precious capsule from you, and I am returning it, -not, I might say, without having incurred considerable personal risk in -so doing. Perhaps we might better agree if we called it--a reward." - -"No!" said the Frenchman desperately. - -The Hawk's automatic tapped the table top with a hint of petulance. - -"And--and what guarantee have I," the Frenchman burst out, "that you -will give me the tube after you have taken my money?" - -"My word," said the Hawk evenly. "And--I am waiting, Doctor Meunier!" - -The Frenchman hesitated, then, with an oath, flung his pocketbook upon -the table. The Hawk opened it, extracted the wad of bills that he had -seen exhibited in the superintendent's office, smiled as he fingered -them, and put them in his pocket. He pushed the lead capsule across the -table--and suddenly, as the other reached for it, the Hawk was on his -feet, his automatic flung forward, his left hand grasping the other's -sleeve. - -They held that way for an instant, eying each other--the Hawk's left -hand slowly pushing back the other's right-hand sleeve. And then the -Hawk's eyes shifted--to a long, jagged, white scar on the bare forearm -just above the wrist. - -"Shall I introduce myself--Parson Joe?" purred the Hawk. - -The other's face was a mottled red--it deepened to purple. - -"No, blast you!" he said between his teeth. "I know you--but I didn't -think you knew me. So you called the turn when the Bantam followed -me--eh?" - -The Hawk shook his head. - -"I never saw you in my life before to-day," he said grimly; "and, if it -will do you any good to know it, I fell for that radium plant--until you -telephoned the Butcher half an hour ago." - -"And how did you know me, then?" The other flung the question fiercely. - -Again the Hawk shook his head. He had no desire that Parson Joe should -know he had been on the Limited that morning--Parson Joe might possess -an inconveniently retentive memory for faces, and he, the Hawk, did not -always wear a mask. - -"Maybe I guessed it, Parson!" he said insolently. "I must have--it was -the only thing that wasn't in the paper! What encyclopedia did you get -that 'Becquerel burn' dope out of? And was the reporter lying, or how -did you work it to get him on the train?" - -Parson Joe was leaning forward over the table, fingering the lead -capsule. He suddenly crushed it with a blow of his fist, twisted it in -two, and hurled the pieces across the floor. - -"We got him up the line on a fake that didn't come off!" he snarled. - -There was an instant's silence, then the Hawk spoke. - -"Nice, amiable crowd, you are, Parson!" The Hawk's voice was silken. -"I'm just beginning to appreciate you. Let's see! You had to pull a -story that any newspaper would jump at and _feature_, didn't you? And -you had to have a big enough bait to make sure I'd rise to it. And you -had to account for the celebrated Doctor Meunier's layover in Selkirk; -and, not expecting I'd pick up the trail quite so quickly, say, not -until after the paper had been out a little longer and you had made -another baiting trip or two to Lanson's office, you had to account for -the famous gentleman's enforced stay through the night if necessary; and -it gave a big swing to the story, and let you work your stunt for the -special train that you knew you couldn't get; and you figured I'd be -even more sure to see it in the paper if it was connected with some -pleasant little episode of yours--and so, on several counts, you blew up -the bridge." - -The man's teeth were clamped together. - -"Yes!" he choked. "And we'd blow a dozen more to get you!" - -"You flatter me!" said the Hawk dryly. "I'm afraid I've put you to quite -a little trouble--for nothing!" - -Sullen, red, furious, Parson Joe's face twitched. - -"You win to-night"--the heavy-lensed spectacles were off, and the black -eyes, the pupils gone, burned on the Hawk--"but you're going out! As -sure as God gave you breath, we'll get you yet, and----" - -"The Butcher told me that, and so did the Cricket--some time ago," said -the Hawk wearily. "I'm--_keep your hands above the table_--I'm sure you -mean well!" He was backing toward the door. "I won't bother to relieve -you of your revolver; and I don't think you'll telephone down to the -office. It might be awkward explaining to the police how Doctor Meunier -lost his pocketbook--and got his medical degree! I shall, however, lock -the door on the outside, as I shall require a minute or two to reach -the street, and I cannot very well go through the hotel corridor -with--this"--he jerked his hand toward his mask. - -The other's hands were above the table, obediently in plain view--but -they were clenching and unclenching now, the knuckles white. - -The Hawk reached behind him, took the key from the lock, listened, -opened the door slightly, and, still facing into the room, still -covering the other with his automatic, reached around the door and -fitted the key into the outside of the lock. - -"When you get out," said the Hawk, as though it were an afterthought, -"I'm sure the Butcher will be glad to see you--I am afraid he is not as -comfortable as he might be!" - -The black eyes, with a devil's fury in them, had never left the Hawk's. -And now the other lifted one of his clenched hands above his head. - -"I'd give five years--_five years_ of my life--for a look at your face!" -he whispered hoarsely. - -The Hawk was backing through the door. - -"It's not enough, Parson," he said softly. "Make it -another--pocketbook." - - - - -XIV--THE CLUE - -TWO days had passed--two days, and a night. The Hawk's fingers drummed -abstractedly without sound on the table top; his eyes, in a curiously -introspective stare, were fixed on the closely drawn window shade across -the room. From the ill-favoured saloon below his unpretentious lodgings, -there came, muffled, a chorus of voices in inebriated and discordant -song--an over-early evening celebration, for it was barely seven -o'clock. - -The finger tips drummed on. At times, the strong, square chin was -doggedly outthrust; at times, a frown gathered in heavy furrows on -the Hawk's forehead. The net at last was beginning to tighten -ominously--every sign pointed to it. He would be a blind fool indeed who -could not read the warning, and a fool of fools who would not heed it! - -His eyes strayed from the window, and rested upon the trunk that stood -between the table and the foot of the bed; and his fingers abruptly -ceased their restless movements. Within that trunk, concealed in its -false lid, was the loot, totalling many thousands of dollars, obtained -through his knowledge of the Wire Devils' secret code, which had enabled -him to-turn their elaborately prepared plans on more occasions than one -to his own account. But it was no longer a question of outwitting -them in order to add to that purloined store; it was a question of -outwitting them in order that--in very plain English--he, the Hawk, -might _live!_ - -Nor was it the Wire Devils alone who threatened disaster. There were -other factors; and, even if these factors were less imminent, as it -were, less in a measure to be feared, they were by no means to be -ignored. The police were showing increasing activity. The police -circular, which he had once torn down from the station wall, was now -replaced by another, only with this difference that, where the reward -for the Hawk's capture had then stood at five thousand dollars, it now -stood at ten. Also, last night--quite inadvertently!--while crouched -under the window of the turner's "cubbyhole" at the rear of the -roundhouse, the chosen spot for Lanson's and MacVightie's confidential -conferences, he had overheard a conversation between the division -superintendent and the head of the railroad's detective force that was -certainly not intended for his ears. According to MacVightie, a man by -the name of Birks, the sharpest man in the United States Secret Service, -had been detailed by the Washington authorities to the case. MacVightie -had even taken a generous share of the credit for this move to himself. -Thefts there might be until the country rang with them, murders might -add their quota to the reign of terror, yet all this was outside the -province of the Secret Service. It was, so MacVightie had said, through -MacVightie's insistence that the systematised thefts and murders were -inseparable with the counterfeit notes then flooding the country that -had induced Washington to act. The Hawk and his gang, according to -MacVightie again, were at the bottom of both one and the other--and -counterfeiting _was_, very pertinently, within the province of the -Secret Service! - -The Hawk permitted a twisted smile to flicker across his lips. -MacVightie, the police in general, and Birks of the Secret Service in -particular, might be classed as complications, even decidedly _awkward_ -complications, but his immediate peril lay, not in that direction, but -from those whose leadership MacVightie so blandly credited to--the Hawk! - -The smile twisted deeper--into one of grim irony. While MacVightie -placarded the country with circulars offering rewards for the capture of -the Hawk and his gang, the "gang" was moving heaven and earth to capture -the Hawk for its own exclusive purposes--which purposes, in a word, were -an intense desire to recover the proceeds of the robberies that he, the -Hawk, had filched from under the gang's nose, and thereafter, with -such finality as might be afforded by a blackjack, a knife thrust, or -a revolver bullet, to expedite the Hawk's departure from this vale of -tears! - -The Hawk's hand curled suddenly into a clenched fist, and his face -grew set. He was facetious--and he had little enough warrant for -facetiousness! They had already shown their teeth. They had shown the -grim, ugly _deadliness_ of their challenge in the thrust with which -they had opened their attack upon him. He had parried the thrust, it was -true--but there would be another--and another. There was something of -remorseless promise, that would stop at nothing, in the extravagantly -laid plans with which they had just attempted to lure him into the -open and trap him. They had failed, it was true, and he had even scored -against them again--but their cunning, their power, their resources, -their malignity remained unimpaired. They would try again. It was like -two adversaries in a dark room, each conscious of the other's presence, -each striving to _place_ the other, each conscious that the death of one -was life for the other. That was the pith of the situation. - -The Hawk's teeth clamped together. It was quite certain that they would -run him to earth--unless he were first at the same game! An organisation -as widespread as the one against which he had elected to pit his wits -and play a lone hand, an organisation clever enough to have seized and -put to its own use the entire divisional telegraph system of a railroad, -an organisation callous enough to have counted a score of murders but -incidents in its schemes, and, above all, an organisation guided by an -unknown brain that was a master of cunning and unhampered by scruples, -was an antagonist as sinister as it was powerful. For days now, in the -great majority of cases, he, the Hawk, had turned their plans to his own -account, skimmed, as it were, the cream from their milk--and there could -be but one answer. And they _had_ answered--and in the opening attack -they had just launched against him it was obvious enough that every -resource at their command was to be thrown into the balance to settle -scores with him. They might, and did, laugh at the police, but to have -their prizes pocketed and carried off by a competitor admitted of but -one solution--the annihilation of the competitor! - -The Hawk rose abruptly from his seat, stepped over to the trunk, opened -it, and in an instant had removed the secret tray from the curvature of -the lid. He laid the tray down upon the table; and his fingers, brushing -aside a certain magnificent diamond necklace whose thousand facets -glittered in the light, delved swiftly in amongst pile after pile of -banknotes, and secured a package of papers. - -He pushed the tray to one side, sat down again at the table, removed the -elastic band from the package, and began to examine the papers. It was -not the first time he had done this--he did it again now in a sort of -desperation, and simply because it presented the one possibility at -which he might grasp in the hope of obtaining a clue. There were many -papers here, loose sheets, documents in envelopes, and, careful as -he had been before, there _was_ a chance that he had missed the one -thing--in a sentence, in perhaps only a word, or a pencilled note-on the -back of an envelope--that would save him from disaster now. - -It was the night before last that Parson Joe, with his fake tube of -radium, had headed the gang in the attempt upon his, the Hawk's, life. -The twisted smile returned to the Hawk's lips, as he turned first one -paper and then another over in his hands. He had been fool enough to -imagine that, besides failure, they had left a well-marked and clearly -defined trail behind them--in the shape of that very comfortably, very -cosily furnished house just on the outskirts of the city, where the -Butcher had proposed to play the rle of spider to his, the Hawk's, rle -of fly! It had even seemed a childishly simple matter to pick up such -a thread and follow it. A house was neither rented nor furnished out of -thin air. But the next morning the house was closed and deserted. It had -been sublet--furnished. The subtenant, whose name was of no consequence, -since it was of course assumed, had vanished--that was all. As far as -the gang was concerned the house had lost its usefulness, and, having -lost its usefulness, had simply been evacuated, and, together with the -furniture, left to its own resources! - -And it had been the same, on a previous occasion, with Isaac Kirschell's -office. The morning after he, the Hawk, had appropriated the contents -of Kirschell's cash box and had recognised Kirschell as one of the gang, -the suite of rooms in the office building had been vacant. - -The Hawk withdrew the last paper in the pile from its envelope, and -read it with a sort of miserable realisation that its perusal, like -the others, was foredoomed to futility. It was an alleged mortgage, -spurious, of course, for these were Kirschell's papers that had been in -the cash box, and, in the very nature of things, Kirschell's business -had been only a blind to cover a sort of branch headquarters for the -gang. He read it through, however, doggedly--and for his pains the -printed words in their precise legal phraseology seemed to mock at him -and chuckle with devilishly perverted humour. - -He tossed the document upon the table, and, his face strained, pushed -back his chair, got up, and began to pace the length of the room with -a tread that, in its quick, nervous litheness and its silence, was like -the pacing of a panther in its cage. - -Nothing! And yet there must be something--somewhere! It was his move -now, and there was little time to spare. It had become simply a -question of which of the two, he or the gang, would win this game of -blindman's-buff. It no longer sufficed that he should intercept those -secret code messages in the former haphazard way, for, consistently as -he had haunted the telegraph sounders, he was well enough aware that he -must of necessity have missed many of the messages. He could afford to -miss _none_ of them now. Formerly, a message missed meant but a lost -opportunity to thwart their plans, to add a little more to the contents -of the trunk's false lid; now, since they had shown that they would -stop at nothing to trap him, his life was dependent on having, with -certainty, foreknowledge of their every plan. His defense lay in attack. -He must trace those messages to their source, and trace them quickly -before the Wire Devils should strike again, or leave the field to the -Wire Devils--in other words, quit and run for it! - -"Quit!" It was the first sound the Hawk had made, and it was only a -whisper--but the whisper was gritted out through set teeth. Quit! -He laughed a little, low, with menace, without mirth. It was not an -alternative--it was the sting of a curling whip-lash to spur him on. - -Well? What was he to do then? It was his move--and there was no time to -spare. He approached the table again, and began to rearrange the papers -into a pile, preparatory to replacing them in the tray. It was veritably -a game of blindman's-buff! They knew him through personal contact, but -only as a man who had always been masked; he knew many of them, and knew -them personally--but only in the play-off of their schemes, when he had, -as it were, snatched the plunder from their hands as he made his own -escape, had he ever seen any of them. Well--the question came again, -more insistent, more imperative, more vital--well, his life was in the -balance, what was he to do? Go out again to-night and haunt a telegraph -sounder, trust to---- - -He turned suddenly, the spurious mortgage, and the long envelope that -had contained it, in his hand. The document, for some reason or other, -refused to fit into the envelope as neatly or as readily as it had -previously done. He held the envelope up to the light--and the next -instant, flinging the document down on the table, he had ripped the -envelope apart, and from under the inner flap, where it had undoubtedly -been forced by the document itself and afterwards, as he had handled the -envelope, had obviously worked its way partially out again, he extracted -a small, thin slip of yellow paper. - -And then for a moment the Hawk stood motionless, but into the dark eyes -there leaped a triumphant flash. In his hand was the return portion of a -railroad ticket that read: - -Conmore to Selkirk City. - -He whipped the ticket over to scrutinise the date stamp on the back--it -was that of the day prior to his visit to Kirschell's office. And he -laughed a little again, but there was no bitterness in the laugh now. -The clue that he had sought, the clue that Lanson's men had in vain -patrolled and scoured the division's right of way to obtain, was in his -possession. - -"It fits--like a glove!" muttered the Hawk, with grim complacence. -"Kirschell had the envelope in his pocket, of course, and in putting -his return ticket in his pocket it slipped into the envelope without his -knowing it, got crowded under the flap, and he thought he had lost it!" -The Hawk turned sharply to the table. "Conmore--eh?" He was working with -feverish haste now, replacing the papers in the tray, and fitting the -tray back into the curvature of the trunk lid. "Number Thirty-Eight, -if she's on time, is due at seven-thirty." He pulled out his watch. -"Seven-twenty! Conmore--eh?" The light was out, the door locked behind -him. "That's twenty-miles east of here, and _between_ here and Bald -Creek." He was out of the house now, and running along the lane that -gave on the station street. "Yes," said the Hawk again, and there was -suppressed elation in his voice, "it fits! It fits--like a glove!" - -The Hawk reached the station, and purchased a ticket; but, as usual, the -ticket did not indicate his destination--it read, not to Conmore, but to -several stations farther along the line. The local pulled in on time. As -it pulled out again, the Hawk, having appropriated the rear seat of the -smoker, lighted, though he inclined little toward that particular form -of tobacco, a cigar. - -His slouch hat was jerked a little forward over his eyes. He settled -back in his seat. Like links in a chain, the keen, alert brain was -welding the events of the days gone by into a concrete whole. The -headquarters of the gang, the heart of the web from which the Wire -Devils operated was, logically, as he had known, as MacVightie had -known, _outside_ the city, where the telegraph line could be tapped -without observation and at will. MacVightie's initial and only attempt -to "ground out" the "tap" had indicated that the wire was being tampered -with _between_ Selkirk and Bald Creek. Conmore was between Selkirk and -Bald Creek. And what interest could Kirschell, a New York crook, have -in a place like Conmore, that was little more than a hamlet? What, then, -had prompted Kirschell's trip to Conmore and return? The Hawk smiled -whimsically. - -It was not proof absolute, but in his own mind it was proof quite -sufficient. Kirschell's visit to Conmore had been a visit to the -headquarters of the gang. Also, material proof apart, he sensed -intuitively that he had struck the right trail. Those messages, keeping -the unknown brain that schemed and plotted each move in instant touch -with every unit of the widespread organisation, making it possible for -them to strike at a moment's warning at any point over a hundred miles -of country, emanated--from Conmore. - -The train stopped at a station, and went on again. The Hawk nursed his -cigar sedulously, and stared out of the window. Twenty minutes went by. -And then the train stopped again--at Conmore. - -The Hawk did not move, save that his eyes rested casually on a passenger -who was making a hurried and belated dash for the door. It was quite -possible that the man was not one of the gang, and equally possible that -the man was--he, the Hawk, did not recognise the other. But he would do -the Wire Devils less than justice to credit them with lack of interest -in passengers for Conmore--or in any occupant of any car who might have -left his seat and found the platform attractive, say, just _before_ -Conmore was reached! If the man was a spy, then--well--the Hawk smiled -at his now burned-to-the-butt cigar--the man would have little to -report! - -The train jerked forward into motion again. The station was on the same -side as the Hawk's seat--the Hawk did not look out of the window, but he -was far from being oblivious to the fact that _no_ platform lights had -shown through the car windows on the opposite side of the aisle. The -speed increased a little, but still the Hawk did not stir. The train -rattled over the east-end siding switch of the Conmore yard. And then -the Hawk rose languidly, tossed his cigar butt into the cuspidor, -brushed a very noticeable quantity of cigar ash from his vest, paused -for a drink at the water-cooler, and, as though, his smoke finished, he -was seeking the clearer atmosphere of a rear car, opened the door, and -stepped out on the platform. - -The Hawk dropped to the right of way from the side of the train opposite -to that of the station, landed as sure-footed as a cat, flung himself -instantly flat down at the edge of the embankment, and lay still. -The local racketed its way past--the red tail-lights winked, and -vanished--and there fell a silence, a drowsy night silence, broken -only by the chirp of insects and the far-distant mutter of the receding -train. The Hawk raised his head, and looked about him. A few hundred -yards away glinted the station semaphore and window lights; the siding -switch light, nearer, showed green like a huge glowing emerald in -the black; there was nothing else. There was no sign of -habitation--nothing--the little hamlet lay hidden in a hollow a mile -away on the station side of the track. - - - - -XV--THE LADYBIRD - -THE Hawk rose, and began to move forward. Conmore was certainly an -idealistic spot--from the Wire Devils' standpoint! He frowned a little. -There was no doubt in his mind but that in a general way he had solved -the problem, that somewhere in this vicinity the right of way held the -wire tappers' secret; but, as he was well aware, his difficulties were -far from at an end, and that particular spot might be anywhere within -several miles of Conmore, and it might, with equal reason, be east or -west of the station. And then the Hawk shrugged his shoulders. The night -was early yet, early enough to enable him to cover several miles of -track on both sides of the station, if necessary, before daylight came. -If he had luck with him, he was on the right side now; if not, then, by -midnight, he would start in on the other. It required the exercise of a -little philosophical patience, nothing more. - -It was black along the track--a black night, no moon, no stars. And it -was silent. A half hour passed. Like a shadow, and as silent as one, the -Hawk moved forward--from telegraph pole to telegraph pole. A pin point -of light showed far down the right of way, grew larger, brighter, more -luminous--and the Hawk-sought refuge, crouched beneath a culvert, as -a big ten-wheeler and its string of coaches, trucks beating at the -fishplates, quick like the tattoo of a snare drum, roared by over his -head. - -Still another half hour passed. It was slow work. He was perhaps, at -most, a mile and a half from the Conmore station. And then, suddenly, -the Hawk dropped to his hands and knees and crawled down the embankment, -and lay flat and motionless in the grass--faint, almost inaudible, a -footstep had crunched on the gravel of the roadbed ahead of him. The -Hawk's only movement now was the tightening of his fingers around the -stock of his automatic, as, out of the blackness, a blacker shape loomed -up, and a man sauntered by along the track. - -The Hawk's lips compressed into a grim smile. His caution had not been -exaggerated! The Wire Devils' guard! Luck, at least initial luck, was -with him, then! The "tap" was here _east_ of the station, and at the -next pole probably. But it was more than likely that there was another -guard patrolling on the other side. They would certainly take no -chances, either of surprise, or of being unable to dismantle their -apparatus instantly at the first alarm--and it would almost necessarily -require more than one man for that. He crept forward again, and again -lay still. The man on the track returned--passed by--and, close to the -telegraph pole now, two blurred shapes showed; and then, low, there came -voices, and a laugh. - -But now the Hawk was wriggling swiftly away from the track. There was -no longer any need to examine the telegraph poles--the sense of touch -guiding him, he was following an insulated wire, two wires, that lay -along the ground, and, following these wires, he reached the barbed-wire -fence that enclosed the right of way, worked his way through, and here -paused. The wires had apparently disappeared abruptly into the ground. - -For perhaps a minute the Hawk lay still, save that his fingers worked -and dug at loose earth; and then, his coat extended on either side of -him, he raised himself an inch or two from the ground, and, beneath his -body, his tiny flashlight glowed for a brief instant, and was restored -to his pocket. - -The Hawk began to crawl forward again. He was on the edge of a ploughed -field--a piece of farm land. It was all very simple, and it was very -clear now. In the loose earth there was embedded a small, rough, wooden -box. In this receptacle was a junction box, and from the junction box, -through holes bored in the outer wooden casing, the wires continued -on into a small, flexible conduit. The Hawk smiled grimly. Lanson, and -Lanson's section men might search a thousand years and never solve -the problem. The Wire Devils were not limited to any one single or -particular telegraph pole. They were limited only in the radius of their -operations by the length of the "tap" wires they used. They had only to -tap the line, run their "tap" back, brush the loose earth away from the -top of the wooden casing, open the latter, connect with the junction -box, and their "tap" became an integral part of the railroad's telegraph -system. It was very simple! When they were not operating--they reversed -the process. They disconnected from the main line, coiled their "tap" -wires up, hid them in the wooden casing, restored the loose earth over -the latter's surface, and, save for one of those thousands of splices on -the main line incident to years of service and differing in no way -from any of its fellows, no sign or vestige of their work remained. It -required, of course, a lineman's outfit and the necessary appliances -for work at the top of the telegraph pole--but that the Wire Devils -were adequately equipped in this respect was so obvious as to make any -consideration of that detail absurd. For the rest, the little conduit -laid in a ploughed furrow with the earth spread back over it completed -in perfection and simplicity the unholy little scheme! - -On the Hawk crawled across the field. All this premised a house, a farm -house probably, in the immediate vicinity. The ploughed field must, -of course, never be disturbed, therefore the tenancy of the land -axiomatically was for the moment vested in the Wire Devils, and----ah! -The Hawk, far enough from the railroad now to be secure from -observation, had risen from his hands and knees, and, in a crouched -position, was moving forward more rapidly. A small, wooded tract of -land was showing a little way in front of him; the house undoubtedly was -there. - -He gained the trees, made his way through what appeared to be an open -grove of pines, and, on the other side, at the edge of the clearing, -halted, and listened intently. He could just make out a little group of -buildings--the house itself, a barn, and one or two smaller structures, -probably wagon and implement sheds. No light showed from anywhere, -nor was there any sound. Cautiously, silently, the Hawk crossed the -clearing, and began to circuit the house. It was a little strange! The -place seemed absolutely deserted. Had he made a mistake? Naturally, he -could not follow the direction of the buried conduit! Was there another -house in the neighbourhood? He shook his head. There might be another -house, many of them for that matter, but the ploughed field, from its -location, surely belonged to this one. And yet--he halted once more, -and, listening again intently, looked sharply about him. - -He was around on the other side of the house now, and now his eyes were -fixed on one of the lower windows. It was not the window of a lighted -room, yet still a faint glow seemed to emanate most curiously from it. -He crept toward it, crouched beneath it, listened again, then partially -straightening up--the window sill was but breast high--peered in. Of the -room itself he could see nothing--only the dull glow of light, extremely -faint, that came, he now discovered, from an open door across the room. -He tried the window; and then, finding the catch unfastened, with a -deft pressure of his fingers upon the sash, he began to raise it slowly, -silently. - -And now into the Hawk's dark eyes there leaped for the second time that -night a triumphant flash. Yes, beyond doubt, beyond question, beyond -cavil, here was the heart of the spider's web at last! Muffled, low, -indistinct, barely audible, but equally unmistakable, there came the -clicking of a telegraph instrument. - -The Hawk drew his mask from his pocket, slipped it over his face, swung -noiselessly over the window sill, and began to creep across the room -toward the opened door and the glow of light. And, as the clicking of -the sounder grew more distinct and there mingled with it now a murmur -of voices, the Hawk's lips compressed into a thin, straight line. If -he were caught, if a single inadvertent sound betrayed his presence; it -needed no effort of the imagination to picture what would follow. Death, -if it were sudden, would be a very merciful ending--but it would not -be death, if the Wire Devils could prevent it, until they had exhausted -every means, torture ingenious and devilish, for instance, to extort -from him the whereabouts of the plunder taken from them, and which they -knew to be in his possession. He knew much now, he knew their lair at -last, and for a moment, as these thoughts flashed across his mind, he -was prompted to retreat again while he had the chance. An inner voice -called him a fool to persist; another bade him go on. But the latter -voice was right. He knew much--but he did not know enough. - -If his life was in peril in the one sense, it was equally in peril in -the other. He did not know _enough_. Who, for instance, was the master -brain behind the organisation? Where and how, for instance, was the next -trap they would set for him to be laid? - -Brief snatches of conversation now began to reach the Hawk, as he drew -nearer to the door: - -"... Twenty-five thousand dollars... Traders' National Bank... -superintendent's car... dummy package... counterfeit seals... that's all -right, but MacVightie says the Secret Service is sending a man by the -name of Birks out here...." - -And then a voice at which the Hawk involuntarily held his breath, and to -which, at the door now, he listened in a sort of stunned incredulity, -as though he were indeed the sport of his own ears. It was a very quiet -voice, very soft, a velvet voice, a voice whose tones were cultured -tones--and whose language was the language of a pirate of the Spanish -Main. - -"Time enough to attend to this Birks personage--what I want is the -Hawk!" came in limpid tones. "And if I were not tied down here in this -damned and double-damned wheel chair, I would have twisted his throat -for him long ago. I furnish brains--and I am cursed with a miserable, -crawling mob of gnats upon whom they are wasted! That's it--gnats! -Gnats--insects--moths--anything that, if shown the light, knows nothing -but to singe its own wings!" The voice was not raised; it was like -a mother's, like a woman's voice, talking plaintively to a spoiled -child--but there was something absolutely deadly in its inflection. - -"The Ladybird!" The Hawk's lips framed the words without sound, and in a -sort of numbed hesitant way. "I--I thought he was dead." - -The telegraph sounder kept on spluttering at intervals, but it was only -stray stuff, routine railroad business, going over the wires. The Hawk, -flat on the floor and at one side of the jamb now, stared through the -doorway. It was the doorway leading to the cellar. The stairs, halfway -down, turned abruptly at right angles. The Hawk was rewarded with a view -of the stone foundation wall of the house, nothing more. But for the -moment the Hawk was lost to his immediate surroundings. The Hawk's -criminal acquaintanceship was wide, varied and intimate, and his mind -was still not entirely recovered from the startled amazement which the -recognition of that voice had brought him. He was quite fully conversant -with the Ladybird's record--only he had thought the Ladybird dead! - -The Ladybird was not an ordinary criminal; instead of having spent -twenty years in Sing Sing, as was very justly his due, the police had -spent those twenty years in trying to put him there--and the Ladybird -was still to know the restrictions of a cage! Clever, fearless, cunning, -Napoleonic in the scope and breadth of his operations, the biggest -scoops on the blotters of the New York police, and, higher up, on -the Federal records, were laid to the Ladybird's door; but always, -somewhere, the thread of evidence broke--sometimes not till the door -itself was reached--but always it broke; the thread had never crossed -the threshold. The man himself was highly educated, a man now well on -toward fifty. In the underworld there were a thousand different stories -of his early life--that he had been a professor of science in a great -university; that he came of a rich family high up in the social scale; -that he had been, in fact, everything that the spice of imagination -could supply to enhance the glamour that surrounded him in the sordid -empire of Crimeland, where so many were his followers and worshippers. -But here, too, the thread was broken. None knew who he had been; -none knew where he had come from. They knew him only as one who was -invulnerable against the attacks and efforts of the police, as a peer -of their own unholy realm, as one whose name was a name to conjure -with--for in the name, the "moniker" they themselves had given the -Ladybird on account of his effeminate voice and manner, derision was -neither intended nor implied. There were limits and bounds to even the -underworld's temerity, and none knew better than the underworld the -sinister incongruity of those effeminate characteristics. Where another -might bellow and roar his rage, and threaten, the Ladybird lisped his -words--and _struck_. - -But he, the Hawk, had thought the Ladybird dead! The man had been badly -hurt a year ago in a railroad accident somewhere in the East, and the -report had spread, and had been credited even in the inner circles of -the underworld, that he was dead. The Hawk's lips twisted grimly. The -Ladybird had seen to it evidently that the report was not denied! And -so, instead, the man was a cripple now, weaving his plots, and scheming -with that black, cunning brain of his from a wheel chair! Well, he---- - -The Hawk reached quickly into his pocket for pencil and paper--there -would be just light enough to enable him to see. The sounder was -rattling a brisk, tattoo, but it was no longer stray stuff. The message, -in quick, sure "sending," was coming in the Wire Devils' secret code. -Letter by letter the Hawk jotted it down: - -"pikxtfbmez byqetbqfsl kgqmbokufec srfijojeremb -sthfgsbk bnfebvwq jduuvsfpq xwfsnlipb ouflmnfsbg jeborr ettjupuj ohllsppn." - -The sounder ceased abruptly. There was silence. The Hawk replaced pencil -and paper in his pocket. The minutes passed--the message was evidently -being decoded. Then the Ladybird's voice: - -"Very well! Code a message to Number One, and tell him Number Seven -has completed his work. Tell him again to take no chances by hurrying -things; that he is to wait until they are asleep. And warn him again -that under no circumstances is our hand to show in this to-night." - -A slight confusion followed from below--the scuf-, fling of feet, the -murmur of voices mingling with curious, indefinable metallic sounds. And -then suddenly the Ladybird's voice again: - -"No--never mind that message! Damn my cursed, useless legs!" A flow of -unbridled oaths followed--the sacrilege the more horrible, the menace -the more ghastly for the languid, conversational tones in which the -blasphemy rolled so smoothly from the man's lips. "I'll trust to no -message tonight! Curse my legs! If I could only get there myself! -Failure! Failure! Failure! Gnats! But I will not have my plans ruined -to-night by any fool! Here, you, Dixer! Where's Dixer?" - -"I'm here," a voice answered. - -"Listen, them!" murmured the Ladybird. "You haven't got any more brains -than any of the rest of them, but you're so cautious you wouldn't take -a chance on swapping a Mexican dollar for a gold eagle unless you had -a bottle of acid in your pocket--for fear the eagle was bad! I want -caution tonight, and I want orders obeyed to the letter, and that's all -I want. You take the runabout and go down there. You've lots of time. -Tell Number One you're in charge. I'll wire him to that effect. And now -pay attention to me so you won't have ignorance for an excuse! It's time -the police and the rags they call newspapers around here had a little -something to divert their attention--from us. They're getting to be -pests, and I want a lull in which to devote a little more attention -to--the Hawk. It's about time they understood we are modest enough -not to hog all the lime-light!" He laughed a little, a low, modulated, -dulcet laugh, that rippled like a woman's--but in the ripple there was -something that was akin to a shudder. "Twice in the last month, the -Traders' National has made remittances to its banking correspondent -at Elkhead for the mine country pay rolls and on account of general -business. They did it very neatly, they fooled us completely--because -the remittances were only piker amounts, and because it was only a -question of letting them get fed up enough with their own cleverness to -pull a good one! They're pulling a good one to-night!" The Ladybird's -laugh rippled out again. "To outwit us, and paying us the compliment of -not daring to trust to ordinary means of shipment, they've had a little -arrangement in force with Lanson, the division superintendent. It was -very simple. Lanson, in his car, making a trip over the division, could -never interest us--certainly not! Why should it? Only they did not -count on Number Eleven _inside_ the bank. Very well! They wrapped -their banknotes up in small packages, sealed them with the bank's seal, -wrapped these small packages up again into an innocent looking parcel -_without_ a seal, and handed it over to a trusted young employ by the -name of Meridan--Paul Meridan. On both the former occasions, Meridan -left the bank at the usual closing hour, took the parcel with him, -and went home; but, later on, in the evening, he slipped down to the -railroad yard, boarded Lanson's private car, locked the parcel up in -a small cupboard at the bottom of the bookcase with which the main -compartment of the car is equipped, smoked a cigar with Lanson, turned -in, the car was coupled to the night express, and in the morning Meridan -delivered his package in Elkhead. - -"That was the way it was done before, Dixer"--the Ladybird's voice, -if anything, grew softer--"and that's the way it is being done this -time--only there are _more_ little sealed packages in the parcel -to-night. And to-night Meridan will sneak out of his home again, and go -down to the private car with the money as usual. _Your_ way, yours and -the Butcher's, and that of the rest of you, would be to lay a blackjack -over Meridan's head on the way to the railroad yard, and snatch the -parcel. It's not _my_ way. It's too hot, as it is, around here now, and -there's got to be a big enough noise made to attract attention to the -other side of the fence and give us a breathing spell. _Paul Meridan -stands for this to-night_. There's nothing new about one of those -ubiquitous 'trusted employs' going wrong, but everybody sucks in their -breaths just the same every time it happens, and the splash is always -just as big. Understand? Number One has got a dummy package identical in -appearance with Meridan's--each of the small packages is sealed with -the bank's seal in dark-green wax, and the whole is wrapped up with the -bank's special wrapping paper and tied precisely as is the one Meridan -has in his possession. Number Eleven did his work well. There was, of -course, no opportunity to effect the exchange in the bank itself, and -the dummy parcel had to be made up outside, but there was no difficulty -in carrying away enough wrapping paper and wax for the purpose--and, as -far as the seal was concerned, it was you, Dixer, who engraved it a week -ago, wasn't it?" - -"Yes," said Dixer. "You took me off the new twenty-spot plate for that." - -"Exactly!" lisped the Ladybird. "Well, though this exchange could not -be effected in the bank, there was no great ingenuity required to get -Meridan to handle, perhaps only to lift, say, a pile of the bank's -wrapping paper from one position on a table or desk to another. If -the under sheet happened to be slightly smeared, and so left a not too -evident, but still well-defined finger print, it was, I am afraid, our -friend Meridan's great misfortune! That was one of the sheets Number -Eleven took away with him. Very good! Meridan delivers his package to -his bank's correspondent in Elkhead to-morrow morning. When the seals -are broken, the little packages are found to contain--piles of blotting -paper, neatly and carefully cut to the size of banknotes! There could -be no reason for suspecting Meridan, the trusted employ--no one -would think of such a thing. He had simply been the victim of a clever -substitution. He was entirely blameless. Naturally! That would be the -way Meridan would reason, and that would be the way they would figure -_he had reasoned_ when they read the letter from 'a friend' that we are -sending to-night, and which they will receive in the morning. Meridan -_did_ have an ample opportunity to effect the substitution himself. The -letter simply suggests a close inspection of the wrappers for finger -prints, and directs attention to Apartment B, on the ground floor of The -Linden--a rather fashionable abode for a young and newly married bank -clerk--where there might possibly be found certain articles such as, -say, a counterfeit of the bank's seal, a quantity of the bank's special -dark-green wax, and some _superfluous_ sheets of the bank's particular -wrapping paper!" - -There was utter silence from the cellar below for an instant, then there -came a callous guffaw. - -"_Some_ plant, all right!" applauded a voice hoarsely. "And it was -twenty-five thousand dollars, you said, wasn't it, chief?" - -Again that rippling laugh, soft, low and silvery. - -"Twenty-five thousand dollars is correct," corroborated the Ladybird. -"And now, Dixer, if you fail, you'll talk to me--you've seen all -the cards. Number One has a duplicate key to the private car, and a -duplicate key to the bookcase cupboard. Don't enter the car until -you are sure Meridan, Lanson and the porter are asleep. I want -_caution_--and I will settle with the man until he will wish he had -never been born who lets our hand show in this tonight. The car won't be -moved from the siding until the Eastern Express is made up at midnight, -but don't touch the car while it is on the siding at all if it means -taking any chances; in that case you and Number One can get berths in -the Pullman, and, with the private car right behind you, you can then -make the exchange sometime during the night. You'll find Number One and -the rest of them in the old freight shed near the roundhouse, and, with -the private car right behind you, you can then make the exchange -sometime during the night. You'll find Number One and the rest of them -in the old freight shed near the roundhouse, and----" - -The Hawk was wriggling silently back across the floor. There was no -scheme on foot to-night that was aimed at him; there was, instead, -twenty-five thousand dollars--_in cash_. He gained the window, and -swung to the sill. Footsteps, hurried, sounded from the direction of the -cellar stairs. The Hawk dropped to the ground, stole noiselessly around -the rear of the house, and reached the shelter of the grove of trees. -Here, he paused, slipped his mask into his pocket, and, for a moment, -a look of puzzled hesitation was in his face; then, running again, -but making a wide detour to avoid the guarded section of the track, he -headed for a point that would intercept the right of way quite close to -the Conmore station. And, as he ran, he jerked his watch and flashlight -from his pockets. It was a quarter past nine. It was early yet, very -early, and they certainly would not make any attempt on the car much -before midnight, but, for all that, the Hawk, who was intimately -conversant with the train schedules, shook his head impatiently, as he -sped along--there were twenty miles between himself and Selkirk, and the -quickest, as indeed the only way to get there, since, unlike Dixer, -he was not possessed of a runabout, was slow at best. There were no -westbound passenger trains scheduling Conmore for two hours or more, -and he would scarcely have dared to risk boarding one at the station if -there had been--there remained, then, not by choice, but by necessity, -the way freight. The way freight "made" Conmore at about ten o'clock, -and Selkirk at about eleven-thirty. - -It would serve admirably, of course, if----He shook his head again, and -then laughed shortly. There were no "ifs"--he would be a passenger on -the way freight. - - - - -XVI--AN EVEN BREAK - -IT took the Hawk some twenty-five minutes to reach the spot he had -selected as his objective, a spot some fifty yards east of the Conmore -siding switch, and here he lay down in the grass under the shelter of -the embankment. It was very quiet, very still, very dark; there was -nothing in sight save the winking station lights in the distance, and -the siding switch light nearer at hand. - -"Twenty-five thousand dollars!" said the Hawk very softly to himself. -He rolled the words like some sweet morsel on his tongue. "Twenty-five -thousand dollars--_in cash!_" - -The Hawk spread out one side of his coat, and under its protection, in -a diminutive but steady little glow of light, the tiny flashlight played -its ray upon the sheet of paper across which he had scrawled the Wire -Devils' code message. - -"Key letter--x. One-two-three--stroke at four," muttered the Hawk--and -in parallel columns set down the letters of the alphabet, one column -transposed. - -It took the Hawk much longer to decode the message than it had taken -those in the house to perform the same task. The Hawk was working under -difficulties. A stone, none too flat, served to rest his paper upon, and -he had only two hands with which to manipulate pencil, flashlight and -coat. At the expiration of perhaps half an hour the result of his work -looked like this: - -[Illustration: 0242] - -(plkx) tfbm (*e) zbyq (et) bqfs (1kg) qmbo seal waxp aper plan - -(k) ufec (sr) fijo (jer) embs (t) hfgs (bk) - -tedb ehin dlar gefr bnfe (bvw) qjdu (u) vsfp (qn) wfsn (ljp) bouf amed -pict ureo verm ante - -(l) mnfs (bg) jebo (rre) ttju (p) ujoh (II) - -lmer idan ssit ting sppn room - -And then the Hawk looked up--the throb and mutter of a distant train was -in the air. Pencil, paper and flashlight were restored to his pockets, -and he drew further back from the right of way. Far down the track the -way freight's headlight flashed into view. A minute passed, another, and -still another. And now, where the Hawk had lain, the ground was ablaze -with light--then black again; there was the roar of steam, a grind and -clash and shatter ricochetting down the string of cars, the scream and -shriek of brake-shoes, and then, a panting thing, as though the big -mogul were drawing in deep breaths after great exertion, the way freight -came to a standstill a few yards from the siding switch. - -The Hawk crept forward, his eyes sweeping down the length of the train -in a keen, tense gaze. There was a flat car--it showed in a curious open -space, like a break in the black thread stretched along the track--but -it was too far away, and too perilously close to the caboose. His -eyes travelled back; and, being nearer to the train now he discerned a -boxcar, empty, its door open, almost in front of him. He crawled forward -until he was abreast of it, and until he lay close up against the rails, -looked cautiously up and down the length of the train, sprang to his -feet, and in an instant lay stretched out far back in the interior of -the car. - -The train moved forward, stopped again at the station, and again moved -forward. The Hawk reverted to his pencil, paper and flashlight. The code -message now read: - -seal waxp aper plan tedb ehin dlar gefr amed pict ureo verm ante lmer -idan ssit ting room - -It was now simply a matter of grouping the letters properly, and the -Hawk wrote out the message at the bottom of the sheet: - -Seal, wax (and) paper planted behind large framed picture over mantel -Meridan(')s sitting room. - -The Hawk stared at it grimly. - -"'Yea," said the Hawk, "I guess that's right! I guess the job is wished -on the young fellow to a finish; he wouldn't have a hope, and MacVightie -would never look any further." The Hawk was silent for a moment. -"Twenty-five thousand dollars--in cash!" murmured the Hawk again. - -The way freight ran slowly, very slowly--and it had already been from -ten to fifteen minutes late in reaching Conmore. At the next station -the train crew seemed possessed of a perversity infernal for shifting, -shunting and lifting cars. The Hawk, fuming with impatience, consulted -his watch, as they finally pulled out into the clear again. It was -twenty-five minutes of eleven. - -The train rattled, bumped and jerked its way along--and at the remaining -intermediate stations there was more delay. And when, approaching -Selkirk at last, the Hawk consulted his watch again as the train -whistled, he was conscious that his impatience was tempered with a sort -of sullen, philosophical expectation of defeat. His luck had been too -abundant during the early part of the evening! It was now ten minutes -of twelve. He leaned out of the doorway, peering ahead. They were just -rolling into the Selkirk yard. - -The Hawk swung himself out from the car, dropped to the ground, darted -quickly to one side over several spur tracks, and stood still. The way -freight, like a snail, dragged past him, opening, as it were, a panorama -of the scene in the yard: the low switch lights, red, green, purple and -white, like myriad and variegated fireflies hovering everywhere over -the ground; the bobbing lantern of a yardman here and there; the dancing -gleam of a headlight, as the little yard engine shot fussily away from -a string of lighted coaches--the Eastern Express--which it had evidently -just made up and backed down on the main line beside the station; while -to his right, up the yard, on one of the spurs, perhaps a hundred yards -away, its platform showing in the glow of the dome light, stood the -superintendent's car; and to his left, not quite so far up the yard, and -therefore nearer to him than the private car, the Hawk could make out -the black, irregular outline of the old freight shed. - -The yard engine wheezed its way importantly up past the station, -stopped, a switch light winked, changed colour, and the shunter began to -puff its way back. The Hawk shrugged his shoulders resignedly. The game -was up and he was too late, unless Dixer had been forced to defer his -attempt until some time during the run that night, which was -hardly likely. The yard engine was backing down now to take the -superintendent's car up to the main line, preparatory to running it back -and coupling it to the string of coaches beside the station platform. -The Hawk smiled in the darkness without mirth, as he lost sight of the -little switcher on the other side of the private car. Well, at least, he -could gamble on the one chance that was left! There was only one thing -to do--go over to the station and get a Pullman berth. If Dixer and the -Butcher--the Butcher was "Number One"--were on the Pullman, the money -was still in the private car, and---- - -The Hawk's eyes narrowed suddenly. A man, crouched and running swiftly, -circled the end of the private car, and headed in the direction of the -freight shed--and like a flash the Hawk whirled and leaped forward, -running silently toward the same goal. The Hawk's brain, stimulated, -keen, alert, worked with lightning speed, and suddenly a strange low -laugh was on his lips. Their courses were convergent, his and that black -running shape's, and the other had not noticed him, and there appeared -to be something, a package, under the other's arm. The Hawk, as he -ran, slipped his mask over his face. Was it the dummy package--or the -twenty-five thousand in cash? Had the man succeeded, or had the yard -engine, backing down to couple on, disturbed him in his attempt just at -the psychological instant? Again that strange low laugh, in a panting -breath, was on the Hawk's lips. It did not matter! There was a way -now. He was not too late. If he got _both_ of the packages he could not -lose--and there was a way to accomplish that, a wild, dare-devil way, -but a _sure_ way! - -It was black, pitch black, in near the shed, and the Hawk, with -the shorter distance to cover, reached the edge of the freight shed -platform, and crouched down on the track. Came the faint crash and bump -of the yard engine coupling to the private car; then the short, quick -gasps of a runner out of breath, and a flying form bounded across -the tracks, sprang to the platform, and dashed for the freight shed -door--and the Hawk, his muscles, rigid, taut as steel, released -suddenly, as a coiled spring is released, leaped and hurled himself upon -the other. - -There was a yell of dismay, of surprise and fury, that seemed to echo -from one end of the yard to the other. The man went down in a heap -from the impact. The package, from under his arm, rolled off along the -platform--and the Hawk in a swoop was upon it. He snatched it up, and -running like a deer now, headed for the yard engine and the private car. - -Came another yell from behind him. He heard the freight shed door flung -violently open; and then, in grim emphasis of a sudden chorus of wild, -infuriated shouts from Dixer's waiting companions, the vicious tongue -flame of a revolver split the black, and the roar of the report -reverberated through the yard like a cannon shot. - -And now from the yard itself, the roundhouse and the station came -answering shouts. On the Hawk ran--he was alongside the private car now, -which was already in motion--and now he was opposite the cab of the yard -engine. The fireman, at the sudden pandemonium, head thrust out, was -hanging in the gangway. The Hawk's automatic swung to a line with the -other's head. - -"Get out!" gritted the Hawk coldly. "Both of you--you and your mate! Get -out--_on the other side!_" - -The man, with a dazed oath, retreated, and the Hawk sprang through the -gangway. The engineer, jumping from his seat, hesitated, and in the -yellow light of the cab lamp looked for the fraction of a second into -the muzzle of the Hawk's automatic, and into the hard, uncompromising -black eyes behind the mask--and followed the fireman in a hasty exit -through the opposite gangway. - -The Hawk snatched at the throttle, pulled it wider--and, like a beast -stung to sudden madness under the spur, the yard engine quivered, and in -a storm of exhausts, coughing the red sparks skyward from the stack, the -drivers racing, spitting fire as they sought to bite and hold the -steel, plunged forward. Ahead the way was clear to the main line, but -behind----The Hawk dropped his package on the floor of the cab, leaned -suddenly far out through the gangway, and as suddenly fired, his -automatic cutting a lane of flame through the darkness. He had fired -at the ground, but his shot had been effective. The engineer or the -fireman, he could not distinguish which, leaping to board the private -car by the rear platform, leaped back instead, and with a series of wild -gesticulations, in which arms and fists waved furiously, vanished in the -darkness. - -The yard engine, as though playing snap-the-whip with the private car -behind it, took the main line switch with a stagger and a lurch, and -straightened away into the clear. There was speed now, and the speed -was increasing with every second. The shouts, the yells, the cries, the -pandemonium from the yard was blotted out in the pound of the drivers -and the belch of the exhaust; and the station and switch lights -were lost to sight as engine and car flew on, heading west into the -foothills. The Hawk chuckled to himself. There would be wild confusion -in the dispatcher's office, and wild confusion all along the line west -of Selkirk, as regulars, extras and traffic of all sorts scurried for -safety to the sidings--but there would be no interference with _him!_ -Where they would otherwise have ditched him, given him an open switch -at the first station and sent him to destruction without compunction, he -possessed, as it was, a most satisfactory hostage in the person of -the division superintendent, whom they would hesitate about sending to -eternity at the same time! - -Possibly a minute and a half, two at the outside, had passed since he -had jumped through the gangway. He eased the throttle a little now, -reducing the speed to a rate more nearly commensurate with safety; -and, placing the package on the driver's seat, ripped off the outside -wrapper. There was a queer, hard smile on the Hawk's lips, as his -fingers tore at the covering of one of the small sealed packets within. -Was it the dummy parcel--or the twenty-five thousand in cash? Had Dixer -succeeded--or was the money still behind him there in the private car? - -The cab lamp above the dancing gauge needles seemed to throw its meagre -yellow glow with strained inquisitiveness over the Hawk's shoulder--and -then the Hawk laughed softly, and laughed again. In his hands were -banknotes. He riffled the stack through his fingers. It was here, in his -possession--_twenty-five thousand dollars in cash!_ - -And he laughed again, and glanced around him--through the cab glass -at the white ribbons of steel glistening under the headlight's glare, -around the murky cab that in its sway and jolt seemed to endow a legion -of shadowy with movement, vitality and life, at the platform of the -private car, which he could see by looking along the edge of the tender, -and which, like its fellow at the rear, was bathed in the soft radiance -of a dome light. Well, he might have known from the fact that the -occupants of the car had not made any move as yet, at least from the -forward end, that they had been in bed and asleep when the disturbance -began; and he might, on that count, if he had stopped to think, have -known that Dixer had succeeded even before he, the Hawk, had put it to -the proof by opening the parcel. - -A lurch of the cab sent him against the seat, and scattered the sealed -packages. He gathered them together again hurriedly. He had only to slow -down the engine a little more, jump to the ground, let the engine and -car go on, make his own way back through the fields, and he would be -safe unless--that strange, queer smile, half grim, half whimsical, was -flickering across his lips--unless he cared to risk his life for that -dummy package back there in the car behind, that contained nothing more -valuable than neatly trimmed pieces of blotting paper! - -The smile lost its whimsicality, and the grimness gathered until his -lips drooped in sharp, hard lines at the corners of his mouth--and, -abruptly, lifting up the seat, he swept the packages of banknotes into -the engineer's box, leaped across the cab, and began to claw his way up -over the coal, making for the back of the tender. - -"Twenty-five thousand in cash for me, and twenty years in the 'pen' -for the kid, doesn't look like an even break," muttered the Hawk, as he -clawed his way up. "Maybe I'm a fool--I guess maybe I am--but it doesn't -look like an even break. You see," said the Hawk, continuing to commune -with himself, "they'll know, of course, that some one who wasn't Meridan -tried to get the package, but with the package still there they'll think -that the 'some one' made a bull of it, and to-morrow morning when they -open the package and spot the finger prints, and get that bank seal in -Meridan's home, they'll hold him for it cold, because what's happened -around here to-night'll only look like somebody making a try for the -goods without knowing they were already gone. The kid wouldn't have a -hope--the Ladybird wasn't dealing any aces except to himself--the kid -would go up for having _previously_ stolen the goods on his own account. -Yes, I guess he would--wax, seal and paper in his house to make dummy -packages with--yes, I guess the kid would stand a hot chance!" - -The Hawk rose to his feet at the rear of the tender, preparing to -negotiate a leap down over the ornamental brass platform railing of the -private car--and instantly flung himself back flat on his face on the -coal. The car door was flung open, and Lanson, the superintendent, in -pajamas, a revolver in his hand, stepped out on the platform. He -was closely followed by a young man--Meridan, the bank clerk, -obviously--also in pajamas, but apparently unarmed; and, behind Meridan -again, came the negro porter. - -Lanson's voice, raised excitedly, carried to the Hawk: - -"Damn it, there's no one in the cab! What the devil sort of a game is -this!" - -The Hawk edged up to the top of the coal again--and the next instant, -with catlike agility, he launched himself forward. Lanson, clambering -over the platform railing, with the very evident intention of making his -way via the tender to the throttle, gasped audibly over the racket of -the beating trucks, and in a sort of stunned surprise and irresolution -remained poised inertly on the railing, as the Hawk, clinging now with -one hand to the rear handrail of the switcher, his feet planted on the -buffer beam, thrust the muzzle of his automatic into Lanson's face. - -"Drop that gun!" invited the Hawk in a monotone. - -The weapon, from Lanson's hand, clattered down, struck the coupling, and -dropped to the track. - -The Hawk spoke again--with unpleasant curtness: - -"You--Sambo! Move back, and stand in the doorway! Yes--there! Now, you, -young man, you stand in front of Sambo--your back to him!" And then, as -Meridan too obeyed, though more slowly than the porter and with a sort -of defiant reluctance, the Hawk addressed the superintendent: "Now, -you--your name's Lanson, isn't it?" he snapped. "You, Lanson, back up -against the young fellow. Yes--that's it! Sambo, put your hands on -the young fellow's shoulders--and you, young fellow, do the same on -Lanson's!" The Hawk swung over to the' car platform--and then the -Hawk smiled uninvitingly. "It's the lock-step backwards," he explained -insolently. "You get the idea, don't you? If either of you two behind -lift your hands, Lanson in front here pays for it. Now--back with you!" - -They shuffled backward into the observation compartment of the car, -through this, and through a narrow side corridor, and emerged into the -main compartment of the car. The Hawk, guiding their movements by the -simple expedient of prodding the muzzle of his automatic none too gently -into Lanson's body, here ranged the three along the side of the car; -and, backing over to the opposite side himself, halted in front of the -bookcase, and stood surveying his captives with his former insolent -stare. The porter was patently reduced to a state of nervous terror; -Meridan, young, clean-cut, was white to the lips, and his lips quivered, -but his eyes, a hard, bitter light in them, never left the Hawk's face; -Lanson, too, was white, but there was a stern composure in his face that -was absent from the younger man's. - -It was Lanson who spoke. - -"I presume," he said evenly, "that you are the abandoned scoundrel, -known as the Hawk, whom one of these days we are going--_to hang_." - -The Hawk shrugged his shoulders. - -"I haven't a calling card with me, but we'll let it go at that," he -answered flippantly. - -The car swayed and lurched suddenly; the trucks beat a louder tattoo -as they clattered over a switch; lights, a row of them from without, -scintillated through the car windows--and were gone. They were not -running perilously fast, but fast enough to prohibit the possibility -of any one, even an acrobatic brakeman from a stalled train, swinging -aboard. The Hawk laughed low. Also, he had been quite right--they had -just passed a station, and, thanks to the superintendent's presence, no -attempt had been made to interfere with the train. - -From one of the Hawk's pockets--with his left hand--the Hawk produced -a small steel jimmy. He knelt down, and, still covering the three men, -inserted the jimmy in between the cupboard doors. There was a creak, -the rip and split and tear of rending wood and lock, and the doors flew -apart. The Hawk reached in, laughed again, as, with the dummy package -under his arm, he stood up and began to back away toward the corridor -leading to the forward end of the car--and the laugh died on his lips. -In the winking of an eye Meridan had swung his hands from Lanson's -shoulders, and was springing forward. - -"You'll never get it!" The boy's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Not while -I----" - -"Keep away, you fool!" snarled the Hawk, and fired--at the floor. His -brain seemed instantly in a riot of ironical mockery. He could not fire -at the boy--it was the boy who had brought him here--and now the other -was upon him--like a wild cat--snatching at the automatic. - -It was only another step backward to the opening of the corridor, and -the Hawk gained it; but still the boy clung on, fighting furiously. He -saw Lanson and the porter leap forward, but for the moment that mattered -little--no more than one at a time could get at him in the confined and -narrow space here. To hold the package rendered his left arm useless. He -dropped the package to the floor, and kicked it deftly back behind him, -as the boy, with both hands, wrenched and battled madly for possession -of the automatic. - -They were swaying now, the two of them, bumping their shoulders and -their arms and elbows against first one side of the corridor and then -the other. There was the crash of splintering glass as they lunged into -a window--another crash, louder, more ominous, and with it a tongue of -flame, as the automatic went off in their hands--and something like a -red-hot iron seared the Hawk's side, and a blur came before his eyes. - -He reeled, recovered himself, and, massing all his strength for the -effort, as, with a cry of triumph, Meridan closed again, he tore -himself free from the other's grasp. There was one way--he was still in -possession of the automatic--only one way now. - -With a lightning swing he whipped the hutt of the weapon to the other's -head, backed rapidly away as the boy slid a limp thing to the floor, -and, picking up the package as he moved backward, holding the narrow -corridor with his automatic, though Lanson was kneeling now at Meridan's -side, he reached the observation compartment, whirled, ran for the door, -opened it, and stepped out on the platform. - -He stood panting here, a little dizzy, a sort of nauseating weakness -upon him, as he fumbled in his pocket. He was not as quick as usual -in his work, not as expert now in the use of his skeleton keys, but, -swiftly for all that, he locked the car door. - -The car and the engine seemed to sway and lurch and pitch and toss -as they had never done before. Was the speed greater? What was it? He -stumbled and nearly fell as he climbed to the tender. He fell, unable to -maintain his footing in the shifting coal, as he reached the cab. There -was something hot and wet that seemed to be working its way down his -leg; his side was giving him intolerable pain. - -He looked at the package in his hands, looked at it queerly for a -moment, and then his drawn lips parted in the old whimsical smile, as -he lurched forward and opened the fire-box door. The red glow filled the -cab and spread upward, tinging the sky with a rosy light--and the Hawk -thrust the package into the fire, and, swaying unsteadily, watched it -burst into flame. - -He glanced at the gauge now. The steam was dropping rapidly. He swept -his hand across his eyes. He had two things to do, and it seemed as -though his brain clogged in its decision as to which he should do -first--he had to get more coal on the fire, or else the engine would run -down, and he did not want it to run down, for it must keep on going a -long way, a very long way if possible, after he left it; and he must -stop the flow of blood from his wound somehow, or else---- - -He put coal into the fire-box. It was painful, dizzy work, and he -spilled a great deal of it, and the lumps rolled over the floor of the -cab, and he stumbled over the lumps. - -The Hawk's teeth were biting into his bloodless lips, as he finally shut -the fire-box door, and, staggering to the side of the cab, lifted up the -engineer's seat again. Here, under the packages of banknotes, he found -a bunch of waste and some cord; and then, reeling with the lurch of the -cab, reeling with his own weakness that only an iron nerve held back -from mastering him, he examined his wound, found it, though painful and -bleeding profusely, to be only a bad flesh wound, and, making a thick -pad of the waste, he laid it against his side, and bound it there by -passing the cord tightly several times around his body. It was a crude -bandage, but it should, at least, check the flow of blood--afterwards, -if he had luck, there would be opportunity for a better one! - -His mind reverted, seemingly without volition of his, to the fight in -the car, and he spoke aloud. - -"I guess," said the Hawk, "I didn't hit him as hard as twenty years in -the 'pen' would have hit him--I guess I didn't hit him that hard." - -He rested for a moment, sitting on the floor of the cab; then from the -engineer's box he removed the sealed packages, the torn outside wrapper, -and likewise an evening newspaper which he found there. He wrapped -up the banknotes in the newspaper, tied the bundle securely with the -remainder of his cord, replaced the seat, and, crouched low enough on -the floor to be protected by the tender from, say, a shot fired through -the observation window of the private car, kept his eyes fastened on the -right of way ahead. - -The next station must be close at hand, and there was but one way in -which he could get back to Selkirk--and he _must_ get back. There was -that letter--the Ladybird's letter--that would be received in Elkhead in -the morning! His brain was clearer now. He must be on Extra No. 92, the -eastbound fast freight's, running time, and she must be somewhere very -near here, must have taken to the siding at the next station probably -to avoid him, and to give clearance to what was, undoubtedly now, -coming behind him--a detective's special, with MacVightie, naturally, in -command. - -He straightened up painfully. Ahead, he had caught the glint of switch -and station lights. The siding was on the left-hand side. He moved to -the left-hand side of the cab, and lay on the cab floor by the gangway. -That letter! It seemed to obsess him now. If, when the letter was read, -the bank seal, the wax, and the wrapping paper were _found_ hidden in -the boy's home, the fact that some one--he, the Hawk--had stolen the -package from the car in no way changed anything. The boy's apparent -prior guilt was as glaring as ever. On the other hand, with the package -gone, and if the seal and those other things were _not_ found, the -letter became simply the expression of some practical joker's perverted -sense of humour, or the irresponsible work of some fool or crank. He -frowned in a sort of dazed irritation. He had known that all along, -hadn't he? He had known when he started after that dummy package in the -first place that he would have to go _all_ the way--so why was his mind -dwelling now on useless repetitions! - -The Hawk raised his head slightly--a deafening racket was in his ears. -The freight was here--on the siding. He was roaring past it now. He -could not hope for an open boxcar on the fast freight. His eyes were -searching eagerly for a flat car--a flat car loaded with anything that -would afford him shelter. Yes--there was one--two of them--loaded with -steel girders. - -The roar subsided; he was past the station and into the clear again--and -now the Hawk was at the throttle, easing the speed craftily. He did -not dare to "shut off" entirely, for, behind there at the station, they -would know, if the sound of the exhaust ceased, that he had stopped. -He checked a little with the "air" now. And now, calculating the speed -reduced enough to risk a jump, he opened the throttle to its former -notch, took up his newspaper package, lowered himself to the bottom -gangway step, and swung off. - -He rolled down the embankment. The switcher and private car went by, -and, gradually gaining speed again, racketed on up the right of way. -With a groan, the Hawk readjusted his displaced and makeshift bandage, -and began to make his way back toward the station. If he had slowed -enough to allow of a safe landing for himself, he had, of course, given -Lanson the same opportunity--but he had no fear of that. Lanson might -have jumped, but Meri-dan, whom he had left unconscious, _couldn't_, and -Lanson would stick to Meridan. As for the porter--the Hawk shrugged his -shoulders, as he looked about him--the porter had _not_ jumped. - -He stumbled on. If he were right, if they had started a posse on a -special in pursuit, he had plenty of time. The fast freight could -not pull out until the special had gone by. It seemed a long way, an -interminable way, an immeasurably greater distance than he had covered -coming up on the switcher. And then, at last, the tail-lights of the -stalled freight came into sight around a bend, and grew brighter. And -then, too, there came from the eastward the rumble of an approaching -train. He grew cautious now, and, creeping far out from the side of -the track, passed the caboose, crept in again toward the line of cars, -located the position of the flat cars, climbed aboard one of them, and -crawled in under the shored-up girders. - -The Hawk lay very quiet. He was weak again, and his head swam, and -he was dizzy. An engine and car--MacVightie and his posse -presumably--passed by on the main line; and then, presently, the -freight, with a clatter and bang echoing from one to another down the -length of cars, drew out of the station. - -When the Hawk moved again, it was as the train whistled and slowed for -the Selkirk yard. Perhaps twenty minutes had passed--the fast freight, -with no stops and already late, had made time. He put his mask in his -pocket, wormed his way out from under the girders, and peered ahead and -behind. They were just crawling into the upper end of the yard. He slid -to the ground, found himself a little more steady on his feet, slipped -across the spur tracks, dodged in between two buildings that flanked the -side of the yard, and came out on the street. - -Under a street lamp the Hawk looked at his watch. It was one o'clock. -He swayed a little again, but his lips set hard. There was not very much -time. Somewhere up the line the switcher and the private car would come -to a stop, and they would bring Meridan home--and once that happened, -with its consequent stir in Meridan's apartment, it would be impossible -to get in there, and the game, as far as the boy was concerned, would be -up. - -"Yes," said the Hawk, as he forced himself along the street, "I guess -maybe that's right--I guess maybe I'm a fool--but it wasn't an even -break." - -A street car at the next corner took him across town; and fifteen -minutes more found him standing in the unlighted vestibule of the -Linden Apartments. The tiny flashlight swept the ground floor apartment -doors--and an instant later the door of Apartment B yielded noiselessly -to the deft manipulation of a skeleton key. - -The Hawk closed the door, and stole forward. It was a rather fashionable -apartment, as the Ladybird had said, but it was also a very small one, -small enough to warrant the presumption that the young couple did not -keep a servant, and that there would probably be no one there except -Meridan's wife. A door at his right, as he felt out in the darkness, -he found to be open. He listened--for the sound of breathing. There was -nothing. The flashlight winked--and the Hawk stepped forward into the -room. It was the sitting room. The flashlight was sweeping about now in -an inquisitive little ray. A door, closed, leading to an inner room, was -on his right; facing him was a heavily portired window, the portires -drawn; and a little to the left of the window was the mantel. - -The flashlight's ray wavered suddenly, unsteadily--and the Hawk caught -at the nearest thing to him, the table in the centre of the room, for -support, a sense of disaster upon him, a realisation that, lashed on as -it might be by force of will, there was a limit _to_ physical endurance, -and that the limit had well nigh been reached. His hand brushed across -his eyes, and brushed across them again to clear his sight, as he tried -to follow the flashlight's ray to where it played jerkily on a massively -framed picture over the mantel. He bit his lips now, bit them until they -bled--and moved forward--and laid his parcel of banknotes on the floor -that he might have the use of both hands--and climbed upon a chair, and -felt in behind the picture. Yes--it was there! His fingers closed on a -roll of paper, twitched and shook a little as they pulled it out--and -a small package from inside the roll fell with a slight thud to the -mantel, and from the mantel bounded off to the floor. - -The Hawk caught his breath, as he listened, and descended from the -chair. - -"Clumsy fool!" he gritted fiercely, as he knelt on the floor. "I--I -guess I'm pretty near the count to do a thing like that." - -The flashlight came into play again, and disclosed a metal seal and -several pieces of dark-green wax peeping through the paper wrapper that -had been split apart in the fall. He picked them up, and put them in his -pocket; then, loosening his vest, he tucked the roll of wrapping paper -inside his shirt. Well, it was done now; he had only to get back to his -room, and there was surely strength enough left for that. Again his hand -swept across his eyes, and pressed hard against his temples--and then, -stooping swiftly, he clutched at his package of banknotes on the floor -beside him, and stood up, rigid and tense. - -Out of the darkness, almost at his elbow, with a startling clamour that -clashed and shattered through the silence, and seemed to set a -thousand echoes reverberating through the room, came the ringing of the -telephone. - -Some one in the inner room stirred. The Hawk drew back hurriedly into -the window recess behind the portires. The telephone rang again. There -came a step now, and now the room was flooded with light, and a woman, -a dressing gown flung hastily over her shoulders, crossed from the inner -doorway to the table, and picked up the instrument. - -"Yes?... Hello!... What is it?" she asked, a little sleepily. "Yes, this -is Mrs. Meridan... _What?_... My husband!" Her voice rang out in sudden -terror. "What did you say?" she cried frantically. "Yes, yes--the -Hawk--my husband--unconscious... You are not telling me all the -truth--you are trying to keep the worst from me--for God's sake tell me -the truth!... Not dangerous?... You are sure--you are _sure?_... Yes, -yes, I understand!... At the station in half an hour... I will be -there." - -Mechanically she hung the receiver on the hook, and clung for a moment -to the table's edge, her face grey and bloodless; and then her lips -moved, and one hand clenched until the tight-drawn skin across the -knuckles was an ivory white. - -"I pray God they get this Hawk!" she whispered. "I pray God they do! And -I pray God they _kill_ him! The coward! The miserable, pitiful coward!" - -The Hawk's fingers were digging at the window sill, because somehow his -knees were refusing to support his weight. What was she saying? He did -not quite understand. Well, it did not matter, she was gone now into -that other room--only she had left the light on. It was very strange the -way his hand on the window sill seemed to keep pulling his body around -in circles! - -Time had lost concrete significance to the Hawk. She appeared again, -fully dressed now, and, switching off the light, went out into the hall, -and the front door closed behind her. - -The Hawk parted the portires, and staggered across the room--and, a -moment later, a dark form, a newspaper parcel clutched under its arm, -emerged stealthily from the vestibule, and, reeling like a drunken man, -disappeared in the darkness down the street. - - - - -XVII--A HOLE IN THE WALL - -THE wound was healed--partially, at least. If the Hawk had unduly -shortened his period of convalescence, he was perhaps justified, and not -wholly without excuse! He stood now in the black shadows, hugged close -to the wall of the roundhouse. And now he moved stealthily forward, -until, from a crouched position, he straightened up against the wall -at the side of one of the few windows which were lighted. Lanson had -strolled aimlessly across the tracks from the station some ten minutes -before, and, five minutes later, MacVightie had followed Lanson--to -their chosen spot for secret conferences, this little "cubbyhole" of -a turner's office in the roundhouse, as the Hawk, from more than one -experience in the past, had very good reason to know. They were in there -now, and, as the Hawk was likewise exceedingly well aware, the events -of the next few hours, and incidentally his own particular movements, -depended very pertinently upon the movements of MacVightie and Lanson. - -Lanson's voice in quietly modulated tones reached the Hawk: - -"Yes, both trains are on time to the minute; I've taken care of that. -And so far there doesn't seem to be a hitch anywhere, and with your men -boarding the trains west of here at different stations along the line, -and mixing quietly with the passengers, I don't see how any one could -be the wiser on that score. Yes, it looks as though everything were all -right--eh, MacVightie?" - -"I don't know; I hope so," MacVightie's deep growl came in reply. -"Anyhow, we've carried out instructions from Washington, and it's up to -the Secret Service crowd as to how it pans out." - -"No, it isn't!" declared Lanson, still quietly. "It isn't up to a soul -on earth except those of us who have got the responsibility of this -division on our shoulders! I believe the plan is a good one, but because -it came from Washington doesn't let us out--not for a minute! What about -Birks; has he shown up yet?" - -"Not yet," MacVightie answered--and swore suddenly under his breath. -"And I don't mind admitting that the crowd down there in Washington make -me tired! It's over two weeks ago that I put it up to them. They said -they would take the matter under consideration, and in any case would -send one of their men, this Birks, out here to make an investigation. -But nothing doing! Then, as you know, I wrote them again a week ago, -when we knew this Alaskan gold shipment was coming through, and you know -their reply; they outlined a plan for us, and stated definitely that -Birks would be on deck to-night. Maybe he will--in time to tell us what -we _should_ have done!" - -"The Secret Service isn't a police force," said Lanson tersely. "The -only excuse they would have for acting at all would be if your pet -theory were correct--that the Hawk and his gang, apart from their -systematised murders and robberies, were also the ones who have been -flooding the country with those counterfeit ten-dollar notes. You had -no actual proof to offer, and Washington evidently hasn't felt quite -so sure about it as you have. However, there's no use discussing that -to-night. If Birks shows up, all right; if he doesn't--well, I don't see -that he could make any difference one way or the other now." - -There was silence for a moment, then Lanson spoke again. - -"What worries me as much as anything," he said slowly, "is the express -company making a shipment of money at the same time--forty thousand -dollars in the car's safe. Of course, it's logical enough with a half -million to guard anyway, but it's an added incentive to those, devils, -that's all. A half million In raw gold isn't any easy thing to pick up -and walk off with, and there's more than an even chance that the Wire -Devils might pass it up on that account; but with banknotes alone in so -large an amount----" - -"If they know about it!" interrupted MacVightie brusquely. "And it's not -likely they do! You can't send a heavily guarded express car on from the -coast and keep it mum that gold is going through, especially when the -papers print pictures of the cases being swung out of the steamer's hold -on arrival from Alaska--but the other's different. I'm not banking on -them passing up the gold on any account, though they may, at that; but -in any case they'll be welcome to open the safe now, won't they?" - -Again there was an instant's silence; and the Hawk now, as though -fearful of losing a word that might be spoken, strained forward closer -still to the side of the window. - -"Yes, that's right!" Lanson laughed now in a grimly humorous way. "It's -in the biggest case of all! Yes, I guess it's all right, MacVightie; -anyway, another hour or two will tell the story. The shift should have -been made at Mornleigh without any trouble, and the Limited will come -through here without a thing in the express car except the guards! If -they hold her up anywhere on the division, that's all they'll find--the -guards, and one of your posses. Yes, it ought to work." Lanson's voice -took on a curiously monotonous drone, as though he were checking over -the details in his own mind, and unconsciously doing so audibly. "The -Limited takes water at Mornleigh, and No. 18 always takes the siding -there to let the Limited pass, so there's nothing in that to arouse -suspicion. In the darkness, with the door of the Limited's express car -only a foot or so away from the door of No. 18's baggage car, and a -picked crew to transfer the gold, I don't see how there could be -any 'leak.' The Limited pulls in here with its guarded express -car--everything looks just as those Wire Devils would expect it to -look--and they know the gold left the coast on that train, and in that -car. Yes, I think we win to-night. If they hold up the Limited they'll -catch a Tartar, and without any risk on our part as far as the gold is -concerned. How many men in the posse scattered through the cars on that -train?" - -"Twenty," said MacVightie tersely. - -"Good!" said Lanson approvingly. "That ought to be enough to round them -up--if they nibble at the bait at all. And if they don't, if they let -the Limited go through unmolested, it will be pretty nearly safe to -assume, as I said before, that they figure gold in the bulk is too -awkward a thing to handle, and too hard to get away with. But even there -we are not taking any chances; they _might_ have discovered that it had -been transferred. How many men in the posse on No. 18?" - -"The same number," replied MacVightie--and then MacVightie's fist -crashed down into the palm of his hand. "I hope they start something!" -he exclaimed savagely. "I'd give a year's salary to get to grips with -them, and if I ever do I'll clean 'em out! And I'll see that some -of them, and particularly that damned Hawk, swing for it! I haven't -forgotten the murder of old Mother Barrett's boy in the express car that -night, or a dozen others, or----" - -"That's your end of it, MacVightie," said Lanson grimly. "Mine's to see -five hundred thousand dollars' worth of bullion and forty thousand in -cash over this division and safely on its way East. If the plan----" - -The Hawk, slipping silently out of the shadows, began to cross the -railroad yard, heading for the station. - -"Forty thousand dollars," said the Hawk softly to himself--and chuckled -suddenly. "Forty thousand dollars in a big packing case! The _biggest_ -case of the lot, he said, wasn't it?" The chuckle died away, and the -Hawk's face grew hard. "I don't know!" muttered the Hawk. "It's no -cinch! I guess there'll be something doing to-night!" - -A glance at the illuminated dial of the clock on the station tower -showed it to be half past eight, as the Hawk stepped to the platform. -He hesitated an instant in indecision, then went on into the general -waiting room. There was ample time. The Limited was not due for another -hour; and No. 18--in which alone he had now any concern--did not -schedule Selkirk until forty minutes after the Limited. Nearly two -hours! - -The Hawk, standing in the doorway of the waiting room, ostentatiously -consulted a time-table which he drew from his pocket, frowned, glanced -about him, and, finally, approaching the news-counter, which appeared -for the moment to be minus an attendant, helped himself to a newspaper, -tossed a copper on top of the pile, and appropriated the nearest seat. -The Hawk opened his paper in front of him--and over the top of the paper -inspected with some interest the view afforded by the open doorway of -the news-counter, which was directly facing him and but a few feet away. -The news-counter was a long, narrow affair, glass enclosed, with big -sliding windows, making one corner of the waiting room, and at its -further end boasted a little office of its own. The door of this private -domain was closed, but it, too, was glass panelled, and the apparent -absence of any attendant was explained. The Hawk permitted a curious -smile to flicker across his lips behind his newspaper. Inside the little -office a man, sprawled forward in a chair, his head resting on his arms, -which were outflung across the desk in front of him, appeared to be -sound asleep and magnificently oblivious to anything so grossly material -as business. - -The Hawk shifted his glance, this time for a more critical survey of the -waiting room. He found himself, strangely enough, quite sheltered from -observation. True, it was "between trains," and there were very few -people in the room--he had noted several women and an elderly man with a -little boy, as he had come in--but these were now screened from his view -by the large, boxed-in posts, or pillars, that, in the remodelling and -enlargement of the station some years before, had sought to combine, -evidently, ornamentation with stability. - -The Hawk's eyes, under cover of his newspaper, reverted to the man at -the desk. The minutes passed--five, ten of them. The man's hours -were long undoubtedly, and usually there were two in charge of the -news-counter, which might perhaps account for the man's weariness, and -the profound slumber that was possible even in such an uncomfortable -position! The Hawk turned to the editorial page of his newspaper. There -were almost two hours before No. 18 was due, and, though he had a little -business of a purely personal and intimate nature to transact before -then, there was time in abundance and to spare, and it might possibly -be utilised as profitably here as anywhere else. In any case, there was -usually an editorial diatribe, interesting principally for the virulent -language in which it was couched, anent the Hawk and the Wire Devils, -with whose leadership he, the Hawk, was universally credited. The Hawk -smiled thinly. If leadership was vested in the lion's portion of the -spoils, then MacVightie, and Lanson, and the newspapers, and the public -generally were unquestionably right--but, since those spoils had -been snatched from under the noses of the Wire Devils, thanks to his -possession of their secret code, the Wire Devils and the Ladybird in -particular, that peer of the underworld who, as he had discovered a few -nights ago, was the moving spirit of the gang, held a very different and -even more decided opinion on the subject! - -He folded the paper over, and sprawled himself out lazily on his -seat--but if the editorial in question was on the sheet before him, he -did not see it. The man at the desk raised his head, yawned, stretched -himself, and, as though wearily resuming his work, reached into a small -drawer that stood open in the upper section of the roll-top desk, took -out a pad of paper, and began to write. - -Still another five minutes passed; and then the man tossed his pencil -away from him, and reached out for the telephone at his elbow. But now -he seemed to hesitate, then evidently changed his mind. He pushed -back his chair, stood up, tore the sheet of paper on which he had been -writing from the pad, replaced the pad in the drawer, closed the drawer, -and, turning quickly, opened the office door. He came down the narrow -space behind the news-counter itself, stepped out into the waiting -room, glanced hurriedly about him, and, breaking suddenly into a run, -disappeared through the waiting room door in the direction of the -platform. - -The Hawks lassitude seemed suddenly to have vanished. In a flash he had -covered the few feet of space that separated his seat from the doorway -of the news-counter, and now, crouched low, hidden by the counter -itself, he darted silently for the little office, gained it, wrenched -open the drawer of the desk--and over the Hawk's set, tense features -there flickered again that curious smile. Faint, muffled, but none the -less distinctly, there came from the interior of the drawer, which, -as he reached in his hand, he found was open through to the wall, the -clicking of a telegraph sounder. But, while he listened, the Hawk was -working with breathless haste. His fingers closed on the pad of paper, -and tore off the topmost sheet. Without folding or crushing the paper, -he laid it carefully inside his vest, buttoned his vest over it again, -closed the drawer of the desk noiselessly--and in another instant was -lolling again in his seat in the waiting room, apparently immersed once -more in his newspaper. - -It had taken the Hawk a matter of less than a minute to go and come, -but for all that his margin of safety had been small. The man returned -almost instantly, and again entered the office. The Hawk, finding that -for once the editorial which might have afforded him a genuine, if -passing, interest, was absent, turned another page of the paper, spent -a few minutes in the somewhat unprofitable perusal of what proved to be -massed columns of "Help Wanted" and "Situations Vacant" advertisements, -and, finally, throwing the paper down on the seat beside him, got up -leisurely, and strolled out through the main entrance of the station to -the street. - -The Hawk crossed the road, and slipped into the lane that was almost -opposite the station. This being accustomed ground to the Hawk, he made -his way quickly along in the blackness, reached the first intersecting -street, dove through the doorway of the dirty and squalid three-story -building, the ground floor of which was occupied by a saloon, and, -mounting the narrow staircase, entered the room that was directly over -the saloon on the first landing. The Hawk locked the door behind him. If -his temporary abode in Selkirk City could be so designated, the Hawk was -at home. - -He switched on the electric light, drew a chair up to the cheap and -somewhat dilapidated table that stood against the wall opposite the -door, and from under his vest took out the sheet of paper he had -purloined a few minutes before. He spread it out eagerly before him on -the table, scanned it closely, and into his dark eyes there came a half -mocking, half triumphant gleam. - -"I thought so!" murmured the Hawk. "He didn't dare telephone it. I -thought the messages must be coming in pretty hot to-night--the other -fellow must have gone up to the East End to shoot some mighty important -reply back, or else he'd never have left his pal short-handed. It's no -wonder I never tumbled to that lay until the Ladybird opened the bag! -I didn't recognise those news-counter fellows, did I? Why should I? -They're new ones just breaking into the game, or they'd never have -pulled a fool stunt like this!" - -The Hawk bent over the paper. In places the impression left by the -pencil was faint and, indeed, illegible, and had not come through from -the upper sheet at all; but the Hawk patiently and painstakingly settled -himself to his task. The first few lines were but a confused and, to all -outward appearances, meaningless jumble of letters run together--one of -the Wire Devils' code messages. And here, if this had been all, the Hawk -would have been hopelessly astray; but lower down on the sheet the -man had decoded the cipher, and here, where letters and words were too -faintly impressed on the paper or were missing altogether, the Hawk was -able to supply them by following the general sense of the message. -He began by tracing over the impressions carefully with a sharp lead -pencil, and at the expiration of a few minutes was staring, a grim smile -on his lips, at the following: - -"Gold transferred to No. 18 at Momleigh. Keep away from Limited. -Probably big posse on No. 18. Every man will join Number One on Train -18 to-night. Those boarding No. 18 at Selkirk must on no account excite -suspicion. All other details to stand." - -The Hawk's remark, as he reached into his inside coat pocket and brought -out several small slips of paper, which he laid on the table in front of -him, was seemingly quite irrelevant. - -"Yes," said the Hawk. "I've been curious ever since yesterday to get a -look at that desk--yes, I guess the Ladybird's no fool!" - -The Hawk arranged the slips of paper in what appeared to be a sort -of chronological order, and studied them for a moment. Prefacing -the message he had just obtained, these others, messages that he had -intercepted at intervals during the preceding few days, made a complete -and decidedly enlightening record. The first one, decoded, read: - -"Reported movement of half million in gold to be made from coast. Number -Three will proceed to coast, verify, and secure details." - -The Hawk nodded shortly. Number Three was the Bantam. He passed on to -the next message: - -"Gold coming through on Limited on Thursday night. Express car well -guarded. Numbers One, Seven, Eight, Six and Four will board Limited -at different stopping points west of Mornleigh; all others to hold -themselves in readiness at Selkirk." - -Again the Hawk nodded. This was Thursday night! Mornleigh was the -Limited's last stop west of Selkirk. Number One was the Butcher, and -the others were--he shrugged his shoulders. As he had once facetiously -remarked, somebody must have left the door of Sing Sing open! - -There was still another message: - -"Hold up train three miles East of Echo Rock. Detach express car, and -run to Willow Creek bridge. Load gold on wagon, and disperse." - -The Hawk consulted his watch. It was a quarter past nine. He took -out his pipe, lighted it, put his feet up on the table, and gathering -together the various slips of paper abstractedly began to tear them into -shreds. - -Pieced together, the whole affair was quite simple. In a word, every -move that had been made by Larson and MacVightie at the instigation of -the Secret Service men, and, presumably, in particular by one Birks, -was known to the Ladybird and the Wire Devils. Lanson and MacVightie had -waited until the last moment before making the transfer at Mornleigh, -the final stop before Selkirk, but the Bantam was already accompanying -the gold east on the Limited, and, added to the Bantam by that: time, -there would have been those others who were detailed to board the -Limited at the various points still further west of Mornleigh. - -It was very simple. The Bantam had not been asleep at Mornleigh, and it -was not the contents of the express car alone that had been transferred -there--the Bantam and his companions had likewise transferred themselves -to No. 18! Also, either because the Bantam had spotted some of -MacVightie's men, or because logical deductions in the Ladybird's -very shrewd brain had led to that conclusion, it was known that No. 18 -harboured a posse. It was evident, however, that this in no way -dismayed the Ladybird; and it was equally evident that both Lan-son -and MacVightie were very far astray, in their estimate of the nerve and -resourcefulness of the brain behind the Wire Devils' organisation, to -have, even considered it as a possibility that the physical difficulty -in the way of handling a half million in raw gold would have caused the -Ladybird to hesitate an instant in an effort to get his hands upon it. -A half million--was a half million! That was the answer! The only change -the Ladybird had seen fit to make was to mobilise, as it were, the -entire, strength of the Wire Devils to offset MacVightie's posse. Apart -from that, according to the final message, the prearranged plan was to -stand. - -It was not a plan that was markedly original, paralleling very closely, -as it did, the Wire Devils' removal of the safe from the express car -of the last Mail on a certain night not very long since, but this -could hardly be held up against the Ladybird--there were limitations to -originality, and originality was a secondary consideration as compared -with feasibility and success. Echo Rock station was two stations east -of Conmore, the Wire Devils' headquarters--just far enough distant to -preclude the immediate search from spreading to the neighbourhood of -Conmore, and yet not too far away to make the transport of the gold to -the isolated old farmhouse impractical before daylight. The details of -the holdup itself required little elucidation. In whatever manner they -might elect to bring the train to a stop, all that was necessary, -once that was accomplished, was to keep MacVightie's men from No. 18's -baggage car while the car itself, into which the Wire Devils would -naturally retreat, moved off down the line to the Willow Creek bridge -some two or three miles further on. - -The Hawk took his pipe from his lips, polished the bowl by rubbing it -along the side of his nose, and inspected the result critically. And -then the Hawk smiled pleasantly to himself. In none of the messages had -the Wire Devils given the slightest evidence of any knowledge of a fact -that was very near to his, the Hawk's, heart. It was quite possible, -even probable, that on one point, at least, Lanson and MacVightie were -right--that the Wire Devils were ignorant of the presence of that forty -thousand dollars in bills--but even supposing that they _did_ know, they -would scarcely give him, the Hawk, credit for being in possession of the -knowledge as well. Therefore, bitter as was the feud between them, the -Ladybird would be almost certain to ignore his, the Hawk's existence in -so far as this night's work was concerned. The Hawk's smile broadened. -It was quite true, single-handed he would have no excuse on earth for -attempting the impossible feat of carrying away a half million in -gold--but forty thousand dollars in banknotes was not as prohibitory in -its weight! His problem, therefore, simplified itself into an intimate -investigation of No. 18's baggage car before Echo Rock was reached, and -before either MacVightie's posse, or the Butcher and his ungentle crowd -in the cars behind, should have started anything on their own account. - -"Yes," said the Hawk confidentially to the toe of his boot, "yes, I -guess I'll sit in for a hand in the game myself; yes, I guess it looks -pretty good--if the luck holds." - -The Hawk relapsed into silence, still studying the toe of his boot. His -last remark seemed suddenly to have obsessed him, and he frowned. If -the luck still held! It wasn't altogether luck--indeed, it was far from -luck. The Ladybird, and, for that matter, a half dozen others of the -Wire Devils whom he could name, were not to be lightly reckoned with. He -had no delusions on that score! Since the day he had begun to trespass -on the Wire Devils preserves, listening when and where he could, he had -intercepted enough of their cipher messages as they came over the wires -to enable him to pull from the fire and pocket for himself the chestnuts -they had been so carefully roasting for themselves, to turn in fact the -entire labour and effort of their organisation to his own account--and -in their turn they had sought by every means within their power to trap -him. And they had nearly caught him, very nearly caught him once, and -he had realised that the haphazard method in which, not knowing their -source, he had been able to obtain the cipher messages would no longer -do. It was through those messages alone that he could hope to get a hint -of, and thereby forestall, the _next_ trap they might set for him. And -then the way had seemed to clear a little when he had at last discovered -that source in the old farmhouse near Conmore, and had discovered that -the Ladybird, thought dead and mourned by the underworld as one of its -greatest, from a wheel chair now, a maimed thing in all save brain, -moved and guided what MacVightie had been pleased to call the most -powerful and dangerous criminal organisation that had ever known -existence. Only on the night that he, the Hawk, had made those -discoveries he had been wounded! That was a week ago. For three days, -not daring to let it be known that a _wounded_ man was in the house, he -had remained here in his room, nursing his hurt as best he could. It had -only been a flesh wound, and those three days were all he had allowed -himself to remain inactive; for in those three days, temporarily -blindfolded as to any move against him that the Ladybird might make, -he had lived like a hunted man, wary of every passing moment, of every -sound without his door, his automatic never for an instant out of reach. -After that, during the past four nights, he had resumed his vigil at the -farmhouse again. - -The Hawk smiled grimly. No, he laboured under no delusions as to the -craft, the cunning, and the power of those against whom he had elected -to play a lone hand! The four nights just past had resulted in something -more than the mere accumulation of those code messages he had just read, -in something besides a more intimate acquaintanceship with the farmhouse -and its surroundings, even including the underground passage, for -instance, that led from the wagon shed to a trapdoor in the cellar--it -had resulted, last night, in a still further insight into the ingenuity -and the sort of remorseless mastery of detail through which the -organisation attained its ends. The method by which they tapped the -wires, commandeering the telegraph system of the railroad, the -primary purpose of which was undoubtedly to supply them with the vital -information that must of necessity pass over the wires and on which they -based their own plans, this gold shipment to-night, for example, or the -shipment of diamonds from New York of a few weeks back, was ingenious -enough; but still more ingenious, when using their secret code and -putting the wires to another purpose, that of enabling the Ladybird to -direct his operations and send his orders as he had done to-night, was -the method by which those messages were received. Every sounder on the -line carried them, of course, and when, in isolated cases, the gang was -working at smaller places along the line, they could readily enough, if -expecting a message, as he, the Hawk, had often done, keep within sound -of an instrument by the simple expedient of occupying a waiting room, or -of lounging on the platform outside the operator's window; but the vast -majority of the messages were for those of the gang who maintained a -sort of branch headquarters in Selkirk, and such a method was neither -practical nor possible, since the first essential in making the scheme -of value was that, without the chance of a single message being missed, -the messages should reach their destination at any hour of the day and -night. - -Again the Hawk smiled grimly. It had puzzled him a good many times--but -it puzzled him no longer! Last night the Ladybird, quite unconscious -of a rapt audience, had, by a chance remark, disclosed the secret; and -to-night he, the Hawk, had seen the plan in operation! The news-counter! -It was simple enough; but it held a deadly significance in its proof of -the fact that there were no obstacles too great, no details too minute -to stand in the way between the Ladybird and the end he sought. The -news-counter was directly beneath the operator's room upstairs. In the -old days, before the station had been enlarged and modernised, it had -been a somewhat diminutive affair, and where the news-counter now stood -had been the superintendent's office. This had connected with the room -above by means of an old-fashioned speaking tube. When the alterations -had been made, the mouthpieces, both above and below, had been removed, -the room above had been papered over, and the waiting room had been -plastered; but, as the wall had been left intact, the speaking tube had -remained embedded--in the wall. Yes, it was very simple! Say, a dint in -the wall in the operator's room above, and a slight tear in the paper -that, if it attracted any attention at all in surroundings where the -call boys backed their chairs against the wall and kept their hair on -end with nickel thrillers, would at least never excite suspicion! And -below, with the desk in the little office of the news-counter backed up -against it, who was to know that a hole had been punched in the -wall, or, for that matter, in the back of the desk itself behind the -convenient little drawer, so that one could sit there and listen to the -sounder upstairs! Also, it was quite obvious now why, several months -ago, the old lessee of the news-counter had been bought out by some -newcomers! - -The Hawk's lips tightened. The game to its full extent was wide open -now. The news-counter ran day and night, operated by four of the gang -in pairs, one always on duty at the desk; while, should there, by any -chance or at any time, be an unwelcome intruder in the office, the -drawer had only to be shut and the sound was thereby eliminated. When -a message "broke" over the wires above, the man on duty had only to -decipher it and telephone it to what the Ladybird had referred to as the -"boarding house"--the disguise, it appeared now, under which the gang -maintained its headquarters in the city. That was all there was to it! -To-night, it was true, the operation had been a little different; but -the reason for that, as the Hawk had already decided in his own mind, -was obvious enough. With MacVigh-tie, Lanson, and the authorities -generally, on the alert, due to the gold shipment coming through, the -man had not dared to take the risk of telephoning any such message as -he had received, but had taken it outside to where one of the gang, -undoubtedly, in view of the importance of the night's work, was on -additional duty and in readiness to receive and transmit it on the -instant, say, to the local headquarters. As for the absence of the -second man at the news-counter, who ordinarily preserved the pretence of -catering to the public, it was quite possible, and indeed likely, that -he had gone on a similar errand with a previous message; or, if one of -the rare occasions when it was necessary to telegraph a cipher message -_from_ Selkirk had arisen, he might have gone--according to the Ladybird -again--to the little suburban station at the East End of the city, which -was closed at night, but to which an entry and the subsequent use of the -wire would present little difficulty, since MacVightie had finally given -up as impossible the task of guarding all the numerous stations of that -description on the division. - -"Yes," said the Hawk suddenly, under his breath, "I guess they'd go a -long way to get their hands on what I've got off their bat; and I guess, -after that, I'd go out--like a pricked bubble!" He sucked meditatively -at his brier for a moment; then a mirthless smile parted his lips, and -he spoke again. "Forty thousand dollars," whispered the Hawk. "Yes, I -guess that's the play--and the last one! If I win out to-night, and I -guess I will, this is where the curtain drops, and the Hawk makes his -fade-away for parts unknown!" - - - - -XVIII--THE HAWK PACKS HIS VALISE - -THE Hawk looked at his watch again, removed his feet from the table, -knocked the ashes from the bowl of his pipe, stood up, and crossed -leisurely to the window. The window gave on the fire escape. He lifted -aside the shade, and stood there for a moment staring out into the -darkness, then drew the shade very carefully back into place again. From -the window he crossed to the door, reassured himself that it was locked, -and, as an extra precaution, draped his handkerchief on the door handle, -completely screening the keyhole. - -He returned now to the other side of the room, and from under the bed -pulled out a large, black valise. He laid this on the bed, and opened -it. It was quite empty. - -Between the bed and the table stood his trunk. He unlocked the trunk, -and threw back the lid. - -"It's quite possible," muttered the Hawk, as his fingers worked deftly -and swiftly around the edges of the lid, "that I may not return. I've -forgotten just how I stand on my rent, though, I fancy I've paid up for -a week in advance! In any case, there's the trunk for old Seidelberger -downstairs, and likewise its contents, with the exception, scarcely -worth mentioning--of this!" There was a grim chuckle on the Hawk's lips, -as the false tray came away in his hands. "Yes," said the Hawk, as he -laid the tray on the bed beside the valise, "I hardly think that I'll be -back! I guess they're pretty peeved as it is, and after to-night I've a -notion their sentiments aren't going to improve any!" - -He stood looking down at the tray, that bulged to repletion with the -proceeds of a dozen robberies that were almost country-wide in fame, -and which, more pertinent still as far as the Hawk was concerned, -represented the loot that the Wire Devils had already counted their -own--when he, the Hawk, instead, had helped himself to the prize at -their expense! - -The Hawk began to transfer the contents of the tray to the valise. - -"I don't know how big the lot would size up, but it looks like a garden -villa at Palm Beach--which is going some!" observed the Hawk softly. -"Yes, just one more little play to-night, and I guess I retire!" - -He held the magnificent diamond necklace up to the light, causing its -thousand facets to leap and gleam and scintillate in fiery flashes, -then laid it in a curiously caressing sort of way in the bottom of the -valise. The Hawk seemed peculiarly entranced with diamonds, as though -in their touch and in their responsive life and fire he found a pure and -unalloyed delight. From their little box he allowed the score or two of -unset stones to trickle into the palm of his hand, and again he brought -the light to flash and play upon them. And for a moment he held them -there--then a sudden hardness set his jaws and lips, and impulsively he -thrust the stones back into the box, and tossed the box into the valise. - -"Damn it!" said the Hawk through compressed lips. "They make me think of -the kid--and old Mother Barrett." - -He laughed harshly, and shrugged his shoulders as though literally to -throw off the weight of an unpleasant memory--and reached again into -the tray. He worked more quickly now. Into the valise he packed away in -rapid succession a very large collection of valuables, amongst them the -ten thousand dollars in banknotes that he had taken from the paymaster's -safe, the contents of the cash box, amounting to some three thousand -dollars, of which he had once relieved one Isaac Kirschell, and, still -in its newspaper wrapper, the Trader's National Bank's twenty-five -thousand dollars, likewise in banknotes, which had been his last -venture, and which he had appropriated on the night he had been wounded. - -The tray was empty now, save for a black mask, a steel jimmy, and a -neat little package of crisp, new, ten-dollar counterfeit notes. The two -former articles the Hawk laid aside on the table; and the latter, after -an instant's hesitation, was added to the horde in the valise. He closed -and locked the valise. There remained now but the empty tray. He stared -at this ruefully. - -"I hate to lose that trunk, upon my soul, I do!" he muttered. "But I -can't afford to take any chances of spilling the beans by trying to get -it out of here!" - -He took out his knife, and slashed away the canvas bottom of the tray, -then broke the framework into a dozen pieces. The lid of the trunk -itself was innocent of fastenings, or of any evidence that it had ever -concealed a tray; and the tray itself, when the Hawk was through with -it, was an unrecognisable debris of splintered wood and ribbons of torn -canvas. He made a bundle of this, tying it together with a strip of the -canvas. - -The Hawk now emptied his pockets, and proceeded to change his clothes. -If he were destined to sacrifice the greater part of his wardrobe, he at -least need not linger long in indecision over the choice of what should -be preserved! There was an exceedingly useful and ingeniously devised -pocket concealed in the back lining of a certain one of his coats. The -suit, of which this coat was an integral part, was a trifle worn and -threadbare, not in quite as good repair as any of the rest of his -clothing, and for that reason he had not worn it of late; but one could -not at all times afford to be fastidious! What he left behind would -be minutely searched and examined. The secret of that pocket, a little -invention of his own, was worth preserving from the vulgar eye, even at -the expense of sacrificing a better suit of clothes for the sake of it! -He resurrected the suit in question from the bottom of the trunk, and -put it on. And into the concealed pocket he tucked away his mask and his -bunch of skeleton keys. A side coat pocket, more instantly accessible, -served for his automatic--the other pockets for his various other -belongings, including the steel jimmy. - -The Hawk made a final and comprehensive survey of the room, then closed -and locked the trunk, and again consulted his watch. It was five minutes -after ten, and No. 18 scheduled Selkirk at ten-twenty. The Hawk nodded. -It was time to go--just time. He took from his pocket his automatic, -tested and examined its mechanism critically, and restored it to his -pocket. He crossed the room, turned out the light, unlocked the door -without opening it, and took his handkerchief from the keyhole. Without -a sound now the Hawk moved back to the bed, picked up the valise, tucked -the bundle of what had once been the tray under his arm, returned to -the door, opened it silently, and stood peering out into the dark -hallway--and the next instant, the Hawk, stealing like a shadow down the -stairs, gained the street, and in another had swung around the corner -into the lane. - -It was only the length of a block to the station, but here in the lane -the Hawk found means of disposing of the irksome bundle under his arm by -the simple expedient of dropping pieces of the wreckage in the various -refuse barrels as he went along. Nor had the Hawk, evidently, any -intention either of hampering his movements with the care of the valise, -or of risking the valise's contents in the night's work that lay ahead -of him. The Hawk was, perhaps, possessed of a certain ironical sense of -humour. Since his possession of the loot which the valise contained -was due in a more or less intimate degree to the railroad, it seemed -eminently fitting that it should be restored to the railroad for -safekeeping temporarily. The Hawk, as he entered the station, -nonchalantly exchanged his valise for a parcel-room check, paid down -the dime for the service to be rendered, and passed on into the general -waiting room. - -He glanced at the news-counter on his way through to the platform. Its -full complement of two attendants were present now; but, contrary to all -precedent, it being an all-night stand, obvious preparations for closing -it for the night were in progress--the two men were engaged in removing -the magazines, newspapers, and various small wares from the outside -ledge of the counter, and in pulling down the large sliding windows -that enclosed the place. The Hawk's dark eyes flashed a gleam of grim -appreciation. It was then literally a mobilisation of the Wire Devils -to the last man to-night! A half million in gold--was a half million in -gold! - -The Hawk bought a mileage book in lieu of a ticket to any specific -destination, both because his immediate destination was peculiarly his -own private concern, and because in the very near future he expected to -put a considerable quantity of mileage to excellent use. He strolled out -to the platform, and along to the east end of the station. - -Here, quite unobtrusively, he awaited the arrival of No. 18. The -platform was fairly well crowded--but not unusually so, or rather, -perhaps, not noticeably so. A half dozen, or even a dozen, extra men -circulating amongst the ordinary press of traffic would hardly be -expected to make any appreciable difference. The Hawk, back under -the shadows of the building, surveyed the lighted stretch of platform -narrowly. They were there, the Wire Devils' reserve, he knew; but -he recognised none of them. He smiled a little whimsically. His -acquaintanceship with the gang so far had been with its more prominent -members, as it were, and these, as likewise Mac-Vightie's posse, had -already boarded the train far west of Selkirk--that each might not -excite the other's suspicion! Nor was MacVightie himself in evidence. -Not that this surprised the Hawk! He was interested, that was all. It -was simply a question of whether MacVightie had elected to stay with -the gold, or had gone on with the first posse on the Limited on the -assumption that the Limited was the more likely to be attacked. It made -little difference, of course, as far as he, the Hawk, was concerned, -whether it was MacVightie or some one else who was in command of the -posse--his own plans would in no way be affected on that account. - -There was a stir along the platform. Up the yard, past the twinkling -switch lights on the spurs, the glare of a headlight flashed into sight -around the bend. Came the roar and rumble of a heavy train, and a -moment later No. 18, its big mogul panting like a thing of life from a -breathless run, its long string of coaches behind it, rolled into the -station. - -The Hawk did not stir. By coincidence, perhaps, the baggage car had come -to a stop directly opposite the position he had chosen. The rearmost -sliding door of the car was slammed back, and the baggageman, a -powerfully built, muscular fellow of perhaps thirty, appeared in -the doorway. The Hawk, from his place of vantage, eyed the other -appraisingly, and then his glance travelled on into the interior of the -car--what he could see of it. What he saw was a mass of trunks, some -of which the man now unloaded on the waiting trucks, and in turn piled -others, as they were heaved up to him from the platform, into the -formers' places. The Hawk nodded his head shortly. True, the forward -door of the car had not been, opened, but MacVigh-tie had done his work -well. There was no hint of concealment, the baggage car of No. 18 was as -frankly innocent in appearance on its run tonight as it had ever been. - -The train was starting into motion again when the Hawk finally moved. -He crossed the platform, and swung himself on the forward steps of the -smoker, that was immediately behind the baggage car. His slouch hat -pulled a little over his eyes, he opened the door, stepped into the car, -sauntered down the aisle, and out of the rear door to the vestibuled -platform of the first-class day coach behind. But here, the Hawk paused -a moment, and his face, impassive before, was stamped now with a twisted -smile. His reconnaissance of the train so far had proved fruitful. The -four men in the forward double seat of the smoker, a lap board across -their knees, and apparently engrossed in their card game, were the -Butcher, Whitie Jim, the Cricket and the Bantam! And further down -the aisle, unwittingly rubbing shoulders quite probably with some of -MacVightie's men, Parson Joe occupied a seat, and the keen, pale, thin -face of Kirschell peered out from another. - -"Yes, they're all here," decided the Hawk, his voice drowned in the -rattle of the train. "Counting those who got on at Selkirk, they're all -here to the last man--except the Ladybird and his wheel chair!" - -The Hawk moved forward, reached out for the handle of the day coach -door--and sucked in his breath, as he drew sharply back again. Through -the glass panel he had caught sight of two men he had not expected to -see. Sitting together on the right-hand side about a quarter of the -way down the aisle were MacVightie and Lanson. The Hawk frowned. He had -waited until the train was in motion, and he had not seen them get on; -and _they_, as witness that little conference in the roundhouse of a -while back, had not been amongst those who had boarded the train west of -Selkirk. And then the frown gave place to a sort of self-commiserating -expression. Where were his wits to-night! It was simple enough! They -had boarded the car from the yard side of the train, and not from the -platform, of course! - -Well, that put an end to any further reconnaissance through the train! -In one sense it was not altogether true that it made no difference -whether MacVightie was aboard or not. He and MacVightie were not -altogether strangers. They had met once in his, the Hawk's, room, and on -that occasion, the night, to be precise, he had cleaned out the -paymaster's safe of that ten thousand dollars, MacVightie had been in a -decidedly suspicious frame of mind. MacVightie, it was quite certain, -had not forgotten that night; nor, it was quite equally safe to assume, -had MacVightie forgotten his, the Hawk's face--and at that exact moment -the Hawk had no desire that MacVightie should recognise him again! - -The Hawk turned, re-entered the smoker, found the always unpopular -crosswise seat behind the door vacant, and appropriated it. His eyes -straying forward over the car located two more acquaintances in the -person of Crusty Kline and French Pete, and came back to fix musingly on -the worn nickel faucet of the water-cooler. No. 18's first stop was at -Barne's Junction, fifteen miles out from Selkirk, and some five miles -this side of Conmore; the next stop was Lorraine, and Lorraine was on -the _other_ side--in fact a good many miles on the other side--of Echo -Rock and the Willow Creek bridge. The deduction was obvious; and the -Hawk's destination, in so far as his occupancy of a seat in the smoker -was concerned, was therefore quite plainly--the Junction. - -"Three miles east of Echo Rock," repeated the Hawk to himself. "No, I -don't think so! This is where the Ladybird has another guess! Maybe I -couldn't get away with a half million--but maybe I'm not the only one! -There's one or two guys in this car that haven't got the high-sign to -my lodge! It seems to me I promised the Butcher something the night he -tried to shoot me through his pocket, and it seems as though I promised -Parson Joe something too--yes, it seems to me I did!" - - - - -XIX--BIRDS OF A FEATHER - -IT took twenty minutes for the run to the Junction. And at the -Junction, as far as the Hawk could tell, since, yielding to what had -become a sort of habit with him, he descended to the ground on the -opposite side from the station, he was the only passenger for that -stop. It was dark here; strangely silent, and strangely lonely. Barne's -Junction owed its existence neither to a town site, nor to commercial -importance--it existed simply as a junction, and for purely railroad -operating purposes only. It was, in fact, the other extreme as compared -to Selkirk with its lighted and busy platform, its extensive yard, and -its ubiquitous and, perhaps, too inquisitive yardmen! - -The Hawk dropped on all fours and began to creep along the side of the -smoker toward the forward end of the train, his eyes strained warily -through the darkness against the possibility of one or other of the -engine crew descending from the cab. He passed the smoker and kept on -along the length of the baggage car, still crawling, moving without -a sound. When he rose from his knees finally, he was crouched down in -between the tender and the forward end of the baggage car; and a -moment later, as the train jerked forward into motion, he was crouched -again--this time on the end beam of the baggage car which, in lieu of -platform, served as a sort of wide threshold for the door. - -The train was beginning to gain momentum now, and against the jolt and -swing of the increasing speed the Hawk steadied himself by clinging with -one hand to the iron handrail at the side of the door--with the other -hand he tried the door cautiously, and found it locked. - -From the pocket in the back lining of his coat he produced his mask, -fingered it speculatively for an instant, then slipped it over his face. -True, this was to be his last venture in the Wire Devils' preserves, but -he had always worn a mask, and--there came a twisted grin--they perhaps -would not recognise him _without_ it. And it was quite necessary that -they should recognise the Hawk--if he was to keep that promise to the -Butcher! It might be a farewell, as far as he was concerned, but he -intended that it should be a memorable one, and that no doubt should -be permitted to linger in their minds as to the identity of the parting -guest they had so lavishly, if ungraciously, entertained! - -From the same pocket came his skeleton keys. The Hawk now felt -tentatively with his finger over the keyhole, nodded his head briskly, -and from the bunch of keys, still by the sense of touch, selected one -without hesitation. The Hawk, however, for the moment, made no effort -to open the door. The rush of the wind was in his face now; like some -black, monstrous, uncanny wall confronting him, the tender clashed and -clattered, and swayed in dizzy lurches before his eyes; while heavenward -the sky was tinged with a deep red glow, and the cab was ablaze with -light from the wide-flung fire-box door, and the top of the baggage car -door, and the individual particles of coal on the top of the tender's -heap stood out in sharp relief against the background of the night. - -And then the darkness fell again. - -The Hawk's hand shot forward to the keyhole, lingered there an instant, -as he crouched again swaying with the lurch of the train, then the -skeleton keys were returned to the pocket in the back lining of his -coat--and the Hawk was in action. In a flash he had opened and closed -the door behind him, and, with his back against it, his automatic flung -significantly forward in his hand, he stood staring down the length of -the car. - -There was a hoarse, startled yell, that was lost in the roar of the -flying train, and the baggageman, from his chair at one side of the car -and in front of a shelf-like desk topped with a rack of pigeonholes, -leaped to his feet. - -"Sit down!" invited the Hawk coldly. - -The man hesitated, but the next instant dropped back into his chair, as -the Hawk moved suddenly forward to his side. - -"What do you want?" he demanded sullenly. - -"This--to begin with!" The Hawk's voice was an insolent drawl now, as -his deft fingers, like a streak of lightning, were into the other's -pocket and out again with the man's revolver. "How long since they've -been arming the baggagemen on this road? You needn't answer--I'm only -talking to myself. Those are the cases up there by the forward door, -aren't they? And the big one's got the green boys--eh?" He was backing -away from the man now. "Don't move, my bucko--understand? That chair -you're sitting in is the only health resort in this car!" - -The man's hands clenched, as his eyes narrowed on the Hawk. - -"You damned thief!" he rasped out. "I--I'd like to----" - -"Quite so!" said the Hawk softly. "I know how you feel about it, and if -it helps any to get it off your chest, go to it! Nobody'll hear you but -me, and I'll try and make the best of it!" - -Piled along the side of the car from the doorway were a number of -solidly made, heavy-looking cases that obviously contained the gold -shipment. In front of these, between them and where the baggageman sat, -and acting too perhaps as a screen when the rear sliding door was -open, as, for instance, it had been at Selkirk, was a large, -innocent-appearing, flimsily-constructed packing case. The Hawk, beside -this now, moved it slightly. It was very light, so light as to warrant -the presumption that it might even be empty. - -The baggageman had relapsed into a scowling silence, his eyes still on -the Hawk. The Hawk took his steel jimmy from his pocket, shifted his -automatic to his left hand, and inserted the jimmy under the cover of -the case. There was a rip and tear of rending wood; the operation was -twice repeated--and the Hawk threw the shattered cover on the floor. -He glanced inside. At the bottom of the case lay a large paper package, -strongly tied, and heavily sealed with red wax. - -Under his mask, the Hawk's lips parted in a smile, as, his eyes on -the baggageman again, he noted that the other was watching his every -movement now with a sort of intense expectancy. The Hawk, however, made -no effort to reach down into the four-foot depth of the packing case; -he canted the box over, and picked up the package from the floor of -the car. With the point of his jimmy he tore a rent in the paper -wrapper--and his smile broadened. - -"I apologise," said the Hawk, with an engaging nod to the sullen figure -in the chair. "They're not green boys--they're yellow backs!" - -"You damned thief!" said the man, in a choked voice. - -The roar and sway of the train seemed suddenly to increase, as the -wheel trucks, jolting and beating at a siding switch, set up a sort -of infernal tattoo. They were passing the first station after the -Junction--Conmore. - -The smile left the Hawk's face. A little further along, and _they_ -would stop the train. There came a sort of dare-devil set to the Hawk's -clamped jaws. - -He was taking chances, but he had already weighed those chances well. -The Wire Devils, the Butcher and his crowd, would be on the alert; but -equally so would be MacVightie--and the posse that must far outnumber -the gang. And there was that promise to the Butcher! With their -plans awry, and taken by surprise, instead of profiting by surprise -themselves, their chances, rather than of securing a half million in -gold, were most excellent of securing quite as generous a reward, though -of another nature--at the hands of MacVightie! - -"I'm going to get off here," said the Hawk coolly to the figure in the -chair. "And the only way to get off without cracking my bean is to let -that guy there in the engine know that he's infringing the speed laws! -You remember what I told you--the only healthy place in this car for you -is where you're sitting now. Something may crack loose around here--keep -out of the wet!" - -The Hawk reached above his head for the bell cord, and pulled it -sharply. The engine crew, too, were evidently on the alert! The shrill -blast of the whistle answered the signal instantly. There was a sudden -jerk that almost threw the Hawk from his feet, the pound and slam of -buffer plates, and the vicious shriek of the "air." The Hawk recovered -himself, and, cool and quick in every movement now, thrust his jimmy -into his pocket to free his hands, flung the package of banknotes up the -aisle made by trunks and boxes behind him, and began to retreat toward -the forward door, pulling the empty case along as a shield between -himself and the other end of the car. - -The rear door of the car smashed inward. The Hawk caught a blurred -glimpse of faces and forms surging through the doorway, and streaming -across the platform from the smoker behind--and, in the lead, the -Butcher's crafty face, with its little black, restless, ferret eyes -fixed down the trunk-made aisle of the car on _him!_ - -"_The Hawk!_"--it came in a scream of abandoned fury from the -Butcher--then a headlong rush--a flash, the roar of the report, as the -Butcher fired--another, as the Hawk's automatic answered--and the _spat_ -of a bullet splitting the panel of the forward door. - -The Hawk, stooped low behind the packing case now, still edged backward -toward the door, still dragging the case after him. A smile that was -deadly grim and far removed from mirth curved his lips downward in hard, -merciless lines. He had, at least, attained his object! There was no -doubt concerning their recognition of him as the Hawk! Well, he had -weighed the chances. They would be on him now, but only one at a time; -there was not room for more, with the packing case blocking the way--and -it would be the Butcher first. After that--well, after that, he counted -on MacVightie creating a diversion from the rear, and---- - -The Butcher had flung himself against the packing case. It toppled to -one side, and the Hawk, like a crouched tiger, sprang and closed, making -of the Butcher's body, as a substitute for the packing case now, -a shield from the onrush behind. There was a furious oath from the -Butcher; a lurch, a stagger, as the train jerked and jerked again--and -both men, gripped and locked together, went to the floor. - -For an instant they rolled over and over, the Butcher snarling like -a mad beast, wrenching and twisting for an opening at the Hawk's -throat--and then suddenly the car was in an inferno. A voice, -MacVightie's, rang out sternly from the rear door. It was echoed by -a yell from one of the Hawk's companions, then a shot, another, a -fusillade of them--and then a voice above the uproar: - -"It's MacVightie, an' de bulls!" - -There was a scurrying of feet, a stampede for cover behind trunks and -boxes by the Butcher's men--and the Butcher's grip was tense upon the -Hawk. - -"Cut it out!" he whispered hoarsely. "My God, we're trapped--the lot of -us! Make a break for the door--get me? Crawl--that's the only chance!" -Blue eddies of smoke hung in queer, wavering, hesitant suspension up -and down the length of the car; the air was full of the acrid smell of -powder. The firing broke out again. The Hawk released his hold. - -"All right!" he panted. "I'm with you!" - -The Butcher was right, it was the only chance--and a chance that was -theirs alone, for, as they lay on the floor, the packing case hid them, -and it was barely two yards to the door. The train was almost at a -standstill now. MacVightie's men had gained an entrance and a position -for themselves behind the trunks at the lower end, firing as they crept -forward, while back on the smoker's platform, through the baggage car's -open door, others commanded the sweep down the center of the car. - -The Hawk snatched at the package of banknotes, snuggled it under his -coat, and, with the Butcher beside him, began to wriggle toward the -door. - -MacVightie's voice rang out again from the rear of the car: - -"Marston, take ten men, and surround the car! And----" His voice rose -suddenly in a bull-like roar. "The forward door, there--two of them! -Watch which way they jump--not a man of them gets away to-night! -_Quick!_" - -The Hawk had wrenched the door open, and, with the Butcher behind him, -flung himself out, and leaped to the ground. With the Hawk leading, -running like hares, the two men dashed down the embankment, and hurled -themselves over the barbed-wire fence that enclosed the right of way. -Shouts, the crackle of shots, echoed from behind them--the short, -vicious tongue-flames of the revolvers, a myriad of them, it seemed, -stabbed yellow through the blackness. - -The Hawk glanced back over his shoulder. He could just make out perhaps -a half dozen dark forms in pursuit--and perhaps fifty yards away. The -darkness and the distance made the shooting at best uncertain. It was -only a chance shot that would get either the Butcher or himself, and -ahead, unless he was mistaken, for the train must have come to a stop at -just about that distance from Conmore, must be the wooded tract of land -that surrounded the old farmhouse. Yes--there it was! The old dare-devil -set clamped his jaws again. Yes, and so was the Ladybird--there! Well, -it was obvious enough that there was no other cover! He glanced at the -Butcher's face that he could just discern in the darkness. The Butcher -might decide against it, but the Butcher evidently had not recognised -his surroundings. The man's lips were working, and he was cursing in -abandon as he ran. - -The Hawk spoke in short, gasping breaths: "There's some trees over -there--to the right--a little--make for them--cover!" - -The Butcher swerved automatically in the direction indicated. - -"Curse you!" he wheezed out. "This is all your infernal, nosey work! -What did you want to butt in for to-night--you fool--you couldn't have -got that gold, anyway!" - -"You close your face!" snapped back the Hawk. "I'm running my own show! -There was a little cash--forty thousand bucks along with that gold, that -maybe you didn't know about. That's what I was after--see? And that's -what I got--see?" - -"Yes"--the Butcher's voice broke in infuriated passion--"yes, and you -got them all pinched, every last one of them--blast you! I----" - -"You save your breath, and put it into running," retorted the Hawk -savagely, "or else maybe you'll get pinched yourself! It's their -lookout! I don't owe any of you any candy, do I!" - -MacVightie himself was evidently one of those in pursuit behind, for -again the Hawk recognised the other's voice: - -"Spread out there to the right! And try and shoot a little -straighter--before they get into that belt of trees!" - -A renewed outburst of firing came in response--and the Hawk measured -grimly the few yards that still separated him from the trees, as a -bullet, drumming the air venomously, seemed to miss his cheek by but -the fraction of an inch. MacVightie's presence was evidence that the -detective was so well satisfied that the gang penned up in the car could -not escape, that he obviously counted his temporary absence from the -scene well warranted if thereby the clean-up were made complete in the -capture of-----The Hawk's mental soliloquy came to an abrupt end. There -was a low cry from the Butcher, and the man, as they ran shoulder to -shoulder, lurched against him. - -"What's wrong?" flung out the Hawk sharply. - -"They got me!" gasped the Butcher--and lurched again. "They got me--in -the leg." - -The Hawk glanced backward again. They were still those fifty yards -behind, those dark, flitting, oncoming forms, those vicious yellow stabs -of flame in the blackness--it had been a dead heat so far, here to the -fringe of the trees. - -The Butcher stumbled. The Hawk swung his free arm around the other's -waist, and plunged in amongst the trees. It was slower work now, -desperately slow. He clutched at the package of banknotes beneath his -coat, and with his other hand tightened his grip upon the Butcher. The -man was evidently badly hit, and was beginning to sag limply. Came the -thrashing and branches, and the rush of feet behind them. The fifty -yards was ten now--the Hawk, with his burden, struggled on--and then -there came a cry again from the Butcher--they had gained the edge of the -clearing, and the old farmhouse and its outbuildings loomed up before -them. - -"It's--it's----" the Butcher's voice choked weakly. - -"I--I know where we are--my God, _quick!_ They'll search the house! I -got to warn him now--quick!" The man, as though under a stimulant, with -new strength, had sprung forward alone into the clear, making for the -farmhouse door. It was only a few yards, but halfway there he stumbled -again--and again the Hawk pulled him to his feet. - -A yell went up behind them. MacVightie and his men, too, were now in the -clearing, and the ten yards' lead was cut to five, to three--and then -the door before them was flung suddenly open, and a voice challenged -hoarsely from within: - -"Who's there? What's----" - -The Butcher pitched across the threshold, dragging the Hawk down with -him in his fall. - -"The door, Jim--quick--slam it!" screamed the Butcher. "We're done--the -cellar!" - -The Hawk had leaped to his feet. The room was dark, unlighted, but from -across it came, as there had come that other night, the faint glow from -the open door of the cellarway. The Butcher had staggered up again, and -was making in that direction--and then the Hawk, too, was across the -room--but the next instant, turning to meet the rush from without, as -the front door, evidently before the man whom the Butcher had addressed -as Jim could fasten it, burst inward and crashed against the wall, he -was borne backward, and, losing his balance, half pitched, half rolled -down the cellar stairs. - -The fall must have stunned him for a moment. He realised that as he -struggled to his feet--to find himself staring into the muzzle of -MacVightie's revolver, and to find that the bulging package of banknotes -was gone from under his coat, as, too, were his automatic, his jimmy and -the baggageman's revolver that had been in the side pockets of his coat. -He raised his hand dazedly toward his eyes--and MacVightie, reaching -out, knocked his hand away. - -"I'll do that for you--we were just getting around to it!" said -MacVightie roughly--and jerked the Hawk's mask from his face. And then -MacVightie leaned sharply forward. "O-ho!" he exclaimed grimly. "So it's -_you_--is it? I guess you put it over me the night that ten thousand was -lifted at the station--but I've got you now!" - -The Hawk made no answer. He was staring, still in an apparently dazed -way, about him. The cellar was a veritable maze of work benches and -elaborate equipment--for counterfeiting work. A printing press stood -over in one corner; on the benches, plates and engravers' tools of all -descriptions were scattered about; and, near the wall by the stairway, -he made out a telegraph set. But the Hawk's glance did not linger on any -of these things--it fastened on a bent and twisted form that craned its -neck forward from a rubber-tired wheel chair; on a livid face, out -of which the coal-black eyes, narrowed to slits, smouldered in deadly -menace, and from whose thin lips, that scarcely moved, there poured -forth now a torrent of hideous blasphemy in that soft, silken voice -that had earned the Ladybird his name; on the hand, crooked into a claw, -that, pushing away the man who stood guard over him, reached out toward -where the Butcher lay upon the floor. - -"You ape, you gnat, you brainless pig! And you led them -here--here--_here!_" - -"I didn't know where I was until I was right on the house," mumbled the -Butcher miserably. - -"I----" - -"Shut up--both of you!" ordered MacVightie gruffly. "What do you say, -Lanson? Is this the Hawk?" - -The Hawk had not seen the superintendent, and he turned now quickly. -Lanson's steel-grey eyes were boring into him coldly. - -"Yes," said Lanson evenly, "I think I could swear he was the man who -held us up in the private car the other night--but it's easily proved. -If he is the Hawk, he has got a wound in his right side. I saw him clap -his hand there when the pistol went off in his fight with Meridan." - -"Well, we'll soon see!" snapped MacVightie. - -The Hawk licked his lips. - -"You needn't look," he said morosely. "It's there." - -"So you admit it, do you?" MacVightie's smile was unpleasant. "Well, -then, since you seem to be so thick with that pack of curs back there in -the train, perhaps you'll admit to a hand in this little counterfeiting -plant as well?" - -"No; I won't!" said the Hawk shortly. "I never had anything to do with -this! I don't admit anything of the kind! Ask him!"--the Hawk jerked his -hand toward the Ladybird. - -"Oh, all right!" MacVightie smiled unpleasantly again. "Let it go at -that for now, if you like it that way. It doesn't much matter. You're -birds of a feather, anyway, and there's enough on all of you to go -around!" He reached behind him, and picked up the package of banknotes -from where he had evidently laid it on the nearest bench. "How did you -know this was on the train, and how did you know where it was in the -car--and tell the truth about it!" - -"I heard you and Mr. Lanson talking about it tonight," said the Hawk. - -"Where?" - -"In the roundhouse. I was outside the window. And"--the Hawk's voice -thinned in a sudden snarl--"you go to the devil with your questions!" - -The Ladybird was craned forward again in the wheel chair listening -intently, he sank back now and scowled murderously at the Hawk. -MacVightie shrugged his shoulders, handed the package to one of his -three men who were with him in the cellar, and drew a pair of handcuffs -from his pocket. - -"Get that cash down to the train, and put it back with the gold where -it will be under guard, MacGregor!" he ordered brusquely. "And you -two carry this fellow"--he rattled his handcuffs in the Butcher's -direction--"down there, too. Tell Marston to let you have three or four -more men. The chap that Williams has got upstairs there will have to be -carried, too, I guess; and our friend here, in the invalid buggy, with -the thanksgiving expression on his face, will have to have somebody to -push him along over the ruts. Yes, and I'll want a couple to put in -the night here--tell Marston to make it four. And now, beat it! You run -ahead, MacGregor, and get back as soon as you can--we don't want to tie -up the traffic all night!" - -The two men picked up the Butcher, and, preceded by their companion -with the package of banknotes, went up the stairs. MacVightie caught the -Hawk's arm roughly, snapped one link of the steel cuffs over the Hawk's -right wrist, and yanked the Hawk ungently over to a position beside the -wheel chair. - -He snapped the other link over the Ladybird's left wrist, and smiled -menacingly. - -"I guess there's dead weight enough there to anchor you for a few -minutes while I take a look around here!" he said curtly--and turned to -Lan-son. - -The Hawk was licking at his lips again. Upstairs, the tramp of feet was -dying away: There would be no one there now but the other member of the -gang who, it seemed, had been hurt when the house was rushed, and the -one man who was guarding the prisoner. The Ladybird's cultured voice at -the Hawk's side poured out an uninterrupted stream of abandoned oaths -that were like a shudder in the nonchalant, conversational tones in -which they fell from the twitching lips. MacVightie and Lanson were -moving here and there about the place. Snatches of their conversation -reached the Hawk: - -...Well, I reckon I called the turn, all right, when I said it was -the same crowd that was turning out the phony stuff, eh?... Yes, the -telegraph set. - -... Can't trace the wires until daylight, of course. - -... Sure, a clean-up...." - -The Hawk's eyes travelled furtively around the cellar. They rested -hungrily on a spot in front of him, where, in the centre of the floor, -but partially hidden by one of the workbenches, was the bolted trapdoor -of the underground passage that led out to the wagon shed. He circled -his lips with his tongue again, and furtively again, his glance -travelled on--to the door at the head of the cellar stairs that had a -massive bolt, and that, evidently swinging back of its own accord -after the men had passed through, now hung just ajar--to a long, narrow -window, most tantalising of all because it was wide open, that was -shoulder high, just above the stonework of the cellar and evidently on a -level with the ground outside. - -And then suddenly the Hawk's lids drooped--to hide a quick flash and -gleam that lighted the dark eyes. MacVightie had stooped, and throwing -back the bolt, had lifted up the trapdoor. - -"Hello!" he ejaculated. "What's this? Here, Lanson! It looks like a -passage of some sort." He was leaning down into the opening. "Yes, so -help me, that's what it is!" He lowered himself hurriedly through the -trapdoor, and his voice came back muffled into the cellar. "Come down -here a minute, Lanson; they certainly had things worked out to a fine -point!" - -Lanson's back, as, following MacVightie, he lowered himself through the -opening, was turned to the Hawk--and in a flash the Hawk's free hand -had swept behind him under his coat to the concealed pocket in the back -lining, and his eyes were thrust within an inch of the Ladybird's as he -lowered his head. - -"You understand?"--the Hawk's lips did not move, he was breathing -his words, while a skeleton key worked swiftly at the handcuff on his -wrist--"you understand? It's you or me! You make a sound to queer me, -and I'll get you--_first!_" - -The livid face was contorted, working with impotent fury, but, perhaps -for the first time that it had ever been there, there was fear In -the Ladybird's burning eyes. The Hawk's hand was free now. Lanson's -shoulders were just disappearing through the opening, and with a -lightning spring the Hawk reached the trapdoor, swung it down, bolted -it, and, running without a sound, gained the head of the cellar stairs, -pulled the door gently shut, slid the bolt silently into place--and the -next moment the Hawk, returning, darted to the window, swung himself up -to the ledge, and vanished. - - - - -XX--"CONFIDENTIAL" CORRESPONDENCE - -TWO days later MacVightie received a letter that had been posted the -day before from a city quite a number of miles nearer the East than -Selkirk was. In the left-hand, lower corner of the envelope, heavily -underscored, was the word: "Confidential." What MacVightie read, when he -opened the letter, was this: - -"Dear Mr. MacVightie:-- - -"I feel that you are entitled to an explanation--I will not call it an -apology, for I am sure you will recognise with me the unavoidable nature -of the circumstances existing at the time--of my somewhat informal -leave-taking of you two evenings ago; and I am afraid that my actions on -that occasion have not enhanced your opinion of--the Hawk. I shall try -and redeem myself. You have, I make no doubt, already searched that room -where I first had the pleasure of making your acquaintance--and have -found nothing. Let me begin, then, by saying that the diamond necklace -belonging to His Excellency the Governor's wife, a certain well-known -shipment of unset stones, and cash in varying amounts derived from -sources with which you are acquainted, are in a black valise which you -will find in the parcel room of the Selkirk station--and for which I -enclose herewith the parcel-room check. - -"I imagine that you are sceptical. I wonder, then, if it would also -occasion you surprise to know that Birks of the Secret Service was, -after all, 'on deck' the night that the Wire Devils fell into your -hospitable hands? Yes, it is quite true--I am Birks. The newspaper -biographies of the Hawk, the apparent authenticity of his prison record -and release from Sing Sing was but 'inspired' fiction supplied from -'authoritative' sources. The East was being swamped with one of the -cleverest counterfeit notes that the Federal authorities, popularly -called the Secret Service, had ever had to deal with; and it was evident -at once that the gang at work possessed an organisation against which -ordinary methods would be of no avail. Facts in the possession of the -Federal authorities indicated that the headquarters of the gang was -in the West, and, indeed, as you later concluded yourself, that the -so-called Wire Devils, who were just beginning to operate over the wires -around Selkirk, were the men we wanted. That, because of my knowledge of -telegraphy, I was detailed to the case, and how, almost at the outset, I -was fortunate enough to secure the key to their cipher, need not be gone -into here. Knowing their code, then, it would have been a simple enough -matter to have run one or two of them to earth at almost any time, but -that was not enough; it was necessary that the entire organisation, and -especially its head, should be caught. The rle of the Hawk furnished -the solution to the problem. It enabled me to frustrate their plans, -while at the same time I was working on the case, and it enabled me to -do this without arousing their suspicions that the Secret Service was -on the track of their counterfeiting plant. 'Birds of a feather,' you -called us, Mr. Mac-Vightie; and 'birds of a feather' I am going to ask -you to allow us, in the public's eyes, and particularly in the eyes of -those you now have behind the bars, to remain. - -"I am sure you will readily acquiesce in this. You will instantly see -that my usefulness would be destroyed if the Hawk became known and -recognised as Birks of the Secret Service by every crook in the country, -as would result if he now figured in the case in his proper person. And -this leads to a word of explanation in reference to the final act in our -little drama of two nights ago. I had discovered the headquarters of the -gang, and I had found that cleverest of unhung crooks, the Ladybird, -to be in command. The plan outlined to you from Washington was at my -suggestion, and was simply a trap to collect them _all_ into one net; a -trap, I might add, which they walked into, as they believed, with their -eyes wide open, for they were well aware of every move _you_ had made. -The purpose of the money in banknotes accompanying the gold shipment was -to supply the Hawk with a _reason_ for his appearance on the scene. It -was not altogether a question of coincidence that the train was stopped -just outside Con-more; nor that the chase led you to the farmhouse -and the Ladybird. The rest you know. It was necessary that I should -be captured and arrested in their presence, be caught in fact with the -'goods,' and also that my escape should in their eyes appear equally -genuine, if I was to preserve the Hawk's identity. As for this last -point, things turned out a little differently than I had planned, for -I had expected to be taken to jail with the common herd, and there had -intended to arrange some sort of an escape to keep up appearances. As -it turned out, however, I am sure you will agree with me that there are -worse things at times than a trapdoor in a cellar floor! - -"I think that is all--save for one little detail. I would suggest that -you account for the recovery of the 'swag' and the black valise through -the fact that, dissatisfied with your first search of that room over -our friend Seidel-berger's saloon, you searched it again more minutely, -found a parcel-room check ingeniously hidden, say, behind the wall -bracket of the electric-light fixture--and by so doing permit me to -remain, - -"Ever and most sincerely yours, - -"The Hawk." - - -THE END - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wire Devils, by Frank L. 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Packard - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wire Devils, by Frank L. Packard - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Wire Devils - -Author: Frank L. Packard - -Release Date: May 16, 2016 [EBook #52084] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIRE DEVILS *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - THE WIRE DEVILS - </h1> - <h2> - By Frank L. Packard - </h2> - <h4> - Author of “Greater Love Hath No Man,” “The Adventure of Jimmie Dale,” Etc. - </h4> - <h5> - A. L. Burt Company Publishers New York - </h5> - <h3> - 1918 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0007.jpg" alt="0007 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0007.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE WIRE DEVILS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I—THE SECRET CODE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II—THE TEN-DOLLAR COUNTERFEIT NOTE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III-THE PAYMASTER'S SAFE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV—AT BALD CREEK STATION </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V—IN WHICH A CASH BOX DISAPPEARS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI—SOME OF THE LITTLE SPIDERS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII—WANTED—THE HAWK—DEAD OR - ALIVE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII—THREADS IN THE WEB </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX—THE LOOTING OF THE FAST MAIL </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> X—THE THIRD PARTY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XI—THE LEAD CAPSULE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XII—BLINDMAN'S-BUFF </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIII—THE MAN WITH THE SCAR </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIV—THE CLUE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XV—THE LADYBIRD </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVI—AN EVEN BREAK </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVII—A HOLE IN THE WALL </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVIII—THE HAWK PACKS HIS VALISE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XIX—BIRDS OF A FEATHER </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XX—“CONFIDENTIAL” CORRESPONDENCE </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - THE WIRE DEVILS - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - I—THE SECRET CODE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WO switch lights - twinkled; one at the east, and one at the west end of the siding. For the - rest all was blackness. Half way between the switch lights, snuggled close - against the single-tracked main line, the station, little more than a - shanty and too insignificant to boast a night operator, loomed up shadowy - and indistinct. Away to the westward, like jagged points sticking up into - the night and standing out in relief against the skyline, the Rockies - reared their peaks. And the spell of the brooding mountains seemed to lie - over all the desolate, butte-broken surrounding country—for all was - utter silence. - </p> - <p> - And then there came a sound, low at first, like a strange muttering from - somewhere to the westward. - </p> - <p> - It died away, grew louder, was hushed again—and broke into a - sustained roar. Came then the quick, short gasps of the exhaust—it - was a freight, and a heavy one. And suddenly, from up the track, circling - an intervening butte, an electric headlight cut streaming through the - black. It touched the little station in a queerly inquisitive way in the - sweep of its arc, lingered an instant over the platform, then swung to the - right of way, and held there, the metals glistening like polished silver - ribbons under the flood of light. - </p> - <p> - Straining, panting at its load, reddening the sky as the fire-box door was - flung open, the big tenwheeler stormed by, coughing the sparks heavenward - from its stack. The roar in the still night grew deafening, as boxcar, - flat and gondola, lurching, swaying, clanking, groaning, an endless - string, tugging at one another, grinding their flanges, screaming as they - took up the axle play, staggered with a din infernal past the lonely and - unlighted station. - </p> - <p> - The roar sank into a gradually diminishing murmur. The tail-lights winked - like mischievous little red eyes in the distance—and vanished. - </p> - <p> - All was stillness and that brooding silence again. - </p> - <p> - And then a man's form, like a black shadow in the darkness, rose from the - trackside, and crept to the platform, and along the platform to the - station door. - </p> - <p> - The man bent forward, and the round, white ray of a pocket flashlight - played upon the lock. He examined the lock for an instant appraisingly, - then drew a bunch of skeleton keys from his pocket, and, selecting one of - the number without hesitation, unlocked the door, stepped inside, and - closed the door behind him. - </p> - <p> - The flashlight swept in a circle around the interior of the little - station. There were but two rooms—the small waiting room which he - had entered, and in which he now stood; and, partitioned off from this, - the door open, a still smaller inner room, the agent's office. He moved at - once into the latter, and his flashlight, swiftly now, searched around the - walls and held upon the clock. It was six minutes to ten. - </p> - <p> - “Pretty close work!” muttered the man. “Six minutes to wait.” - </p> - <p> - The ray travelled now over the operator's table, and from the table to the - switchboard. He reached out, “cut in” the office circuit, listened for an - instant as the sounder began to chatter—then the ray swept over the - table again. Under a newspaper, that the day man had apparently flung down - at haphazard on leaving the office, he found a pad of telegraph blanks, - from which, evidently wary of the consequences of using a pad with its - resultant tell-tale impressions on the under sheets, he tore off a sheet - and laid it down ready to hand before him. - </p> - <p> - This done, he nodded complacently, sat down in the operator's chair, - tilted the chair back, put his feet up on the table, and coolly picked up - the newspaper. It was the evening edition of the Selkirk City <i>Journal</i>, - that had presumably been tossed off at the station by a charitable train - crew of some late afternoon train out from the city. He held the paper in - one hand, the flashlight in the other, scanned the page, which happened to - be an inner one, cursorily, turned it over, and suddenly leaned forward a - little in his seat. He was staring at the headline at the top right-hand - corner of the front page. - </p> - <h3> - NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL RELEASED FROM SING SING - </h3> - <h3> - POLICE ARE WARNED THAT MAN MAY BE IN THIS VICINITY - </h3> - <h3> - HARRY MAUL, ALIAS THE HAWK, KNOWN TO BE IN THE WEST - </h3> - <p> - The telegraph sounder chattered volubly for an instant, as though to - challenge and silence the raucous ticking of the clock, and ended in a - splutter of wrath, as it were, at the futility of its attempt. The clock - ticked on. There was no other sound. And then the man spoke aloud. - </p> - <p> - “That's me,” he said. “The Hawk.” The paper rattled in his hand. There was - a twisted smile on his lips in the darkness. “I guess I'm pretty well - known.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes fixed on the text, and he began to read: - </p> - <p> - “It is reported that Harry Maul, better known to the police as the Hawk, - safe-breaker, forger and thief, one of the cleverest 'gentleman' crooks in - the country, who is at large again after a five-years' penitentiary term, - is somewhere in the West. - </p> - <p> - “The crime wave that has recently been sweeping over Selkirk City and its - vicinity, and particularly the daring and, in too many cases, successful - outrages with which the railroad officials and detectives have been called - upon to cope of late, may, as a very plausible theory, have lured the Hawk - here as to a promising field in which to resume his criminal operations. - Certain it is that, while we have been the victims of a band of mysterious - desperadoes for some time past, the last week or so has seen a very marked - increase in the number of crimes that have been committed—a - significant coincidence with the Hawk's release from Sing Sing. - </p> - <p> - “A twenty-thousand-dollar diamond necklace was stolen from a private car - two nights ago; there was an express car robbery on Monday of this week; - and a sleeping car was thoroughly and systematically looted the night - before. True, it is mere conjecture to connect the Hawk with these in any - way, since the gang that has been operating in this neighbourhood has - proved itself quite capable of all and more than this without any outside - and highly specialised assistance, and it would appear is in no whit - inferior in resource and devilish ingenuity to the best, or worst, that - Sing Sing has to offer in the shape of this so-called Hawk; but, out of - conjecture, one question naturally suggests itself. - </p> - <p> - “Granting the presence of the Hawk, is he here as a rival of the criminals - of whose existence we are already only too well aware, or is he one of - them through old-time associations before Sing Sing put a temporary check - upon his activities?” - </p> - <p> - There was more—a virulent outpouring of wrath at the intolerable - extent to which the community, its life and property, was being - endangered, and a promise of summary vengeance upon the criminals if - caught. - </p> - <p> - “Quite so!” murmured the Hawk, lowering his feet slowly to the floor. “I - guess it wouldn't be healthy to get caught around these parts. I have a - feeling that it would be the nearest telegraph pole instead of a trial!” - </p> - <p> - He tossed the newspaper back on the table. The sounder, spasmodic in its - chatter, for the moment was still. All was silence, profound, absolute. - Then the clock struck, loud, resonant, smashing through the silence, - startling. And at the same instant the sounder broke into a quick tattoo. - The Hawk snatched a pencil from his pocket, and jerked his body forward—then - relaxed again. - </p> - <p> - “Stray stuff,” he muttered. “Got in ahead of him. We'll get it in a minute - now.” - </p> - <p> - Pencil poised in his hand, the flashlight playing on the blank sheet of - paper before him, the Hawk waited. The sounder ceased—and almost - instantly broke again, rattling sharply through the room. The Hawk nodded, - as his pencil began to travel across the paper. - </p> - <p> - “'mtlky'—stroke at five. Two-three-one tonight,” he said aloud. - </p> - <p> - Without pause, without hesitation, without the slightest indication of - spacing to break its continuity, the sounder rattled on—and finally, - as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped. - </p> - <p> - On the sheet of paper the Hawk had written this: - </p> - <p> - <i>mtlkyeqodktrpcvkqlmtp kpwrtrgtftuqcyqtnt tsghv ukopgfkxtiku kqprelcn - rcatocuvgdatf gumttlvgpvjf qwucpmtfkp uckjihg vqptkijvrsa wvpxodtt dgtqprg - qplqosd</i> - </p> - <p> - He reached out for the pad, tore off another sheet, and in two parallel - columns set down the letters of the alphabet, one column transposed. There - was a faint smile on his lips, as he turned again to the cipher and began - to write in another line of letters under the original message. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder what Poe and his predominant 'e' would do with this!” he - chuckled. “'Combi'—stroke two. Key letter—stroke three.” He - frowned the next instant. “What's this! Ah—stroke three, instead of - one.” He completed the transposition, stared at the several lines which - were now scattered with vertically crossed-out letters, whistled low under - his breath, and a grim look settled on his face. - </p> - <p> - The message now read: - </p> - <p> - <i>—-combi—natio—-ninup-perdr—eftsi—dediv—sion—al - paymasterdesk—fousan dinsaj—feton-ight-autnum—-beron-eonjob</i> - </p> - <p> - Mechanically, he separated words and sentences, and, eliminating the - superfluous letters, wrote out the translation at the bottom of the sheet: - </p> - <p> - <i>“Combination in upper drawer left side divisional paymaster ('.) desk. - Ten thousand in safe to-night. Put Number One on job</i>.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk stood up, “plugged out” the station circuit, and, gathering up - the two sheets of paper he had used, put them in his pocket; then, leaving - the door of the operator's room open behind him, as he had found it, he - stepped out from the station to the platform, and, with his skeleton key, - relocked the station door. He stood for a moment staring up and down the - track. The switchlights blinked back at him confidentially. He listened. - The eastbound freight, from which he had jumped some twenty minutes - before, would cross Extra No. 83, the westbound way freight, at Elkton, - seven miles away, but there was no sound of the latter as yet. - </p> - <p> - He turned then, and, jumping from the platform to the track, swung into a - dog-trot along the roadbed. The Hawk smiled contentedly to himself. It was - all timed to a nicety! A mile or so to the west, the right of way rose in - a stiff grade that the way freight would be able to negotiate at no better - speed than the pace at which a man could crawl. He could make the distance - readily, board her there, and the way freight would get him to Selkirk—and - the divisional paymaster's office!—by about midnight. - </p> - <p> - He ran on, the swing and ease of a trained athlete in his stride. And, as - he ran, he took the sheets of paper from his pocket, and, tearing them - into small fragments, scattered the pieces at intervals here and there. - </p> - <p> - He reached the foot of the grade, and paused to look back along the track, - as suddenly from behind him came the hoarse scream of an engine whistle. - That was the way freight now, whistling perfunctorily for the deserted - station! He had made the grade in plenty of time, though the nearer to the - top he could get the better, for the freight, requiring all the initial - impetus it could attain, would hit the foot of the grade wide open. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk broke into a run again, glancing constantly back over his - shoulder as he sped on up the grade. And then, when he was well on toward - the summit, opening the night like a blazing disk as it rounded a curve, - he caught the gleam of the headlight. It grew larger and larger, until, - beginning to fling a luminous pathway up the track that, gradually - lengthening, crept nearer and nearer to him, he swerved suddenly, plunged - down the embankment, and, well away from the trackside, dropped flat upon - the ground. - </p> - <p> - The engine, slowed, was grunting heavily on the incline as it strained by - the spot where he lay; there was the glimmer of the front-end brakeman's - lamp from the top of one of the forward cars—and, with a quick, - appraising glance to measure the length of the train, the Hawk, on hands - and knees, crawled forward, and up the embankment, and, in the shadow of - the rolling cars themselves, stood up. There would be sharp eyes watching - from the cupola of the caboose. He laughed a little. And not only the - train crew there, perhaps! The railroad detectives, at their wits' ends, - had acquired the habit of late of turning up in the most unexpected - places! - </p> - <p> - A boxcar rolled by him, another, and still another—but the Hawk's - eyes were fixed a little further along toward the rear on an open space, - where, in the darkness, a flat car gave the appearance of a break in the - train. The flat car came abreast of him. He caught the iron foot-rung, - jumped, and, with a powerful, muscular swing, flung himself aboard. - </p> - <p> - The car was loaded with some kind of carriage, or wagon, - tarpaulin-covered. The Hawk crawled in under the tarpaulin, and lay down - upon his back, pillowing his head on a piece of timber that blocked the - carriage wheels. - </p> - <p> - The train topped the grade, gained speed, and roared on through the night. - Occasionally, during what was close to a two-hours' run, it stopped at - intermediate stations, and the Hawk peered furtively out from under the - tarpaulin to locate the surroundings, with which he appeared to be - intimately familiar; and once, nearing the end of the run, as the - faint-suffused glow from the city's lights in the distance showed under - the shadows of the towering peaks, he spoke aloud, “Ten thousand dollars,” - remarked the Hawk pleasantly. “Nice picking for a few hours' work—ten - thousand dollars!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - II—THE TEN-DOLLAR COUNTERFEIT NOTE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk crawled - out from under the tarpaulin and dropped to the ground, as the freight, - slowing down, began to patter in over the spur switches of the Selkirk - yard. He darted, bent low, across several spurs to escape the possibility - of observation from the freight's caboose; then began to make his way - toward the roundhouse ahead of him. He would have to pass around behind - the roundhouse in order to get up opposite the station and the divisional - offices. The Hawk glanced sharply about him as he moved along. He dodged - here and there like some queer, irresponsible phantom flitting amongst the - low, myriad red, green and purple lights that dotted the yard; and he - carefully avoided those other lights, the white lights of the yardsmen, - now bobbing as the men ran up and down, now swinging from the footboard of - a passing switcher, that seemed to be unusually ubiquitous—for the - Hawk was secretive, and for certain good and valid reasons was possessed - of an earnest desire that no stranger should be reported prowling around - the railroad yard that night. - </p> - <p> - He reached the roundhouse, stepped close up against the wall to take - advantage of the security afforded by the shadows, and began to circle the - building. The Hawk was treading silently now. Halfway around the building - he halted abruptly, his head cocked suddenly in a listening attitude - toward a small, open and lighted window on a level with his shoulders, and - in order to pass which he had just been on the point of stooping down. - </p> - <p> - “I think,” said the Hawk softly to himself, “I think this sounds as though - it interested me.” - </p> - <p> - He crept cautiously forward, and from the edge of the window glanced - inside. It was the turner's “cubbyhole,” or office. The door was closed, - and two men were standing there, talking earnestly. The Hawk's face, dimly - outlined now in the window light, smooth-shaven, square-jawed, the eyes - and forehead hidden by the brim of the slouch hat that was pulled forward - almost to the bridge of his nose, set with a curious and significant - smile. It was not a bad place for a private conference! He had thought he - had recognised the voice—and he had not been mistaken. The big, - heavy-built, thin-lipped, pugnacious-faced man was MacVightie, the head of - the railroad's detective force; the other, a smaller man, with alert grey - eyes, his forehead furrowed anxiously, whose clenched hand rested on the - table, was Lanson, the division superintendent. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know, damn it, MacVightie!” Lanson was saying savagely. “I don't - know what to think, or believe—I only know that a Pullman hold-up - one night, a twenty-thousand-dollar necklace stolen the next, an express - car looted, and several other little pleasant episodes all jammed one on - top of the other, means hell to pay out here and nothing to pay it with, - unless we can do something almighty quick!” - </p> - <p> - “Any more of those messages?” inquired MacVightie—there was an - ominous abstraction in his tones. - </p> - <p> - “Yes—to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Make anything of it?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Lanson; “and I think it's about time to put a kink in that - little business, whether they mean anything or not. This cat-and-mouse - game we've been playing isn't——” - </p> - <p> - “We'll get back to that in a minute,” interrupted MacVightie quietly. - “Here's a little something else that may possibly fit into the - combination.” He reached into his pocket, took out his pocketbook, opened - it, and handed the division superintendent a crisp new ten-dollar note. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's lips thinned instantly, and he swore sharply under his breath. - </p> - <p> - “What's this?” asked Lanson, in surprise. “Phony!” said MacVightie - laconically. “Counterfeit!” Lanson turned the note over in his hands, - staring at first one side and then the other. “Are you sure? I'd take it - any time.” - </p> - <p> - “You'd have lots of company with you”—there was a sudden rasp in the - detective's voice. “Pretty good one, isn't it? The East is being flooded - with them. Two of them showed up in the banks here in the city yesterday, - and one to-day.” - </p> - <p> - Lanson frowned perplexedly. - </p> - <p> - “I don't get you, MacVightie,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Suppose they were being struck off around here,” suggested MacVightie - curtly. “I don't say they are, but suppose it were so. They'd likely be - shoved out as far away from this locality as possible, wouldn't they—back - East, say. They're so good that a jag of them got by before they began to - be detected—and now suppose we assume that they're beginning to sift - back around the country.” - </p> - <p> - “Well?” - </p> - <p> - “Well”—MacVightie caught the superintendent up quickly—“I - didn't say I could prove it; but, coupled with the fact that I happen to - know that the police have traced the work back to somewhere west of - Chicago, I've got a hunch that the gang that is operating around here and - the crowd that is turning out the phony money is the same outfit. The Lord - knows”—he smiled bitterly—“they're clever enough! And to go - back to those messages now. If there was anything in them at all, anything - more than some irresponsible idiot tampering with a key somewhere, we were - face to face, not with a mere gang of train robbers, but with an organised - criminal league as dangerous and powerful as has ever existed in this - country—and that's what made me hesitate. We couldn't afford to take - any chances, to start out after a mare's nest, and we had to make as - nearly sure of our ground as possible before we played a card. We went on - the principle that if it was only somebody playing the goat, he'd get - tired of it before long if no one paid any attention to him; if it meant - anything more than that, he'd keep on.” MacVightie's pugnacious face - screwed up into a savage grimace. “Well, maybe this counterfeiting idea - has had something to do with deciding me, but, anyway, I'm satisfied now. - He <i>has</i> kept on. And I'm satisfied now that those messages are a - cipher code that the gang is using, and that our cat-and-mouse play, as - you call it, instead of being abortive, is exactly what's going to land - our men for us. That's one thing I came to tell you to-night—that - I'm ready now to take the gloves off on this wire game.” - </p> - <p> - Lanson smashed his fist down on the table top. “Good!” he exclaimed - grimly. “I'd like to make things hot for somebody, and it'll at least be - easy enough to catch whoever is using the wire.” MacVightie shook his - head. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no; it won't!” he said evenly. “I didn't mean to give you that - impression, and don't you make the mistake of under-estimating the brains - we're up against, Lanson. I'm no expert on telegraphy, that's your end of - it, but I know they wouldn't sit in on any game where they didn't hold - trumps up their sleeves. Get me? Now let's see what it looks like. As I - understand it, these messages, no matter from what point on the division - they are sent, would be heard on every sounder on the line—that's - right, isn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—sure! Of course!” agreed Lanson. - </p> - <p> - “And it might be an operator working with them as an inside man; or, with - the necessary outfit, the wire could be tapped at any point, couldn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Lanson; “but the minute he starts in, we could begin to - 'ground' him out.” - </p> - <p> - “Go on!” invited MacVightie. “I'm listening.” - </p> - <p> - “We could tell whether he was working east or west of any given point,” - explained the superintendent; “and, with the operators instructed - beforehand, practically narrow him down to, say, between two stations.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, as he, too, listened, permitted an amused smile to flicker - across his lips. - </p> - <p> - “Um!” said MacVightie. “And would he be aware that this 'grounding' - process was going on?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—naturally,” admitted Lanson. “We can't prevent that.” - </p> - <p> - MacVightie shook his head again. - </p> - <p> - “That doesn't sound good to me,” he said slowly. “All he'd have to do - would be to beat it then—and the next time start in fifty miles - away, and you'd have to begin all over again. And, besides, who's <i>receiving</i> - the messages? You can't put any tabs on that. Every sounder from Selkirk - City to Rainy River registers them, and all a man's got to do is <i>listen</i>. - You see, Lanson, it's not so easy—eh?” - </p> - <p> - Lanson frowned. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what do you suggest?” he asked uncomfortably. “We can stop it.” - </p> - <p> - “But we don't <i>want</i> to stop it!” returned MacVightie. “We could have - done that from the first. What we want is our man now. And it strikes me - that the first thing to do is to find out whether one of our own operators - is in on this or not. Unless the line is tapped somewhere, it's a cinch - that a station key is being used, isn't it? Send some linemen that you can - trust over the division. If they find anything at all, they'll find the - spot where the messages are coming from, won't they? If they find nothing, - we'll know we've got to look nearer home—amongst our own men.” - </p> - <p> - Lanson, in his turn, shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “Not necessarily,” he objected. “We've a number of small stations where - there's no night operator. They might have got into one of those. The - messages all come through at night.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'll call the turn there!” responded Mac-Vightie, with a short - laugh. “See that I get a list of those stations in the morning, and I'll - detail men to take care of that end of it.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk drew back a little, shifting his strained position—the - amused smile was no longer on his lips. - </p> - <p> - “And as for that 'ground' business,” went on Mac-Vightie, “go slow with it - till you get your linemen's report. Don't do any more than try it out with - some operator you can absolutely depend upon, say, about halfway down the - line. You say you would be able to tell whether the messages were coming - from east or west of that point; that'll cut the division in half for us - as far as our search is concerned, and that's worth taking a chance on. - But don't overdo it, Lanson. We don't want to throw any scare into him—yet.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” agreed Lanson. “I'll start things moving to-night. Martin, at - Bald Creek, will be the best man, I guess. I'll send a letter down to him - on No. 8.” - </p> - <p> - “And warn him to make no reports by <i>wire</i>,” cautioned MacVightie. - </p> - <p> - “All right—yes, naturally,” agreed the superintendent again. Then, - after a short pause, anxiously: “Anything turned up at all, MacVightie? - Any clue to that necklace? The governor's wife is making a holler that's - reached from here to the road's directors down in Wall Street.” - </p> - <p> - “Damn it,” growled MacVightie. “I'm well enough aware of it—but the - necklace isn't any more important than any one of the other affairs, is - it? No; there's nothing—not a blamed thing!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, what about this Sing Sing convict, the Hawk, that the papers are - featuring to-night?” Lanson asked. “Anything in that?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know—maybe,” McVightie answered viciously. “He's only one - more, anyway. This gang was operating before he was released—and - it's likely enough, if they're old pals of his, that he's come out here to - give them a hand. The New York police say he went to Chicago immediately - after his release, two weeks ago. The Chicago police reported him there, - and then he disappeared; then Denver spotted him a few days later—and - that's the last that's been seen of him. You can make what you like of - that. He's certainly been hitting a pretty straight trail west. He wasn't - stopped, of course, because he isn't 'wanted' at present; he's only a man - with a bad record, and labelled dangerous. We were warned to look out for - him, that's all.” - </p> - <p> - “Got his description?” inquired Lanson. - </p> - <p> - “Yes”—MacVightie's laugh was a short bark. “Medium height, - broad-shouldered, muscular, black hair, black eyes, straight nose, - good-looking, and gentlemanly in appearance and manner, dresses well, age - twenty-four to twenty-six, no distinctive marks or disfigurement.” - </p> - <p> - “There's probably not more than twenty-five thousand men in Selkirk City - who would answer to every detail of that!” Lanson commented sarcastically. - </p> - <p> - “Exactly!” admitted MacVightie. “And that's——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was creeping forward again in the shadows of the roundhouse. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I guess it interested me,” muttered the Hawk; “I guess it did. I - guess I'm playing in luck to-night.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - III-THE PAYMASTER'S SAFE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ROM the roundhouse - it was only a few yards to the rear of the long, low-lying freight sheds - and, unobserved, the Hawk gained this new shelter. He stole quickly along - to the further end of the sheds; and there, crouched down again in the - shadows, halted to make a critical survey of his surroundings. . - </p> - <p> - Just in front of him, divided only by a sort of driveway for the - convenience of the teamsters, was the end wall of the station, and, in the - end wall—the window of the divisional paymaster's office. The Hawk - glanced to his left. The street upon which the station fronted, an - ill-savoured section of the city, was dark, dimly lighted, and deserted; - the only sign of life being the lighted windows of a saloon on the corner - of a narrow lane that bisected the block of somewhat disreputable, - tumble-down wooden structures that faced the station. To his right, on the - other side of the freight shed, the railroad yard had narrowed down to the - station tracks and a single spur alongside the shed. There was no one in - sight in either direction. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes strayed back to the paymaster's window. The station, like - its surrounding neighbours, was an old wooden building; and, being low and - only two-storied, the second-story window offered inviting possibilities. - From the sill of the lower window, a man who was at all agile had the - upper window at his mercy. Against this mode of attack, however, was the - risk of being seen by any one who might pass along the street, or by any - one who might chance upon the end of the station platform. - </p> - <p> - “What's the use!” decided the Hawk, with an abrupt shrug of his shoulders. - “Play safe. There's a better way.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk crept across the driveway, reached the street side of the - station, peered cautiously around the corner of the building, and, - satisfied that he was unobserved, edged down along the building for a - short distance, paused in a doorway, glanced quickly about him again—and - then the door opened and closed, and he was standing in a murky - passageway, that was lighted only by a single incandescent far back by a - stair well. - </p> - <p> - He stood motionless, listening. From above, through the stillness, came - the faint drumming of a telegraph key. There should be no one upstairs now - but the dispatcher, whose room was at the opposite end of the building - from the paymaster's office—and, possibly, with the dispatcher, a - call boy or two. And the hallway above, he could see, was dark. - </p> - <p> - Moving stealthily forward, as noiseless as a cat in his tread, the Hawk - took a mask from his pocket, slipped it over his face, and began to mount - the stairs. He gained the landing—and halted again. It was pitch - black here, since even the door of the dispatcher's room, where there - would be a light, was closed. - </p> - <p> - And then once more the Hawk moved forward—and an instant later, the - paymaster's door at the extreme end of the corridor, under the deft - persuasion of his skeleton keys, had closed behind him. - </p> - <p> - It was not quite so dark here. The lights from the platform and the yard - filtered in through the window in a filmy sort of way; but it was too dark - to distinguish objects in anything more than grotesque, shapeless - outlines. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk produced his flashlight, and turned it upon the lock he had just - picked. It was a spring lock, opened readily from the inside by the mere - turning of the doorhandle. He tried it carefully, assuring himself that it - could not be opened from the corridor without a key—and then his - light swept around the room. It played in its circuit upon the paymaster's - flat-topped desk against the wall, and upon a large safe in the corner, - near the window, whose polished nickel dial sent back an answering flash - under the darting ray; but the Hawk, for the moment, appeared to be - interested in neither desk nor safe. The flashlight was holding in a kind - of dogged inquisitiveness upon another door close to the window, and - directly opposite the safe. - </p> - <p> - He stepped without a sound across the room, and, reaching this door, - snapped off his flashlight. He tried the door cautiously, found it - unlocked, and very softly opened it the space of an inch. He listened - attentively. There was no sound. He pushed the door open, switched on his - flashlight again, and stepped through the doorway. It appeared to be a - clerks' office—for the paymaster's staff, presumably. The Hawk - seemed to possess a peculiar penchant for doors. The only thing in the - room that apparently held any interest for him now was the door that - opened, like the paymaster's, upon the corridor. He slipped quickly across - the room, and, as before, examined the lock. Like the other, it was a - spring lock; and, like the other, he tested it to make sure it was locked - on the outside. - </p> - <p> - “Ten thousand dollars,” confided the Hawk to the lock, “isn't to be picked - up every night; and we can't afford to take any chances, you know.” - </p> - <p> - He began to retrace his steps toward the paymaster's office, but now, - obviously, with more attention to the details of his surroundings, for his - flashlight kept dancing quick, jerky flashes in all directions about him. - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” The exclamation, low-breathed, came suddenly. “I thought there ought - to be something like this around here!” - </p> - <p> - From, beside a desk, he stooped and picked up an empty pay satchel; then, - returning at once to the other office, but leaving the connecting door - just ajar, he dropped the pay bag in front of the safe, and went silently - over to the desk—a mouse running across the floor would have made - more commotion than the Hawk had made since his entry into the station. - </p> - <p> - “... Upper drawer, left side,” he muttered, “Locked, of course—ah!” - A tiny key, selected from its fellow outlaws, was inserted in the lock—and - the Hawk pulled out the drawer, and began to rummage through its contents. - </p> - <p> - From the back of the drawer, after perhaps a minute's search, he picked up - a card, and with a nod of satisfaction began to study it. - </p> - <p> - “'Left—two right; eighty-seven, one quarter—left; three... '” - The Hawk's eyes travelled swiftly over the combination. He read it over - again, “Thank you!” murmured the Hawk whimsically—and dropped the - card back in the drawer, and locked the drawer. - </p> - <p> - A moment more, and the white beam of the flashlight was playing on the - face of the safe, and the silence of the room was broken by the faint, - musical, metallic whirring of the dial. Bent forward, a crouching form in - the darkness, the Hawk worked swiftly, a sure, deft accuracy in every - movement of his fingers. With a low thud, as he turned the handle, the - heavy bolt shot back in its grooves, and the ponderous door swung open. - And now the flashlight's ray flooded the interior of the safe, and the - Hawk laughed low—before him, lying on the bottom of the safe, neatly - banded as they had come from the bank, were a dozen or fifteen little - packages of banknotes. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk dropped on his knees, and reached for the pay bag. Ten thousand - dollars was not so bulky, after all—if the denominations of the - notes were large enough. He riffled one package through his fingers—twenties! - Gold, yellow-back twenties! - </p> - <p> - There was a sort of beatific smile on the Hawk's lips. He dropped the - package into the bag. - </p> - <p> - Tens, and twenties, and fives—the light, in a curiously caressing - way, was lingering on the little fortune as it lay there on the bottom of - the safe. There was only a pile or two of ones, and the rest was—<i>what - was that!</i> - </p> - <p> - The smile vanished from the Hawk's lips, and, in a rigid, tense, strained - attitude, he hung there, motionless. What was that—that dull, - rasping, sound! It was like some one clawing at the wall outside. The <i>window!</i> - </p> - <p> - With a single motion, as though stirred to life by some galvanic shock, - the Hawk's hand shot out and swept the packages of banknotes into the bag. - He snapped off his flashlight. The room was in darkness. - </p> - <p> - That sound again! And now a creak! The window was being opened. Something - black was bulking there on the sill outside—and something queerly - white, a man's face, was pressed against the pane, peering in. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk glanced sharply around him. Inch by inch he was pushing the safe - door shut. He could not reach the door leading to the clerks' office, for - he would have to pass by the window, and—he shrank back quickly, the - safe door closed but still unlocked, and crouched low in the corner - against the wall. The window slid up to the top, and with a soft <i>pad</i>, - like some animal alighting on the floor, the man had sprung into the room. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's fingers crept into his pocket and out again, tight-closed now - upon an automatic pistol. The other's flashlight winked, went out, then - shot across the room, locating the desk—and once more all was - darkness. - </p> - <p> - There was not a sound now, save the short, hurried breathing of the other, - panting from the exertion of his climb. Then the man's step squeaked - faintly crossing the room—and the Hawk, a few inches at a time, - began to edge along the wall away from the neighbourhood of the safe. - </p> - <p> - Then the man's flashlight gleamed again, lighting up the top of the desk. - There was a sharp, ripping sound, as of the tearing of wood under - pressure, and the upper drawer, forced open by a steel jimmy, was pulled - out. - </p> - <p> - “Birds of a feather!” said the Hawk grimly to himself. “Number One, of the - Wire Devils! I didn't beat him to it by as much margin as I thought I - would!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk shifted his automatic to the hand that was clutching the pay bag, - and, with the other hand, began to feel in wide sweeps over the wall above - his head. The electric-light switch, he had noticed in that first quick - glance when he had entered the room, a glance that had seemed to notice - nothing, and yet in which nothing had escaped the sharp, trained eyes, was - somewhere about here. - </p> - <p> - “Dangerous—for both of us—if it's seen outside,” communed the - Hawk with himself again. “But when he finds the safe unlocked, and the - goods gone, there'll be trouble. If he gets a flashlight on me, he's got - me where he wants me. Ah—here it is!” The Hawk's fingers touched the - switch. He lowered the pay bag cautiously to the floor between his feet, - his automatic free in his hand again. - </p> - <p> - There was a rustling of papers in the drawer; then the man's hand, holding - a card, was outlined as though thrown upon a screen, as, with his other - hand, he focused his flashlight upon it. Then the flashlight swung an arc - over the opposite wall, and pointed a pathway to the safe, as the man - turned abruptly and stepped back across the room. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, one hand raised to the switch on the wall, his automatic - outflung a little in the other, tense, like an animal in leash, watched - the other's movements. - </p> - <p> - The dark-outlined form was in shadowy relief against the light, that - played now upon the glistening knob and dial of the safe. The man gave a - preliminary, tentative twist at the handle. Came a quick, dismayed, - hissing sound, like the sharp intake of 'breath. The safe door was - wrenched open with a jerk. There was a low, angry cry now. The man sprang - back, and as though involuntarily, in a sort of uncertain, panic-struck - search, his flashlight shot along the wall—and fell full upon the - Hawk. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's finger pressed the switch. The room was ablaze with light. With - a startled, furious oath, the man's hand was sweeping significantly toward - his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “No, you don't!” snarled the Hawk, covering the other. “No, you don't! Cut - that out!” His eyes, behind the mask, narrowed suddenly. “Hello!” he - sneered. “It's 'Butcher' Rose—I might have known from the way you - opened that drawer!” - </p> - <p> - It was a moment before the man answered. - </p> - <p> - “Blast you!” he whispered finally. “You gave me a bit of a start, you did! - I thought at first you were a 'bull'.” His eyes fastened on the pay bag at - the Hawk's feet. The top gaped open, disclosing the banknotes inside. The - man raised his eyes to the Hawk's, and a cunning look came over his thin, - hatchet-like face. “Caught with the goods this time, eh?” he jerked out. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk smiled unpleasantly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he said. “The nest's empty. What is it they used to tell us in the - nursery?—it's the early bird that grabs the worm. How long you been - out in these parts, Butcher?” - </p> - <p> - “Look here,” said the Butcher ingratiatingly, ignoring the question, “I - guess it's a case of split—eh?” - </p> - <p> - “You've got a nerve!” ejaculated the Hawk coolly. - </p> - <p> - “Well, put that light out, then, and we'll talk it over,” suggested the - Butcher. “If it's seen from outside, we'll both get caught.” - </p> - <p> - “I'd rather take a chance on that, than a chance on you,” replied the Hawk - curtly. “There's nothing to talk over. I've got the coin, and you've got a - frost—all you've got to do now is beat it.” - </p> - <p> - Sharp, little, black, ferret eyes the Butcher had, and they roamed around - the room now in an apparently aimless fashion—only to come back and - fix hungrily on the bag of banknotes again. A sullen look came into his - face, and the jaw muscles twitched ominously. - </p> - <p> - “So you're the Hawk they're talking about, eh?” he said, trying to speak - smoothly. “Well, there's no use of us quarrelling. If you know me, we must - be old pals. Take off that mask, and let's have a look at you. There ain't - any reason why we can't be pals again.” - </p> - <p> - “Nix!” said the Hawk softly. “Nothing doing, Butcher! It suits me pretty - well the way it is. I've made it a rule all my life to play a lone hand, - and the more I see of the raw work that guys like you try to get away - with, the more I pat myself on the back. Savvy? Why, say, even a - drag-worker on Canal Street wouldn't show his face to a self-respecting - crook for a month, he'd be so ashamed, if he took a crowbar to a desk - drawer the way you did, you poor boob!” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher's face flushed, and he scowled. - </p> - <p> - “You're looking for trouble, ain't you!” he said hoarsely. “Well, mabbe - you'll get it—and mabbe you'll get more than you're looking for. - How'd you get wise to this game to-night?” - </p> - <p> - “It's the way I make my living—getting wise. How'd you suppose?” - queried the Hawk insolently. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher was chewing at his lips angrily; his eyes, closed to slits, - searched the Hawk's masked face. - </p> - <p> - “This is the second time!” he said, between his teeth. “You pinched that - necklace, and——” - </p> - <p> - “O-ho!” exclaimed the Hawk, with a grin. “So <i>you</i> were after that, - too, were you?” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher's flush deepened. - </p> - <p> - “That's none of your damned business!” he gritted. “And if I thought——” - He bit his lips quickly. - </p> - <p> - “Go on!” invited the Hawk sweetly. “Don't mind me. If you thought—what?” - </p> - <p> - “You've had the luck with you,” mumbled the Butcher, half to himself. “It - can't be anything else, there's no chance of a leak. But I'm going to tell - you something—your luck's going to get a hole kicked in it. I'll - tell you something more. There's a few of us that have picked out this - little stamping ground for ourselves, and we ain't fond of trespassers. - Get that? It ain't going to be healthy for you to linger around here over - more than one train!” - </p> - <p> - “Are the rest of 'em all like you?” inquired the Hawk maliciously. - </p> - <p> - “You'll find out quicker than you'll want to, perhaps!” the Butcher - retorted furiously. - </p> - <p> - “All right!” said the Hawk. “And now I'll tell you a little something. I - don't know who are in this gang of yours, but you might take them a little - message from me. If they're finding it crowded out here, they'd better - move on to somewhere where competition isn't so likely to put them out of - business through lack of brains, because I'm kind of figuring on hanging - around until it gets time to open my château down at Palm Beach and stick - my feet up on the sofa for a well-earned rest. Do you stumble to that? - And”—the Hawk was drawling now—“I might say, Butcher, that I - don't like you. My fingers are crossed on that trespassing gag. It don't - go! I don't scare for any half-baked outfit of near-crooks! I stick here - as long as there's anything worth sticking for.” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher's eyes seemed to be fascinated by the pay bag—they were - on it again. He choked a little, swallowing hard; and, attempting a change - of front, forced a smile. - </p> - <p> - “Well, don't get sore!” he said, in a whining tone. “Mabbe I was only - trying to chuck a bluff, and got called. But, say, how'd you like to break - in here to-night like I did, and find another fellow'd got all the swag? - Say, it's damned rough, ain't it? Say, it's fierce! And, look here, I'm in - on it now, anyhow. I know who took it. I'm going to keep my mouth shut, - ain't I? You ain't going to leave me out in the cold, are you? All I ask - is a split.” - </p> - <p> - “It's not much!” said the Hawk, in a velvet voice. “It hardly seems - enough. You're too modest, Butcher. Why don't you ask for the whole of it? - You might as well—you'd stand just as much chance of getting it!” - </p> - <p> - The smile faded from the Butcher's lips, and his face became contorted - with rage again. He raised his fist and shook it at the Hawk. He cursed in - abandon, his lips livid, beside himself with passion. - </p> - <p> - “You'll get yours for this!” He choked, in his fury, over his words. “You - think you're slick! I'll show you what you're up against inside of - twenty-four hours! You'll crawl for this, d'ye hear, blast you—you'll - <i>crawl!</i>—you'll——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's automatic, dangling nonchalantly in his hand, swung suddenly - upward to a level with the other's eyes. - </p> - <p> - “That's enough, you cheap skate!”—there was a cold, menacing ring in - the Hawk's voice now. “I've heard enough from you. You and your hot-air - crowd of moth-eaten lags! If you, or any of you, run foul of me again, you - won't get off so easy! Tell 'em that! Tell 'em the Hawk said so! And you - beat it! And beat it—<i>now!</i>” He caught up the pay bag, and - advanced a step. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher retreated sullenly. - </p> - <p> - “Get out of that window!” ordered the Hawk evenly. “And take a last tip - from me. If you try to plant me, if you let a peep out of you while I'm - making my own getaway, I'll <i>get</i> you for it, Butcher, if it's the - last thing I ever do. Go on, now! Step quicker!” - </p> - <p> - Still sullenly, mumbling, his mouth working, the Butcher retreated - backward toward the window. The Hawk, his lips like a thin straight line - just showing under the mask, followed grimly, step by step. And then, - suddenly, both men halted, and their eyes met and held each other's in a - long tense gaze. - </p> - <p> - From outside in the corridor came the sound of voices and footsteps. The - footsteps drew nearer; the voices grew louder. The Hawk shot a glance - toward the door. He drew in his breath sharply. No, there was no fanlight, - the light would not show in the hall. That was the superintendent's voice. - That letter Lanson was going to send down on No. 8! The other, probably, - was MacVightie. Yes; it <i>was</i> MacVightie—he caught the - detective's gruff tones now. The door on the opposite side of the corridor - from the paymaster's room opened. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher licked his lips. - </p> - <p> - “Me for the window, and for it quick!” he muttered under his breath. - </p> - <p> - He turned, and, his back to the Hawk now, tiptoed to the window, turned - again sideways, as though to throw one leg over the sill—and his - right hand, hidden, suddenly lifted the side of his coat. - </p> - <p> - It came quick, quick as the winking of an eye. Racketing through room and - building, like the detonation of a cannon in the silence, came the roar of - a revolver shot, as the Butcher fired through his coat pocket. - Mechanically, the Hawk staggered backward; and then, the quick, keen brain - working like lightning, he reeled, dropped the pay bag, and clutched - wildly at his side. He was not hit. The Butcher had missed. So that was - the man's game! Clever enough! They'd break in here at the sound of the - shot, and find him dead or wounded on the floor! - </p> - <p> - The Butcher, a devil's triumph in his face now, came leaping back from the - window, and, stooping, snatched at the pay bag. - </p> - <p> - “I'd put another in you to make sure,” whispered the Butcher fiercely; - “only they'll get you anyway, you——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk straightened, his arm streaked outward from his side, his pistol - butt crashed on the Butcher's skull, and he was upon the other like a - flash, his free hand at the Butcher's throat. - </p> - <p> - From the room opposite came startled cries; across the corridor came the - rush of feet—then the doorhandle was tried, the door shaken - violently. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher was struggling but feebly, making only a pitiful effort to - loosen the Hawk's clutch upon his throat, hanging almost limply in the - Hawk's arms, half dazed by the blow upon his head. White to the lips with - passion, the Hawk whipped his hand into the other's pocket, whipped out - the other's revolver, and flung the man away from him. And then, as the - Butcher reeled and lurched backward to the window, and, clawing - frantically at the sill, attempted to work his way out, the Hawk ran - silently back, picked up the pay bag, and, jumping to the window again, - caught the Butcher roughly by the collar of the coat. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher, white, haggard-faced with fear, moaned. - </p> - <p> - “For God's sake!” he pleaded piteously. “Let me go! Let me go! For God's - sake, let me go—they'll get me!” - </p> - <p> - There was a terrific crash upon the door, as of some heavy body hurled - against it. The Hawk laughed mirthlessly. - </p> - <p> - “If I let you go, you'd break your neck!”—the Hawk's words were - coming through clenched teeth. “Don't worry, Butcher! They'll not get you. - I don't want <i>them</i> to get you. I want to get you myself for this. - Some day, Butcher, some day <i>I'll</i> do the getting!” He pushed the - Butcher's feet over the sill. “Feel with your toes for the window casing - beneath! Quick!” He leaned out, gripping at the Butcher's collar, lowering - the man—his lips were close against the Butcher's ear. “Some day—for - this—you yellow cur—you and me, Butcher—remember—<i>some - day!</i>” - </p> - <p> - A crash again upon the door! The Butcher's feet were on the lower sill; - but here the man lost his hold, and toppled to the ground. The Hawk - glanced backward into the room. The door was yielding now. He looked out - of the window again. The Butcher had regained his feet, and was swaying - against the wall, holding to it, making his way slowly, weakly toward the - corner. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk threw one leg over the sill. With a rip and tear, the door - smashed inward, sagging from its lower hinge. Came a hoarse yell. - MacVightie was plunging through the doorway. - </p> - <p> - Instantly the Hawk, hugging the pay bag, drew back his leg, and dove into - the clerk's room through the door which he had left ajar. There would have - been no use in letting the Butcher go at all if he led the chase through - the window—the man was barely crawling away. Across the room, light - enough now from the open doorway behind him to point the way, raced the - Hawk. He reached the corridor door, as MacVightie lunged through the - connecting door in pursuit. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie's voice rose in a bellow of warning: - </p> - <p> - “Look out there, Lanson! The next door—quick!” - </p> - <p> - But the Hawk was the quicker. He tore the door open, and dashed through, - just eluding the superintendent and another man—the dispatcher - probably, attracted by the row—as they sprang forward from the - paymaster's door. - </p> - <p> - Running like a deer, the Hawk made for the stairway. It was lighter now in - the hall. The dispatcher's door along at the farther end was open. At the - head of the stairs, a call boy, wide-eyed, gaped, openmouthed. The Hawk - brushed the boy aside incontinently, and, taking the stairs three and four - at a time, leaped downward, MacVightie's bull-like roar echoing behind - him, the top stairs creaking under the detective's rush. - </p> - <p> - The street door opened outward, and as the Hawk reached it, and, wrenching - at the knob, pushed it open, there was a flash, the report of a revolver - shot—and, with a venomous <i>spat</i>, the bullet buried itself in - the door jamb, not an inch from his head, it seemed, for the wind of the - bullet was on his cheek. - </p> - <p> - Cries sounded now from the railroad yard; but the street in front of him, - deserted, was still undisturbed. He was across it in a twinkling, and, - passing the saloon that was now closed, darted into the lane. - </p> - <p> - He flung a glance over his shoulder—and his lips set hard. - MacVightie, big man though he was, was no mean antagonist in a race. The - detective, quicker in initiative, quicker on his feet, had outdistanced - both Lanson and the dispatcher, and was already halfway across the street. - </p> - <p> - Again MacVightie fired. - </p> - <p> - On the Hawk ran. If he could reach the next corner—providing there - was no one about the street—there was a way, a risky way, but still - a way, his best chance of escape. The cheap combination lodging house and - saloon, that was just around the corner, was where he had a room. Yes, it - was his <i>one</i> chance! He must get to cover somewhere without an - instant's delay. With MacVightie firing now, emptying his revolver up the - lane, with the yells and shouts growing constantly in volume from farther - back toward the station, it was only a question of minutes before the - whole neighbourhood would be aroused. - </p> - <p> - Again he glanced behind him. It was very dark in the lane. He was grimly - conscious that it was the blackness, and not MacVightie's poor - marksmanship, that had saved him so far. That flash of the other's - revolver was perhaps fifty yards away. He had gained a little, then! If - there was any one around the corner, the plan of reaching his room would - not serve him, and he would still have to run for it. Well, he would see - in an instant—it was only two yards more—a yard—now! - </p> - <p> - Without slackening his pace, at top speed he swung from the lane—and, - with a gasp of relief at sight of an empty street, slipped into a doorway - just beyond the now dark entrance to a saloon that occupied most of the - ground floor of a dirty and squalid three-story building. - </p> - <p> - The door gave on a narrow flight of stairs, and up these the Hawk sprang - swiftly and with scarcely a sound. And now, as he ran, he pulled his mask - from his face and thrust it into the pay bag; a pocket-book from his - inside coat pocket followed the mask, and, with the pocketbook, the - flashlight, and the two pistols, his own and the Butcher's. He opened a - door at the head of the landing, and stepped into a room, leaving the door - partly open. - </p> - <p> - He was not safe yet—far from it! He did not under-estimate - MacVightie. It would be obvious to MacVightie that he was not far enough - ahead to have disappeared in any but one way—into some building - within a very few yards of the lane! And the presumption, at least, would - be that this was the one. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk worked now with almost incredible speed. He switched on the - light, ran to the window that opened on the rear of the building, felt - with one hand along the sill outside, lifted the pay bag out of the - window, let go of it, and turned instantly back into the room. He hung up - his hat on a wall peg, and tearing off his jacket, flung it haphazardly - upon the bed. There was a small table against the wall near the foot of - the bed. The Hawk opened a drawer, snatched up a pack of cards, and sat - down at the table. - </p> - <p> - The street door opened and closed. A quick, heavy tread sounded on the - stairs. - </p> - <p> - In his shirt sleeves, his back to the door, the Hawk was coolly playing - solitaire. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I'd better be smoking,” murmured the Hawk. “Maybe I'm breathing a - little hard.” - </p> - <p> - He picked up a pipe from the table, lighted a match—and, half the - deck of cards in one hand, the lighted match in the other, swung around in - his chair with a startled jerk. - </p> - <p> - The door slammed back against the wall. MacVightie had unceremoniously - kicked it wide open. MacVightie was standing on the threshold. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, in a sort of surprised gasp, sucked the flame of the match down - into the bowl of his pipe, and stared at MacVightie through a curtain of - tobacco smoke. The detective's eyes travelled sharply from the Hawk around - the room, came back to the Hawk, narrowed, and, stepping into the room, he - shut the door with equal lack of ceremony behind him. - </p> - <p> - “Say, you got a gall!” ejaculated the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “You bet your life I have!” flung out MacVightie. “Now then, my bucko, - what are you doing, here?” - </p> - <p> - “Say,” said the Hawk, as though obsessed with but a single idea, “say, you - got a gall! You got a gall, busting into a fellow's room and asking him - what he's doing there! Say, maybe you might answer the same question - yourself—eh? What are you doing here?” - </p> - <p> - “Your room, is it?” snapped MacVightie. - </p> - <p> - “Sure it's my room!” replied the Hawk, a little tartly. - </p> - <p> - “How long you been here?” - </p> - <p> - “'Bout a week”—the Hawk was growing ungracious. - </p> - <p> - “Boarding here?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Where'd you come from?” MacVightie was clipping off his words. “What do - you do for a living?” - </p> - <p> - “Say,” said the Hawk politely, “you go to hell!” - </p> - <p> - MacVightie stepped forward toward the Hawk, with an ominous scowl; and, - throwing back the lapel of his coat, tapped grimly with his forefinger on - a shield that decorated his vest. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk whistled low. - </p> - <p> - “O-ho!” said the Hawk, with sudden cordiality. “Well, why didn't you say - so before?” - </p> - <p> - “I'm saying it now!” snarled MacVightie. “Well, where do you come from?” - </p> - <p> - “Chicago,” said the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “What's your business?”—MacVightie's eyes were roving sharply again - around the room. - </p> - <p> - “Barkeep—when I can get a job,” answered the Hawk; and then, - insinuatingly: “And, say, I'm looking for one now, and if you can put me - on to anything I'd——” - </p> - <p> - “I guess you've got to show me!” growled Mac-Vightie, uncompromisingly. - </p> - <p> - “Look here,” ventured the Hawk, “what's up?” - </p> - <p> - “I'm waiting!” prompted MacVightie significantly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, all right!” The Hawk flared up a little. “If you love your grouch, - keep on hugging it tight!” He jerked his hand toward the coat that was - lying on the bed. “I must have lost the letter the pastor of my church - gave me, but there's a couple there from the guys back in Chicago that I - worked for, and there's my union card with them. Help yourself!” - </p> - <p> - MacVightie picked up the coat brusquely, shoved his hand into the inside - pocket, brought out several letters, and began to read them. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk shuffled the half deck of cards in his hand monotonously. - </p> - <p> - There was a puzzled frown on MacVightie's face, as he finally tossed the - letters down on the bed. - </p> - <p> - “Satisfied?” inquired the Hawk pleasantly. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie's frown deepened. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, as far as that goes,” he said tersely; and then, evenly, his eyes - boring into the Hawk: “About five minutes ago a man ran into this house - from the street. What's become of him?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk started in amazement—and slowly shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “I guess you've got the wrong dope, ain't you?” he suggested earnestly. - </p> - <p> - “Don't try that game!” cautioned MacVightie grimly. “And don't lie! He had - to come up these stairs, your door was partly open, and he couldn't have - passed without you knowing it.” - </p> - <p> - “That's what I'm saying,” agreed the Hawk, even more earnestly. “That's - why I'm saying you must have got the wrong dope. Of course, he couldn't - have got by without me hearing him! That's a cinch! And, I'm telling you - straight, he didn't.” - </p> - <p> - “Didn't he?” MacVightie's smile was thin. “Then he came in <i>here</i>—into - this room.” - </p> - <p> - “In here?” echoed the Hawk weakly. His gaze wandered helplessly around the - room. “Well, all you've got to do is look.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm going to!” announced MacVightie curtly—and with a sudden jerk - he yanked the single bed out from the wall. He peered behind and beneath - it; then, stepping over to a cretonne curtain in the corner that served as - wardrobe, he pulled it roughly aside. - </p> - <p> - There were no other places of possible concealment. MacVightie chewed at - his under lip, and eyed the Hawk speculatively. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes were still travelling bewilderedly about the room, as - though he still expected to find something. - </p> - <p> - “Are you dead sure he came into this house,” he inquired heavily, as - though the problem were entirely beyond him. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie hesitated. - </p> - <p> - “Well—no,” he acknowledged, after a moment. “I guess you're straight - all right, and I'll admit I didn't see him come in; but I'd have pretty - near taken an oath on it.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I guess he must have ducked somewhere else,” submitted the Hawk - sapiently. “There wasn't no one went by that door—I'm giving it to - you on the level.” - </p> - <p> - MacVightie's reluctant smile was a wry grimace. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I reckon it's my mistake.” His voice lost its snarl, and his fingers - groped down into his vest pocket. “Here, have a cigar,” he invited - placatingly. - </p> - <p> - “Why, say—thanks”—the Hawk beamed radiantly. “Say, I——” - </p> - <p> - “All right, young fellow”—with a wave of his hand, MacVightie moved - to the door. “All right, young fellow. No harm done, eh? Good-night!” - </p> - <p> - The door closed. The footsteps without grew fainter, and died away. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, staring at the door, apostrophised the doorknob. - </p> - <p> - “Well, say, what do you know about that!” he said numbly. “I wonder what's - up?” - </p> - <p> - He rose from his chair after a moment as though moved by a sort of - subconscious impulse, mechanically pushed his bed back against the wall, - and returned to his chair. - </p> - <p> - He dug out his pipe abstractedly, filled it, and lighted it. He gathered - up the cards, shuffled them, and began to lay them out again on the table—and - paused, and drummed with his fingers on the table top. - </p> - <p> - “They're after some guy that's ducked his nut somewhere around here,” he - decided aloud. “I wonder what's up?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk spread out his remaining cards—and swept them away from him - into an indiscriminate heap. - </p> - <p> - “Aw, to blazes with cards!” he ejaculated impatiently. - </p> - <p> - He put his feet up on the table, and sucked steadily at his pipe. - </p> - <p> - “It's a cinch he never went by that door,” the Hawk assured the toe of his - boot. “I guess he handed that 'bull' one, all right, all right.” - </p> - <p> - The minutes passed. The Hawk, engrossed, continued to suck on his pipe. - Then from far down the stairs there came a faint creak, and an instant - later the outer door closed softly. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's feet came down from the table, and the Hawk smiled—grimly. - </p> - <p> - “Tut, tut!” chided the Hawk. “That treadmill diminuendo on the top step - and the keyhole stunt is pretty raw, Mr. MacVightie—pretty raw! You - forgot the front door, Mr. MacVightie—I don't seem to remember - having heard it open or close until just now!” - </p> - <p> - The back of the Hawk's chair, as he pushed it well away from the table and - stood up, curiously enough now intercepted itself between the keyhole and - the interior of the room. He stepped to the door, and slipped the bolt - quietly into place; then, going to the window, he reached out, and, from - where it hung upon a nail driven into the sill, picked up the pay bag. - </p> - <p> - “That's a pretty old gag, too,” observed the Hawk almost apologetically. - “I was lucky to get by with it.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's attention was now directed to his trunk, that was between the - table and the foot of the bed. He lifted the lid back against the wall, - and removed an ingeniously fashioned false top, in the shape of a tray, - that fitted innocently into the curvature of the lid. The Hawk stared at a - magnificent diamond necklace that glittered and gleamed on the bottom of - the tray, as its thousand facets caught the light—and grinned. - </p> - <p> - “If you'd only known, eh—Mr. MacVightie!” he murmured. - </p> - <p> - From the pay bag the Hawk took out the packages of banknotes, the - flashlight, the mask, the two pistols, and packed them neatly away in the - tray. The only article left in the bag was his pocketbook. He opened this, - disclosing a number of crisp, new ten-dollar bills. He held one of them up - to the light for a moment, studying it admiringly. - </p> - <p> - “I guess these won't be much more good around here, according to that - little conversation between MacVightie and the superintendent,” he - muttered—and, with a shrug of his shoulders, tossed the entire - number into the tray. - </p> - <p> - He fitted the false top back into the lid, and closed the trunk. There - remained the empty pay bag. He frowned at it for an instant; then, picking - it up, he tucked it under the mattress of his bed. - </p> - <p> - “I'll get rid of that in the morning”—he nodded his head, as he - turned down the bed covers. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk began to undress, and at intervals voiced snatches of his - thoughts aloud. - </p> - <p> - “Pretty close shave,” said the Hawk, “pretty close.... Ten thousand - dollars is some haul.... All right as long as they don't find out I've got - the key to their cipher.... And so Butcher Rose is one of the gang, eh?... - Number One—Butcher Rose.... Guess he got away all right—from - MacVightie.... He nearly did me.... Pretty close shave....” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk turned out the light, and got into bed. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I played in luck to-night,” said the Hawk softly, and for the - second time that night. “Yes, I guess I did.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - IV—AT BALD CREEK STATION - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was twenty-four - hours later. A half mile away, along a road that showed like a grey thread - in the night, twinkled a few lights from the little cluster of houses that - made the town of Bald Creek. At the rear of the station itself, in the - shadow of the walls, it was inky black. - </p> - <p> - There was stillness! Then the chattering of a telegraph instrument—and, - coincident with this, low, scarcely audible, a sound like the gnawing of a - rat. - </p> - <p> - The chattering of the instrument ceased; and, coincident again, the low, - gnawing sound ceased—and, crouched against a rear window, the Hawk - chuckled a little grimly to himself. Within, and diagonally across from - the window, an otherwise dark interior was traversed by a dull ray of - light that filtered in through the open connecting door of the operator's - room beyond. Inside there were Lan-son, the division superintendent, and - Martin, the trusted Bald Creek operator; while at any minute now, - MacVightie would be up on No. 12. They were preparing to spring their trap - for the Wire Devils to-night! The Hawk was quite well-informed on this - point, for the very simple reason that the Hawk himself had not been - entirely idle during those twenty-four hours that were just past! - </p> - <p> - Again the sounder broke into a splutter; but this time the gnawing sound - was not resumed—the window fastenings were loosened now. - </p> - <p> - Came then the distant rumble of an approaching train; the rumble deepening - into a roar; the roar disintegrating itself into its component sounds, the - wheel trucks beating at the rail joints, the bark of the exhaust; then the - scream of the brakeshoes biting at the wheel tires; the hiss of steam—and - in the mimic pandemonium, the Hawk raised the window, and crawled in over - the sill. - </p> - <p> - And again the Hawk chuckled to himself. Up and down the line to-night, at - all stations where there were no night operators, the road's detectives, - stood guard over the telegraph instruments. It had been MacVightie's plan, - originated the night before. It was very clever of MacVightie—if - somewhat abortive! Also, quite irrelevant of course, and quite apart from - that little matter of ten thousand dollars which he, the Hawk, had taken - from the paymaster's safe last night, MacVightie to-night was likely to be - in no very pleasant mood! - </p> - <p> - The engine without, blowing from a full head of steam, drowned out all - other sounds. The Hawk picked his way across the room to a position near - the connecting door, and composedly seated himself upon the floor behind a - number of piled-up boxes and parcels. With a grin of acknowledgment to the - escaping steam, he coolly moved two of the parcels a few inches to right - and left, thus providing himself with an excellent view into the - operator's room. From one pocket he took an exceedingly small flashlight, - and from another a notebook, and from his hip pocket his automatic pistol. - This latter he transferred to his right-hand coat pocket. Bunching the - bottom of his coat over his hand, he flashed on the tiny ray, found a - convenient ledge formed by one of the boxes, and upon this laid down his - notebook. The first page, as he opened the book, contained a neatly drawn - sketch of the interior of Bald Creek station. He turned this over, leaving - the book open at a blank page, and switched off his light. - </p> - <p> - The door from the platform opened and closed, as the train pulled out - again, a man stepped into the operator's room—and in the darkness - the Hawk smiled appreciatively. It was MacVightie, and Mac-Vightie's thin - lips were drawn tighter than usual, and the brim of the slouch hat, though - pulled far forward, did not hide the scowl upon MacVightie's countenance. - </p> - <p> - “Well, you're here all right, Lanson, eh?” he flung out brusquely. - “Nothing yet, by any chance, of course?” - </p> - <p> - Lanson, from a chair at the operator's elbow, nodded a greeting. - </p> - <p> - “Not yet,” he said. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie was glancing sharply around him. - </p> - <p> - “Martin,” he ordered abruptly, “close those two ticket wickets!” - </p> - <p> - The operator rose obediently, and pulled down the little windows that - opened, one on each side of the office, on the men's and women's waiting - rooms. - </p> - <p> - “What's that door there?” demanded MacVightie, pointing toward the rear - room. - </p> - <p> - “Just a place I had partitioned off for stores and small express stuff,” - Martin answered. “There's no back entrance.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, then,” said MacVightie. He pulled up a chair for himself on - the other side of the operator, as Martin returned to his seat. “You know - what you're here for, Martin—what you've to do? Mr. Lanson has told - you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” Martin replied. “I'm to test out for east or west, if there's any - of that monkeying on the wire to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Show me how it's done,” directed MacVightie tersely. . - </p> - <p> - The operator reached over to the switchboard and picked up a key-plug. - </p> - <p> - “I've only got to plug this in—here—or here. Those are my - ground wires east and west. The main batteries are west of us at Selkirk, - you know. If I ground out everything east, for instance, and he's working - to the east of us the sounder'll stop because I've cut him off from the - main batteries, and we'll hear nothing unless I adjust the relay down to - get the weak circuit from the local batteries. If he's working west of us - the sounder will be much stronger because the main batteries at Selkirk, - with the eastern half of the division cut out, will be working on a - shorter circuit.” - </p> - <p> - “'T see.” MacVightie frowned. “And he'd know it—so Mr. Lanson told - me last night.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; he'd know it,” said Martin. “The same as we would.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you can do it pretty quick, can't you?” suggested MacVightie. “Sort - of accidentally like! We don't want to throw a scare into him. You'd know - almost instantly whether he was east or west, wouldn't you? That's all - that's necessary—<i>to-night!</i> Then let him go ahead again. We'll - have found out what we want to know.” He turned to Lanson, his voice - rasping suddenly. “Did you see the <i>Journal</i> on the 'Crime Wave' this - afternoon?” - </p> - <p> - Lanson's alert, grey eyes took on an angry glint. “No; I didn't see it, - but I suppose it's the old story. I wish they'd cut it out! It hurts the - road, and it doesn't get them anywhere.” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps not,” said MacVightie, with a thin smile; “but it gets <i>me!</i> - Yes, it's about the same—all except the last of it. Big headlines: - 'Ten thousand dollars stolen from paymaster's safe last night—What - is being done to stop this reign of assassination, theft, outrage, crime?—Has - the clue afforded by the Hawk's release from Sing Sing been thoroughly - investigated?' And then a list of the crimes committed in the last ten - days—two murders, one in the compartment of that sleeping car; the - theft of the diamond necklace; the express robbery; and so on through the - list, ending up with last night. Then a nasty shot at the local police; - and, finally, prefacing the remark with the statement that the crimes were - all connected with the railroad, a thinly veiled hint that I am either a - boy on a man's job, or else asleep, in either of which cases I ought to be—well, - you understand?” MacVightie's fist came down with a crash on the - operator's table. - </p> - <p> - Lanson, with a worried look, nodded his head. - </p> - <p> - “Damn it!” said MacVightie. “I——” He stopped abruptly, and - laid his hand on the operator's sleeve. “Look here, Martin,” he said - evenly, “you're the one man that Mr. Lanson has picked out of the - division, you're the one man outside of Mr. Lanson and myself who has any - inkling that these secret messages coming over our wires have anything to - do with these crimes—you understand that, don't you? This is pretty - serious business. The newspaper didn't exaggerate any. We're up against a - gang of crooks, cleverly organised, who will stop at nothing. Murder - appears to be a pastime with them! Do you get me—Martin?” - </p> - <p> - For a long second the two men looked each other steadily in the eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Martin simply. - </p> - <p> - “All right!” said MacVightie. “I just want you to realise the necessity of - keeping anything you may hear, or anything that may happen here to-night, - under your hat.” He turned to Lanson again, the scowl heavy upon his face - once more. “I was going to say that I know who the man is that slipped - through my fingers last night.” - </p> - <p> - “You—<i>what!</i>” Lanson leaned sharply forward in his chair. “But - he got away! You said he——” - </p> - <p> - “It was the Hawk”—MacVightie bit off the words. - </p> - <p> - “The Hawk?” - </p> - <p> - “The Hawk!” - </p> - <p> - “But how do you know?” demanded Lanson incredulously. “You said yourself - that he had left no clue to his identity. How do you know?” MacVightie - reached into his pocket, took out his pocketbook, and from the pocketbook - passed a new, crisp ten-dollar banknote to Lanson. - </p> - <p> - “What's this?” inquired Lanson. “The counterfeit ten-dollar bill you - showed me last night?” - </p> - <p> - “No—another one,” MacVightie answered curtly. “Look on the other - side.” - </p> - <p> - Lanson turned the banknote over, stared at it, and whistled suddenly under - his breath. - </p> - <p> - “'With the compliments of the Hawk!'.rdquo; he read aloud. He stared now at - MacVightie. “Perhaps it's a fake, inspired by that newspaper article - yesterday evening,” he suggested. - </p> - <p> - “It's no fake,” declared MacVightie grimly. “The Hawk wrote that there all - right—it was inside the <i>pay bag</i> in which the ten thousand was - carried away from the paymaster's office last night.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean—you recovered the bag?” cried Lanson eagerly. “Where? - When?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, watching MacVightie's face, grinned wickedly. MacVightie's jaws - were clamped belligerently, and upon MacVightie's cheeks was an angry - flush. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, I 'recovered' it!” MacVightie snapped. “He's got his nerve with - him! The bag was found reposing in full view on the baggage counter at - Selkirk this afternoon—addressed to me. Nobody knows how it got - there. But”—MacVightie's fist came down again upon the operator's - table—“this time he's overplayed his hand. We knew he had been - released from Sing Sing, and that he had come West, but it was only - surmise that he was actually around here—now we <i>know</i>. In the - second place, it's pretty good evidence that he's in with the gang that's - flooded the country with those counterfeit tens, and you'll remember I - told you last night I had a hunch it was the same gang that was operating - out here—well, two and two make four!” - </p> - <p> - “You think he's——?” Lanson swept his hand suggestively toward - the telegraph instruments. - </p> - <p> - “Yes—and the leader of 'em, now he's out here on the ground!” - returned MacVightie gruffly. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had taken a pencil from his pocket, and was scribbling aimlessly - at the top of the page in his notebook. - </p> - <p> - “Sure!” confided the Hawk to himself. “I thought maybe you'd dope it out - like that.” - </p> - <p> - There was silence for a moment in the office, save for the intermittent - clicking of the sounder, to which the Hawk now gave his attention. His - pencil still made aimless markings on the top of the page—it was - only routine business going over the wire. Then Lanson moved uncomfortably - in his chair, and the chair legs squeaked on the bare floor. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie spoke again: - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he said bluntly, “you've got all of my end of it, except that I've - placed men in hiding at every station on the line where there are no night - operators. What about you? Started your outside line inspection?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” Lanson answered. “I've had three men out with section crews working - from different points. But it's slow business making an inspection that's - careful enough to be of any use, and even then it's a pretty tall order to - call the turn on anything when there's already so many legitimate splices - and repairs on the wires.” - </p> - <p> - “Well—any results?” asked MacVightie. - </p> - <p> - Lanson shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “We found what we thought was a new splice in one place, but it turned out - to have been made by one of our own men two weeks ago, only he had - forgotten to report it.” - </p> - <p> - MacVightie's eyes narrowed. - </p> - <p> - “One of our <i>own</i> men—eh?” he repeated curtly. “Who was it?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing doing there!” Lanson shook his head again, emphatically this - time. “It was Calhoun.” - </p> - <p> - “Calhoun—eh?” observed MacVightie softly. - </p> - <p> - Lanson bridled slightly. - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter with Calhoun?” he inquired testily. “Got anything - against him?” - </p> - <p> - “Never heard of him before,” said MacVightie, with a short laugh. “But - I'll take pains to make his acquaintance.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you might as well spare yourself the trouble,” advised Lanson. “I - can tell you before-hand that he carries a good record on this division, - and that he's one of the best linemen we've got.” - </p> - <p> - “I daresay,” admitted MacVightie coolly. “But amongst other things we're - looking for <i>good</i> linemen to-night—who forget to make reports. - You needn't get touchy, Lanson, because one of your men's names comes up. - You can make up your mind to it there's an inside end to this, and——” - </p> - <p> - The tiny ray of the Hawk's flashlight shot suddenly upon the notebook's - open page, as the sounder broke into a sharp tattoo. - </p> - <p> - “;wtaz'—stroke at four,” he muttered, as he began to write. “Three—one—two. - They've changed the code to-night—'qxpetlk——'” - </p> - <p> - There was a sharp exclamation from the other room. - </p> - <p> - “Listen! There he is now!” Martin cried. Chairs were pushed back—the - three men were on their feet. - </p> - <p> - “What's he sending?” questioned MacVightie instantly. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk scowled at the disturbance, as, over their voices, he - concentrated his attention upon the sounder. He wrote steadily on: - </p> - <p> - “... huwkmuh hdtlqgvh... - </p> - <p> - “Same as usual,” Martin replied. “Just a jumble of letters.” - </p> - <p> - “Well then, get ready to throw that ground, or whatever you call it, into - him!” ordered MacVightie tensely. - </p> - <p> - “I'm ready,” said Martin. - </p> - <p> - “All right then—<i>now!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk nodded to himself, as his pencil unflaggingly noted down letter - after letter. The sounder was very perceptibly stronger. - </p> - <p> - “West!” Martin cried out. “You noticed the difference in strength, didn't - you? He's somewhere between here and Selkirk. That's——” - </p> - <p> - The sounder had suddenly ceased. - </p> - <p> - “But he's stopped,” said MacVightie; “and you said if he stopped——” - </p> - <p> - “That's nothing to do with it!” Martin interposed hurriedly. “The wire - isn't grounded now.” - </p> - <p> - “He's taken to cover, I guess,” said Lanson. “I was afraid he would scare, - no matter how——” He broke off abruptly. “Wait! What's that!” - </p> - <p> - The sounder was clicking again; but the sharp, quick tattoo was gone, and - in its place, as though indeed it drawled, the sending came in leisurely, - deliberate fashion. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's pencil resumed its labours—and then, with a queer smile, - the Hawk scratched out what he had just written. It was no longer code—it - was in exceedingly plain English. - </p> - <p> - Martin was reading directly from the sounder: - </p> - <p> - “'Try—that—game—just—once—more—and—the—division—goes—up— - in—the—air—and—a—train—or—two—maybe—to—a— - place—that—Mister—MacVightie—will—some—day—honour—with— - his—presence. That's—quite—plain—isn't—it? - If—you—think—this—is—a—bluff—call—it. - Now—keep—off—the—wire—or—have—it—cut. - Suit—yourselves.'.rdquo; - </p> - <p> - “Well, of all the infernal nerve!” exploded MacVightie furiously. - </p> - <p> - “And the worst of it,” said Lanson shortly, “is that he's got us where he - wants us!” - </p> - <p> - Once more the sounder broke into the old quick tattoo. The Hawk was - writing steadily again. There was silence now between the three in the - office. - </p> - <p> - A minute, two, three went by—the sounder ceased—the Hawk - closed his notebook. Then in its leisurely drawl the sounder broke again; - and again Martin read aloud: - </p> - <p> - “'Pleasant—evening—isn't—it? Ask—MacVightie—if—he—has—seen—anything—of—the—Hawk. - Good-night.'.rdquo; - </p> - <p> - But this time there was only a menacing smile on MacVightie's lips. - </p> - <p> - “He's west of here, you say?” he shot at Martin. “Yes,” said Martin - briefly. - </p> - <p> - “And that splice of Calhoun's, Lanson? Where was that?” - </p> - <p> - Lanson, drumming with his fingers on the edge of the operator's table, - looked up with a frown. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing but coincidence,” he said tersely. “Yes, it was west of here—pretty - near Selkirk.” He moved toward the door. “There's nothing more we can do - here to-night. I'm going back on No. 17. Let's get out on the platform - until she shows up.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk very carefully replaced his notebook, his flashlight and his - pencil in his pockets, and, as MacVightie and the superintendent went out - of the door, he retreated softly back to the rear window. The window being - up, he quite as noiselessly slipped out over the sill. He debated a moment - about the window, and decided that if any significance were attached to - the fact that it was found open, MacVightie, for instance, was fully - entitled to make the most of the significance! Then, the rattle of a wagon - sounding from the direction of the road, the Hawk moved along to the end - of the station, and waited. - </p> - <p> - The wagon, in the light of its own smoky oil lamps, proved to be the town - hotel bus. There were evidently other passengers for Selkirk besides - himself and the two officials, as several people alighted from the bus. In - view of this fact the Hawk calmly lighted a cigarette, though the glow of - the match exposed his face only to the blank wall of the station, and - walked around to the front platform. - </p> - <p> - He located MacVightie and Lanson; and, thereafter, at a safe distance, did - not lose sight of them. MacVightie's memory for faces would hardly be - over-rated if credited with being able to bridge a matter of some - twenty-four hours, particularly as MacVightie had evidenced unusual - interest in the occupant of the room on the first landing over a certain - ill-favoured saloon the night before! The Hawk, therefore, was - unostentatiously attentive to MacVightie's movements; so much so that, - when No. 17 pulled in and MacVightie and Lanson boarded the chair car at - the rear of the train, the Hawk, when No. 17 pulled out, quite logically - boarded the smoking car at the forward end. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk chose the most uncomfortable seat in the car—the rear seat - with stiff, upright, unyielding back, that was built against the wash-room—and, - settling himself down, produced his notebook and pencil. The water-cooler - could be quite confidentially trusted not to peer over his shoulder! - </p> - <p> - On the second page of the notebook—the first having been devoted to - the sketch of Bald Creek Station—-the Hawk, as he had taken it from - the sounder, had written this: - </p> - <p> - “<i>wtaz qxpetlkhu wkmuh hdtlq gvhmmpy hqltvd df rmnluvpo nfkhomovfdh - gvkerkmmawrq fljkwte dvsoedtdqqh mgfdoifk rxqkuvwruh gsruwmtdoo - ommtlqhvksol foghvklst rvrzqmqxpe mkhurqjkh hvdbfvkdzc mnvohrtpqg - hutzklwkj hkdqm mo g v pdlqlfxoq uhgpifthglxg pkhlmfj kwhttwb hv d p q g - kdrllu eomosdfnhta shqkjvlyhtg mwdlomruhgegf orwmpqk hvwtzrwk mmrxvddg - iqggrqo odusnvrx wmfkriu hkvhuymt hixqljtg wrqpxpeh houwkdmd gwsxws - vdexmuooh wtjqlqklmp</i>” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk tore out a page from the back of the notebook, and set down the - letters of the alphabet in a column. Opposite these he painstakingly set - down another column of letters. After that the Hawk worked slowly. It was - not quite so simple as it looked—not merely the substitution of - letters in a different order of rotation. Nor, apparently, from the Hawk's - observations as he muttered to himself, were all messages to be deciphered - alike—the code appeared to possess within itself an elasticity for - variation. - </p> - <p> - “At four... key letter changed... stroke!” muttered the Hawk. “N-u-m-b... - pass three... e-r-t-h... stroke one....” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's notebook, closed, was reposing idly on the window ledge and the - Hawk was lighting another cigarette, as the conductor came down the aisle. - The Hawk presented the return stub of a ticket to Selkirk. The conductor - punched it, and passed on—and the Hawk picked up his notebook again. - </p> - <p> - Again he was interrupted—and again. The water-cooler, after all, was - not proving an unmixed blessing. It seemed as though every man in the car - were possessed of an inordinate thirst. They were well on toward Selkirk - when the Hawk finally completed the deciphering of the message. - </p> - <p> - It now ran: - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0074.jpg" alt="0074 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0074.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - He arranged the scattered letters into words, and the words into - sentences: - </p> - <p> - <i>“Number Three and Seven Isaac Kir-schell('.s cash box to-night as - planned. Calhoun to report all line splices his own. Number One says Hawk - slender white hands, manicured, medium height, eyes and hair black, - expensive tailored clothes. Two thousand dollars out of reserve fund to - Number that puts a bullet in him.</i>” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk inspected his hands, and smiled whimsically. Number One was the - Butcher. He had not given the Butcher credit for being so observant! - Presently he stared out of the window. - </p> - <p> - “Wonder how much of a haul I can make tonight?” he murmured. “Regular El - Dorado—having 'em work it all up and handing it to you on a gold - platter. Pretty soft! Hope they won't get discouraged and quit picking the - chestnuts out of the fire for me—while there's any chestnuts left!” - </p> - <p> - And then the Hawk frowned suddenly. The chestnuts appeared to be only - partially picked for him to-night. What was the game—as planned? - There must have been a previous message that had got by him. His frown - deepened. There was no way of remedying that. To hope to intercept them - all was to expect too much. There was no way whereby he could spend - twenty-four hours out of twenty-four in touch with a sounder. He shrugged - his shoulders philosophically after a moment. Perhaps it was just as well. - They credited him with playing a lone hand, believing that his and their - depredations were clashing with one another simply by virtue of the fact - that their mutual pursuits were of a competitive criminal nature, that was - all. If it happened with <i>too</i> much regularity, they might begin to - suspect that he had the key to their cipher, and then—the Hawk did - not care to contemplate that eventuality. There would be no more - chestnuts! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk read the first part of the message over again. Who was Isaac - Kirschell? The name seemed to be familiar. The Hawk studied the toe of a - neatly-fitting and carefully polished shoe thoughtfully. When he looked up - again, he nodded. He remembered now. He had lunched the day before in a - restaurant that occupied a portion of the ground floor of an office - building, the corridor of which ran through from street to street. In - going out, he had passed along the corridor and had seen the name on the - door panels of two of the offices. - </p> - <p> - He resumed the study of his boot toe. It was not a very vital matter. A - moment spent in consulting the city directory would have supplied the - information in any case. He nodded again. MacVightie was unquestionably - right. Some one on the inside, some railroader, and probably more than - one, was in on the game with the Wire Devils—and it was perhaps as - well for this Calhoun that MacVightie, already suspicious, was not - likewise possessed of the key to the cipher! Also, Lanson had been right. - It was no easy task to locate a new splice on a wire that was already - scarred with countless repairs. Still, if Lanson's men went at it - systematically and narrowed down the radius of operations, it was not - impossible that they might stumble upon a clue—if Calhoun did not - placidly inform them that it was but another of his own making! But even - then, granted that the wire was found to have been tapped in a certain - place one night, that was no reason why it should not, as Mr. MacVightie - had already suggested, be tapped fifty miles away the next! The Hawk - grinned. Mr. Lanson and his associates, backed even by Mr. MacVightie, - were confronted with a problem of considerable difficulty! - </p> - <p> - “I wonder,” communed the Hawk with himself, “who's the spider that spun - the web; and I wonder how many little spiders he's got running around on - it?” - </p> - <p> - He perused the message once more; but this time he appeared to be - concerned mainly with the latter portion. He read it over several times: - “Two thousand dollars to the Number that puts a bullet in him.” - </p> - <p> - “Nobody seems to like me,” complained the Hawk softly. “MacVightie. - doesn't; and the Butcher's crowd seem peeved. Two thousand dollars for my - hide! I guess if I stick around here long enough maybe it'll get exciting—for - somebody!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk tore up the message, the sheet on which he had deciphered it, the - sketch of Bald Creek station, tore all three into small fragments, opened - the window a little, and let the pieces flutter out into the night. He - closed the window, returned the notebook, innocent of everything now but - its blank pages, to his pocket—and, pulling his slouch hat down over - his eyes, appeared to doze. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - V—IN WHICH A CASH BOX DISAPPEARS - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WENTY minutes - later, as No. 17 pulled into Selkirk, the Hawk, his erstwhile drowsiness - little in evidence, dropped to the platform while the train was still in - motion, and before MacVightie and Lanson in the rear car, it might be - fairly assumed, had thought of leaving their seats. The Hawk was - interested in MacVightie for the balance of the night only to the extent - of keeping out of MacVightie's sight—his attention was centered now - on the office of one Isaac Kirschell, and the possibilities that lay in - the said Isaac Kirschell's cash box. - </p> - <p> - He glanced at the illuminated dial of the tower clock. It was eighteen - minutes after ten. - </p> - <p> - “That's the worst of getting the dope a long way down the line,” he - muttered, as he hurried through the station and out to the street. “But I - had to get a look at MacVightie's cards to-night.” He struck off toward - the downtown business section of the city at a brisk pace. “It ought to be - all right though tonight—more than enough time to get in ahead of - them—they're not likely to pull any break in that locality until - well after midnight. Wonder what Kirschell's got in his cash box that's so - valuable? I suppose they <i>know</i>, or they wouldn't be after it! They - don't hunt small game, but”—the Hawk sighed lugubriously—“there's - no chance of any such luck as last night again. Ten thousand dollars in - cash! <i>Some</i> haul! Yes, I guess maybe they're peeved!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, arrived at his destination, surveyed the office building from - the opposite side of the street. The restaurant on the ground floor was - dark, but a lighted window here and there on the floors above indicated - that some of the tenants were working late. It was therefore fairly safe - to presume that the entrance door, though closed, was unlocked. The Hawk - crossed the street unconcernedly, and tried the door. It opened under his - hand—' but noiselessly, and to the extent only of a bare inch, in - view of the possibility of a janitor being somewhere about. Detecting no - sound from within, however, the Hawk pushed the door a little further - open, and was confronted with a dimly lighted vestibule, and a long, still - more dimly lighted corridor beyond. There was no one in sight. He slipped - inside—and, quick and silent now in his movements, darted across the - vestibule and into the corridor. - </p> - <p> - Halfway along the corridor, he halted before a door, on whose glass panel - he could just make out the words “Isaac Kirschell,” and, beneath the name, - in smaller letters, the intimation that the entrance was next door. The - Hawk's decision was taken in the time it required to produce from his - pocket a key-ring equipped with an extensive assortment of skeleton keys. - If by any chance he should be disturbed and had entered by the designated - office door, his escape would be cut off; if, on the other hand, he - entered by this unused door, and left it unlocked behind him, he would - still be quite comfortably the master of the situation in almost any - emergency. - </p> - <p> - The door seemed to offer unusual difficulties. Even when unlocked, it - stuck. The Hawk worked at it by the sense of touch alone, his eyes busy - with sharp glances up and down the corridor. Finally, succeeding in - opening it a little way, it was only to find it blocked by some - obstruction within. He scowled. A desk, probably, close against it! The - door was certainly never used. He would have to enter by the other one, - after all, and—no! He had reached his arm inside. It was only a - coat-stand, or something of the sort He lifted it aside, stepped in, and - closed the door behind him. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's flashlight—not the diminutive little affair that had - served him for his notebook—began to circle his surroundings - inquisitively. He was in a small, plainly furnished private office. There - was a desk, two chairs, and a filing cabinet. Also there were two doors. - The Hawk opened the one at his left, and peered out. It gave on what was - presumably the general office; and at the upper end was a partition with - the name, “Mr. Kirschell,” upon the door. He looked at the panel of the - door he had just opened. It bore no name. - </p> - <p> - “This belongs to Kirschell's secretary probably,” he decided. “The other - door from here opens, of course, into Kirschell's private office. Wonder - what Mr. Isaac Kirschell's business is?” - </p> - <p> - He closed the door leading into the outer office, and moved across the - room to the second door that already stood wide open, and almost directly - faced what he had taken for granted was the secretary's desk. He stepped - over the threshold. Mr. Kirschell's sanctum was somewhat more elaborately - furnished. Apart from a rather expensive flat-topped desk in the centre of - the room, there was a massive safe, new and of modern design, a heavy rug - upon the floor, and several very comfortable leather-up holstered chairs. - A washstand, the metal taps highly polished, and a mahogany towel rack - occupied the far corner. The Hawk inspected the safe with the eye of a - connoisseur, scowled unhappily by way of expressing his opinion of it, and - turned to the desk. He opened a drawer, and picked up a sheet of business - stationery. The letterhead read: - </p> - <h3> - ISAAC KIRSCHELL - </h3> - <h3> - LOANS, MORTGAGES & GENERAL EXCHANGE - </h3> - <p> - “Ho, ho!” observed the Hawk. “Sort of a glorified pawnbroker, eh? I——” - </p> - <p> - The sheet of paper was shot back into the drawer, the flashlight was out—and - on the instant the Hawk was back in the other office, and crouched on the - floor behind the desk. Some one had halted outside in the corridor before - the main office door, and now a key was turned in the lock. The door was - opened and closed, footsteps crossed the general office, paused for a - moment outside Mr. Kirschell's door, then the lights in Mr. Kirschell's - room went on, a man entered, tossed his hat on a chair, and sat down at - the desk. It was obviously Mr. Kirschell himself. - </p> - <p> - Through the wide opening between the ends of the desk that sheltered him, - the Hawk, flat on the floor, took stock of the other. The man was rather - small in stature, with a thin, palish face, sharp, restless, very small - black eyes, and he was extremely well dressed—the Hawk noted the - dainty little boutonnière in the lapel of the man's coat, and smiled - queerly. From Mr. Kirschell's face he glanced at the face of Mr. - Kirschell's safe, then back at Mr. Kirschell again—and fingered his - automatic in the pocket of his coat. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, however, made no further movement—Mr. Kirschell's actions - suggested that it would be unwise. The man, though apparently occupied - with some mail which he had taken from his pocket, kept glancing - impatiently at his watch. It was quite evident that he was expecting some - one every moment. The Hawk frowned perplexedly. The message that night, - even when deciphered, left much, too much, to the imagination! It was - quite possible that Mr. Kirschell was to be relieved of his cash box with - more address and finesse than by the bald expedient of ruining Mr. - Kirschell's safe! This appointment, for instance, might—and then the - Hawk smiled queerly again. - </p> - <p> - The corridor door had opened and closed for the second time. A heavy step - traversed the outer office, and a man, hat in hand, in cheap store - clothes, stood before Mr. Krischell's desk. - </p> - <p> - “Mentioned in dispatches!” said the Hawk very softly to himself. “I guess - that's Calhoun. So that's the game—eh?” - </p> - <p> - “You're late, Mr. Calhoun!” Kirschell greeted the other sharply. “Five - minutes late! I have put myself to considerable inconvenience to give you - this appointment.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun's hair was tossed, there was a smudge across his cheek, and his - hands were grimy, as though he had just come from work. He was a big man, - powerfully shouldered. His grey eyes were not friendly as they met - Kirschell's. - </p> - <p> - “I couldn't help it,” he said shortly. “I've been up the line all day. I - told you I couldn't get here until about this time.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, all right, all right!” said Kirschell impatiently. “But, now that - you are here, are you prepared to settle?” - </p> - <p> - “I can give you a small payment on account, that's the best I can do,” - Calhoun answered. - </p> - <p> - Kirschell tilted back in his swivel chair, and frowned as he tapped the - edge of his desk with a paper cutter. - </p> - <p> - “How much?” he demanded coldly. - </p> - <p> - “Forty dollars”—Calhoun's hand went tentatively toward his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Forty dollars!” There was derision in Kirschell's voice, an uninviting - smile on Kirschell's lips. “That's hardly more than the interest!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Calhoun, snarling suddenly, “at the thieving rates you, and - the bloodsuckers like you, charge.” - </p> - <p> - Kirschell's uninviting smile deepened. - </p> - <p> - “Considering the security, the rate is very moderate,” he said evenly. - “Now, see here, Calhoun, I told you plainly enough this thing had to be - settled to-day. You don't want to run away with the impression that I'm a - second Marakof, to be staved off all the time. I bought your note from the - pawnbroker's estate because the executors didn't like the look of it, and - weren't any too sure they could collect it. Well, I can! I'm new out here, - but I'm not new at my business. Excuses with me don't take the place of - cash. I hold your note for five hundred dollars, which is past due, to say - nothing of six months' interest besides—and you come here to-night - and offer me forty dollars!” - </p> - <p> - “I would have paid Marakof,” said Calhoun, in a low voice; “and I'll pay - you as fast as I can. You know what I'm up against—I told you when - you first got after me, as soon as you got that note. My brother got into - trouble back East. What would you have done? That five hundred kept him - out of the 'pen.' He's only a kid. Damn it, don't play the shark! Marakof - renewed the note—why can't you?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I don't do business that way,” said Kir-schell curtly. - </p> - <p> - Calhoun's voice grew hard. - </p> - <p> - “How much did you pay for that note, anyway?” - </p> - <p> - Kirschell shrugged his shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “I didn't say I wasn't taking <i>any</i> risk with you,” he replied - tersely. “That's the profit on my risk. And as far as you are concerned—it's - none of your business!” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun shrugged his shoulders in turn, and, taking a small roll of bills - from his pocket, smoothed them out between his fingers. - </p> - <p> - “I got a wife, and I got kids,” said Calhoun slowly. “And I'm doing the - best I can. Do you want this forty, or not?” - </p> - <p> - “It depends,” said Kirschell, tapping again with his paper cutter. “How - about the rest?” - </p> - <p> - “I'll pay you what I can every month,” Calhoun answered. - </p> - <p> - “How much?”—bluntly. - </p> - <p> - “What I can!” returned Calhoun defiantly. - </p> - <p> - The two men eyed each other for a moment—and then Kirschell tossed - the paper cutter down on the desk. - </p> - <p> - “Well, all right!” he decided ungraciously. “I'll take a chance for a - month—and see how you live up to it. Hand it over, and I'll give you - a receipt.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “I don't trust the man who don't trust me,” he said gruffly. “I don't want - that kind of a receipt. You'll indorse the payment on the back of the - note, Mr. Kirschell, if you want this forty.” - </p> - <p> - “What?” inquired Kirschell, staring. - </p> - <p> - “You heard what I said,” said Calhoun coolly. “I'm in the hands of a - shark, and I know it. That's plain talk, isn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “But,” Kirschell flared up angrily, “I——” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun calmly returned the money to his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Suit yourself!” he suggested indifferently. “I ain't asking for anything - more than I have a right to.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well, my man!” said Kirschell icily. “If our dealings are to be on - this basis, I hope you will remember that the basis is of your own - choosing.” He swung around in his chair, and, rising, walked over to the - safe. - </p> - <p> - And then, for the first time, the Hawk moved. He edged silently back along - the floor until far enough away from the doorway to be fully protected by - the darkness of the room, and stood up. Kirschell was swinging the heavy - door of the safe open. The cash box was to be produced! Lying down, the - Hawk could not hope to see its contents if it were opened on the desk; - standing up, he might be able to form a very good idea of how tempting its - contents would prove to be. - </p> - <p> - Kirschell took a black-enamelled steel box from the safe, and returned to - the desk. He opened this with a key, threw back the cover—and the - Hawk stuck his tongue in his cheek. A few papers lay on the top—otherwise - it was crammed to overflowing with banknotes. Kirschell selected one of - the papers, and picked up a pen in frigid silence. - </p> - <p> - But the Hawk was no longer watching the scene. His head was cocked to one - side, in a curious, bird-like, listening attitude. He could have sworn he - had heard the outer office door being stealthily opened. And now Calhoun - was speaking—rapidly, his voice raised noticeably in a louder tone - than any he had previously employed. - </p> - <p> - “I ain't looking for trouble, Mr. Kirschell,” he stated Hurriedly, as - though relenting, “and I don't want you to think I am, but——” - </p> - <p> - There was a sharp cry from Kirschell. The room was in darkness. Came a - quick step running in from the outer office, no longer stealthy now—the - crash of a toppling chair—a gasping moan in Kirschell's voice—the - thud of a falling body—a tense whisper: “All right, I've got it!”—then - the steps running back across the outer office—the closing of the - corridor door—and silence. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, grim-lipped, had backed up against the wall of the room. - </p> - <p> - Calhoun's voice rose hoarsely: - </p> - <p> - “Good God, what's happened! Where's the electric-light switch?” - </p> - <p> - Kirschell answered him faintly: - </p> - <p> - “At—at the side of the door—just—outside the partition.” - </p> - <p> - The lights went on again, and the Hawk leaned intently forward. Calhoun - was standing now in the doorway between the outer and the private office, - his eyes fixed on Kirschell. The swivel chair had been overturned; and - Kirschell, a great crimson stream running down his cheek from above his - temple, was struggling to his knees, clutching at the edge of the desk for - support. The cash box was gone. - </p> - <p> - Kirschell's eyes swept the top of the desk haggardly, as though hoping - against hope. He gained his feet, lurching unsteadily. A crimson drop - splashed to the desk. - </p> - <p> - “My chair!” he cried out weakly. “Help me!” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun stepped forward mechanically, and picked up the chair. Kirschell - dropped into it. - </p> - <p> - “You're hurt!” Calhoun said huskily. “You're badly hurt!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” Kirschell answered; “but it—can wait. The police first—there - was—three thousand dollars—in my cash box.” With an effort he - reached out across the desk for the telephone, pulled it toward him—and, - on the point of lifting the receiver from the hook, slowly drew back his - hand. A strange look settled on his face, a sort of dawning, though - puzzled comprehension; and then, swaying in his chair, his lips thinned. - He drew his hand still further back until it hovered over the handle of - the desk's middle drawer. His eyes, on Calhoun, were narrowing. - </p> - <p> - “You devil!” he rasped out suddenly. “This is your work! I was a fool that - I did not see it at first!” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun's face went white. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean?” he said thickly. - </p> - <p> - “What I say!” Kirschell's voice was ominously clear now, though he sat - none too steadily in his chair. - </p> - <p> - “Then you lie!” said Calhoun fiercely. “You lie—and if you weren't - hurt, I'd——” - </p> - <p> - “No, you wouldn't!”—Kirschell had whipped the drawer open, and, - snatching out a revolver, was covering Calhoun. He laughed a little—bitterly. - “I'm not so bad that I can't take care of myself. It was pretty clever, - I'll give you credit for that. You almost fooled me.” - </p> - <p> - “Damn you!” snarled Calhoun. “Do you mean to say I've got your cash box?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no,” said Kirschell. “I can <i>see</i> you haven't. I don't even know - which of you two struck me. But I do know that you and the man who <i>has</i> - my cash box worked up this plant together.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun stepped forward threateningly—only to retreat again before - the lifted muzzle of the revolver. - </p> - <p> - “You're a fool!” he snarled. “You've nothing on me!” - </p> - <p> - “That's for the police to decide,” returned Kirschell evenly. “It would - have been a pleasant way of disposing of that note, wouldn't it—if - you hadn't under-rated me! And your pal for his share, I daresay, was to - take his chance on whatever there might be in the cash box! Why did you - say you couldn't come until <i>night</i>, when I gave you until to-day as - the last day in which to settle? Why did you insist on my indorsing the - payment on the note, which necessitated my opening the safe and taking out - the cash box in which you knew the note was kept, for you saw me put it - there a week ago, when you first came here? And just after I was knocked - down I heard your accomplice whisper: '<i>All right, I've got it.</i>” - </p> - <p> - “It's possible the police might form the same opinion I have as to <i>whom</i> - those words were addressed!” Calhoun's face had grown whiter. - </p> - <p> - “It's a lie!” he said scarcely above a whisper. “It's a lie! I had nothing - to do with it!” - </p> - <p> - “I want my three thousand dollars!” Kirschell's lips were set. He held a - red-stained handkerchief to his cheek. “If I call the police now they'll - get <i>you</i>—but it's your accomplice that's got my money. And - it's my money that I want! I'll give you half an hour to go to him, and - bring the money back here—and leave the police out of it. If you're - not here in that time, I put it up to the police. Half an hour is time - enough for you to find your pal; and it's not time enough for you to - attempt to leave the city—and get very far!” Kirschell laid his - watch on the desk. “You'd better go—I mean half an hour from <i>now</i>.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun hung hesitant for a moment, staring at the muzzle of Kirschell's - revolver. He made as though to say something—and instead, abruptly, - with a short, jarring laugh, turned on his heel, and passed out of the - room. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was already edging his way along the wall toward the corridor - door. - </p> - <p> - “Three thousand dollars!”—the Hawk rolled the words like so many - dainty morsels on his tongue, as he communed with himself. “I guess it's - my play to stick to Mr. Calhoun!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VI—SOME OF THE LITTLE SPIDERS - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk reached - the door, as Calhoun stepped into the corridor from the general office and - passed by outside, evidently making for the main entrance of the building. - He opened the door cautiously the width of a crack—and held it in - that position. A man's voice, low, guarded, from the corridor, but from - the opposite direction to that taken by Calhoun, reached him. - </p> - <p> - “Here! Calhoun! Here!” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun halted. There was silence for an instant, then Calhoun retraced - his steps and passed by the door again. There were a few hurried words in - a whisper, which the Hawk could not catch; and then the footsteps of both - men retreated along the corridor. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk opened the door wider, and peered out. The two men were well down - the corridor now; and now, as they passed the single incandescent that - lighted that end of the hall, Calhoun's companion reached up and turned it - out. - </p> - <p> - “Why, say—-thanks!” murmured the Hawk, and stepped out into the - corridor himself. - </p> - <p> - It was now quite dark at that end, and the men had disappeared. The Hawk - moved silently and swiftly along, keeping close to the wall. Presently he - caught the sound of their voices again, and nodded to himself. He - remembered that in going out this way yesterday he had noticed that the - corridor, for some architectural reason, made a sharp, right-angled jut - just before it gave on the side-street entrance. He stepped now across to - the other side of the corridor, and stole forward to a position where he - could look diagonally past the projecting angle of the jut. The two men, - standing there, showed plainly in the light from a street arc that shone - into the entranceway through the large plate-glass square over the door. - The Hawk, quite secure from observation, nestled back against the wall—and - an ominous smile settled on the Hawk's lips. The face of Calhoun's - companion was covered with a mask. - </p> - <p> - “There's nothing to be leery about here,” the man was saying. “There's no - one goes out or comes in this way at night. Well, it's a nice mess, eh? So - the old Shylock called the turn on you, did he?” - </p> - <p> - There seemed to be a helpless note in Calhoun's voice. He passed his hand - heavily across his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “What's the meaning of this?” he cried out. “What do you know about what - happened in there?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing much,” said the other coolly. “Except that I'm the guy that - pinched the swag, and hit Kirschell that welt on the head.” - </p> - <p> - “<i>You!</i>” Calhoun involuntarily stepped back. “Yes, sure—me!” - The man shrugged his shoulders. “Me and a pal who was outside. He's away - now putting the cash box where it won't come to any harm—savvy? - He'll be back pretty soon.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's lips moved. - </p> - <p> - “Number Three and Number Seven,” whispered the Hawk gently. - </p> - <p> - “I—I don't understand,” said Calhoun dazedly. “Then why are you - telling me this. And why are you staying here? And how did you know that - Kirschell accused me of being in it?” - </p> - <p> - “That's another one that's easy,” announced the man evenly. “Because it - was part of the game to <i>make</i> him think so.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun seemed to stiffen up. - </p> - <p> - “What! You mean, you——” - </p> - <p> - “You're getting it!” said the other shortly. “But you'd better wait until - you get it all before you start spitting your teeth out! Mabbe you've - heard of a little interference with the telegraph wires, and a few small - jobs pulled off around here where some innocent parties accidentally got - croaked? Ah—you have, eh! Well, that's where you come in, Calhoun. - We want you—and when we want anything, we get it! See? We knew about - that note, and we've been expecting the railroad crowd to wake up some - time, and we had you picked out to place our bets on against them. They - woke up to-day and began to nose over the line. It ain't likely to do them - much good, but there's a chance—and we ain't taking chances. We - don't want much from you, Calhoun, just a little thing, and it'll bring - you more money than you ever saw in your life before and without you - running any risk. All you've got to do is stand for anything in the shape - of a splice or tap on the line that they're suspicious of—you can - say it's a repair job of your own, see?” - </p> - <p> - An angry flush was tinging Calhoun's cheeks. - </p> - <p> - “Is that all?” he burst out passionately. “Well, I'll see you damned - first!” - </p> - <p> - “Will you?” returned the other calmly. “All right, my bucko! It's your - funeral. Take your choice. That—or twenty years in the penitentiary. - You're in cold on this. Think it over a bit. For instance, how did you - come to make the break of wanting Kirschell to indorse the payment on the - back of the note, which made him open his safe?” - </p> - <p> - “How do you know I did?” Calhoun flashed back sharply. - </p> - <p> - “Mabbe I'm only guessing at it,” said the man nonchalantly; “and mabbe I - was back in the outside room when you did. But, say, you don't happen to - remember, do you, a little talk you had with a stranger up the line - to-day? And how the conversation got around to loan sharks, and how he - told about a trick they had of giving receipts that were phony, and how he - beat one of them to it by making the shark indorse on the paper itself? - Kind of sunk in, and you bit—eh, Calhoun? We don't do things by - halves. We happen to <i>need</i> you. And what do you think I made the - break of whispering so Kirschell would hear me for?” - </p> - <p> - The color was ebbing from Calhoun's face. - </p> - <p> - “It's not proof!” The defiant ring in his voice was forced. “I——” - </p> - <p> - “It's enough to make Kirschell believe it, and that's all we wanted for a - starter. We'll take care of the rest!” stated the man grimly. “What did he - say to you?” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun answered mechanically: - </p> - <p> - “He said if I didn't return in half an hour with the cash box, he'd notify - the police.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, ho!” The man's lips widened in a grin under the edge of his mask. “So - he's going to wait here, eh? Well, so much the better! It'll save us a - trip to his house. Now, see here, Calhoun, let this sink in!” He put his - hand in his pocket and drew out a slip of paper. “Here's your note. It was - on the desk where Kirschell was writing on it, and I pinched it when I - pinched the cash box. We didn't figure we were going to make the haul we - did to-night—we were after you. But there's <i>some</i> money in - that cash box, as you saw for yourself. Here's the idea: Kirschell's read - a thing or two about what's going on around here—enough to make him - know that there ain't much our gang'll stop at. If you say you're with us, - me and my pal 'll go in there and throw the fear of God into him. Do you - get it? He'll think himself lucky to get off by keeping his mouth shut - about to-night when he finds out who he's up against. Also you get the - note back, and a share of the cash—and more to come later on.” - </p> - <p> - “No!” Calhoun cried out. “No! I'm no thief!” - </p> - <p> - “All right!” agreed the other indifferently. - </p> - <p> - “That's one side of it. Here's the other: Kirschell certainly believes you - took it. He's a shark all right, and he thinks more of his money than he - does of anything else, or he wouldn't have given you the chance he did. - But when you don't show back there with the coin, he'll take the only - other hope he's got of getting his money and turn on the police tap—see? - What are you going to do then? Make a break for it, or let 'em get you? - Well, it doesn't matter which. This note and a chunk of the cash gets - mailed to-night—and the police get tipped off to watch your mail in - the morning. Kind of reasonable, isn't it? Your pal, not being able to - find you, and not tumbling to the fact that the police have got you until - too late, comes across with your share like an honest little man! I think - you said something about proof, Calhoun? And I think I told you before - that we didn't do things by halves. How about that on top of Kirschell's - story—do you think it would cinch a jury, or do you think they'd - believe any little fairy story you might tell them, say, about meeting me? - Does it look any more like twenty years than it did?” - </p> - <p> - There was a sudden agony in Calhoun's face. - </p> - <p> - “My God!” he whispered. “You—you wouldn't do that?” - </p> - <p> - The man made no answer. He still held the note-in his hand—but in - the other now he carelessly dangled a revolver. - </p> - <p> - “You wouldn't! You wouldn't!” Calhoun's voice was broken now. “I've a wife - and children, and—my God, what am I to do!” - </p> - <p> - “That half-hour Kirschell gave you is slipping along,” suggested the other - uncompromisingly. “Here's the note, and there's easy money waiting for - you.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun turned on the other like a man demented. - </p> - <p> - “Do you think I'd touch that cash! Or touch that note—I <i>owe</i> - it! I may not have been able to pay it—but I owe it!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, well, suit yourself as to that, too!” said the man cynically. “It's - the other thing <i>we</i> want. What's the wife and the kids you're - talking about going to do if you go up for twenty years?” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun, with a miserable cry, buried his face in his hands. - </p> - <p> - There was silence—a minute dragged by. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” prompted the man curtly. - </p> - <p> - Calhoun dropped his hands, met the other's eyes for an instant—and - turned his head away. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I thought you would!” said the man calmly. “My pal ought to be back - by now, and as soon as he comes we'll go in there and hand Kirschell his - little jolt, and——” He stopped. There was a light rapping on - the entrance door. “Here he is now! We'll——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was retreating back along the corridor. Again he opened the door - of what he had designated to himself as the secretary's office, and for - the second time that night stepped silently into the room, closing the - door behind him. The sound of running water came from Kirschell's private - office, but there was no other sound—the Hawk made none as he once - more gained his place of vantage behind the desk. Kirschell was bending - over the washbowl, his back turned, bathing his temple and face, and now, - straightening up, he bound a towel tightly around his head. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk watched the proceedings impassively, his head, in that bird-like, - listening attitude, cocked on one shoulder toward the outer door. Steps - were coming along the corridor. But this time Kirschell, too, heard them—for - he turned, and, as the corridor door opened, started toward his desk. He - reached it and sat down, as Calhoun entered the room. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, ha!” snapped Kirschell triumphantly. “So you've thought better of it, - have you? I imagined you would! Well, where's the——” The words - seemed to freeze on his lips; there was a sudden terror in his face. “What—what - does this mean?” he faltered. - </p> - <p> - Two masked men, the one who had been with Calhoun in the corridor, and a - taller, more heavily built man, had stepped in behind Calhoun, and were - advancing toward the desk. - </p> - <p> - The short man pointed a revolver at Kirschell's head. - </p> - <p> - “Calhoun says he keeps a gun in the middle drawer of the desk,” he grunted - to his companion. “Get it!” - </p> - <p> - The other, leaning over, pulled the drawer open, and, appropriating - Kirschell's revolver, stuck it in his pocket. - </p> - <p> - Kirschell's tongue circled his lips. He looked wildly from one to the - other. - </p> - <p> - “We just dropped in to make a confession, Mr. Kirschell,” said the short - man, with an ugly jeer. “We don't like to see an innocent man suffer—understand? - I'm the one that lifted your cash box, you measly shark—me and my - pal there. I heard you trying to stick it on Calhoun. We ain't asking any - favours for ourselves, and when we get through with you, you can tell the - police it was us, and that we're part of the crowd that's been making - things lively around these parts—you've been reading the papers, - ain't you?—but you open your mouth about Calhoun, you put him in bad - when he had nothing to do with it, and inside of twenty-four hours you'll - be found in a dark alley somewhere with a bullet through you! Get me? You - know who you're up against now, and you've got fair warning!” - </p> - <p> - Kirschell was huddled in his chair. His little black eyes were no longer - restless—they were fixed in a sort of terrified fascination on the - speaker. - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” He licked his lips again. “Yes, I—I understand,” he mumbled. - </p> - <p> - From his pocket the Hawk took a mask, which he slipped over his face; and - from his pocket he took his automatic. - </p> - <p> - “I don't think he believes you,” sneered the second masked man, with a - wicked grin. “Perhaps mabbe we'd better twist his windpipe a little, just - to show him in a friendly way that there ain't any mistake about it—eh?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no!” Kirschel's voice was full of fear. “No, no! I believe—I——” - His words ended in a choked scream. - </p> - <p> - The man's hands had shot swiftly out, and closed on Kirschell's throat. He - was shaking, twisting, and turning Kirschell's head from side to side. His - companion laughed brutally. Came a series of guttural moans from Kirschell—and - Kirschel's body began to slip limply down in his chair. - </p> - <p> - Calhoun had gone white to the lips. - </p> - <p> - “Stop it! My God, stop it!” he burst out frantically. “You promised me you - wouldn't do him any harm.” - </p> - <p> - “You mind your own business!” snarled the man with the revolver. “We know - how to handle his breed. Give him enough to hold him for a while Jim! We——” - </p> - <p> - “Drop that revolver! <i>Drop it!</i>” The Hawk was standing in the - doorway. - </p> - <p> - There was a startled oath from the leader of the two men as he whirled - around, a gasp as he faced the Hawk's automatic—and his weapon - clattered to the floor. The other, in a stunned way, still hung over - Kirschell, but his hands had relaxed their hold on Kirschel's throat. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you!” drawled the Hawk. “I must say I agree with Mr. Calhoun. It's - not a pleasant sight to watch a man being throttled.” His voice rang - suddenly cold. “You, there!” His automatic indicated the man beside - Kirschell. “Stand back at the end of the desk, and put up your hands!” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun had not moved. He was staring numbly at the Hawk. Kirschell, - making guttural sounds, was clawing at his throat. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Calhoun,” requested the Hawk coolly, “as I happen to know that you - have little reason to love either of these two gentlemen, will you be good - enough to pick up that revolver and hand it to me?” Calhoun stooped - mechanically, and extended it to the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “And now our friend over there with his hands up, Mr. Calhoun,” purred the - Hawk. “You will find two in his pockets—his own, and Mr. - Kirschell's. Mr. Kirschell, I am sure, is already fairly well convinced - that you are in no way connected with the robbery of his cash box, and I - am equally sure that in no way could you better dispel any lingering - doubts he might still entertain than by helping to draw these gentlemen's - teeth.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun laughed a little grimly now. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know who you are,” he said, his lips set, as he started toward - the man; “but I guess you're right. I'd like to see them get what's coming - to them.” - </p> - <p> - “Quite so!” said the Hawk pleasantly. He accepted the two remaining - revolvers from Calhoun; and from his pocket produced his skeleton keys. He - handed them to Calhoun, designating one of the keys on the ring. “One more - request, Mr. Calhoun,” he said. “I entered by the door that opens on the - corridor from this other office here. Will you please lock it; and, on - your way back, also lock this connecting door through which I have just - come in—the key of the latter, I noticed, is in the lock.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun nodded, took the keys, and stepped quickly from the room. - Kirschell, evidently not seriously hurt from the handling he had received, - though still choking a little and clearing his throat with short coughs, - was regarding the Hawk with a questioning stare. The eyes of the other two - men were on the Hawk's revolver. The shorter of the two suddenly raised a - clenched fist. - </p> - <p> - “The Hawk!” he flashed out furiously. “You cursed snitch! You'll wish you - were dead before we're through with you!” - </p> - <p> - “So the Butcher told me last night.” The Hawk smiled plaintively. “Move a - little closer together, you two—yes, like that, at the far end of - the desk beside each other. Thank you! You are much easier to cover that - way.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun returned, locking the connecting door behind him, and handed the - door key, together with the key-ring, back to the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk moved forward to the desk. He was alert, quick, ominous now. The - drawl, the pleasantry was gone. - </p> - <p> - “Out there in the hall,” he said coldly, “I heard Mr. Calhoun refuse to - take back his note—from a thief. You”—his revolver muzzle - jerked toward the short man—“hand it out!” - </p> - <p> - The man reached viciously into his pocket, and tossed the note on the - desk. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk pushed it toward Kirschell. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Kirschell,” he said quietly, “you no doubt had good reasons for it, - but you have none the less falsely accused Mr. Calhoun. Furthermore, Mr. - Calhoun has been instrumental in laying these two who have confessed by - the heels. Under the circumstances, if you are the man I think you are, - you will tear that up.” - </p> - <p> - Kirschell lingered the note for an instant. He looked from Calhoun to the - Hawk, and back at Calhoun again. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he said abruptly—and tore it into several pieces. “I suppose - I could hardly do less. You are quite right! And, Mr. Calhoun, I—I - apologise to you.” - </p> - <p> - A flush spread over Calhoun's face. He swallowed hard, and his lips - quivered slightly. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Kirschell,” he stammered, “I—I——” - </p> - <p> - “That's all right!” interposed the Hawk whimsically. “Don't start any - mutual admiration society. I dislike embarrassing situations; and besides, - Mr. Calhoun”—his eyes travelled from one to the other of the two - masked men—“I think you had better go now.” - </p> - <p> - “Go?” repeated Calhoun, somewhat bewilderedly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” supplemented the Hawk. “As far as you are concerned, you are clear - and out of this now. Stay out of it, and say nothing—that's the best - thing you can do.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, that suits me,” said Calhoun with a wry smile, “if Mr. Kirschell——” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly! I see!” approved the Hawk. “It does you credit. But Mr. - Kirschell and I are quite capable of settling with these two; and you can - thank Mr. Kirschell further to-morrow if you like—when I'm not here! - Now—if you please!” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun turned, and walked to the door. His footsteps echoed back from the - general office. Then the corridor door closed behind him. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk addressed the two masked men. - </p> - <p> - “Last night,” remarked the Hawk gently, “it was the Butcher, and to-night - it is—pardon me”—he was close in front of the two now, and, - with a jerk, snatched the masks from their faces—“Whitie Jim, and - the Bantam! Well, I might have known from the Butcher! You're all out of - the same kind of cocoons! The poor old simp at the head of your gang is - sure stuck with a moth-eaten lot! He's sure collected a bunch of - left-overs! Why, say, back there in New York, where a <i>real</i> crook - couldn't keep the grin off his face every time he met you, even the police - had you passed up as harmless cripples!” - </p> - <p> - “You go to blazes!” growled the Bantam, with an oath. “You'll sing through - the other side of your mouth for this yet!” - </p> - <p> - “You are not nice to me, Bantam,” said the Hawk, in a pained voice. “You - don't appreciate what I'm doing for you. It was a piker game you tried to - hand Calhoun; but, even at that, I wouldn't have queered it if it would - have helped you work out a few more little deals, so that I could skim the - cream off them. But it wouldn't! I don't see what you gain by interfering - with the telegraph lines, but I'll let you in on something. I've been - keeping an eye on MacVightie because MacVightie's been keeping an eye on - me, and I overheard him talking to the superintendent to-night. - MacVightie's got an idea that Calhoun's fooling with the wires now. See - where you would have been? If Calhoun had ever got started on the real - thing, some of you would have been nipped—and, say, there's nothing - like that going to happen if I can help it! You and your crowd are too - valuable to me to take any chances of your getting in wrong anywhere. I'm - not wringing the neck of the goose that lays my golden eggs! Tell that to - the guy that's supposed to have the brains of your outfit, will you? And - you might add that I don't want any thanks. I'm getting well paid.” - </p> - <p> - “You'll get paid, curse you!” The Bantam's voice was hoarse with fury. - “You butted in once too often last night. The Butcher warned you. There - ain't any more warnings. You've got the drop on us here to-night, but——” - </p> - <p> - “It's getting late,” said the Hawk wearily. “And I'm sure Mr. Kirschell - agrees with me that it is about time to produce that cash box—do you - not, Mr. Kirschell?” - </p> - <p> - Kirschell made no reply. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk smiled—unhappily. - </p> - <p> - “I don't think you put it back in the safe—I see that the door is - still wide open. A drawer in the desk, then, perhaps? Ah—<i>would - you!</i>” There was a sudden deadly coldness in the Hawk's voice. The - Bantam had edged around the corner of the desk. “If any of you move - another inch, I'll drop you as quick as I'd drop a mad dog! Now then—if - the Cricket will oblige? I'll give him until I count three. One—two——” - </p> - <p> - “Damn you!—Kirschell's face was livid and contorted. He wrenched a - lower drawer open, and flung the cash box on the desk. - </p> - <p> - “The Butcher, Whitie Jim, the Bantam, and the Cricket,” murmured the Hawk. - “It's good to see old New York faces out here, even if you do size up like - bush-leaguers trying to bust into high society. You can take that towel - off, if you like, Cricket, it doesn't become you particularly—and, - as you've washed off the heart-rending effect of that little bag of liquid - stain you smashed over your temple, I'm sure you'll look less like a comic - opera star! No? Well, please yourself!” The Hawk was coolly transferring - the contents of the cash box to his pockets with his left hand. “These - papers,” mused the Hawk deliberately aloud, “appear to be some securities - you lifted on that Pullman car raid. Rather neat idea, this, establishing - this office—sort of a clearing house, I take it, for the gang's - drag-net—'loans, mortgages and general exchange!' I take back part - of what I said—this shows a first faint glimmer of brains. Well, - keep the office going, your interests are mine! You'll notice that I was - considerate enough to get Calhoun out of the way before the show-down. You - were very generous, magnanimous even, Cricket—I admire you! - Calhoun'll swear Mr. Kirschell is the squarest man on earth—and - don't forget that's another little debt of gratitude you owe the Hawk. - Three thousand dollars!” The Hawk's pockets were bulging. “Must have been - what you separated some one from when I wasn't looking! Glad you weren't - stingy with your bait for Calhoun! I heard to-day that Mr. Kirschell kept - a good deal of cash in his safe, but I had no idea that Mr. Kirschell was - the Cricket—not till I came here this evening to take a look at Mr. - Kirschell's safe. I must say it has been a surprise—a very pleasant - surprise.” - </p> - <p> - The cash box was empty. The Hawk backed away from the desk. - </p> - <p> - None of the three men spoke—they were eying him like caged and - infuriated beasts. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk reached the doorway. - </p> - <p> - “You will observe,” smiled the Hawk engagingly, “that this is now the only - exit, and that as I walk backward across the outer office any one who - steps into this doorway will be directly in the line of fire.” He bowed - facetiously, backed through the doorway and across the general office, - and, still facing the inner room, opened the corridor door and stepped - out. - </p> - <p> - And then the Hawk spoke again. - </p> - <p> - “I bid you good evening, gentlemen!” said the Hawk softly. “You will - pardon me if I put you to the inconvenience of locking this door—on - the outside.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VII—WANTED—THE HAWK—DEAD OR ALIVE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>ACVIGHTIE had - become troublesome. For two days MacVightie had very seriously annoyed the - Hawk. It was for that reason that the Hawk now crept stealthily up the - dark, narrow stairs, and, on the landing, listened in strained attention - before the door of his own room. - </p> - <p> - Reassured finally, he opened the door inch by inch, noiselessly. The bolt, - in grooves that were carefully oiled, made no sound in slipping into - place, as the Hawk entered and closed the door behind him. So far, so - good! He was quick, alert, but still silent, as, in the darkness, he - crossed swiftly to the window, and crouched down against the wall. A - minute, two, went by. The fire-escape, passing at an angle a short - distance below the window sill, and at first nebulous in the blackness, - gradually took on distinct and tangible shape. Still the Hawk held there - motionless, searching it with his eyes—and then, abruptly, satisfied - that it sheltered no lurking shadow, he straightened up, thrust his - automatic back into his pocket, pulled down the shade, and, turning back - into the room, switched on the light. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie, it appeared, still had lingering suspicions of this room over - the somewhat disreputable saloon below, and still had lingering suspicions - of its occupant. All that afternoon the Hawk was quite well aware that he - had been shadowed—but the result had been rather in his favour than - in Mac-Vightie's. From the moment he had discovered that he was being - followed, he had devoted his time to making applications for a job—for - MacVightie's benefit—that being the reason he had given MacVightie - for his presence in Selkirk. Later on, when it had grown dark, having - business of his own, he had left MacVightie's satellite standing on a - street corner somewhat puzzled just which way to turn! That, however, had - no bearing on the watch that had been, or might be at the present moment, - set upon this room. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, in apparent abstraction, was flipping a coin up in the air and - catching it. There was a slight frown on the Hawk's face. MacVightie's - suspicions were still lingering for the simple reason that MacVightie, - utterly at sea, was clutching at the only straw in sight, unless—the - coin slipped through the Hawk's fingers and fell beside his trunk. He - stooped to pick it up—yes, not only had the room been searched, but - the trunk had been opened! The single strand of hair, almost indiscernible - against the brass and quite innocently caught in the lock, was broken. - Well, he had not finished that mental sentence. Unless—<i>what?</i> - </p> - <p> - He tucked the coin into his pocket, and, standing up, yawned and stretched - himself. With the toe of his boot he lazily pushed a chair out from the - wall. The chair fell over. The Hawk picked it up, and quite casually set - it down—near the door. He took off his coat, and flung it over the - back of the chair. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's face was greyer now, as it set in rigid lines, but there was no - tremor in the hand that inserted the key in the lock of the trunk. He - flung back the lid—and his eyes, for an instant, searched the room - again sharply. The window shade was securely drawn; the coat over the back - of the chair completely screened the keyhole of the door. He laughed a - little then—mirthlessly. Well, the trunk had been opened! Had - MacVightie found <i>all</i>—or nothing? - </p> - <p> - His fingers were working swiftly, deftly now around the inside edges of - the lid. He was either caught here, cornered, at bay—or MacVightie, - once for all, would be satisfied, and, as far as MacVightie was concerned, - the coast would hereafter be clear. The Hawk's dark eyes narrowed, the - square under jaw crept out and set doggedly. It had been a close call, - perilously close, that other night when he had taken the ten thousand - dollars from the paymaster's safe, and MacVightie had followed him here to - this room. He had pulled the wool over MacVightie's eyes for the moment—but - MacVightie had returned to the old trail again. Well, the cards were on - the table now, and it was a gamble that was grim enough! Either he was - quit of MacVightie, could even count on MacVightie as a sort of sponsor - for his innocence; or—“Ah!” The ingeniously fashioned false tray in - the curvature of the lid had come away in the Hawk's hands. He was safe! - MacVightie had missed it! In the tray, untouched, where he had left them, - lay the packages of banknotes from the paymaster's safe; in the tray still - glittered the magnificent diamond necklace, whose theft from the wife of - His Excellency the Governor of the State had already furnished more than - one of the big dailies back in the East with attractive copy for their - Sunday editions; and there, undisturbed, were the contents of Isaac - Kirschell's cash box, a trifling matter of some three thousand dollars; - and there too, snugly tucked away in one corner, was the bundle of crisp, - new, counterfeit ten-dollar bills. The Hawk grinned maliciously, as his - eyes rested on the counterfeit notes. The one he had sent, inscribed with - his compliments, to MacVightie, when he had returned the otherwise empty - paymaster's bag to the detective, had not pleased MacVightie! - </p> - <p> - Quite at his ease now, the Hawk fitted the false top back into the lid, - closed the trunk, locked it, drew a chair up to the table, and sat down. - With MacVightie removed as a possible factor of interruption, there was - another, and very pressing little matter to which he was now at liberty to - give his attention. He produced a folded sheet of paper from his inside - vest pocket, spread it out on the table before him, and inspected it with - a sort of cynical curiosity. In each corner were tack holes. He had - removed it less than half an hour ago—not through any misguided - dislike to publicity, but simply because he had urgently required a piece - of paper—from a conspicuous position on the wall of the railroad - station. It was a police circular. The Hawk had not before had an - opportunity to absorb more than the large type captions—he filled - his pipe calmly now, as he read it in its entirety: - </p> - <h3> - $5,000 REWARD—FOR EX-SING SING CONVICT - </h3> - <p> - Five Thousand Dollars Reward Will Be Paid For Information Leading to the - Arrest and Conviction of THE HAWK, Alias HARRY MAUL. - </p> - <p> - Here followed a description tallying with the one given by MacVightie to - Lanson, the division superintendent, and which Lanson had caustically - remarked would not fit more than twenty-five thousand men in Selkirk City; - followed after that a résumé of the crimes recently committed on the - railroad, amongst them the theft of the diamond necklace and the robbery - of the paymaster's safe; and, at the end, in bold-faced type again: - </p> - <h3> - $2,000 REWARD - </h3> - <p> - Two Thousand Dollars Reward Will Also be Paid For Information Leading to - the Arrest and Conviction of Each and Every One of THE HAWK'S - Confederates. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk smiled broadly, as he held the flame of a match to his pipe bowl. - The last paragraph was exquisitely ironical. Those whom MacVightie so - blithely called the “Hawk's confederates” were vying with each other at - that exact moment, and for the exact amount of two thousand dollars - offered by the Master Spider of the gang, for the privilege of putting an - even more conclusive end—in the shape of a knife thrust, a bullet, - or a blackjack—to the Hawk! - </p> - <p> - “And,” said the Hawk softly, as he turned the circular over, “I guess - they'd make it a whole lot more if they knew that I had—<i>this!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The back of the circular was covered with line after line of what, - seemingly, was but a meaningless jumble of scribbled letters—nor, in - this case, were the letters any too well formed. The Hawk had laboured - under difficulties when the telegraph sounder had “broke” unexpectedly - with the message. He had been listening—as he was always listening - when within sound of a telegraph instrument—but he had never known a - message from the Wire Devils to come through at so early an hour in the - evening before. He had shaken MacVightie's man off the trail and had gone - down to the depot, intending to go up the line to the first small station, - where, with little chance of being discovered, he could spend the night - within earshot of the operator's instrument—in the hope that his - vigil would not, as it sometimes did, prove futile. He had been standing - under the dispatcher's open window waiting for a train, when the police - circular tacked on the station wall had caught his eye. The large type was - readily decipherable, but the platform lights were poor, and he had - stepped closer to read the remainder—and instead, glancing quickly - about him to see that he was not observed, he had snatched the circular - from the wall, and, whipping a pencil from his pocket, had scrawled on the - reverse side, as best he could, the message that was rattling in over the - dispatcher's sounder from the room above. He had taken chances—but - he had played in luck. No one had noticed him, and—well, he was here - now with the message; and, since it must sooner or later have been put to - the proof in any case, he was back here, too, to find that he was quit of - MacVightie. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” confided the Hawk to himself, as he reached for a blank sheet of - paper in the drawer of the table, “I guess I played in luck—both - ways. Wonder if there's another ripe little melon here going to be shoved - my way on a gold platter by the Butcher and his crowd?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk studied the cipher for a moment. - </p> - <p> - “lqrtvy... key letter... stroke at six...two-three-one,” he murmured. - </p> - <p> - He drew the fresh sheet of paper toward him, and began to work busily. - Occasionally he paused, staring dubiously at a letter—he had taken - the message under far from ideal conditions, and a mistake here and there, - if not fatal, was annoying and confusing. Finally, however, the Hawk - leaned back in his chair, and whistled low under his breath. The message, - deciphered and arranged into words and sentences, ran: - </p> - <p> - <i>Final orders. Number One, Three, and Six hold up Fast Mail three miles - east of Burke's Siding to-night. Cut wires on approach. Express car next - to engine. Uncouple and proceed. Diamond shipment in safe. Messenger - drugged. No interference with remainder of train. Deliver safe five-mile - crossing to Number Four and Seven. Number One, Three, and Six take engine - and car further along the line. Return separately to Selkirk.</i> - </p> - <p> - Again the Hawk whistled low under his breath—and for the second time - reached into his inside vest pocket. He took out a letter that was - addressed, care of general delivery, to Mr. J. P. Carrister. The Hawk - puffed pleasantly at his pipe as he read it: - </p> - <p> - “Dear Friend: The folks are all well, and hope you are the same. I haven't - had time to write much lately. I like my new job fine. Say, I felt like a - Fifth Avenue dook for about umpty seconds to-day. One of the fellows in - the office let me hold a package of diamonds in my hand just to see what - it felt like. Gee! Say, you could almost shove it in your vest pocket, and - it was invoiced through customs at twenty thousand plunks. They were unset - stones, and came in from Amsterdam. It made me feel queer. - </p> - <p> - “I wouldn't like to be the fellow that has to keep his eye on it any of - the way from here to San Francisco, where it's going to-morrow by express. - If you see any bright lights flashing around your burg that you can't - account for about 11:15 next Wednesday night, you'll know it's the - diamonds going through in the express-car safe. I'm getting to be some - joker, eh? We all went down to Coney last Sunday. It's been fierce and hot - here. Say, don't be a clam, write us a line. Well, I guess there ain't any - more news. Yours truly, Bud.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, instead of folding up the letter and returning it to his pocket, - began meditatively to tear it into minute shreds, and with it the police - circular and the sheet of paper on which he had worked out the cipher - message. The Fast Mail scheduled Selkirk at 11:15—<i>and this was - Wednesday night!</i> - </p> - <p> - “Twenty thousand dollars,” said the Hawk gently under his breath. “Thanks, - Bud, old boy! You were there with the goods all right, but it wasn't a - one-man job, and I didn't think there was going to be anything doing.” The - Hawk grinned at the ceiling. “And just as I was about passing up the last - check, here they go and fix it for me to scoop the whole pot! Three miles - east of Burke's Siding, eh?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk relapsed into silence for a moment; then he spoke again. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk, “I guess that ought to work. She won't make the - three miles from the siding under five or six minutes. She's due at - Burke's at ten-ten. I can make it on the local out of here at - eight-thirty. Twenty thousand dollars—in <i>unset</i> stones! Just - as good as cash—and a lot easier to carry!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk looked at his watch. It was five minutes of eight. He rose - leisurely from his chair, stooped for a precautionary inspection of the - trunk lock, put on his coat, and, moving toward the door, switched off the - light. - </p> - <p> - “If I get away with this,” observed the Hawk, as he went down the stairs - and let himself out through the street door, “it'll be good-night for - keeps if any of the gang ever pick up my trail—and they won't quit - until they do! And then there's MacVightie and the police. I guess - there'll be some little side-stepping to do—what? Oh, well”—he - shrugged his shoulders—“I guess I'll get a bite of supper, anyway—there's - no telling when I'll have a chance to eat again!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VIII—THREADS IN THE WEB - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was not far to - the station—down through the lane from the Palace Saloon—and - close to the station, he remembered, there was a little short-order house - that was generally patronised by the railroad men. Old Mother Barrett's - short-order house, they called it. She was the wife of an engineer who had - been killed, he had heard, and she had a boy working somewhere on the - railroad. Not that he was interested in these details; in fact, as he - walked along, the Hawk was not interested in old Mother Barrett in a - personal sense at all—but, as he reached the short-order house and - entered, his eyes, as though magnetically drawn in that direction, fixed - instantly on the little old woman behind the counter. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was suddenly very much interested in old Mother Barrett. It was - not that she made a somewhat pathetic figure, that she drooped a little at - the shoulders, that her face under her grey hair looked tired, or that, - though scrupulously neat, her clothes were a little threadbare—it - was none of these things—it was old Mother Barrett's hands that for - the moment concerned the Hawk. She was in the act of adjusting her - spectacles and picking up a very new and crisp ten-dollar bill, that a - customer from the stool in front of her had evidently tendered in payment - for his meal. The Hawk shot a quick glance up and down the room. There - were several other customers at the long counter, but the stool beside the - owner of the ten-dollar bill was vacant—and the Hawk - unostentatiously straddled it. - </p> - <p> - He glanced casually at the man at his elbow; allowed his eyes to stray to - the kindly, motherly old face with its grey Irish eyes, that was puckered - now in a sort of hesitant indecision—and glanced a little more than - casually at the banknote she kept turning over and over in her hands. No, - he had not been mistaken. It was one of those counterfeits which, - according to MacVightie, had flooded the East and were now making their - appearance in Selkirk, and it was a duplicate of those in the false tray - of his trunk. His eyes perhaps were sharper than old Mother Barrett's—in - any case, his identification was the quicker, for his gaze had wandered to - the coffee urn, and he was drumming idly on the counter with his finger - tips before the little old woman finally spoke. - </p> - <p> - “I—I'm afraid I can't take this,” she said slowly, handing the - banknote back across the counter. - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter with it?” demanded the man gruffly. - </p> - <p> - “Why—it's—it's counterfeit,” she said a little anxiously, as - though she were fearful of giving offence. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes, with mild and quite impersonal interest, were on the - man's face now. The man had picked up the bill, and was pretending to - examine it critically. - </p> - <p> - “Counterfeit!” echoed the man shortly. “Say, what are you giving us! It's - as good as wheat! Give me my change, and let me get out—I'm in a - hurry!” He pushed the bill toward her again. - </p> - <p> - She did not pick it up from the counter this time. - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry.” She seemed genuinely disturbed, and the sweet old face was - full of sympathy. “I'm sure you did not know that it was not good, and ten - dollars is a great deal to lose, isn't it? It's too bad. Do you remember - where you got it?” - </p> - <p> - “Look here, you're dippy!” snapped the man. “I tell you it's not - counterfeit. Anyway, it's all I've got. If you want your pay, take it!” - </p> - <p> - “You owe me thirty-five cents, but I can't take it out of this.” She shook - her head in a troubled way. “This is a counterfeit.” - </p> - <p> - “You seem to be pretty well posted—on counterfeits!” sneered the man - offensively. “How do you know it's a counterfeit—eh?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I've seen one like this before,” she said simply. “My son showed - me one the last time he was in from his run, and he warned me to be - careful about taking any.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, your son—eh?” sneered the man again. “Some son! Wised you up, - did he? Carries it around with him—eh? And who does <i>he</i> shove - it off on?” - </p> - <p> - There was a queer little sound from the old lady—like a quick, hurt - catch of her breath. The Hawk's eyes travelled swiftly to her face. She - had turned a little pale, and her lips were trembling—but she was - drawn up very proudly, and the thin shoulders were squared back. - </p> - <p> - “I love my boy,” she said in a low voice, and tears came suddenly into her - eyes, “I love him with all my heart, but I should a thousand times rather - see him dead than know him for a thief. And a man who attempts to pass - these things knowingly is a—<i>thief</i>. I have been very - respectful to you, sir, and I do not deserve what you have said. I assumed - that you had been swindled yourself, and that you were perfectly honest in - offering the bill to me, but now from your——” - </p> - <p> - “What's the trouble, Mother Barrett?”—a big railroader farther up - the counter had laid down his knife and fork, and swung round on his - stool. - </p> - <p> - With a hurried glance in that direction, the man hastily thrust the - counterfeit note into his pocket, laid down thirty-five cents on the - counter—and, with a dive across the room, disappeared through the - door. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk stared thoughtfully after him. - </p> - <p> - “I couldn't butt in on that, and hand him one,” said the Hawk to himself - almost apologetically. “Not with twenty thousand in sight! I couldn't - afford to get into a row, and maybe miss the local, and spill the beans, - could I?” - </p> - <p> - He looked around again to find the little old woman wiping her spectacles, - and smiling at him a little wistfully. - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry that you had to listen to any unpleasantness,” she said. “My - little place isn't very pretentious, but I would not like to have you, a - stranger, think that sort of thing was customary here. What can I get you, - sir?” - </p> - <p> - It was no wonder that the railroaders evidently swore by old Mother - Barrett, and that one of them had been quick to shift her trouble to his - own shoulders! - </p> - <p> - “I guess he was a bad one, all right!” growled the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - She shook her head regretfully. There was no resentment left—it was - as though, indeed, the man was a charge upon her own conscience. - </p> - <p> - “He meant to be dishonest, I am afraid,” she admitted reluctantly; “but I - am sure he cannot be thoroughly bad, for he wasn't very old—just a - young man.” - </p> - <p> - She was a very simple, trusting little old lady—as well as a sweet - little old lady. Why should her illusions be dispelled? The Hawk nodded - gravely. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps,” suggested the Hawk, “perhaps he hasn't had any one to keep him - straight. Perhaps he hasn't got what keeps a good many chaps straight—a - good mother.” - </p> - <p> - The mist was quick in her eyes again. He had not meant to bring that—he - had meant only to show her a genuine admiration and respect. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps not,” she answered slowly. “But if he has, I hope she will never - know.” She shook her head again; and then: “But you have not told me yet - what you would like, sir?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk gave his order. He ate mechanically. Back in his mind he was - reviewing a rather extensive acquaintanceship with certain gentry whose - morals were not wholly above reproach. Failing, however, to identify the - individual with the counterfeit note as one of this select number, he - finally dismissed the man somewhat contemptuously from his mind. - </p> - <p> - “Just a piker crook, I guess,” decided the Hawk. “I'd like to have found - out though how many more of those he's got, and who the fool was that let - an amateur skate like that loose with any of the goods!” - </p> - <p> - He finished his meal, paid his bill, smiled a goodnight to old Mother - Barrett, walked out of the short-order house, and made his way over to the - station. Five minutes later, having purchased a magazine, the Hawk, with a - ticket in his pocket for a station a number of miles beyond Burke's - Siding, curled himself up with his pipe on a seat in the smoker of the - local. - </p> - <p> - The train started, and the Hawk apparently became immersed in his - magazine. The Hawk, however, though he turned a page from time to time, - was concerned with matters very far removed from the printed words before - him. The game to-night was more hazardous, more difficult, and for a - vastly greater stake than any in which he had before pitted his wits or - played his lone hand against the combined brains of the Butcher, his - fellows, and their unknown leader, who collectively were referred to by - the papers as—the Wire Devils. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk tamped down the ash in the bowl of his pipe with a wary - forefinger. He, the Hawk, according to MacVightie, was the leader of this - ingenious criminal league! It was very complimentary of MacVightie—very! - Between MacVightie and the Wire Devils themselves, he was a personage much - sought after! MacVightie, however, was not without grounds for his - assertion and belief—the Hawk grinned pleasantly—he, the Hawk, - had certainly, and for some time back, helped himself to the leader's - share of the spoils, and helped himself very generously! - </p> - <p> - The grin died away. He had beaten them so far, appropriated from under - their very noses the loot they had so carefully planned to obtain, and he - had mocked and taunted them contemptuously in the doing of it; but the - cold fact remained that luck sometimes was known to turn, and that the - pitcher that went too often to the well ran the risk of getting—smashed! - If they ever caught him, his life would not be worth an instant's - purchase. He knew some of them, and he knew them well for what they were, - and he laboured under no delusions on that score! The Butcher, for - example, who was the Number One of the message, had already nearly done - for him once; and the Butcher had nothing on Number Three, who was the - Bantam, or on Number Seven, who was Whitie Jim—or, it was safe to - presume, on any of the others that he had not yet identified—this - Number Four and Number Six, for instance, who were mentioned in the cipher - message to-night. And how many more were there? He did not know—except - that there was the Master Spider of them all. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had ceased now even to turn cursorily the pages of the magazine. - He was staring out of the window. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder,” muttered the Hawk grimly, “when I'll run up against <i>him?</i> - And who he is? And where the head office is?” - </p> - <p> - He nodded his head after a moment. MacVightie had called the turn. The - Wire Devils formed as powerful and dangerous a criminal organisation as - had probably ever existed anywhere. And not for very long would they put - all their resources at work to pull off some coup, only to find that he, - the Hawk, had made use of their preparations to snatch the prize away from - them; they were much more likely to put all their resources at work—with - the Hawk as their sole objective! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's lips tightened. He might under-estimate, but he could not - exaggerate, his danger! The man in the seat behind him might be one of - them for all he knew. Somewhere, hidden away in his web, at the end of a - telegraph wire, was the Master Spider directing the operations; and there - must be very many of them—the little spiders—spread all over - the division. Where there was a telegraph sounder that sounder carried the - messages, the plans, the secret orders of the brain behind the - organisation; and the very audaciousness with which they made themselves - free of the railroad's telegraph system to communicate with each other was - in itself a guarantee of success. If one of their messages was interfered - with, they threatened to cut the wires; and that meant, if luckily it - meant no more, that train operating was at an end until the break could be - located and repaired. Were they tapping the wire somewhere? What chance - was there to find out where? There were hundreds of old splices on the - wires. Or, if found, what would prevent them tapping the wire on the next - occasion many miles away? Also the sources of information that they tapped - must be far-flung. How, for instance, unless they too had a “Bud” back - there in New York, did they know of this diamond shipment coming through - to-night? - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's lips grew still a little tighter. His safety so far had - depended on the fact that he possessed the key to their cipher messages, - which not only enabled him to reap where they had sown, but warned him of - any move they might make against him. But it was becoming increasingly - difficult to intercept those messages. He had MacVightie to thank for - that. Where before he had only to crawl into some little way-station where - there was no night operator, MacVightie now had every one of those - stations securely guarded. Yes, it had become exceedingly more difficult! - If only he could find out <i>where</i> those messages emanated from, or - the system in force for receiving them! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk slid further down in his seat, tossed the magazine to one side, - pulled his hat over his eyes, and appeared to sleep. All that was neither - here nor there—<i>to-night</i>. He <i>had</i> the message to-night—but - he had not yet got that twenty thousand dollars in unset stones! He would - perhaps do well, now that he had the leisure, to give the details of that - matter a little more critical attention than they had received when he had - made up his mind that his best chance lay in the three miles between - Burke's Siding and the point where the Butcher and his men planned to hold - up the train. According to the message, the implication was that there - would be nobody in the express car at that time except a drugged - messenger. And now, somehow, he did not quite like the appearance of that. - It seemed a little queer. What was the object of drugging the man if they - did not take immediate advantage of it? He pondered the problem for a long - time. No, after all, it was logical enough—since they meant to - remove the safe bodily. There evidently was not a specialised cracksman - amongst them who had lifted his profession to the plane of art, no - “knob-twirler” such as—well, such as himself! The Hawk opened his - eyes sleepily to inspect the tips of his carefully manicured fingers. - Otherwise, with no one to interfere but a drugged messenger, they could - have opened the safe, looted it, and, since the Fast Mail carried only - through express matter, have slipped away from the car at the first stop, - with no one being the wiser until, somewhere up the line, the messenger - returned to life and gave the alarm. - </p> - <p> - Yes, it was very craftily worked out. The Master Spider was far from a - fool! They would have to “soup” the safe, and blow it open. If they - attempted that while the train was en route they ran the risk of being - heard, and trapped like rats in the car; and if they were heard, even if - they managed to stop the train and make their escape, they invited instant - and definite pursuit on the spot. The reason for drugging the express - messenger became quite evident now. If the man were already helpless when - they held up the train, they, at one and the same time, assured their - access to an otherwise guarded car without danger to themselves, and - without danger of being balked at the last moment of their reward—which - the messenger, with a small package like that, might easily have been able - to accomplish if he were a game man. He could have opened the safe, say, - the instant the first alarm came as they tried to force the car door, - taken out the package, and secreted it somewhere. It needed only the nerve - after that to defy them, and they had evidently given him credit for it - whether he possessed it or not. - </p> - <p> - Yes, decidedly, the Master Spider was no fool in the spinning of his web! - As it was, the safe, which would only be a small affair anyhow, would - disappear bodily; and between the point where the train was held up and - the point where they finally left the engine and express car there would - be a distance of at least ten miles, even allowing that they approached no - nearer than within two miles of Bradley, the first station west of Burke's - Siding. With the wires cut and the coaches of the Fast Mail stalled three - miles out of Burke's, considerable time must elapse before any one could - make a move against them; and even when the pursuit finally started, - MacVightie, for instance, would be confronted with that somewhat illusive - stretch of ten miles in which to decide <i>where</i> the pursuit should - begin. Ten miles was some little distance! MacVightie would be quite at - liberty to make his guess, and there was the chance, with the trifling - odds of some few odd thousand to one against it, that he might guess right—unless - he guessed that the safe had been removed at the point where the engine - and car were finally left, in which case MacVightie would guess wrong. - </p> - <p> - If the Hawk was asleep, he was perhaps dreaming—for the Hawk smiled. - The chances were just about those few odd thousand to one that MacVightie - would guess exactly that way—wrong. Yes, it was an exceedingly neat - little web that the Master Spider had spun. If he, the Hawk, were - permitted to make a guess, he would guess that the safe would never be - found! - </p> - <p> - His mind reverted to the cipher message. The safe was to be delivered at - “five-mile crossing.” Where that was the Hawk did not know—except - that it must necessarily be somewhere between the point where the train - was held up and Bradley. However, that was a detail with which he need - hardly concern himself. Long before this “five-mile crossing” was reached, - his vest pocket, if he played in luck, would be very comfortably lined! He - would enter the express car as the Fast Mail pulled out of Burke's Siding, - trust to certain long and intimate experience to open the safe—and - get off the train as it slowed down at the Butcher's very thoughtful - request! For the rest, the details—circumstances must govern there. - In the main, that would be his plan. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk “slept” on. Station after station was passed. His mind now dealt - in little snatches of thought. There was MacVightie and the police - circular; and the search of his room that day; and speculation as to how - they had managed to drug the express messenger; and the man with the - counterfeit ten-dollar bill in old Mother Barrett's short-order house; and - the little old woman herself, with her shabby clothes and her tired, - gentle face—and finally the Hawk stirred, glanced at his watch, and, - as the train whistled, picked up his magazine and sauntered down the car - aisle to the door. - </p> - <p> - They were approaching Burke's Siding. The Hawk opened the door, went out - on the platform, and descended to the lowest step. The train slowed. A - water-tank loomed up, receded—and the Hawk dropped to the ground. A - minute later, as the tail-lights winked by and came to a stop at the - station a short distance down the track, he had made his way back, to the - water-tank, crossed to the opposite side of the track, and stretched - himself out on the grass in the hollow at the foot of the embankment. The - Fast Mail's sole excuse for a stop at Burke's Siding was the water-tank—which - would bring the express car to a halt directly in front of the spot where - he now lay. - </p> - <p> - The local pulled out, and racketed away into the night. The tail-lights - vanished. Silence fell. There was only the chirping of the insects now, - and the strange, queer, indefinable medley of little night-sounds. Burke's - Siding was a lonely place. There was a faint yellow gleam from the station - windows, and there was the twinkle of the switch lights—no other - sign of life. It was pitch black—so black that the Hawk could just - barely distinguish the outline of the water-tank across the track. - </p> - <p> - “It's a nice night,” observed the Hawk pleasantly to himself. “A very nice - night! It's strange how some people prefer a moon!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - IX—THE LOOTING OF THE FAST MAIL - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE minutes went - by, ten, fifteen, twenty of them—a half hour—and then, from - far down the track, hoarse through the night, came the scream of a - whistle. From his pocket the Hawk took out his diminutive flashlight, thin - as a pencil. It might have been the winking of a firefly, as he played it - on the dial of his watch. - </p> - <p> - “On the dot!” murmured the Hawk. “Some train—the Fast Mail! I guess, - though, she'll be a little late, at that, to-night—when she pulls - into Selkirk!” A roar and rumble was in the night again, increasing - steadily in volume. Down the right of way, in the distance, a flash of - light stabbed through the black. It grew brighter and brighter. The Hawk, - wary of the spread of the powerful electric headlight, edged further away - from the trackside. And now the rails gleamed like polished silver—and - the water-tank stood up out of the darkness, a thing of monstrous size. - There was the hiss of steam, the rasp and grind of the setting brakes, the - glinting rays from the windows of a long string of coaches that trailed - back to the station platform, and a big ten-wheeler, like some human - thirsty thing, was panting beside the water-tank. - </p> - <p> - The engineer, with his torch, swung from the gangway for an oil around. - There was the creak of the descending spout, the rush of water, and, - silhouetted against the water-tank, the Hawk could make out the fireman - standing on the back of the tender. And now, poking with his long-spouted - oil can, weirdly swallowed up in the darkness at intervals as he thrust - the torch far in under the big machine, the engineer moved slowly along - the side of the engine, and finally disappeared around the end of the - pilot. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk stole forward closer to the track again, his eyes on the fireman, - who, now that the engineers torch was on the other side, was more sharply - outlined than before. Came then the swish and gush of water as it - overflowed, the spout banged back against the water-tank, and the fireman - scrambled back over the tender into the cab. It was the moment the Hawk - had been waiting for. Swiftly, but still crawling as a safeguard against - being seen by any of the train crew in the rear, he moved up the - embankment, and in an instant had swung himself up between the tender and - the forward door of the express car. There was no platform here, of - course, but the end beam of the car, making a sort of wide threshold, gave - him ample room on which to stand. - </p> - <p> - The roar of escaping steam drowned out all other sounds; the back of the - tender hid him from any chance of observation from the cab. He tried the - door cautiously. It was locked, of course—there were twenty thousand - dollars' worth of stones in the safe inside! The Hawk felt carefully over - the lock with his fingers, classifying it in the darkness, as it were, by - the sense of touch, and produced from his packet his bunch of skeleton - keys. He inserted one of the keys, worked with it for a moment, then shook - his head, and selected another. This time he felt the lock-bolt slide - back. The train was jerking into motion now. He exchanged his keys for his - automatic, turned the knob softly, opened the door an inch, and listened. - Even the Wire Devils were not infallible, and if by any chance the - messenger— - </p> - <p> - The Hawk whistled low and contentedly under his breath. He had caught a - glimpse of the interior of the car—and now he slipped quickly - through the door, closing the door behind him. - </p> - <p> - A quarter length down the car, in the aisle made by the express packages - which were piled high on either side, the messenger, a young man of - perhaps twenty-two, was huddled, apparently unconscious, in his chair. In - a flash the Hawk was down the car, and bending sharply over the other. The - man sat in a helpless, sagging attitude; he was breathing heavily, and his - head, hanging forward and a little to one side, swayed limply with the - motion of the car. There was no question as to the messenger's condition—he - was drugged, and well drugged. From the man, the Hawk's eyes travelled to - a sort of desk, or ledge, built out from the side of the car, and topped - by a pigeonholed rack stuffed with express forms and official-looking - manila envelopes. On the desk was a small leather satchel containing some - lunch, and a bottle of what was evidently cold tea, now but barely a - quarter full; and, as though to supply further evidence that the man had - succumbed in the midst of his meal, a little to one side lay a meat - sandwich, half eaten. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk nodded quietly to himself, as again his eyes shifted—this - time to a small safe, about three feet square, that stood beneath the - desk. It was quite easy to understand now. The Wire Devils had only to - ascertain the fact that it was the messenger's habit to eat his lunch at a - certain time, choose the point of attack on the line to correspond - therewith, and see that a sufficient quantity of knockout drops was - introduced into the cold tea—not a very weighty undertaking for the - Wire Devils! - </p> - <p> - Well, it was a bit rough on the boy—the Hawk was kneeling now in - front of the safe—but he, the Hawk, was greatly indebted to the Wire - Devils! Twenty thousand dollars was a snug little sum—quite a snug - little sum! - </p> - <p> - The figure in the chair, with swaying head, breathed stertorously; there - was the pound, quick in its tempo, of the trucks beating at the rail - joints; the give-and-take of the car in protesting little creaks; and, - over all, a muffled roar as the Fast Mail tore through the night—but - the Hawk heard none of this. His ear was pressed close against the face of - the safe listening for the tumblers' fall, as his fingers twirled the dial - knob. - </p> - <p> - After a little while the Hawk spoke aloud. - </p> - <p> - “Left, twenty-eight, one quarter... two right, fourteen... two left, - eighteen, one-half,” he said. - </p> - <p> - He straightened up, swung the handle of the safe—and a dismayed, - anxious look flashed across his face. There was not much time, very little - time—-and he had missed it! How far along those three miles from - Burke's Siding to where the Butcher was waiting had the train already - come? - </p> - <p> - He tried again, coolly, methodically—and again he missed. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I'm out of practice to fall down on a tin box like this!” he - muttered grimly. “But the first two are right, that's sure—it's the - last turn that's wrong somewhere. Give me another minute or two”—he - was twirling the dial knob with deft, quick fingers once more—“that's - all I ask, and——” - </p> - <p> - A sudden jolt flung him forward against the safe. Came the scream of the - whistle, the screech of the tight-set brakes, the bump, and jerk, and - pound, and grind of the flying train coming to an emergency stop. The limp - form of the messenger, sliding down, was almost doubled over the arm of - the chair. - </p> - <p> - In an instant the Hawk had recovered his balance, and, his face set like - iron, his jaws clamped hard, he snatched at the knob, and with desperate - haste now made another attempt. There were a few seconds left, a few - seconds before the train would come finally to a standstill and—no, - they were gone now, those seconds—and he had missed again! - </p> - <p> - His automatic was in his hand as he stood up. It was no longer a question - of twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset diamonds—it was a - question of his life. There was a bitter smile on his lips, as he ran for - the forward door. It looked as though the pitcher had at last gone once - too often to the well! The train had stopped now. He reached the door, and - opened it guardedly a little way. A great red flare from somewhere ahead - lighted up the night. He heard and recognised the Butcher's voice, - menacing, raucous, punctuated with vicious oaths: - </p> - <p> - “Get out of that cab, and get out <i>damned</i> quick! Down you come—jump - now! Now, boys, run 'em back, and keep firing down the length of the train - as you go; and if these guys don't run faster than you do, let 'em have it - in the back! Beat it now—beat it like hell! I'll pull out the minute - you're uncoupled. You two grab the rear end as she moves, there's room - enough for you, and you can bust in the door, and——” - </p> - <p> - A fusilade of shots rang out. Flashes cut the black. The Butcher's two - companions, evidently driving the engineer and fireman before them, were - coming on the run along the trackside from the cab. The Hawk retreated - back a step, and closed the car door. He heard the men rush past outside. - The fusilade seemed to redouble in intensity; and now, added to it, were - shouts and yells from the rear of the train itself, and—if he were - not mistaken—answering shots. - </p> - <p> - His hand on the doorknob, he stood waiting tensely. With the Butcher on - guard out there in front, it would have been equivalent to suicide to have - opened the door again until he knew the other was back in the cab—against - the background of the lighted interior he would have made a most excellent - mark for the Butcher! - </p> - <p> - His eyes swept past the huddled form of the young messenger in the chair, - and fixed speculatively on the safe. He nodded suddenly, grimly. Twenty - thousand dollars! Well, he wasn't beaten yet—not till he threw down - his own hand of his own accord—not till he lost sight of the safe - for keeps! - </p> - <p> - Over the shouts and revolver shots came the sharp, vicious hiss of the - air-hose, as it was uncoupled; and then, with a violent jerk, the car - started forward, as the Butcher evidently whipped the throttle open. And, - coincidently, there was a smash upon the rear door—and the Hawk - opened the forward door and slipped out again. - </p> - <p> - A din infernal was in his ears. Like a maddened thing under the Butcher's - unscientific spur, the big ten-wheeler was coughing the sparks heavenward - in a volleying stream, while the huge drivers raced like pinwheels in - another shower of sparks as the tires sought to bite and hold. And now the - rear door of the car crashed inward; the shots came fast as a gatling, and - shouts, screams and yells added their quota to the uproar. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, crouched by the door, moved suddenly to one side, as he caught - the dull, ominous <i>spat</i> of a bullet against one of the panels. The - train crew and those of the passengers who were armed were, very - obviously, keeping up a running fight from the stalled section of the - train, and pumping their bul-lets through the broken rear door and up the - aisle of the express car as long as they could hold the range; and, from - within, he could distinguish the duller, muffled reports of the Butcher's - confederates firing in return, preventing any attempt being made to rush - the rear of the car. - </p> - <p> - And then the sounds began to recede and die away. The men inside the car - ceased firing, and he could hear them now moving the safe out from the - side of the car. It seemed as though a very long interval of time had been - consumed in the hold-up; but in reality he knew it had been little more - than a matter of seconds—the time it had taken the two men to run - the length of the car, uncouple it, and leap on the rear end. The fight - afterwards could hardly count, for once the express car began to pull away - the thing was done. - </p> - <p> - They were moving fast now, and with every instant the speed was - increasing. The Hawk clutched at the handrail, and lowered himself to the - iron foot-rung which, on the express car, served in lieu of steps. Here, - having chosen the opposite side to that of the Butcher at the throttle in - the cab, he ran no risk of being observed. This “five-mile crossing,” - wherever it was, promised to concern him a great deal more than he had - anticipated! He leaned out, and clung there, staring ahead. - </p> - <p> - The big ten-wheeler was swaying and staggering like a drunken thing; the - rush of the wind whipped at his face; a deafening roar sang in his ears. - The Fast Mail usually ran <i>fast</i>; but the Butcher was running like a - dare-devil, and the bark of the exhaust had quickened now into a single - full-toned note deep as thunder. - </p> - <p> - With a sort of grim placidity, the Hawk clung to the lurching rail. Far - ahead along the right of way, a shaft of light riven through walls of - blackness, played the headlight. Shadowy objects, trees that loomed up for - an instant and were gone, showed on the edge of the wavering ray. They - tore through a rock cut, and, in the confined space and in the fraction of - a second it took to traverse it, the roar was metamorphosed into an - explosion. And then suddenly, as though by magic, the headlight shot off - at a tangent, and the glistening lines of steel, that were always - converging but never meeting, were gone, and the ray fell full upon a - densely wooded tract where leaves and foliage became a soft and wonderful - shade of green under the artificial light. The Hawk braced himself—and - just in time. The ten-wheeler, unchecked, swung the curve with a mighty - lurch, off drivers fairly lifted from the rails. She seemed to hang there - hesitantly for a breathless instant, then with a crunch, staggering, - settled back and struck into her stride again. - </p> - <p> - The thunder of the exhaust ceased abruptly, and the speed began to - slacken. The Butcher had slammed the throttle shut. At the end of the - headlight's ray, that was straight along the track again, a red light - flashed up suddenly three times and vanished. The Hawk leaned farther out, - tense now, straining his eyes ahead. It was evidently Number Four and - Number Seven signalling from “five-mile crossing.” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher began to check with the “air.” And now, in the headlight's - glare, the distance shortened, the Hawk could discern a large wagon, drawn - by two horses, that appeared to be backed up close to the right-hand side - of the track. Two forms seemed to be tugging at the horses, which equally - seemed to be plunging restively—and then, being on the wrong side of - the car, the angle of vision narrowed and he could see no more. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk turned now—his eyes on the door of the car. There was a - possibility, a little more than a possibility, that the men inside, - knowing that they had reached their destination, would come out this way. - No—he had only to keep hidden from the men out there with the wagon - until the car stopped—the men within were sliding back the side - door. He swung himself still farther out on the foot-rung; then, curving - back with the aid of the handrail, flattened himself against the side of - the car. - </p> - <p> - They were close up to the wagon now, and he could hear voices cursing - furiously at the horses, as the frightened animals stamped and pawed. And - then the car bumped and jerked to a standstill, and the Butcher was - bawling from the cab: - </p> - <p> - “Take the horses out, you blamed fools, and tie 'em back there on the road - a bit till we're gone! We'd have a sweet time loading the wagon with them - doing the tango every second! Take 'em out! We'll back the wagon up - against the car.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk lowered himself silently to the ground—to find that the car - had come to a stop directly over a road crossing. The men in the car had - joined their voices with the Butcher's, and in the confusion now the Hawk - slipped quickly along the side of the car, stole around the rear end, and - from that point of vantage stood watching the Butcher and his men at work. - </p> - <p> - He could see quite plainly, thanks to the light from the car's wide-open - side door that flooded the scene. The horses had been unharnessed, and - were being led away along the road. One of the men in the car jumped to - the ground, as the Butcher called out, and together they backed the wagon - close up against the car doorway; and then, presently, the men who had - accompanied the horses, one carrying a lantern, came running back. The - Hawk's eyes, from a general and comprehensive survey of the scene, fixed - on the man who until now had not left the car, but who had now sprung down - into the wagon and was running a short plank, to be used as a skid - evidently, up to the threshold of the car door, which was a little above - the level of the wagon. The light shone full in the man's face. - </p> - <p> - “Number Six—Crusty Kline!” confided the Hawk softly to himself. “I'm - glad to know that. The last time I chummed with Crusty was back in little - old Sing Sing. Guess he got out for good behaviour—thought he was - elected for five spaces yet!” - </p> - <p> - Crusty spoke now, as he jumped back into the car. - </p> - <p> - “Look here, Butcher, I'm telling you again, this guy in here's in pretty - bad shape.” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind about that!” replied the Butcher roughly. “Get the safe out! - All hands now! We've got no time to monkey with him. He'll come around all - right, I guess—anyway, it's none of our lookout!” - </p> - <p> - The men were bunched together now, three in the doorway of the car and two - in the wagon, the safe between them. The Hawk was studying one of the two - who stood in the wagon. One was Whitie Jim, as he already knew, but the - other had had his back half turned, and the Hawk had not been able to see - his face. The safe slid down the plank, and was levered and pushed forward - into the middle of the wagon. - </p> - <p> - “French Pete!” said the Hawk suddenly and as softly as before, as the man - he had been watching straightened up and turned around. “Say, I guess Sing - Sing's gone out of business—or else somebody left the door open!” - </p> - <p> - But if the Hawk's words were indicative of a facetious mood, his actions - were not. There was a sort of dawning inspiration in the dark, narrowed - eyes; and the strong jaw, as it was outthrust, drew his lips into a grim, - hard smile. They were spreading a huge tarpaulin over the wagon and safe—and - abruptly the Hawk drew back, dropped to his hands and knees, crawled along - the trackside on the opposite side of the car again until almost opposite - the wagon, and there lay flat and motionless at the side of the road. - There was a chance yet, still a chance, a very good chance—for that - twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset stones. - </p> - <p> - “All right, now!” It was the Butcher's voice. “Pull her away a few feet - into the clear!” The wagon creaked and rattled. “That's enough! Now get a - move on—everybody!” - </p> - <p> - Steps crunched along the trackside—the Butcher and his two - companions obviously making for the cab—and a moment later came the - cough of the engine's exhaust, and the express car began to glide past the - spot where the Hawk lay. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk raised himself cautiously on his elbows. Two dark forms and a - bobbing lantern were already speeding toward where the horses had been - left. The Hawk crawled forward, crossed the track—and paused. The - engine and express car were fast disappearing in the distance; the lantern - glimmered amongst the trees at the side of the road a good hundred yards - away. - </p> - <p> - There was no shadow to fall across the back of the wagon. - </p> - <p> - “I said it was a nice night, and that it was strange how some people - preferred a moon!” observed the Hawk cheerfully—and, lifting the end - of the tarpaulin, he swung noiselessly under it into the wagon, and - stretched himself out beside the safe. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - X—THE THIRD PARTY - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Hawk felt - upward with his hand over the safe. It was faced, he found, toward the - rear of the wagon. This necessitated a change in his own position. He - listened tensely. They were coming back with the horses now, but they were - still quite a little way off. He shifted quickly around until his head and - shoulders were in front of the safe. - </p> - <p> - “It was the last turn of the combination that I fell down on, though I - don't see how it happened!” muttered the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - He felt above his head again, this time rubbing his fingers critically - over the tarpaulin—and then the diminutive little flashlight winked, - winked again as it played around him, and finally held steadily on the - nickel dial. There were no inadvertent openings, and, particularly, no - holes in the tarpaulin, and the texture of the tarpaulin was a guarantee - that the tiny rays of light would not show through. - </p> - <p> - They were harnessing the horses into the wagon now. The Hawk, in a - somewhat cramped position, due to the wagon's narrow width, his legs - twisted at right angles to his body as he lay on his back, reached up and - began to twirl the dial knob slowly and with painstaking care. - </p> - <p> - “Left, twenty-eight, one quarter,” murmured the Hawk; and, a moment later: - “Two right, four——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk swore earnestly under his breath. The jolt of the wagon, coming - unexpectedly as it started forward, had caused him to spin the knob too - far around. - </p> - <p> - It was hot, stifling hot, under the heavy tarpaulin, that, slanting - downward from the little safe, lay almost against his face. A bead of - sweat had gathered on his forehead. He brushed it away, and began again to - work at the dial. It was more difficult now—the wagon bumped - infernally. And as he worked, he could hear the muffled clatter of the - horses' hoofs, and occasionally the voices of the two men on the seat. - </p> - <p> - And then suddenly the Hawk's fingers travelled from the dial knob to the - handle. Had he got it this time, or—yes! The handle swung easily—there - was a low metallic thud—the bolt had slipped back to the end of its - grooves. The safe was unlocked! - </p> - <p> - “Twenty thousand dollars!” said the Hawk very softly—and, without - the slightest sound, he edged his body backwards to afford space for the - swing of the opening door. “Twenty thousand doll——” - </p> - <p> - The word died, half uttered, on the Hawk's lips. The flashlight was - illuminating the interior of the safe. On the bottom lay a single, crisp, - ten-dollar counterfeit note, over the face of which was scrawled in ink—“<i>With - the Hawk's compliments!</i>” Otherwise the safe was empty. - </p> - <p> - For a moment, like a man dazed, he stared at the counterfeit note. He - could not seem to believe his eyes, Empty—the safe was empty! The - diamonds were gone—gone! Gone—and these poor fools were - driving an empty safe to the Master Spider—and another poor fool, - with dropped jaw, was staring, gaping like an imbecile, into one! And - then, a grip upon himself again, he laughed low, grimly, unpleasantly. - “With the Hawk's compliments!” He had sent a bill like that once to - MacVightie inscribed—“With the Hawk's compliments!” This was very - neat, very clever of—<i>somebody</i>. Of somebody—who must - have known what the Wire Devils were up to to-night! There would be no - doubt in the minds of the Wire Devils, who would have heard of that little - episode with MacVightie, but that the Hawk had again forestalled them, and - left them a ten-dollar counterfeit bill in exchange for—twenty - thousand dollars' worth of unset diamonds! Only it was this somebody, and - not he, the Hawk, who was twenty thousand dollars the richer for it! - </p> - <p> - He reached in, picked up the bill to put it in his, pocket—and - suddenly laid it back again, and closed and locked the safe. Why deprive - the Master Spider of a little joy; and, besides, it would carry a message - not perhaps so erroneous after all—for, in a flash, logically, - indisputably, apparently impossible though it appeared to be on the - surface, he knew who that <i>somebody</i> was. The shelving of the theft - to the Hawk's shoulders would have defeated its own object unless the - theft were committed and discovered on this particular division of the - railroad where the Hawk and, incidentally, his supposed gang of - desperadoes were known to be operating. The messenger certainly had not - been in a drugged condition when he went on duty, and, since it was only - reasonable to assume that he would have satisfied himself everything was - all right at that time, it was evident, as he had given no alarm, that the - contents of the safe had been intact when he took charge—whether as - a “through” man in New York, or at the eastern terminus of the road, or at - the last divisional point—it did not matter which. The robbery, - then, had been committed while the messenger was present in the car—and - it had been committed on this division. The safe had not been forced, it - showed not the slightest sign of violence—it had been opened on the - combination. Some one then, an expert safe-worker, in the first stages of - the messenger's drugged condition, had happened into the car just ahead of - him, the Hawk, and had done exactly what he, the Hawk, had intended to do? - </p> - <p> - “No,” said the Hawk. “No, I guess not.” He was wriggling noiselessly - backward, and his feet were hanging out now over the end of the wagon. “No—coincidences - like that don't happen—not very often!” The Hawk's head and - shoulders were still under the tarpaulin, but his feet now could just feel - the ground beneath them. “I guess,” said the Hawk, as he suddenly withdrew - his head, and, crouching low, ran a few steps with the wagon, then dropped - full length in the road, “I guess it's—the third party.” - </p> - <p> - The wagon disappeared in the darkness. The Hawk rose, and, turning, broke - into a run back along the road. - </p> - <p> - He had been longer in the wagon than he had thought—it took him ten - minutes to regain the railroad tracks. - </p> - <p> - Here, without pause, still running, he kept on along the right of way—but - there was a hard twist to his lips, and the clenching of his fists was not - wholly due to runner's “form.” How far had the Butcher taken the car - before deserting it? A mile? Two miles—three? He could not run three - miles under half an hour, and that would be <i>fast</i> over railroad - ties! How long would it be before the train crew of the stalled Mail got - back to Burke's Siding and managed somehow, in spite of the cut wires, to - give the alarm—or how long before the dispatcher at Selkirk, with - the Fast Mail reported “out” at Burke's Siding and no “O. S.” from - Bradley, would smell a rat? It would take time after that, of course, - before anything could be done; but, at best, the margin left for him was - desperately narrow. - </p> - <p> - He ran on and on; his eyes, grown accustomed to the darkness, enabling him - to pick out the ties with a fair degree of accuracy. There was not a sound - save that of his own footsteps. He stopped for breath again and again; and - again and again ran on at top speed. It seemed as though he had run not - three miles, but six, when finally, far ahead, he caught a glow of light. - The Butcher and his confederates had evidently not taken the trouble to - close the side door of the car! - </p> - <p> - Instinctively, the Hawk, in caution, slowed his pace—and the next - instant, smiling pityingly at himself for the act, ran on the faster. The - Butcher and the other two would long since have made their getaway! There - was only the messenger—and the messenger was drugged. That was all - that need concern him now—the messenger—to find some way to - rouse the man so that he could talk. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk reached the car, ran along the side to the open door—and - stood suddenly still. And then, with a low, startled cry, he swung himself - up and through the doorway, and running forward, knelt beside a huddled - form on the floor. It was the messenger, sprawled on his face now, - motionless, and it was no longer a case of being drugged—<i>the man - had been shot!</i> There was a dark, ugly pool on the flooring, and a thin - red stream had trickled away in a zigzag course along one of the planks. - The Hawk's lips were tight. The Butcher's work! But why? <i>Why?</i> Yes! - Yes, he understood! The Butcher, too, in some way had discovered that the - messenger was—the third party! - </p> - <p> - The boy—he was even more of a boy now in appearance, it seemed to - the Hawk, with his ashen face and colourless lips—the boy moaned a - little, and, as the Hawk lifted him up, opened his eyes. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk produced a flask, and forced a few drops between the other's - lips. - </p> - <p> - “Listen!” he said distinctly. “Try and understand what I am saying. Did - they get the diamonds from you after they shot you?” - </p> - <p> - The boy's eyes widened with a quick, sudden fear. Perhaps the drug had - begun to wear off—perhaps it was the wound and the loss of blood - that had cleared his brain. - </p> - <p> - “The diamonds?” he faltered. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk grimly. “The diamonds! You took them. Did you tell - those men where they were?” - </p> - <p> - “It's—it's a lie!” The boy seemed to shiver convulsively. Then, his - voice scarcely audible: “No, it's—it's true. I—I did. I—I - guess I'm going out—ain't I? It's—it's true. But I—I - didn't tell. There weren't any men—I——” He had fainted - in the Hawk's arms. - </p> - <p> - “My God!” whispered the Hawk solemnly. “It's true—the kid's dying.” - </p> - <p> - He held the flask to the other's lips again. It wasn't the Butcher, then, - who had shot the boy; and, besides, he saw now that the wound was in a - strangely curious place—in the back, below the shoulder blade; the - boy had been sitting in his shirt sleeves, and the back of his vest was - soaked with blood. And the Hawk remembered the fusillade of bullets that - had swept up the interior of the car, and the <i>spat</i> upon the forward - door panel as he had crouched there outside—and he understood. The - boy, sitting in a stupor in his chair facing the forward door, had been - directly in the line of fire, and a stray bullet had found its mark. - </p> - <p> - “I—I don't know how you knew”—the boy had roused, and was - speaking again—“but—but I'm going out—and—and it's - true. Two days ago, a man gave me a hundred dollars to stand for—for - knockout drops on the run to-night. I—I couldn't get caught—I—I - was safe—whatever happened. I'd be found drugged—and—and - no blame coming to me—and——” He motioned weakly toward - the flask in the Hawk's hand. “Give me—give me some more of that!” - </p> - <p> - He did not speak for a moment. - </p> - <p> - “And, instead,” prompted the Hawk quietly, “you double-crossed the game.” - </p> - <p> - “I—I had a counterfeit ten-dollar bill,” the boy went on with an - effort. “I'd heard about the Hawk—and—and MacVightie. I knew - from what:—the fellow said—that the Hawk—wasn't one of - them. I—I got to thinking. All I had to do was empty the safe—and—and - write just what the Hawk did on the bill—and—and shove it in - the safe—and—and take the diamonds—and—and then - drink the tea that had the drops in it. I—I would be drugged, and - they—they'd think the Hawk did it while I was drugged before they—they - got here—and—and that's what I did.” - </p> - <p> - The boy was silent again. It was still outside, very still—only the - chirpings of the insects and the night-sounds the Hawk had listened to - while he had lain below the embankment waiting for the train at Burke's - Siding. There was a set, strained look on the Hawk's face. The kid was - paying the long price—for twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset - diamonds! - </p> - <p> - “To make it look like—like the real thing”—the boy's lips were - moving again—“I—I cleaned out everything in the safe—but—but - of course there mustn't any of that be found—and—and I tied - the stuff up—and—and weighted it, and dropped it—into—the—river - as we came over the bridge at Moosehead. And then I had to—to hide - the diamonds so they wouldn't be found on me, and yet so's they—they'd - come along with me—and—and not be left in the car. I was - afraid that when some of the train crew found me drugged—they—they'd - undress me—and—and put me to bed—and—and so I - didn't dare hide the diamonds in my clothes. They're—they're—in——” - He raised himself up suddenly, clutched frantically at the Hawk's - shoulders and his voice rang wildly through the car. “Hold me tight—hold - me tight—don't let me go out yet—I—I got something more - to say! Don't tell her! Don't tell her! I'll tell you where the stones - are, they're in the lining of my lunch satchel—but don't—oh, - for God's sake, don't tell her—don't let her know that—that - I'm a—thief! You don't have to, do you? Say you don't! I'm—I'm - going out—I—I've got what's coming to me, and that's—enough—isn't - it—without her knowing too? It—it would kill her. She was a - good mother—do you hear!” - </p> - <p> - He was stiffening back in the Hawk's arms. “And this ain't coming to her. - She was a good mother—do you hear—everybody called her mother, - but she's <i>my</i> mother—you know—old Mother Barrett—short-order - house—you know—old—Mother—Barrett—good——” - </p> - <p> - The boy never spoke again. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk laid the still form gently back on the floor of the car, and - stood up. And there was a mist in the Hawk's eyes that blotted out his - immediate surroundings, and in the mist he seemed to see another scene, - and it was the picture of a gentle, kindly-faced old woman, who had silver - hair, and who wore clothes that were a little threadbare, and whose grey - Irish eyes behind the spectacles were filled with tears, and he seemed to - see the thin shoulders square proudly back, and he seemed to hear her - speak again: “I love my boy, I love him with all my heart, but I should a - thousand times rather see him dead than know him for a thief.” - </p> - <p> - Mechanically the Hawk moved over to the desk where the lunch satchel still - lay, and emptied out the remainder of the food. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said the Hawk, “I guess she'll never know; and I guess I'd have to - take the stuff now, anyway, whether I wanted to or not—if she's not - to know.” He was examining the inside of the satchel. It was an old and - well-worn affair, and a torn piece of the lining, stuck down with paste at - the edges, would ordinarily have attracted no attention. The Hawk loosened - this, and felt inside. At the bottom, carefully packed away, were strips - of cotton wadding. He took one out. Embedded in this were a number of - diamonds, which, as he drew the wadding apart, flashed brilliantly in the - light of the oil lamps above his head. He wrapped the stones up again, and - put them in his pocket—took out the remainder from the satchel, put - these also in his pocket, and replaced in the satchel the portion of the - lunch he had removed. It mattered little about the torn lining now! - </p> - <p> - “He kind of put it up to me,” said the Hawk slowly. “Yes, and she did too—without - knowing it—old Mother Barrett. It's kind of queer she should have - said that—kind of queer.” The Hawk pulled the drawer of the desk - open, and nodded as he found and took out the messenger's revolver. - “Thought he'd have one, and that it would most likely be here,” he - muttered. - </p> - <p> - He crossed the car, and listened intently at the open side door. There was - no sound—nothing, for instance, coming from Bradley yet. He closed - the door, and stood for an instant looking down at the boy's form on the - floor. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I can fix it for you, kid—maybe,” he said simply. “I guess - I can.” - </p> - <p> - In rapid succession he fired five of the seven shots from the revolver; - then, stooping, laid the weapon, as though it had dropped at last from - nerveless fingers, just beside the boy's outstretched hand. He - straightened up, stepped to the side door, and slid it open again. - </p> - <p> - “It'll let the smoke out before anybody gets here,” said the Hawk. “The - Butcher isn't coming forward with any testimony, and with all those shots - fired at the time of the hold-up who's to know the boy didn't fight till - he went down and out? And now I guess I'll make my own getaway!” He - dropped to the trackside, and started forward at a brisk pace. “I'll keep - on a bit until I hear something coming,” he decided. “Then I'll lay low - while they're cleaning up the line, and wait till I can hop a freight, - east or west, that will get me out of this particular locality. After - that, there's nothing to it!” - </p> - <p> - A hundred yards farther on the Hawk spoke again, and there was a twisted - smile on the Hawk's lips. - </p> - <p> - “It'll break her heart anyway, I guess,” he said; “but it'll help some - maybe to be proud of him. Yes, I guess they'll tell her that, all right—that - he died a game kid.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XI—THE LEAD CAPSULE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk yawned. He - had been almost forty-eight hours without sleep. He had slept all day - after he had regained his room, following the night at “Five-Mile - Crossing,” but after that—— - </p> - <p> - He frowned in a perturbed and puzzled way. Ensconced now in a wicker - lounging chair in the observation car of the Coast Limited, he was - apparently engrossed in the financial page of his newspaper, and - apparently quite oblivious of his fellow travellers, some four or five of - whom lounged and smoked in their own respective wicker chairs around him. - On a little pad of paper, which he held in his left hand, he might even, - without serious tax upon the imagination, have appeared to be calculating - the effect of the market's fluctuations upon personal, and perhaps - narrowly held, margins—for again he scowled unhappily. The Hawk, - however, at the moment, was engrossed solely with a few curiously assorted - letters of the alphabet, which were scrawled across the top of the pad. - They ran: - </p> - <p> - pzudl kmlqpb. - </p> - <p> - Beneath this his pencil had already been at work, and he had transformed - the line as follows: - </p> - <p> - He was staring at this result now in a bewildered way. Then his pencil - picked out the remaining five unscored letters, and mechanically set them - down as a third line: - </p> - <p> - “Rainy”—there was one word, just one word—“rainy.” What did it - mean? What was the significance of the word? No message in the Wire - Devils' cipher, once the message was decoded, but had been at once clear - and unmistakable in its meaning before. Had they resorted now to <i>code</i> - words as well, to a cipher within a cipher? Into the grimness of the - Hawk's smile there crept a hint of weariness, as he slipped the pad into - his pocket, allowed the newspaper to drop to his knees, and, edging his - chair around, gazed out of the window. - </p> - <p> - For once his knowledge of their cipher was obviously useless to him—and - useless when a foreknowledge of their plans at that moment meant scarcely - less than a matter of life and death to him in a very unpleasantly real - and literal sense. Not a word had come from them; not a message had gone - over the wires on either of the two preceding nights; not a sign of - existence had they given since three nights ago when, with an empty safe - as the sole reward for their elaborately laid plans, he, the Hawk, had - enriched himself with the twenty thousand dollars' worth of diamonds it - had once contained. There had been something sinister, something ominous - in their silence, as compared with the almost insane ravings of - MacVightie, the police, and the press—yes, and the railroad men as - well, who were particularly incensed over the “murder” of the young - messenger found dead at his post in the express car with his revolver - partially emptied on the floor beside him. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk drummed abstractedly with his finger tips upon the window pane. - MacVightie, the police, and the press made no doubt but that he, the Hawk, - was the leader of the desperadoes who were terrorising that particular - section of the country; on the other hand, the gang itself had already had - occasions enough and in plenty to be painfully aware that he, the Hawk, - played always a lone hand—and won! A smile, grim and ironical, - parted the firm, set lips. The police and the Wire Devils had a common - interest—the Hawk. He was the storm centre. - </p> - <p> - The smile faded, the strong jaws clamped, and the dark eyes narrowed on - the flying landscape. It was not the police who concerned him, it was not - the impotent frothings of the press—it was the <i>silence</i> that - the Wire Devils had not broken since that night until they had broken it - this morning with the single word that, now that he had deciphered it, - still meant nothing to him. A dozen times, stealing their cipher messages, - he had turned all their carefully prepared plans to his own account, and - snatched away the prize, even as they were in the act of reaching for it. - But he was not a fool to close his eyes to the inevitable result. He was - pitted against the cleverest brains in the criminal world; all the cunning - that they knew would be ruthlessly turned against him; and, already out to - “get” him, a price already guaranteed to the lucky member of the band out - of the common funds, the empty safe of three nights before, with its - jeering ten-dollar counterfeit bill flung in their faces, crowned, he - feared, their injuries at his hands, and marked the turning point where - they would leave no stone unturned to wreak their vengeance upon him. - </p> - <p> - And he did not like this silence of theirs since that night. Were they - suspicious at last that he had the key to their cipher? He did not think - so, and yet he did not know—it was always a possibility. But in any - case, wary of any move they might make, he had, as far as it was humanly - possible, remained within sound of a telegraph instrument ever since. Last - night, for example, taking advantage of some repairs that were being made - on the station at Elk Head, fifty miles east of Selkirk, he had lain - hidden behind a mass of building material in the dismantled waiting room - within earshot of the telegraph sounder—and there had been nothing. - Forced to retire from there by the advent of the workmen, he had eaten a - very leisurely breakfast at the lunch counter—still within earshot - of the sounder. He had lingered around the station as long as he had dared - without running the risk of exciting suspicion, and then he had taken the - local east for Bald Creek—and taken the chance, because he had no - choice, that nothing would “break” over the wires during the - three-quarters of an hour that he was on the train. The Limited scheduled - Bald Creek, and that would give him an excuse for remaining there, an - innocent and prospective patron of the road, until the Limited's arrival - some two hours later. After that, if nothing happened, he had intended to - go back on the Limited to Selkirk—and get some sleep. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk yawned heavily again. Yes, after an almost uninterrupted vigil of - forty-eight hours one needed sleep. Well, he was on his way back to - Selkirk now—on the Limited. Only something <i>had</i> happened. - Almost at the moment that the Limited had pulled into Bald Creek, the Wire - Devils had broken their silence, and a cipher message had flashed over the - wires. He had waited for it, fought for it, schemed for it, gone without - sleep for two days and nights for it—and he had been rewarded. He - had intercepted the message, deciphered it, he had got it at last—he - had it now! It was the one word—“rainy.” And the word to him meant—nothing! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's fingers ceased their drumming on the window pane, his head - inclined slightly to one side, and he listened. His fellow travellers had - evidently scraped up acquaintanceship. The conversation had become general—and - suddenly interesting. - </p> - <p> - “... Yes, unquestionably! The amount I have with me is worth quite easily - a half million francs—a hundred thousand dollars. It is not my - personal property, I regret to say. Quantities sufficient to be of - material service are for the most part institutionally held.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk swung around in his chair, and with frank interest surveyed the - little group. He had scanned them once already, critically, - comprehensively—at the moment he had first entered the car. The man - who sat nearest to him was a doctor from Selkirk; and, it being the - ingrained policy of the Hawk to know a reporter as he would know a - plain-clothes man, he had recognised one of the others as a young reporter - on the staff of the Selkirk <i>Evening Journal</i>. The others again, of - whom there were three, were strangers to him. His eyes rested—with - frank interest—on the man who had just spoken. There had been just a - trace of accent in the other's perfect English, and it bore out the man's - appearance. The man was perhaps forty-five years of age, rather swarthy in - complexion, and, though slight in build, commanding in presence. The black - Vandyke beard, as well as the mustache, was carefully trimmed; and his - face had an air of the student about it, an air that was enhanced by the - extraordinarily heavy-lensed spectacles which he wore. The excellent - clothes were unmistakably of foreign cut. - </p> - <p> - “Great Scott!” ejaculated the reporter. “Is that straight?” He twisted his - cigar excitedly from one corner of his mouth to the other. “I say, I don't - suppose there's a chance of getting a squint at it, eh?” - </p> - <p> - “A—squint?” The foreigner's face was politely puzzled. - </p> - <p> - “I mean a chance to see it—to see what it looks like,” interpreted - the reporter, with a laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, of course—a squint. I will remember that!” The foreigner - joined in the laugh. “One learns, monsieur, always, eh—if one keeps - one's ears open!” He reached down and picked up a small black bag from the - floor beside his chair. “No, I am afraid I cannot actually show it to you, - monsieur, owing to the nature of the container; but perhaps even the - manner in which it is carried may be of interest, and, if so, I shall be - delighted.” - </p> - <p> - The others, the Hawk among them, leaned spontaneously forward in their - chairs. From the bag the man produced a lead box, some four inches square. - He opened this, and, from where it was nested in wadding, took out what - looked like a cylindrical-shaped piece of lead of the thickness and length - of one's little finger. He held it out in the palm of his hand for their - inspection. - </p> - <p> - “Inside this sealed lead covering,” he explained, “is a glass tube - hermetically sealed. The lead, of course, absorbs the rays, which - otherwise would render the radium extremely dangerous to handle. You - perhaps remember the story—if not, it may possibly be of interest. - Radium, you know, was discovered in 1898 by Monsieur and Madame Curie; but - the action of radium on human tissues was unknown until 1901, when - Professor Becquerel of Paris, having incautiously carried a tube in his - waistcoat pocket, there appeared on the skin within two weeks the severe - inflammation which has become known as the famous 'Becquerel burn.' Since - that time, I may add, active investigation into the action of radium has - been carried on, resulting in the establishment in Paris in 1906 of the - Laboratoire Biologique du Radium.” - </p> - <p> - The doctor from Selkirk reached out, and, obtaining a smiling permission, - picked up the lead cylinder from the other's hand. The reporter sucked - noisily on the butt of his cigar. - </p> - <p> - “And d'ye mean to say <i>that's</i> worth one hundred thousand dollars?” - he demanded helplessly. - </p> - <p> - “Fully!” replied the foreigner gravely. “I should consider myself very - fortunate if I had the means and the opportunity of purchasing it at that - price. There are only a few grains there, it is true, and yet even that is - a very appreciable percentage of the world's entire output for a single - year. The Austrian Government, when it bought the radium-producing - pitchblende mines at Joachimsthal, you know, acquired what is practically - a world's monopoly of radium. And since the annual production of ore from - those mines is but about twenty-two thousand pounds, and that from those - twenty-two thousand pounds only something like forty-six grains of radium - are obtained, it is not difficult to understand the enormous price which - it commands.” - </p> - <p> - The little lead cylinder passed from hand to hand. It came last to the - Hawk. He examined it with no more and no less interest than had been - displayed by the others, and returned it to its owner, who replaced it in - the black handbag. - </p> - <p> - “Look here,” said the reporter impulsively, “I don't want to nose into - personal affairs; but, if it's a fair question, what are you going to do - with the stuff?” - </p> - <p> - It was the doctor from Selkirk who spoke before the foreigner had time to - reply. - </p> - <p> - “I was being tempted to ask the same question myself,” he said quickly. “I - am a physician—Doctor Moreling is my name—and from what you - have said I imagine that possibly you are a medical man yourself?” - </p> - <p> - “And you are quite right,” the other answered cordially. “I am Doctor - Meunier, and I come from Paris.” - </p> - <p> - “What!” exclaimed the Selkirk physician excitedly. “Not Doctor Meunier, - the famous cancer specialist and surgeon of the Salpêtrière Hospital!” - </p> - <p> - The other shrugged his shoulders protestingly. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he smiled, a little embarrassed, “my name is certainly Meunier, - and it is true that I have the honour to be connected with the institution - you have mentioned.” - </p> - <p> - The reporter had a notebook in his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Gee!” he observed softly. “You don't mind, do you, Doctor Meunier? This - looks like luck to me. I'm on the <i>Evening Journal</i>—Selkirk.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah—a reporter!” The dark eyes seemed to twinkle humorously from - behind the heavy lenses. “I have met some—when I landed in New York. - They were very nice. I liked them very much. Certainly, young man, why - should you not say anything I have told you? You have my permission.” - </p> - <p> - “Fine!” cried the reporter enthusiastically. “And now, Doctor Meunier, if - you'll just round out the story by telling us why the celebrated Paris - surgeon is travelling in America with a hundred thousand dollars' worth of - radium, I'll be glad I got panned on the story I went after this morning - and so had to take this train back.” - </p> - <p> - “Panned?” inquired the other gravely. - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” The reporter nodded. “It blew up, you know.” - </p> - <p> - “Blew up! Ah!” The foreigner's face was at once concerned. “So! You were - in an accident, then?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” laughed the reporter. “There wasn't anything in the story. It - didn't have any foundation.” - </p> - <p> - “Again I learn,” observed the foreigner, with an amused drawl. He studied - the reporter for an instant quizzically. “And so I am to supply the place - of the panned story that blew up—is that it? Well, very well! Why - not? I see no reason against it, if it will be of service to you. Very - well, then. I have been summoned to Japan to attend a case of cancer—radium - treatment—and I am on my way there now.” He smiled again. “I have - noticed that American reporters are observant, and it may occur to you - that I might have reached my destination quicker by way of Russia. As a - matter of fact, however, I was in New York attending a convention when I - received the summons. I cabled for the radium, and—well, young man, - that pretty well completes the story.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—thanks!” said the reporter. He wrote rapidly. “Operation on a - Japanese?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes, of course—on a Japanese.” - </p> - <p> - “'Summoned,' you said. That listens as though it might be for one of the - Emperor's family,” prodded the reporter shrewdly. - </p> - <p> - “I did not say so,” smiled the other imperturbably. - </p> - <p> - “And even if it were so——” He shrugged his shoulders - significantly. - </p> - <p> - “I get you!” grinned the reporter. “Well, there's no harm in saying a - 'High Personage' then, is there? That sounds good, and it would have to be - some one on the top of the heap to bring a man like you all this way.” - </p> - <p> - “Let us be discreet, young man, and say—well, let us say, a member - of prominent family,” suggested the other, still smiling. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” agreed the reporter. “I won't put anything over on you, I - promise you. And now, doctor, tell us something more about radium, how it - acts and all that, and how an operation is performed with it, and——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had apparently lost interest. He settled back in his chair, and - picked up his previously discarded newspaper—yet occasionally his - eyes strayed over the top of his newspaper, and rested meditatively on the - little black handbag on the car floor beside the Frenchman's chair. The - doctor from Selkirk, the reporter, and the French specialist talked on. - The Limited reached the last stop before Selkirk. As the train pulled out - again, the Hawk, as it were, summed up his thoughts. - </p> - <p> - “A hundred thousand dollars,” confided the Hawk softly to himself. “Maybe - it wouldn't be easy to sell, but it would make a very nice haul—a - very nice haul. It would tempt—almost anybody. Yes, bad stuff to - handle; the fences would be leery probably, because I guess every last - grain on this little old globe is catalogued as to ownership, and they'd - be afraid it would be an open-and-shut game that what they were trying to - shove would be spotted as the stolen stuff—not that it couldn't be - done though, at that! There's always somebody to take a chance—on a - hundred thousand dollars! And what about the institution that owns it - coming across big and no questions asked to get it back again? Yes, I - guess it would make a nice haul—a very nice haul. I wonder——” - </p> - <p> - The conductor had entered the car, had said something that the Hawk had - not caught—and now the French specialist was on his feet. - </p> - <p> - “How long did you say?” he demanded excitedly. - </p> - <p> - “I didn't say,” replied the conductor; “I only guessed—twelve hours - anyway, and if we're through under twenty-four it'll be because some one - has performed a miracle.” - </p> - <p> - “Twelve hours—twenty-four!” echoed the Frenchman wildly. “But, <i>mon - Dieu</i>, I have not that to spare to catch my steamer for Japan in San - Francisco!” - </p> - <p> - “But what's wrong, conductor?” asked the Selkirk doctor. “You haven't told - us that.” - </p> - <p> - “The Rainy River bridge is out,” the conductor answered. - </p> - <p> - The <i>Rainy</i> River bridge! The Hawk reached into his pocket, withdrew - his cigarette case, and made a critical choice of one of the six identical - cigarettes the case contained. - </p> - <p> - “Out! How?” the doctor from Selkirk persisted. - </p> - <p> - “No details,” said the conductor; “except that it was blown up a little - while ago and that they think it's the work of the Hawk's gang. They just - got word over the wire at the last stop.” - </p> - <p> - “Jumping whiskers!” yelled the reporter. “Is that right, conductor?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I guess it's right, fast enough,” said the conductor grimly. He - turned to the Frenchman. “It's tough luck, sir, to miss transpacific - connections; but I guess that's the man you've got to thank for it—the - Hawk.” - </p> - <p> - “The Hawk? What is that? Who is the Hawk?” The Frenchman had lost his - poise; he was gesticulating violently now. - </p> - <p> - “I'll tell you,” said the reporter briskly. “He's the man that's got your - original reign of terror skinned a mile—believe me! He's an ex-Sing - Sing convict, and he's the head, brains and front of a gang of criminals - operating out here compared with whom, for pure, first-water deviltry, any - one of Satan's picked cohorts would look as shy and retiring as a maiden - lady of sixty who suddenly found herself in a one-piece bathing suit—in - public. That's the Hawk! Yes, sir—believe me!” - </p> - <p> - Doctor Meunier waved his hands, as though to ward off a swarm of buzzing - bees. - </p> - <p> - “I do not understand!” he spluttered angrily. “I do not care to - understand! You do not speak English! I understand only of the delay!” He - caught at the conductor's sleeve. “You, monsieur—is there not - something that can be done?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know, sir,” said the conductor. “We'll be in Selkirk now in a few - minutes, and the best thing you can do is to see Mr. Lanson, the - superintendent.” - </p> - <p> - The conductor retired. - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman sat down in his chair, mopped his face with a handkerchief, - and stared from one to another of his fellow passengers. - </p> - <p> - “Messieurs, it is necessary, it is imperative, that I catch the steamer!” - he cried frantically. “What am I to do?” - </p> - <p> - “Lanson's a good head; he'll fix you up some way,” said the reporter - soothingly. “Don't you worry. I'm mighty sorry for you, Doctor Meunier, - upon my soul—but, say, this is <i>some</i> story—whale of a - climax!” - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman glared for an instant; then, leaning forward, suddenly shook - his fist under the other's nose. - </p> - <p> - “Young man, damn your story!” he snarled distractedly. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk retired once more behind his newspaper. The reporter was - pacifying the excited Frenchman. The Hawk was not interested in that. The - message, that single word which had puzzled him, was transparently clear - now—and had been from the moment the conductor had spoken. The - surmise of the railroad officials, even if it were no more than surmise on - their part, was indubitably correct—barring the slight detail of his - own participation in the affair! The Wire Devils had blown up the Rainy - River bridge. This, as a detached fact, did not interest him either—they - were quite capable of blowing up a bridge, or anything else. That was a - detail. But they were quite incapable of doing it without a very good and - sufficient reason, and one that promised returns of a very material nature - to themselves. What was the game? Why the Rainy River bridge? Why this - morning? Why at this time? The Rainy River bridge was but a few miles west - of Selkirk, and—the Hawk's eyes strayed over his newspaper again, - and rested mildly upon the Frenchman's little black handbag, that was - quite slim, and not over long, that was of such a size, in fact, that it - might readily be concealed under one's coat, for instance, without - attracting undue attention—and with the bridge out a passenger, say - on the Coast Limited this noon would experience an annoying, somewhat - lengthened, but unavoidable interruption in his journey. The passenger - might even be forced to spend the night in Selkirk, and very much might - happen in a night—in Selkirk! It was a little elaborate, it seemed - as though it might perhaps have been accomplished with a little less fuss—though - lack of finesse and exceeding cunning was, in his experience, an unmerited - reproach where that unknown brain that planned and plotted the Wire - Devils' acts was concerned; but, however that might be, the reason that - the Rainy River bridge was out now appeared quite obviously attributable—to - a very excited foreigner, and a little black handbag whose contents were - valued at the modest sum of one hundred thousand dollars. - </p> - <p> - “And I wonder,” said the Hawk almost plaintively to himself, “I wonder - which of us will cash in on that!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk rose leisurely from his chair, as the train reached Selkirk. He - permitted the Frenchman, the Selkirk physician and the reporter to descend - to the platform in advance of him; but, as they hurried through the - station and around to the entrance leading upstairs to the divisional - offices, obviously with the superintendent's office as their objective, - the Hawk, in the privileged character of an interested fellow traveller, - fell into step with the reporter. - </p> - <p> - The four entered the superintendent's office, and from an unobtrusive - position just inside the door the Hawk listened to the conversation. He - heard Lan-son, the superintendent, confirm the conductor's story, and - express genuine regret at the Frenchman's plight, as he admitted it to be - a practical certainty that the other would miss his connection in San - Francisco. The Frenchman but grew the more excited. He suggested a special - train from the western side of the bridge—they could get him across - in a boat, he said. The superintendent explained that traffic in the - mountains beyond was already demoralised. The Frenchman raved, begged, - pleaded, implored—and suddenly the Hawk sucked in his breath softly. - The Frenchman was backing his appeal for a special with the offer to pay - any sum demanded, and had taken a well-filled pocketbook from his pocket. - The Hawk's eyes aimlessly sought the toes of his boots. He had caught a - glimpse of a fat wad of bills, a very fat wad, whose denominations were of - a large and extremely interesting nature. The official shook his head. It - was not a question of money; nor was the other's ability to pay in - question. Later on, he, Lanson, would know better what the situation was; - meanwhile he suggested that Doctor Meunier should go to the hotel and wait—that - there was nothing else to do for the moment. The Selkirk physician here - intervened, and, agreeing with the superintendent, offered to escort the - Frenchman to the Corona Hotel. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, as one whose curiosity was satiated, but satiated at the expense - of time he could ill afford, nodded briefly to the reporter who stood - nearest to him, and quietly left the room. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XII—BLINDMAN'S-BUFF - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>IVE minutes later, - standing in another room—his own—the Hawk rapidly changed the - light-grey suit he had been wearing for one of a darker material. From the - pockets of the discarded suit he transferred to the pockets of the suit he - had just put on, amongst other things, his automatic and his bunch of - skeleton keys. He opened his trunk, removed the false tray, and smiled - with a sort of grim complacency as his glance inventoried its unhallowed - contents; and particularly he smiled, as, opening a little box, he allowed - a stream of gleaming stones to trickle out into the palm of his hand—the - twenty thousand dollars' worth of diamonds robbed from the Fast Mail three - nights ago. - </p> - <p> - “Some haul!” observed the Hawk softly. “And, with any luck, there'll be - something else there worth the whole outfit put together before to-night - is over.” He replaced the diamonds in the box, the box in the tray, and - spoke again, but now his smile was hard and twisted; not an article there - but he had scooped from under the noses of the gang. “Yes, I guess I'd go - out like you'd snuff a candle if they ever get me, and I guess they're - getting—querulous!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, however, had not opened the trunk purely for the opportunity it - afforded of inspecting these few mementos, interesting as they might be. - It was an excellent safeguard to change his clothes, but it would avail - him very little if—well, any one, say—were still permitted to - recognise—his face! From the top of the tray, where it lay upon the - packages of banknotes that had once reposed in the paymaster's safe, the - Hawk picked up a mask and slipped it into his pocket. He fitted the false - tray back into the lid of the trunk, closed the trunk, locked it, put on a - wide-brimmed, soft felt hat, locked the door of his room behind him, - descended the narrow staircase, and stepped out on the street. - </p> - <p> - His destination was the Corona Hotel, but there was no particular hurry. - Undoubtedly from the moment the Frenchman had left the train some, or one, - of the gang had fastened on the man's trail; but the companionship of the - Selkirk physician guaranteed the Frenchman's immediate safety. His own - plan, as far as it was matured, was very simple. He meant to “spot” if he - could, should that particular member, or members, of the gang be unknown - to him personally, the man, or men, selected by the Wire Devils to shadow - the Frenchman—and then watch the <i>gang!</i> The Hawk had no - intention whatever of making an attempt on the Frenchman's property with - the gang watching him—that would have been little less than the act - of a fool who was bent on suicide! Since, therefore, he had no choice in - the matter, he was quite content to have the gang take the initiatory risk - in relieving the Frenchman of the handbag! After that—the Hawk's old - twisted smile was back on his lips as he walked along—after that it - became his business to see that the bag did not get very far out of his - sight! - </p> - <p> - He reached and crossed the city park upon which the Corona Hotel fronted, - entered the hotel, and, sauntering leisurely through the lobby, approached - the desk. He glanced casually over the register; then, lighting a cigar, - he selected a chair near the front windows where he could command a - general view of the lobby, and sat down. - </p> - <p> - Doctor Meunier's room was Number 106. - </p> - <p> - Once the Hawk's eyes lazily surveyed the lobby; thereafter they appeared - to be intent on what was passing in the street. He was in luck! The first - trick, at least, had gone to him. Lolling in a chair near the elevator - doors, and apparently drowsy from a heavy luncheon, was—the Bantam. - The Hawk smoked on. Half an hour went by. The Bantam appeared to awaken - with a start, smiled sheepishly about him, went over to the news stand, - bought a paper—and returned to his seat. The Hawk finished his - cigar, rose, strolled to the main entrance, and went out. The Bantam could - be safely trusted to see that Doctor Meunier did not vanish into thin air! - He would do the like for the Bantam! He crossed over into the park. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk chose a bench—strategically. Sheltered by a row of trees, - he had the corner upon which the hotel was built diagonally before him, - and could see both the side entrance on the cross street and the front - entrance on the main thoroughfare. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's vigil, however, was not immediately rewarded. An hour passed—and - yet another—and the greater portion of the afternoon. Five o'clock - came. A newsboy passed, crying the <i>Evening Journal</i>. The Hawk bought - one. A headline in heavy type on the front page instantly caught his eye: - </p> - <h3> - ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS IN A LEAD CAPSULE - </h3> - <p> - And beneath this, still in assertive type: - </p> - <p> - Famous French Surgeon en route to Japan with Fortune in Radium Misses - Connections Through Destruction of Railroad Bridge. - </p> - <p> - Offers Company Large Sum of Money for Special Train to the Coast. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” observed the Hawk caustically, “and even if I hadn't known anything - about it before, I'd have had a look-in thanks to this! Sting you, - wouldn't it! The papers hand you a come-on—and then they wonder at - crime!” - </p> - <p> - The “story” itself ran a column and a half. The Hawk began to read—or, - rather, to divide his attention between the story and the hotel entrances. - The reporter had certainly set out with the intention of overlooking no - detail that could be turned to account. His meeting and conversation with - the Frenchman in the car were breezily set forth; the member of a - “prominent family” in Japan artfully disguised, or, perhaps better, - disclosed no less august a personage than the Emperor himself; the value - of radium, both intrinsically and scientifically, was interestingly dealt - with; and the surgeon's black handbag, with its priceless contents, was - minutely described and featured. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had reached this point, when suddenly the newspaper and the - reporter's version of the story lost interest for him. Doctor Meunier, - gripping his little black handbag tenaciously, had stepped out through the - main entrance of the hotel, and was walking briskly down the street. A - moment later, the Bantam sauntered through the doorway and started in the - same direction, a hundred yards behind the Frenchman. The Hawk, with a - grim smile, folded his paper, stuffed it into his pocket, rose from the - bench, crossed the street, and fell into the procession—a hundred - yards behind the Bantam. - </p> - <p> - It was still light, though it was beginning to grow dusk—too light - for any highway thuggery, and yet—the Hawk gradually closed the gap - between himself and the Bantam to half the original distance. - </p> - <p> - The chase led on for a half dozen blocks, then turned into one of the - crowded streets of the shopping district, and proceeded in a downtown - direction. And then, abruptly, the Hawk dropped further behind the Bantam - again, and crossed to the opposite sidewalk. It was perhaps only fancy, - but intuitively he felt that he, too, in turn, was being followed. His hat - brim, hiding his face, was pulled a little farther forward over his eyes, - as he hurried now until he was abreast of the Frenchman. Intuition or not, - it was quite possible and even likely that one of the gang might “cover” - the Bantam. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk scowled. He could not be sure; and he dared not put it to more - than a casual test, for he could not afford to lose sight of the Bantam. - He paused, took a slip of paper from his pocket, and, as though having - consulted it for an address, appeared to scan the signs and numbers on the - stores in his immediate vicinity. The Frenchman had passed by; the Bantam - was directly opposite to him now across the street. The Hawk's keen eyes - searched the stream of pedestrians behind the Bantam. And then suddenly he - shrugged his shoulders, and returned the paper to his pocket—a man, - in a light suit and brown derby hat, had stepped out of the crowd, and was - leisurely lighting a cigarette in a doorway just across from where he, the - Hawk, stood. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk went on, but keeping in the rear of the Bantam now on the - opposite side of the street. He was still not sure; but, in any case, - neither could the man in the brown derby be <i>sure</i> that he, the Hawk, - was following the Bantam. So far then, granted that he <i>was</i> being - followed, it was an even break! - </p> - <p> - At the next crossing the Frenchman accosted a policeman, and, as though he - had received directions, at once turned down the cross street. The Hawk, - as he followed, smiled grimly. The cross street automatically verified the - suspicions of the man in the brown derby—if the man in the brown - derby had any suspicions to verify; but, at one and the same time, it also - answered the Hawk's own question. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, in turn, made use of a doorway. He could afford to allow the - Bantam, temporarily, the lead of an extra half block now, for there were - fewer people on the cross street and he would still be able to keep the - other in sight. A minute, two, elapsed—and then the Hawk picked up - the Bantam's trail again. The man in the brown derby hat had passed by the - corner and continued on along the main street. - </p> - <p> - And yet still the Hawk was not satisfied. And it was not until after he - had repeated the same manouvre some four or five times, as the Frenchman, - leading, turned into different streets, that he was finally convinced that - neither the man in the brown derby hat, nor any one else, was interested - in his movements. - </p> - <p> - The chase, since leaving the main street, had wound its way through the - less populous wholesale district—it ended at the railway station. - The Frenchman passed along the front of the building, and disappeared - through the doorway leading upstairs to the divisional offices, his object - being, it now appeared obvious, to obtain another interview with the - superintendent; the Bantam disappeared inside the main entranceway of the - station, evidently to await the Frenchman's reappearance; and the Hawk, on - the far side of the street, slipped into the lane that had served him many - times as a thoroughfare between the station and his room over the saloon - two blocks away. - </p> - <p> - It was growing dark now. A half hour went by. Still the Hawk crouched in - the shadow of the building that bordered the lane. The street lights went - on. The six o'clock whistle blew from the shops over across the tracks. - Either the Frenchman was a visitor not easy to get rid of, or Lanson was - out and the other was awaiting the superintendent's return. But the Hawk's - patience was infinite. - </p> - <p> - Another fifteen minutes dragged away; then the office door opened, the - Frenchman emerged, and started back uptown. The Bantam appeared from the - main entranceway, and started after him. The chase was on again. The Hawk - followed. - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman, seemingly sticking to rule of thumb and following the - directions he had received on the way down, took exactly the same route on - the way back. But now the neighborhood presented an entirely different - aspect. The wholesale houses were closed; the streets deserted, dark, and - poorly lighted. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk hugged the shadows of the buildings craftily on the opposite side - of the street. Was it coming now? Certainly the gang would go far before - finding a more ideal opportunity, and the Bantam, if he had realised that - fact, could easily have sent, or telephoned, a message from the station. - He, the Hawk, had not cared to take the risk of following the Bantam - inside—the Bantam <i>might</i> remember having seen him in the hotel - lobby. - </p> - <p> - And then the Hawk's lips thinned. Yes—it was the old, old game! They - were on the cross street, a little less than a block distant from the main - street ahead. The Bantam began to close up on the Frenchman. The Hawk now, - crouching low, slipped almost literally from doorway to doorway. Two men, - apparently drunk and quarrelling, were coming down the block toward the - Frenchman. The Bantam closed to within a few yards of his quarry. The - brawl attained its height as the two men reached the Frenchman. One man - struck the other. They clenched, and, smashing into the Frenchman knocked - him down. His hat flew in one direction, the handbag in another. The - brawlers curiously did not resume their quarrel, but lounged a few paces - away—within call of the Bantam. The Hawk, squeezed in his doorway - directly opposite the scene, kept his eyes on the Bantam. If the play had - lacked originality before, it did not lack it now! The Bantam stooped, - picked up the handbag, and, as he stooped again for the hat, slipped the - handbag under his coat, and slipped another bag—evidently a - carefully prepared duplicate—out from under his coat and into his - hand. The Frenchman was rising dazedly to his feet. The Bantam stepped - hurriedly forward, holding out hat and bag. - </p> - <p> - “I hope you're not hurt, sir,” the Hawk heard him say—and then the - two moved on together toward the corner. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk shook his shoulders in a queer, almost self-apologetic sort of - way, as he followed again. And then he smiled as queerly. The Bantam had - the bag now, and, if he, the Hawk, were permitted to hazard an opinion, - the Wire Devils had very kindly picked the fruit again for him to eat! - </p> - <p> - At the corner, the Bantam shook hands with the Frenchman, and, stepping - out into the street, signalled an approaching car. Quick, alert on the - instant, the Hawk, safe in the protection of the crowded sidewalk, moved - swiftly along in the direction that the car would take, his eyes searching - the street on both sides for a taxicab. The street car passed him, but - stopped at the next corner, and he caught up with it again. And then, over - his shoulder, he saw a taxi coming up behind him. He stepped from the - curb, and stopped it. - </p> - <p> - “Sorry, sir,” said the chauffeur. “I'm going after a fare.” - </p> - <p> - “You've got one now—and a good one,” said the Hawk quietly. He had - opened the door—a ten-dollar bill lay in the chauffeur's hand. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but look here, sir,” said the chauffeur, a little dubiously, “I'll - get into trouble for this, and——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had stepped inside, and lowered the window between himself and - the chauffeur. - </p> - <p> - “Follow that car,” said the Hawk pleasantly. “And while we're on the - crowded streets don't get so far behind it that you can't close up near - enough to see who gets off every time it stops. And don't worry about your - trouble—there's another ten coming on top of the regular fare. - That's good enough, isn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “I guess I'm not kicking!” admitted the chauffeur. The taxi started - forward. He looked back over his shoulder at the Hawk. “What's the lay? - Fly-cop?” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe!” said the Hawk. “Mind yourself! It's stopping again. Keep where I - can see both sides of the car.” - </p> - <p> - “I get you!” said the chauffeur. “Leave it to me!” - </p> - <p> - Block after block was passed, the street car stopping frequently. The - Hawk, in the body of the taxi, knelt behind the chauffeur's back, his eyes - held steadily on the street car ahead. The Bantam did not alight. The - street car began to run out into the suburbs. The taxicab, with lights out - now, risking the city ordinance, dropped back to a more respectful - distance in the rear. The district became less settled, the houses farther - apart; the street lights were single incandescents now, and these few and - far between. There was one passenger left in the car—the Bantam. - </p> - <p> - The chauffeur spoke abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “We're pretty near the end of the line,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” the Hawk answered. “Stop when the car stops—keep about - this distance, we're not likely to be noticed.” A moment later he stepped - from the taxi. “Wait for me here!” he directed. - </p> - <p> - The Bantam, leaving the street car, had started off at a sharp pace past - the end of the car line. It was little more than a country road now; only - a house here and there. The Bantam, just discernible in the darkness, had - a lead of perhaps a hundred yards, and the Hawk, moving stealthily, began - to creep nearer, and still nearer, until the hundred yards were fifty—and - then suddenly, with a low muttered exclamation, he threw himself flat on - the ground. The Bantam, abreast of a house from which there showed a light - in the side window, had turned in abruptly from the road. A glow of light - spread out as the front door opened. The Hawk lay motionless. Then the - Bantam entered, and the door was closed again. A little later, a form - appeared at the side window, a hand reached up, and the shade was drawn. - </p> - <p> - “Nice respectable neighborhood, too!” observed the Hawk tersely. “Wonder - if it's <i>the</i> lair, and if the Master Spider's in there now?” - </p> - <p> - He was creeping forward now across a small lawn. He neared the side - window; it was open, and the shade lacked a tiny, though inviting, space - of reaching to the sill. A murmur of voices came from within. There was - not a sound from the Hawk. And then, from beneath the window, which was - low and not more than four feet from the ground, he raised himself up - cautiously, and suddenly his dark eyes narrowed. It was not the Master - Spider—it was the Butcher, whose treachery had nearly done for him - that night in the paymaster's office, the man whom he had promised should - one day <i>remember!</i> - </p> - <p> - He could hear now, and he could see. It was a sitting room such as one - might find anywhere in a house whose occupants were in comfortable - circumstances. It was cosily and tastefully furnished. It bore no sign of - criminal affiliation; it was, as it were, a sort of alibi in itself. A - telephone stood on the table beside a pile of magazines, the latter - flanked by an ornamental reading lamp; deep leather lounging chairs added - to the inviting and homelike appearance of the room—the incongruity - was in the Butcher's thin, hatchet-like face, and in the coarse, vicious - features of the short, stocky Bantam, as they faced each other across the - table. - </p> - <p> - “Where's the others, d'ye say?” demanded the Bantam. - </p> - <p> - “Out,” said the Butcher. “The chief called 'em an hour ago. I don't know - what's up. I guess you and I keep house here to-night; he said you were to - stay. Mouser and Jack were to report to Kirschell, weren't they?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that's what they said.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, all right!” The Butcher shrugged his shoulders. “That's none of our - hunt. I suppose you got it, didn't you—or you wouldn't be here?” - </p> - <p> - “Sure, I got it!” answered the Bantam. “What d'ye think?” - </p> - <p> - “Let's have a look,” said the Butcher eagerly. “The chief says we can cash - in on it for fifty thousand.” - </p> - <p> - “Fifty thousand!” The Bantam growled, as he unbuttoned his coat, and, - taking out the bag, laid it on the table. “I thought it was worth a - hundred thousand!” - </p> - <p> - “So it is.” The Butcher was opening the bag. “But it's no cinch to turn it - into money without a big split—savvy?” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher opened the lead box, took out the lead cylinder, and balanced - it speculatively in the palm of his hand. - </p> - <p> - The Bantam regarded it distrustfully. - </p> - <p> - “It don't look like fifty cents to me!” he commented finally. - </p> - <p> - “I know,” said the Butcher facetiously; “but your eyesight's bum, Bantam! - Have any trouble?” - </p> - <p> - The Bantam grinned. - </p> - <p> - “Not what you'd notice! After the Mouser and Jack smashed into him, the - poor old boob didn't know what had happened till I was handing him his hat - and the other bag. I guess he bumped his bean kind of hard on the - sidewalk.” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher nodded approvingly. He was still twisting the lead cylinder - around and around in his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Say,” suggested the Bantam impatiently, after a moment, “when you've done - chucking it under the chin, put it to bed somewhere, and if there's any - grub in the house lead me to it. I'm hungry!” - </p> - <p> - “All right!” agreed the Butcher. He replaced the lead cylinder in its box, - and the box in the bag, crossed the room, opened a little cupboard in the - wall opposite the window, laid the bag inside, and closed the cupboard - door again. “Come on!” he said. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XIII—THE MAN WITH THE SCAR - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE two men left - the room. The Hawk did not move. He was fingering in a curiously - absent-minded sort of way the edges of the newspaper that still protruded - from his pocket. It was very simple, very easy. The window was open, the - cupboard was not locked, the room was empty, there were only the Bantam - and the Butcher to look out for, and they were in another part of the - house; he had only to lift aside the window shade, step in, steal across - the room, and steal out again—with a hundred-thou-sand-dollar prize. - It was very inviting. It seemed suddenly as though it were a pressing - invitation to enter that room—<i>and never leave it alive!</i> - </p> - <p> - Flashing quick through the Hawk's brain now was a résumé of the afternoon, - of each separate and individual occurrence since he had left the train. - Had he, after all, been followed? If so—how? Had the Bantam been - warned? He shook his head, as though impatient with himself. Even apart - from that, what he had begun to suspect now would be thoroughly logical on - the part of the gang. The newspaper supplied the key. He would - unquestionably have seen the newspaper that afternoon, and he would, apart - from being spared several aimless hours in the park, have done exactly as - he had done, and just as unquestionably be where he was now at this - precise moment even if he had not been with the Frenchman on the train. - The newspaper placed him in possession of the same facts that the Wire - Devils possessed. They must know that. They were therefore justified in - assuming that he, quite as rabidly as themselves, would make an attempt to - steal the bag. They knew, in that case, that he would have discovered that - they were already at work; and they knew that, on a dozen occasions - before, that had not prevented him from snatching the prize they had - already counted within their grasp. Were they on their guard now—or - a little more than on their guard! Were they offering him, on the chance - or with the knowledge that he was here now, the opportunity to snatch - another prize—and seeing to it that it was for the <i>last</i> time! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk edged back from the window; and, silent as a shadow now, began to - circuit the house. And then suddenly his suspicion became a certainty. It - was only a little thing—a slip—but it was enough. The Butcher - had made a misplay! There was no light in any other window—and a man - did not usually eat in the dark! It was fairly, even painfully, evident - now that the Bantam and the Butcher were in, say, the adjoining room, - waiting for him to enter through that window into their trap. - </p> - <p> - But there was still the little black bag—and one hundred thousand - dollars! The Hawk's smile was more ominous than pleasant. There were other - ways apart from a window—and even two men, especially if they were - caught napping, had been known to be quite amenable to the influence of - the muzzle of an automatic! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk found the back door entrance, found it locked—and used a - skeleton key. He was perhaps five minutes in opening the door; but in - those five minutes there was no click of lock as the handle turned by - infinitesimal fractions of an inch, no creak of hinge as the door little - by little swung back and was closed again. - </p> - <p> - The silence was almost uncanny. It was utter blackness. By feeling out - with his hand he discovered he was in a passageway. He moved along, - guiding himself by the sense of touch against the wall, his weight - balanced and full upon one foot before he lifted the other for the next - step. - </p> - <p> - It seemed a passage of interminable length, that led on and on through - blackness and silence. In reality he had come possibly thirty feet, and - had passed one door. And then he began to catch the sound of voices - whispering. The whisperings grew more distinct and became low, guarded - tones, as he moved forward—and now he could distinguish words. He - flattened back against the side of the passage. Opposite to him was an - open door; and within the room, instead of blackness now, was a sort of - murky gloom which was created by a ray of light that seeped in through a - partially open door at the far side of the room. The Hawk's fingers - slipped into his pocket—and slipped his mask over his face. He had - his bearings now. The room from which the light came was the baited trap; - the room immediately in front of him was the room from which the trap was - to be sprung! His hand went to his pocket again, and came out with his - automatic. It was their move now. If, when they finally grew impatient, - they went back into the lighted room, or turned on the light in the room - where they were now waiting, they sprang the trap upon themselves. - </p> - <p> - Came the Bantam's low growl—and the twitching of the Hawk's jaw - muscles. - </p> - <p> - “I don't like it, I tell you! Where is he? What's he waiting for? I know - he followed me. You saw him yourself from the front room creeping across - the lawn out there. 'Twouldn't take him all this time to get in through - that window.” - </p> - <p> - “Aw, shut up!” snarled the Butcher. “You'd give any one the creeps!” - </p> - <p> - “That's all right,” whispered the Bantam hoarsely; “but I said from the - start it was a fool game not to cover him close on the way back, and——” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—and scare him off!” sneered the Butcher. “There ain't but one - guy that'd pick up that trail—and that's the Hawk. He's butted in - enough, but he's butted in for the last time to-night! The two of us are - aplenty, aren't we? Sure—cover him close on the way back—and - scare him off! D'ye think he's a fool!” - </p> - <p> - “No, I don't, curse him!” retorted the Bantam. “And if I'd had my way, I'd - have croaked him in broad daylight with a bullet through his bean, and - finished him for keeps the minute Jack spotted him following me! Instead - of that, Jack never even gets a look at his mug.” - </p> - <p> - “You're some bright guy!” grunted the Butcher. “We'd have had a hot chance - making a dead man tell us where he'd planted those diamonds off the Fast - Mail, not to speak of a few other little trifles the swine did us out of!” - </p> - <p> - “And you think——” - </p> - <p> - “You bet, I do!” the Butcher cut in viciously. “He'll talk to-night to - save his life—and then I'll toss you, Bantam, if you like, to see - who bumps him off!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's fingers played in a curious, caressing motion over the stock of - the automatic in his hand; the twist on his lips grew a little harder, a - little more merciless. - </p> - <p> - There was movement in the room now. One of the two, the Bantam - undoubtedly, in growing uneasiness, was moving softly, erratically, up and - down the room. It proved to be the Bantam. - </p> - <p> - “Well then, where the blazes is he!” he burst out nervously. - </p> - <p> - “Aw, shut up!” snarled the Butcher savagely for the second time. - </p> - <p> - The Bantam's shadow, as the man paced up and down, passed the doorway, - repassed, and passed again. - </p> - <p> - “I tell you, I don't like it!” he flung out suddenly. “Something's wrong! - If he's outside the house, he can't see, anyway. I'm going to take a - chance, and——” - </p> - <p> - There was a click, the light in the passageway went on—then a yell - from the Bantam in the doorway—a lightning spring from the Hawk, as - the other jerked a weapon upward—and the Bantam went down in a heap, - as the Hawk's clubbed weapon caught him on the head. It was quick, like - the winking of an eye. From back in the room, the Butcher sprang forward - for the doorway—and fired—and missed—and the Hawk's left - hand, as they came upon each other, darting out, closed with the strength - of a steel vise on the Butcher's right wrist, and with a terrific wrench - twisted the other's arm halfway around. It was lighter now in the room—light - enough to see. The two forms swayed strangely—a little apart—the - Butcher's body bent over, as though queerly deformed. Slowly, - remorselessly, the Hawk turned the other's arm in its socket. Sweat sprang - to the Butcher's forehead, his face writhed with pain—and, with a - scream of agony, his revolver clattered to the floor. - </p> - <p> - “You're breaking it—for God's sake, let go!” he moaned. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk kicked the revolver to the other side of the room. - </p> - <p> - “Take the Bantam by the shoulders and drag him into that lighted room!” - The Hawk's tones were flat, unpleasant. “I don't think I hit him hard - enough to take the chance of leaving him there alone!” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher obeyed—with the muzzle of the Hawk's automatic pressed - persuasively against the small of his back. He left the Bantam in the - middle of the sitting room floor, and himself accepted a chair—at - the Hawk's invitation. - </p> - <p> - “You again—eh, Butcher?” The Hawk's voice had become a drawl. With - his automatic covering the Butcher, he had backed to the cupboard, opened - it, and was feeling inside with his left hand. “My grateful thanks, and - you'll convey my compliments—the Hawk's, you know—to our - friend—the chief.” He had slipped the little black bag under his - arm, and now his hand was back in the cupboard again; he had felt a ball - of heavy cord there. “Sorry I haven't a phony ten-spot with me—my - card, you know—unpardonable breach of etiquette—really!” He - smiled suddenly. The ball of cord was in his hand, as he advanced toward - the Butcher's chair. He set the little black bag down on the table. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher seemed to have lost all his characteristic ferocity; the sharp - little ferret eyes rested anywhere but on the Hawk, and on his face was a - sickly grin. - </p> - <p> - “Stand up!” commanded the Hawk curtly—he was knotting the end of the - cord into a noose. “Now—your hands behind your back—and - together! Thank you!” He slipped the noose over the Butcher's hands, and - began to wind the cord around the other's wrists. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher winced. - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry,” said the Hawk apologetically; “but it's all I have. The cord - is rather thin, and I'm afraid it may cut into you—not strong enough - to allow you any play, you know. And, by the way, Butcher, I heard the - Bantam say that I was spotted on the way down—I presume he meant on - the way down to the station. I'll be honest and admit I'm disappointed in - myself. Would you mind explaining, Butcher—I was quite convinced - there was no one behind me.” - </p> - <p> - “There wasn't!” The Butcher risked a sneer. “Mabbe the French guy was - heard telephoning to the station, and the Bantam passed on the word. - Nobody had to follow behind. All there was to do, knowing where the - Frenchy was going, was to dodge around the blocks ahead, and keep hidden - down the different intersecting streets, and see if the same guy kept - going by the corners after the Bantam.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, Butcher,” murmured the Hawk gratefully. “That lets me out a - little, doesn't it?” He wound the cord again and again around the - Butcher's wrists, knotted it, shoved the other unceremoniously back into - the chair, and tied the Butcher's legs. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk then gave his attention to the Bantam. The Bantam was just - beginning to regain consciousness. The Hawk knelt down, rolled the man - over on his side, and secured him in the same manner as he had the - Butcher. But with the Bantam he went a little farther. He transferred the - Bantam's handkerchief from the Bantam's pocket to the Bantam's mouth—and - tied it there. - </p> - <p> - He turned once more to the Butcher. - </p> - <p> - “I must apologise again,” he said softly. “I hate to do this”—he - felt for, and obtained, the Butcher's handkerchief—“but the house is - unfortunately close to the road, and you might inadvertently make yourself - heard before I got decently away.” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher's reply was a shrug of the shoulders. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, about to cram the handkerchief into the other's mouth, paused. - </p> - <p> - “Butcher,” said the Hawk, almost plaintively, “if you'll permit me to deal - in mixed metaphors, you appear to have shed your spots—you're too - awfully docile!” - </p> - <p> - “You got the goods,” muttered the Butcher sullenly. “What more do you——” - </p> - <p> - He stopped suddenly. His eyes met the Hawk's. The telephone on the table - was ringing. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk hesitated. Into the Butcher's eyes, narrowed now, there seemed to - have come a mocking gleam. The telephone rang again. And then the Hawk - reached out abruptly, and took the receiver from the hook. - </p> - <p> - “Hello!” he said gruffly. - </p> - <p> - “Four X. Who's that?” responded a voice. - </p> - <p> - There was something familiar about the voice, but he could not on the - instant place it. The Hawk's mind, even as he answered, was swiftly - cataloguing every member of the gang known to him in an effort to identify - it. - </p> - <p> - “The Bantam,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” replied the voice. “Give me the Butcher.” - </p> - <p> - “Hold the line,” answered the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - He placed his hand over the transmitter. The voice was still eluding him. - He turned, and eyed the Butcher. - </p> - <p> - “Four X wants you, Butcher.” All the drawl, all the insouciance was gone - now; his voice was hard with menace, cold as death. “And you're going to - speak to him—but you're going to say what I tell you to say. But - before you begin, I want you to remember the little account between us - that's been hanging over since that night in the paymaster's office. If - you make a break, if you try to frame me—<i>I'll settle that account - here to-night</i>, while you sit in that chair. If you hesitate on a word, - I'll fire—and not through my pocket, you yellow cur! Understand? - Don't kid yourself on this, Butcher! If I nod my head, say 'yes'—and - no more. Now!” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher had sunk back in his chair. There was fear in his face; it was - white, and he circled his lips with his tongue. - </p> - <p> - Beneath the mask, the Hawk's lips were a straight line. He laid down his - automatic on the table, placed the receiver to his own ear, and held the - transmitter to the Butcher's lips. - </p> - <p> - “Go ahead!” ordered the Hawk. “Ask him what he wants.” His fingers, cupped - and pressed over the transmitter, lifted. - </p> - <p> - “Hello!” said the Butcher. “What is it?” - </p> - <p> - “That you, Butcher? Everything all right?” inquired the voice. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk nodded. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Butcher. - </p> - <p> - “Well, open up a bit!” complained the voice. “Did you get him, and——” - </p> - <p> - The voice was speaking on. The Hawk's lips had set a little tighter. He - had recognised the voice now. His fingers were pressed over the - transmitter again. - </p> - <p> - “Tell him you laid me out cold,” instructed the Hawk; “and that I haven't - regained consciousness, yet. Now!” The voice had ceased speaking; the - Hawk's fingers lifted again. - </p> - <p> - “We beaned him,” said the Butcher morosely.. “He's still asleep.” - </p> - <p> - “Good!” chuckled the voice. “I'll be up there by and by, and——” - </p> - <p> - “Tell him to stay where he is, that it will be—<i>safer</i>.” The - Hawk clipped off his words. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher delivered the message, the snarl in his voice entirely to the - Hawk's liking. - </p> - <p> - “What?” questioned the voice. “I didn't get you.” - </p> - <p> - “Repeat!” whispered the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher repeated. - </p> - <p> - “O. K.,” came back the answer. “Yes, I guess you're right. So long, - Butcher.” - </p> - <p> - “Say 'good-night,'.rdquo; prompted the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “'Night!” growled the Butcher. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk replaced the receiver on the hook, and the instrument on the - table. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher's lips were livid. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk picked up his automatic and leaned forward, his eyes on a level - with the Butcher's. - </p> - <p> - “What's that fellow's moniker, Butcher?” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher hesitated. - </p> - <p> - The automatic crept forward an inch. - </p> - <p> - “Parson Joe.” The Butcher's voice choked with mingled rage and fear. - </p> - <p> - “Parson Joe, eh?” repeated the Hawk ruminatingly. “Was he the chap who - pulled that con game on the Riverdale Bank back in New York State about - six years ago, and afterwards got cornered by the police in Ike - Morrissey's gambling hell, and was caught because he nearly bled to death, - with his wrist half off, trying to get through a broken window pane? He - got four spaces. That him?” - </p> - <p> - “If you say so, it must have been!” There was a leer in the Butcher's - voice. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Was it?</i>” The automatic touched the Butcher's breast. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Butcher. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you!” smiled the Hawk. “Now——!” - </p> - <p> - He gagged the Butcher with the handkerchief, tied it securely into place, - stood up, picked up the little black bag, switched off the electric - reading lamp, moved to the window, and drew aside the shade. “We'll let - that account stand open for a little while longer, Butcher,” he said - softly. “Just a little while longer—good-night!” - </p> - <p> - He swung out of the window, dropped to the ground, ran across the lawn, - and gained the road. His mask and automatic were back in his pockets. His - fingers felt and patted the little black bag under his coat. - </p> - <p> - “Always play your luck,” whispered the Hawk confidentially to himself. “It - seems to me I saw a little loose change in Doctor Meunier's pocket-book, - and I don't think he's opened the duplicate bag yet and stirred up a fuss. - It isn't much compared with a hundred thousand, or even fifty, to quote - the Butcher, but 'every little bit added to what you've got——'” - He fell to whistling the tune pleasantly under his breath, as he hurried - along the road. - </p> - <p> - A minute later he had regained the taxicab. - </p> - <p> - “Drop me a block this side of the Corona—and give her all she's - got!” he directed crisply. - </p> - <p> - “D'ye get him?” demanded the chauffeur eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “My friend,” replied the Hawk gently, as he stepped into the taxi, “if - you'll think it over, you'll come to the conclusion that you really don't - want to know. Take it from me that the less you're wise about to-night the - wiser you will be to-morrow. Now, cut her loose!” - </p> - <p> - It had taken a good thirty minutes on the trip up; it took less than half - of that, by a more direct route, for the return journey. At the corner, a - block from the hotel, the Hawk crumpled two generous bank-notes into the - chauffeur's hand, and bade the man good-night. He traversed the block, - entered the hotel lobby, and, ignoring the elevators, leisurely and - nonchalantly ascended the staircase to the first floor. From the landing - he noted the room numbers opposite to him, and with these as a guide - passed on along the corridor to where it turned at right angles at the - corner of the building, and halted before room No. 106. A light showing - above the transom indicated that the Frenchman was within. He had passed - one or two people. No one had paid any attention to him. Why should they! - He glanced up and down. The corridor, for the moment, was empty. He tried - the door gently—it was locked. His right hand, in his side pocket, - closed over his automatic. He pressed close to the door, knocked gently - with his left hand—and with his left hand reached quickly into his - pocket for his mask. - </p> - <p> - “Who's there?” the Frenchman called out. - </p> - <p> - “Message for you, sir,” the Hawk answered. - </p> - <p> - Footsteps crossed the room, the key turned in the lock—and, in a - flash, the Hawk, slipping on his mask, had pushed the door open, closed it - behind him, and the Frenchman was staring into the muzzle of the - automatic. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Mon Dieu!</i>” gasped the Frenchman faintly. - </p> - <p> - “That's right!” said the Hawk coolly, “Don't speak any louder than that, - or——” He shrugged his shoulders significantly, as he locked - the door. - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman, white-faced, was evidently fighting for his nerve. - </p> - <p> - “What—what is it?” he stammered. “What is it that you want?” - </p> - <p> - It was almost a reassuring smile that flickered on the Hawk's lips, and - his voice did not belie it—it was purely conversational in its - tones. - </p> - <p> - “I was reading in the paper this afternoon about the famous Doctor - Meunier. I'm a bit of a scientist myself, in an amateur way, and I'm - particularly interested in radium when there's enough of it to——” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! My radium! That is what you want!” cried out the Frenchman wildly. - The duplicate bag lay on the bed. He ran for it, and snatched it up. “No! - That you shall not have! You come to steal my radium, you——” - </p> - <p> - “You jump at conclusions, doctor,” said the Hawk patiently. “Since it is - already stolen, I——” - </p> - <p> - “Stolen!” The Frenchman stared—and then with feverish fingers opened - the bag. He looked inside. The bag dropped to the floor, his hands went up - in the air. “It is empty—empty!” he cried distractedly. “It is gone—gone! - <i>Mon Dieu</i>, my radium is gone! What shall I do!” His hands were - rumpling through his hair like one demented. “What shall I do—it is - gone!” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” suggested the Hawk suavely, “I thought perhaps you might like to - buy it back again.” - </p> - <p> - “Buy it back! Are you crazy? Am I crazy?” The man appeared to be beside - himself; he flung out his arms in mad gesticulation. “With what would I - buy it back? It is worth a hundred thousands dollars—a half million - francs!” - </p> - <p> - “You are excited, Doctor Meunier,” said the Hawk calmly. From where it - bulged under his coat he drew out the black bag. “I said nothing about a - hundred thousand dollars.” - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman reached out a shaking hand, pointing at the bag. - </p> - <p> - “It is you then, after all, who stole it—eh? The bags—they are - identical! <i>Mon Dieu</i>, what does this mean? I am mad! I do not - understand!” - </p> - <p> - There was a chair on each side of the small table near the bed. - </p> - <p> - “Sit down!” invited the Hawk, indicating one with the muzzle of his - automatic. The Frenchman sat down with a helpless and abandoned gesture of - despair. The Hawk took the other chair. He opened the bag, opened the lead - box, and laid the lead capsule on the table. “Do you identify this?” he - inquired pleasantly. - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman reached for it eagerly. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk drew it back. - </p> - <p> - “One moment, please, Doctor Meunier!” he murmured. “You recognise it? You - are satisfied that it is your tube of radium?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes—<i>mon Dieu!</i> But, yes!” - </p> - <p> - “And it is worth, you say, a hundred thousand dollars?” - </p> - <p> - “But, yes, I tell you!” cried the Frenchman. “A hundred thousand—certainly, - it is worth that!” - </p> - <p> - “Quite so!” said the Hawk placidly. “Therefore, Doctor Meunier, a - comparatively small sum—eh?—you would be willing to pay that—a - sum, I might add, that would be quite within your means.” - </p> - <p> - “Quite within my means?” repeated the Frenchman a little dazedly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk sweetly. “And to be specific, let us say—whatever - is in your pocketbook.” The Frenchman drew back in his chair. His face - blanched. - </p> - <p> - “You—you mean to rob me!” he exclaimed hoarsely. - </p> - <p> - “I do not see it quite in that light.” The Hawk's voice was pained. “But - we will not discuss the ethics involved—we probably should not - agree. I did not steal your precious capsule from you, and I am returning - it, not, I might say, without having incurred considerable personal risk - in so doing. Perhaps we might better agree if we called it—a - reward.” - </p> - <p> - “No!” said the Frenchman desperately. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's automatic tapped the table top with a hint of petulance. - </p> - <p> - “And—and what guarantee have I,” the Frenchman burst out, “that you - will give me the tube after you have taken my money?” - </p> - <p> - “My word,” said the Hawk evenly. “And—I am waiting, Doctor Meunier!” - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman hesitated, then, with an oath, flung his pocketbook upon the - table. The Hawk opened it, extracted the wad of bills that he had seen - exhibited in the superintendent's office, smiled as he fingered them, and - put them in his pocket. He pushed the lead capsule across the table—and - suddenly, as the other reached for it, the Hawk was on his feet, his - automatic flung forward, his left hand grasping the other's sleeve. - </p> - <p> - They held that way for an instant, eying each other—the Hawk's left - hand slowly pushing back the other's right-hand sleeve. And then the - Hawk's eyes shifted—to a long, jagged, white scar on the bare - forearm just above the wrist. - </p> - <p> - “Shall I introduce myself—Parson Joe?” purred the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - The other's face was a mottled red—it deepened to purple. - </p> - <p> - “No, blast you!” he said between his teeth. “I know you—but I didn't - think you knew me. So you called the turn when the Bantam followed me—eh?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “I never saw you in my life before to-day,” he said grimly; “and, if it - will do you any good to know it, I fell for that radium plant—until - you telephoned the Butcher half an hour ago.” - </p> - <p> - “And how did you know me, then?” The other flung the question fiercely. - </p> - <p> - Again the Hawk shook his head. He had no desire that Parson Joe should - know he had been on the Limited that morning—Parson Joe might - possess an inconveniently retentive memory for faces, and he, the Hawk, - did not always wear a mask. - </p> - <p> - “Maybe I guessed it, Parson!” he said insolently. “I must have—it - was the only thing that wasn't in the paper! What encyclopedia did you get - that 'Becquerel burn' dope out of? And was the reporter lying, or how did - you work it to get him on the train?” - </p> - <p> - Parson Joe was leaning forward over the table, fingering the lead capsule. - He suddenly crushed it with a blow of his fist, twisted it in two, and - hurled the pieces across the floor. - </p> - <p> - “We got him up the line on a fake that didn't come off!” he snarled. - </p> - <p> - There was an instant's silence, then the Hawk spoke. - </p> - <p> - “Nice, amiable crowd, you are, Parson!” The Hawk's voice was silken. “I'm - just beginning to appreciate you. Let's see! You had to pull a story that - any newspaper would jump at and <i>feature</i>, didn't you? And you had to - have a big enough bait to make sure I'd rise to it. And you had to account - for the celebrated Doctor Meunier's layover in Selkirk; and, not expecting - I'd pick up the trail quite so quickly, say, not until after the paper had - been out a little longer and you had made another baiting trip or two to - Lanson's office, you had to account for the famous gentleman's enforced - stay through the night if necessary; and it gave a big swing to the story, - and let you work your stunt for the special train that you knew you - couldn't get; and you figured I'd be even more sure to see it in the paper - if it was connected with some pleasant little episode of yours—and - so, on several counts, you blew up the bridge.” - </p> - <p> - The man's teeth were clamped together. - </p> - <p> - “Yes!” he choked. “And we'd blow a dozen more to get you!” - </p> - <p> - “You flatter me!” said the Hawk dryly. “I'm afraid I've put you to quite a - little trouble—for nothing!” - </p> - <p> - Sullen, red, furious, Parson Joe's face twitched. - </p> - <p> - “You win to-night”—the heavy-lensed spectacles were off, and the - black eyes, the pupils gone, burned on the Hawk—“but you're going - out! As sure as God gave you breath, we'll get you yet, and——” - </p> - <p> - “The Butcher told me that, and so did the Cricket—some time ago,” - said the Hawk wearily. “I'm—<i>keep your hands above the table</i>—I'm - sure you mean well!” He was backing toward the door. “I won't bother to - relieve you of your revolver; and I don't think you'll telephone down to - the office. It might be awkward explaining to the police how Doctor - Meunier lost his pocketbook—and got his medical degree! I shall, - however, lock the door on the outside, as I shall require a minute or two - to reach the street, and I cannot very well go through the hotel corridor - with—this”—he jerked his hand toward his mask. - </p> - <p> - The other's hands were above the table, obediently in plain view—but - they were clenching and unclenching now, the knuckles white. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk reached behind him, took the key from the lock, listened, opened - the door slightly, and, still facing into the room, still covering the - other with his automatic, reached around the door and fitted the key into - the outside of the lock. - </p> - <p> - “When you get out,” said the Hawk, as though it were an afterthought, “I'm - sure the Butcher will be glad to see you—I am afraid he is not as - comfortable as he might be!” - </p> - <p> - The black eyes, with a devil's fury in them, had never left the Hawk's. - And now the other lifted one of his clenched hands above his head. - </p> - <p> - “I'd give five years—<i>five years</i> of my life—for a look - at your face!” he whispered hoarsely. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was backing through the door. - </p> - <p> - “It's not enough, Parson,” he said softly. “Make it another—pocketbook.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XIV—THE CLUE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WO days had passed—two - days, and a night. The Hawk's fingers drummed abstractedly without sound - on the table top; his eyes, in a curiously introspective stare, were fixed - on the closely drawn window shade across the room. From the ill-favoured - saloon below his unpretentious lodgings, there came, muffled, a chorus of - voices in inebriated and discordant song—an over-early evening - celebration, for it was barely seven o'clock. - </p> - <p> - The finger tips drummed on. At times, the strong, square chin was doggedly - outthrust; at times, a frown gathered in heavy furrows on the Hawk's - forehead. The net at last was beginning to tighten ominously—every - sign pointed to it. He would be a blind fool indeed who could not read the - warning, and a fool of fools who would not heed it! - </p> - <p> - His eyes strayed from the window, and rested upon the trunk that stood - between the table and the foot of the bed; and his fingers abruptly ceased - their restless movements. Within that trunk, concealed in its false lid, - was the loot, totalling many thousands of dollars, obtained through his - knowledge of the Wire Devils' secret code, which had enabled him to-turn - their elaborately prepared plans on more occasions than one to his own - account. But it was no longer a question of outwitting them in order to - add to that purloined store; it was a question of outwitting them in order - that—in very plain English—he, the Hawk, might <i>live!</i> - </p> - <p> - Nor was it the Wire Devils alone who threatened disaster. There were other - factors; and, even if these factors were less imminent, as it were, less - in a measure to be feared, they were by no means to be ignored. The police - were showing increasing activity. The police circular, which he had once - torn down from the station wall, was now replaced by another, only with - this difference that, where the reward for the Hawk's capture had then - stood at five thousand dollars, it now stood at ten. Also, last night—quite - inadvertently!—while crouched under the window of the turner's - “cubbyhole” at the rear of the roundhouse, the chosen spot for Lanson's - and MacVightie's confidential conferences, he had overheard a conversation - between the division superintendent and the head of the railroad's - detective force that was certainly not intended for his ears. According to - MacVightie, a man by the name of Birks, the sharpest man in the United - States Secret Service, had been detailed by the Washington authorities to - the case. MacVightie had even taken a generous share of the credit for - this move to himself. Thefts there might be until the country rang with - them, murders might add their quota to the reign of terror, yet all this - was outside the province of the Secret Service. It was, so MacVightie had - said, through MacVightie's insistence that the systematised thefts and - murders were inseparable with the counterfeit notes then flooding the - country that had induced Washington to act. The Hawk and his gang, - according to MacVightie again, were at the bottom of both one and the - other—and counterfeiting <i>was</i>, very pertinently, within the - province of the Secret Service! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk permitted a twisted smile to flicker across his lips. MacVightie, - the police in general, and Birks of the Secret Service in particular, - might be classed as complications, even decidedly <i>awkward</i> - complications, but his immediate peril lay, not in that direction, but - from those whose leadership MacVightie so blandly credited to—the - Hawk! - </p> - <p> - The smile twisted deeper—into one of grim irony. While MacVightie - placarded the country with circulars offering rewards for the capture of - the Hawk and his gang, the “gang” was moving heaven and earth to capture - the Hawk for its own exclusive purposes—which purposes, in a word, - were an intense desire to recover the proceeds of the robberies that he, - the Hawk, had filched from under the gang's nose, and thereafter, with - such finality as might be afforded by a blackjack, a knife thrust, or a - revolver bullet, to expedite the Hawk's departure from this vale of tears! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's hand curled suddenly into a clenched fist, and his face grew - set. He was facetious—and he had little enough warrant for - facetiousness! They had already shown their teeth. They had shown the - grim, ugly <i>deadliness</i> of their challenge in the thrust with which - they had opened their attack upon him. He had parried the thrust, it was - true—but there would be another—and another. There was - something of remorseless promise, that would stop at nothing, in the - extravagantly laid plans with which they had just attempted to lure him - into the open and trap him. They had failed, it was true, and he had even - scored against them again—but their cunning, their power, their - resources, their malignity remained unimpaired. They would try again. It - was like two adversaries in a dark room, each conscious of the other's - presence, each striving to <i>place</i> the other, each conscious that the - death of one was life for the other. That was the pith of the situation. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's teeth clamped together. It was quite certain that they would - run him to earth—unless he were first at the same game! An - organisation as widespread as the one against which he had elected to pit - his wits and play a lone hand, an organisation clever enough to have - seized and put to its own use the entire divisional telegraph system of a - railroad, an organisation callous enough to have counted a score of - murders but incidents in its schemes, and, above all, an organisation - guided by an unknown brain that was a master of cunning and unhampered by - scruples, was an antagonist as sinister as it was powerful. For days now, - in the great majority of cases, he, the Hawk, had turned their plans to - his own account, skimmed, as it were, the cream from their milk—and - there could be but one answer. And they <i>had</i> answered—and in - the opening attack they had just launched against him it was obvious - enough that every resource at their command was to be thrown into the - balance to settle scores with him. They might, and did, laugh at the - police, but to have their prizes pocketed and carried off by a competitor - admitted of but one solution—the annihilation of the competitor! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk rose abruptly from his seat, stepped over to the trunk, opened - it, and in an instant had removed the secret tray from the curvature of - the lid. He laid the tray down upon the table; and his fingers, brushing - aside a certain magnificent diamond necklace whose thousand facets - glittered in the light, delved swiftly in amongst pile after pile of - banknotes, and secured a package of papers. - </p> - <p> - He pushed the tray to one side, sat down again at the table, removed the - elastic band from the package, and began to examine the papers. It was not - the first time he had done this—he did it again now in a sort of - desperation, and simply because it presented the one possibility at which - he might grasp in the hope of obtaining a clue. There were many papers - here, loose sheets, documents in envelopes, and, careful as he had been - before, there <i>was</i> a chance that he had missed the one thing—in - a sentence, in perhaps only a word, or a pencilled note-on the back of an - envelope—that would save him from disaster now. - </p> - <p> - It was the night before last that Parson Joe, with his fake tube of - radium, had headed the gang in the attempt upon his, the Hawk's, life. The - twisted smile returned to the Hawk's lips, as he turned first one paper - and then another over in his hands. He had been fool enough to imagine - that, besides failure, they had left a well-marked and clearly defined - trail behind them—in the shape of that very comfortably, very cosily - furnished house just on the outskirts of the city, where the Butcher had - proposed to play the rôle of spider to his, the Hawk's, rôle of fly! It - had even seemed a childishly simple matter to pick up such a thread and - follow it. A house was neither rented nor furnished out of thin air. But - the next morning the house was closed and deserted. It had been sublet—furnished. - The subtenant, whose name was of no consequence, since it was of course - assumed, had vanished—that was all. As far as the gang was concerned - the house had lost its usefulness, and, having lost its usefulness, had - simply been evacuated, and, together with the furniture, left to its own - resources! - </p> - <p> - And it had been the same, on a previous occasion, with Isaac Kirschell's - office. The morning after he, the Hawk, had appropriated the contents of - Kirschell's cash box and had recognised Kirschell as one of the gang, the - suite of rooms in the office building had been vacant. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk withdrew the last paper in the pile from its envelope, and read - it with a sort of miserable realisation that its perusal, like the others, - was foredoomed to futility. It was an alleged mortgage, spurious, of - course, for these were Kirschell's papers that had been in the cash box, - and, in the very nature of things, Kirschell's business had been only a - blind to cover a sort of branch headquarters for the gang. He read it - through, however, doggedly—and for his pains the printed words in - their precise legal phraseology seemed to mock at him and chuckle with - devilishly perverted humour. - </p> - <p> - He tossed the document upon the table, and, his face strained, pushed back - his chair, got up, and began to pace the length of the room with a tread - that, in its quick, nervous litheness and its silence, was like the pacing - of a panther in its cage. - </p> - <p> - Nothing! And yet there must be something—somewhere! It was his move - now, and there was little time to spare. It had become simply a question - of which of the two, he or the gang, would win this game of - blindman's-buff. It no longer sufficed that he should intercept those - secret code messages in the former haphazard way, for, consistently as he - had haunted the telegraph sounders, he was well enough aware that he must - of necessity have missed many of the messages. He could afford to miss <i>none</i> - of them now. Formerly, a message missed meant but a lost opportunity to - thwart their plans, to add a little more to the contents of the trunk's - false lid; now, since they had shown that they would stop at nothing to - trap him, his life was dependent on having, with certainty, foreknowledge - of their every plan. His defense lay in attack. He must trace those - messages to their source, and trace them quickly before the Wire Devils - should strike again, or leave the field to the Wire Devils—in other - words, quit and run for it! - </p> - <p> - “Quit!” It was the first sound the Hawk had made, and it was only a - whisper—but the whisper was gritted out through set teeth. Quit! He - laughed a little, low, with menace, without mirth. It was not an - alternative—it was the sting of a curling whip-lash to spur him on. - </p> - <p> - Well? What was he to do then? It was his move—and there was no time - to spare. He approached the table again, and began to rearrange the papers - into a pile, preparatory to replacing them in the tray. It was veritably a - game of blindman's-buff! They knew him through personal contact, but only - as a man who had always been masked; he knew many of them, and knew them - personally—but only in the play-off of their schemes, when he had, - as it were, snatched the plunder from their hands as he made his own - escape, had he ever seen any of them. Well—the question came again, - more insistent, more imperative, more vital—well, his life was in - the balance, what was he to do? Go out again to-night and haunt a - telegraph sounder, trust to—— - </p> - <p> - He turned suddenly, the spurious mortgage, and the long envelope that had - contained it, in his hand. The document, for some reason or other, refused - to fit into the envelope as neatly or as readily as it had previously - done. He held the envelope up to the light—and the next instant, - flinging the document down on the table, he had ripped the envelope apart, - and from under the inner flap, where it had undoubtedly been forced by the - document itself and afterwards, as he had handled the envelope, had - obviously worked its way partially out again, he extracted a small, thin - slip of yellow paper. - </p> - <p> - And then for a moment the Hawk stood motionless, but into the dark eyes - there leaped a triumphant flash. In his hand was the return portion of a - railroad ticket that read: - </p> - <p> - Conmore to Selkirk City. - </p> - <p> - He whipped the ticket over to scrutinise the date stamp on the back—it - was that of the day prior to his visit to Kirschell's office. And he - laughed a little again, but there was no bitterness in the laugh now. The - clue that he had sought, the clue that Lanson's men had in vain patrolled - and scoured the division's right of way to obtain, was in his possession. - </p> - <p> - “It fits—like a glove!” muttered the Hawk, with grim complacence. - “Kirschell had the envelope in his pocket, of course, and in putting his - return ticket in his pocket it slipped into the envelope without his - knowing it, got crowded under the flap, and he thought he had lost it!” - The Hawk turned sharply to the table. “Conmore—eh?” He was working - with feverish haste now, replacing the papers in the tray, and fitting the - tray back into the curvature of the trunk lid. “Number Thirty-Eight, if - she's on time, is due at seven-thirty.” He pulled out his watch. - “Seven-twenty! Conmore—eh?” The light was out, the door locked - behind him. “That's twenty-miles east of here, and <i>between</i> here and - Bald Creek.” He was out of the house now, and running along the lane that - gave on the station street. “Yes,” said the Hawk again, and there was - suppressed elation in his voice, “it fits! It fits—like a glove!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk reached the station, and purchased a ticket; but, as usual, the - ticket did not indicate his destination—it read, not to Conmore, but - to several stations farther along the line. The local pulled in on time. - As it pulled out again, the Hawk, having appropriated the rear seat of the - smoker, lighted, though he inclined little toward that particular form of - tobacco, a cigar. - </p> - <p> - His slouch hat was jerked a little forward over his eyes. He settled back - in his seat. Like links in a chain, the keen, alert brain was welding the - events of the days gone by into a concrete whole. The headquarters of the - gang, the heart of the web from which the Wire Devils operated was, - logically, as he had known, as MacVightie had known, <i>outside</i> the - city, where the telegraph line could be tapped without observation and at - will. MacVightie's initial and only attempt to “ground out” the “tap” had - indicated that the wire was being tampered with <i>between</i> Selkirk and - Bald Creek. Conmore was between Selkirk and Bald Creek. And what interest - could Kirschell, a New York crook, have in a place like Conmore, that was - little more than a hamlet? What, then, had prompted Kirschell's trip to - Conmore and return? The Hawk smiled whimsically. - </p> - <p> - It was not proof absolute, but in his own mind it was proof quite - sufficient. Kirschell's visit to Conmore had been a visit to the - headquarters of the gang. Also, material proof apart, he sensed - intuitively that he had struck the right trail. Those messages, keeping - the unknown brain that schemed and plotted each move in instant touch with - every unit of the widespread organisation, making it possible for them to - strike at a moment's warning at any point over a hundred miles of country, - emanated—from Conmore. - </p> - <p> - The train stopped at a station, and went on again. The Hawk nursed his - cigar sedulously, and stared out of the window. Twenty minutes went by. - And then the train stopped again—at Conmore. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk did not move, save that his eyes rested casually on a passenger - who was making a hurried and belated dash for the door. It was quite - possible that the man was not one of the gang, and equally possible that - the man was—he, the Hawk, did not recognise the other. But he would - do the Wire Devils less than justice to credit them with lack of interest - in passengers for Conmore—or in any occupant of any car who might - have left his seat and found the platform attractive, say, just <i>before</i> - Conmore was reached! If the man was a spy, then—well—the Hawk - smiled at his now burned-to-the-butt cigar—the man would have little - to report! - </p> - <p> - The train jerked forward into motion again. The station was on the same - side as the Hawk's seat—the Hawk did not look out of the window, but - he was far from being oblivious to the fact that <i>no</i> platform lights - had shown through the car windows on the opposite side of the aisle. The - speed increased a little, but still the Hawk did not stir. The train - rattled over the east-end siding switch of the Conmore yard. And then the - Hawk rose languidly, tossed his cigar butt into the cuspidor, brushed a - very noticeable quantity of cigar ash from his vest, paused for a drink at - the water-cooler, and, as though, his smoke finished, he was seeking the - clearer atmosphere of a rear car, opened the door, and stepped out on the - platform. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk dropped to the right of way from the side of the train opposite - to that of the station, landed as sure-footed as a cat, flung himself - instantly flat down at the edge of the embankment, and lay still. The - local racketed its way past—the red tail-lights winked, and vanished—and - there fell a silence, a drowsy night silence, broken only by the chirp of - insects and the far-distant mutter of the receding train. The Hawk raised - his head, and looked about him. A few hundred yards away glinted the - station semaphore and window lights; the siding switch light, nearer, - showed green like a huge glowing emerald in the black; there was nothing - else. There was no sign of habitation—nothing—the little - hamlet lay hidden in a hollow a mile away on the station side of the - track. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XV—THE LADYBIRD - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk rose, and - began to move forward. Conmore was certainly an idealistic spot—from - the Wire Devils' standpoint! He frowned a little. There was no doubt in - his mind but that in a general way he had solved the problem, that - somewhere in this vicinity the right of way held the wire tappers' secret; - but, as he was well aware, his difficulties were far from at an end, and - that particular spot might be anywhere within several miles of Conmore, - and it might, with equal reason, be east or west of the station. And then - the Hawk shrugged his shoulders. The night was early yet, early enough to - enable him to cover several miles of track on both sides of the station, - if necessary, before daylight came. If he had luck with him, he was on the - right side now; if not, then, by midnight, he would start in on the other. - It required the exercise of a little philosophical patience, nothing more. - </p> - <p> - It was black along the track—a black night, no moon, no stars. And - it was silent. A half hour passed. Like a shadow, and as silent as one, - the Hawk moved forward—from telegraph pole to telegraph pole. A pin - point of light showed far down the right of way, grew larger, brighter, - more luminous—and the Hawk-sought refuge, crouched beneath a - culvert, as a big ten-wheeler and its string of coaches, trucks beating at - the fishplates, quick like the tattoo of a snare drum, roared by over his - head. - </p> - <p> - Still another half hour passed. It was slow work. He was perhaps, at most, - a mile and a half from the Conmore station. And then, suddenly, the Hawk - dropped to his hands and knees and crawled down the embankment, and lay - flat and motionless in the grass—faint, almost inaudible, a footstep - had crunched on the gravel of the roadbed ahead of him. The Hawk's only - movement now was the tightening of his fingers around the stock of his - automatic, as, out of the blackness, a blacker shape loomed up, and a man - sauntered by along the track. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's lips compressed into a grim smile. His caution had not been - exaggerated! The Wire Devils' guard! Luck, at least initial luck, was with - him, then! The “tap” was here <i>east</i> of the station, and at the next - pole probably. But it was more than likely that there was another guard - patrolling on the other side. They would certainly take no chances, either - of surprise, or of being unable to dismantle their apparatus instantly at - the first alarm—and it would almost necessarily require more than - one man for that. He crept forward again, and again lay still. The man on - the track returned—passed by—and, close to the telegraph pole - now, two blurred shapes showed; and then, low, there came voices, and a - laugh. - </p> - <p> - But now the Hawk was wriggling swiftly away from the track. There was no - longer any need to examine the telegraph poles—the sense of touch - guiding him, he was following an insulated wire, two wires, that lay along - the ground, and, following these wires, he reached the barbed-wire fence - that enclosed the right of way, worked his way through, and here paused. - The wires had apparently disappeared abruptly into the ground. - </p> - <p> - For perhaps a minute the Hawk lay still, save that his fingers worked and - dug at loose earth; and then, his coat extended on either side of him, he - raised himself an inch or two from the ground, and, beneath his body, his - tiny flashlight glowed for a brief instant, and was restored to his - pocket. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk began to crawl forward again. He was on the edge of a ploughed - field—a piece of farm land. It was all very simple, and it was very - clear now. In the loose earth there was embedded a small, rough, wooden - box. In this receptacle was a junction box, and from the junction box, - through holes bored in the outer wooden casing, the wires continued on - into a small, flexible conduit. The Hawk smiled grimly. Lanson, and - Lanson's section men might search a thousand years and never solve the - problem. The Wire Devils were not limited to any one single or particular - telegraph pole. They were limited only in the radius of their operations - by the length of the “tap” wires they used. They had only to tap the line, - run their “tap” back, brush the loose earth away from the top of the - wooden casing, open the latter, connect with the junction box, and their - “tap” became an integral part of the railroad's telegraph system. It was - very simple! When they were not operating—they reversed the process. - They disconnected from the main line, coiled their “tap” wires up, hid - them in the wooden casing, restored the loose earth over the latter's - surface, and, save for one of those thousands of splices on the main line - incident to years of service and differing in no way from any of its - fellows, no sign or vestige of their work remained. It required, of - course, a lineman's outfit and the necessary appliances for work at the - top of the telegraph pole—but that the Wire Devils were adequately - equipped in this respect was so obvious as to make any consideration of - that detail absurd. For the rest, the little conduit laid in a ploughed - furrow with the earth spread back over it completed in perfection and - simplicity the unholy little scheme! - </p> - <p> - On the Hawk crawled across the field. All this premised a house, a farm - house probably, in the immediate vicinity. The ploughed field must, of - course, never be disturbed, therefore the tenancy of the land - axiomatically was for the moment vested in the Wire Devils, and——ah! - The Hawk, far enough from the railroad now to be secure from observation, - had risen from his hands and knees, and, in a crouched position, was - moving forward more rapidly. A small, wooded tract of land was showing a - little way in front of him; the house undoubtedly was there. - </p> - <p> - He gained the trees, made his way through what appeared to be an open - grove of pines, and, on the other side, at the edge of the clearing, - halted, and listened intently. He could just make out a little group of - buildings—the house itself, a barn, and one or two smaller - structures, probably wagon and implement sheds. No light showed from - anywhere, nor was there any sound. Cautiously, silently, the Hawk crossed - the clearing, and began to circuit the house. It was a little strange! The - place seemed absolutely deserted. Had he made a mistake? Naturally, he - could not follow the direction of the buried conduit! Was there another - house in the neighbourhood? He shook his head. There might be another - house, many of them for that matter, but the ploughed field, from its - location, surely belonged to this one. And yet—he halted once more, - and, listening again intently, looked sharply about him. - </p> - <p> - He was around on the other side of the house now, and now his eyes were - fixed on one of the lower windows. It was not the window of a lighted - room, yet still a faint glow seemed to emanate most curiously from it. He - crept toward it, crouched beneath it, listened again, then partially - straightening up—the window sill was but breast high—peered - in. Of the room itself he could see nothing—only the dull glow of - light, extremely faint, that came, he now discovered, from an open door - across the room. He tried the window; and then, finding the catch - unfastened, with a deft pressure of his fingers upon the sash, he began to - raise it slowly, silently. - </p> - <p> - And now into the Hawk's dark eyes there leaped for the second time that - night a triumphant flash. Yes, beyond doubt, beyond question, beyond - cavil, here was the heart of the spider's web at last! Muffled, low, - indistinct, barely audible, but equally unmistakable, there came the - clicking of a telegraph instrument. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk drew his mask from his pocket, slipped it over his face, swung - noiselessly over the window sill, and began to creep across the room - toward the opened door and the glow of light. And, as the clicking of the - sounder grew more distinct and there mingled with it now a murmur of - voices, the Hawk's lips compressed into a thin, straight line. If he were - caught, if a single inadvertent sound betrayed his presence; it needed no - effort of the imagination to picture what would follow. Death, if it were - sudden, would be a very merciful ending—but it would not be death, - if the Wire Devils could prevent it, until they had exhausted every means, - torture ingenious and devilish, for instance, to extort from him the - whereabouts of the plunder taken from them, and which they knew to be in - his possession. He knew much now, he knew their lair at last, and for a - moment, as these thoughts flashed across his mind, he was prompted to - retreat again while he had the chance. An inner voice called him a fool to - persist; another bade him go on. But the latter voice was right. He knew - much—but he did not know enough. - </p> - <p> - If his life was in peril in the one sense, it was equally in peril in the - other. He did not know <i>enough</i>. Who, for instance, was the master - brain behind the organisation? Where and how, for instance, was the next - trap they would set for him to be laid? - </p> - <p> - Brief snatches of conversation now began to reach the Hawk, as he drew - nearer to the door: - </p> - <p> - “... Twenty-five thousand dollars... Traders' National Bank... - superintendent's car... dummy package... counterfeit seals... that's all - right, but MacVightie says the Secret Service is sending a man by the name - of Birks out here....” - </p> - <p> - And then a voice at which the Hawk involuntarily held his breath, and to - which, at the door now, he listened in a sort of stunned incredulity, as - though he were indeed the sport of his own ears. It was a very quiet - voice, very soft, a velvet voice, a voice whose tones were cultured tones—and - whose language was the language of a pirate of the Spanish Main. - </p> - <p> - “Time enough to attend to this Birks personage—what I want is the - Hawk!” came in limpid tones. “And if I were not tied down here in this - damned and double-damned wheel chair, I would have twisted his throat for - him long ago. I furnish brains—and I am cursed with a miserable, - crawling mob of gnats upon whom they are wasted! That's it—gnats! - Gnats—insects—moths—anything that, if shown the light, - knows nothing but to singe its own wings!” The voice was not raised; it - was like a mother's, like a woman's voice, talking plaintively to a - spoiled child—but there was something absolutely deadly in its - inflection. - </p> - <p> - “The Ladybird!” The Hawk's lips framed the words without sound, and in a - sort of numbed hesitant way. “I—I thought he was dead.” - </p> - <p> - The telegraph sounder kept on spluttering at intervals, but it was only - stray stuff, routine railroad business, going over the wires. The Hawk, - flat on the floor and at one side of the jamb now, stared through the - doorway. It was the doorway leading to the cellar. The stairs, halfway - down, turned abruptly at right angles. The Hawk was rewarded with a view - of the stone foundation wall of the house, nothing more. But for the - moment the Hawk was lost to his immediate surroundings. The Hawk's - criminal acquaintanceship was wide, varied and intimate, and his mind was - still not entirely recovered from the startled amazement which the - recognition of that voice had brought him. He was quite fully conversant - with the Ladybird's record—only he had thought the Ladybird dead! - </p> - <p> - The Ladybird was not an ordinary criminal; instead of having spent twenty - years in Sing Sing, as was very justly his due, the police had spent those - twenty years in trying to put him there—and the Ladybird was still - to know the restrictions of a cage! Clever, fearless, cunning, Napoleonic - in the scope and breadth of his operations, the biggest scoops on the - blotters of the New York police, and, higher up, on the Federal records, - were laid to the Ladybird's door; but always, somewhere, the thread of - evidence broke—sometimes not till the door itself was reached—but - always it broke; the thread had never crossed the threshold. The man - himself was highly educated, a man now well on toward fifty. In the - underworld there were a thousand different stories of his early life—that - he had been a professor of science in a great university; that he came of - a rich family high up in the social scale; that he had been, in fact, - everything that the spice of imagination could supply to enhance the - glamour that surrounded him in the sordid empire of Crimeland, where so - many were his followers and worshippers. But here, too, the thread was - broken. None knew who he had been; none knew where he had come from. They - knew him only as one who was invulnerable against the attacks and efforts - of the police, as a peer of their own unholy realm, as one whose name was - a name to conjure with—for in the name, the “moniker” they - themselves had given the Ladybird on account of his effeminate voice and - manner, derision was neither intended nor implied. There were limits and - bounds to even the underworld's temerity, and none knew better than the - underworld the sinister incongruity of those effeminate characteristics. - Where another might bellow and roar his rage, and threaten, the Ladybird - lisped his words—and <i>struck</i>. - </p> - <p> - But he, the Hawk, had thought the Ladybird dead! The man had been badly - hurt a year ago in a railroad accident somewhere in the East, and the - report had spread, and had been credited even in the inner circles of the - underworld, that he was dead. The Hawk's lips twisted grimly. The Ladybird - had seen to it evidently that the report was not denied! And so, instead, - the man was a cripple now, weaving his plots, and scheming with that - black, cunning brain of his from a wheel chair! Well, he—— - </p> - <p> - The Hawk reached quickly into his pocket for pencil and paper—there - would be just light enough to enable him to see. The sounder was rattling - a brisk, tattoo, but it was no longer stray stuff. The message, in quick, - sure “sending,” was coming in the Wire Devils' secret code. Letter by - letter the Hawk jotted it down: - </p> - <p> - “pikxtfbmez byqetbqfsl kgqmbokufec srfijojeremb sthfgsbk bnfebvwq - jduuvsfpq xwfsnlipb ouflmnfsbg jeborr ettjupuj ohllsppn.” - </p> - <p> - The sounder ceased abruptly. There was silence. The Hawk replaced pencil - and paper in his pocket. The minutes passed—the message was - evidently being decoded. Then the Ladybird's voice: - </p> - <p> - “Very well! Code a message to Number One, and tell him Number Seven has - completed his work. Tell him again to take no chances by hurrying things; - that he is to wait until they are asleep. And warn him again that under no - circumstances is our hand to show in this to-night.” - </p> - <p> - A slight confusion followed from below—the scuf-, fling of feet, the - murmur of voices mingling with curious, indefinable metallic sounds. And - then suddenly the Ladybird's voice again: - </p> - <p> - “No—never mind that message! Damn my cursed, useless legs!” A flow - of unbridled oaths followed—the sacrilege the more horrible, the - menace the more ghastly for the languid, conversational tones in which the - blasphemy rolled so smoothly from the man's lips. “I'll trust to no - message tonight! Curse my legs! If I could only get there myself! Failure! - Failure! Failure! Gnats! But I will not have my plans ruined to-night by - any fool! Here, you, Dixer! Where's Dixer?” - </p> - <p> - “I'm here,” a voice answered. - </p> - <p> - “Listen, them!” murmured the Ladybird. “You haven't got any more brains - than any of the rest of them, but you're so cautious you wouldn't take a - chance on swapping a Mexican dollar for a gold eagle unless you had a - bottle of acid in your pocket—for fear the eagle was bad! I want - caution tonight, and I want orders obeyed to the letter, and that's all I - want. You take the runabout and go down there. You've lots of time. Tell - Number One you're in charge. I'll wire him to that effect. And now pay - attention to me so you won't have ignorance for an excuse! It's time the - police and the rags they call newspapers around here had a little - something to divert their attention—from us. They're getting to be - pests, and I want a lull in which to devote a little more attention to—the - Hawk. It's about time they understood we are modest enough not to hog all - the lime-light!” He laughed a little, a low, modulated, dulcet laugh, that - rippled like a woman's—but in the ripple there was something that - was akin to a shudder. “Twice in the last month, the Traders' National has - made remittances to its banking correspondent at Elkhead for the mine - country pay rolls and on account of general business. They did it very - neatly, they fooled us completely—because the remittances were only - piker amounts, and because it was only a question of letting them get fed - up enough with their own cleverness to pull a good one! They're pulling a - good one to-night!” The Ladybird's laugh rippled out again. “To outwit us, - and paying us the compliment of not daring to trust to ordinary means of - shipment, they've had a little arrangement in force with Lanson, the - division superintendent. It was very simple. Lanson, in his car, making a - trip over the division, could never interest us—certainly not! Why - should it? Only they did not count on Number Eleven <i>inside</i> the - bank. Very well! They wrapped their banknotes up in small packages, sealed - them with the bank's seal, wrapped these small packages up again into an - innocent looking parcel <i>without</i> a seal, and handed it over to a - trusted young employé by the name of Meridan—Paul Meridan. On both - the former occasions, Meridan left the bank at the usual closing hour, - took the parcel with him, and went home; but, later on, in the evening, he - slipped down to the railroad yard, boarded Lanson's private car, locked - the parcel up in a small cupboard at the bottom of the bookcase with which - the main compartment of the car is equipped, smoked a cigar with Lanson, - turned in, the car was coupled to the night express, and in the morning - Meridan delivered his package in Elkhead. - </p> - <p> - “That was the way it was done before, Dixer”—the Ladybird's voice, - if anything, grew softer—“and that's the way it is being done this - time—only there are <i>more</i> little sealed packages in the parcel - to-night. And to-night Meridan will sneak out of his home again, and go - down to the private car with the money as usual. <i>Your</i> way, yours - and the Butcher's, and that of the rest of you, would be to lay a - blackjack over Meridan's head on the way to the railroad yard, and snatch - the parcel. It's not <i>my</i> way. It's too hot, as it is, around here - now, and there's got to be a big enough noise made to attract attention to - the other side of the fence and give us a breathing spell. <i>Paul Meridan - stands for this to-night</i>. There's nothing new about one of those - ubiquitous 'trusted employés' going wrong, but everybody sucks in their - breaths just the same every time it happens, and the splash is always just - as big. Understand? Number One has got a dummy package identical in - appearance with Meridan's—each of the small packages is sealed with - the bank's seal in dark-green wax, and the whole is wrapped up with the - bank's special wrapping paper and tied precisely as is the one Meridan has - in his possession. Number Eleven did his work well. There was, of course, - no opportunity to effect the exchange in the bank itself, and the dummy - parcel had to be made up outside, but there was no difficulty in carrying - away enough wrapping paper and wax for the purpose—and, as far as - the seal was concerned, it was you, Dixer, who engraved it a week ago, - wasn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Dixer. “You took me off the new twenty-spot plate for that.” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly!” lisped the Ladybird. “Well, though this exchange could not be - effected in the bank, there was no great ingenuity required to get Meridan - to handle, perhaps only to lift, say, a pile of the bank's wrapping paper - from one position on a table or desk to another. If the under sheet - happened to be slightly smeared, and so left a not too evident, but still - well-defined finger print, it was, I am afraid, our friend Meridan's great - misfortune! That was one of the sheets Number Eleven took away with him. - Very good! Meridan delivers his package to his bank's correspondent in - Elkhead to-morrow morning. When the seals are broken, the little packages - are found to contain—piles of blotting paper, neatly and carefully - cut to the size of banknotes! There could be no reason for suspecting - Meridan, the trusted employé—no one would think of such a thing. He - had simply been the victim of a clever substitution. He was entirely - blameless. Naturally! That would be the way Meridan would reason, and that - would be the way they would figure <i>he had reasoned</i> when they read - the letter from 'a friend' that we are sending to-night, and which they - will receive in the morning. Meridan <i>did</i> have an ample opportunity - to effect the substitution himself. The letter simply suggests a close - inspection of the wrappers for finger prints, and directs attention to - Apartment B, on the ground floor of The Linden—a rather fashionable - abode for a young and newly married bank clerk—where there might - possibly be found certain articles such as, say, a counterfeit of the - bank's seal, a quantity of the bank's special dark-green wax, and some <i>superfluous</i> - sheets of the bank's particular wrapping paper!” - </p> - <p> - There was utter silence from the cellar below for an instant, then there - came a callous guffaw. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Some</i> plant, all right!” applauded a voice hoarsely. “And it was - twenty-five thousand dollars, you said, wasn't it, chief?” - </p> - <p> - Again that rippling laugh, soft, low and silvery. - </p> - <p> - “Twenty-five thousand dollars is correct,” corroborated the Ladybird. “And - now, Dixer, if you fail, you'll talk to me—you've seen all the - cards. Number One has a duplicate key to the private car, and a duplicate - key to the bookcase cupboard. Don't enter the car until you are sure - Meridan, Lanson and the porter are asleep. I want <i>caution</i>—and - I will settle with the man until he will wish he had never been born who - lets our hand show in this tonight. The car won't be moved from the siding - until the Eastern Express is made up at midnight, but don't touch the car - while it is on the siding at all if it means taking any chances; in that - case you and Number One can get berths in the Pullman, and, with the - private car right behind you, you can then make the exchange sometime - during the night. You'll find Number One and the rest of them in the old - freight shed near the roundhouse, and, with the private car right behind - you, you can then make the exchange sometime during the night. You'll find - Number One and the rest of them in the old freight shed near the - roundhouse, and——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was wriggling silently back across the floor. There was no scheme - on foot to-night that was aimed at him; there was, instead, twenty-five - thousand dollars—<i>in cash</i>. He gained the window, and swung to - the sill. Footsteps, hurried, sounded from the direction of the cellar - stairs. The Hawk dropped to the ground, stole noiselessly around the rear - of the house, and reached the shelter of the grove of trees. Here, he - paused, slipped his mask into his pocket, and, for a moment, a look of - puzzled hesitation was in his face; then, running again, but making a wide - detour to avoid the guarded section of the track, he headed for a point - that would intercept the right of way quite close to the Conmore station. - And, as he ran, he jerked his watch and flashlight from his pockets. It - was a quarter past nine. It was early yet, very early, and they certainly - would not make any attempt on the car much before midnight, but, for all - that, the Hawk, who was intimately conversant with the train schedules, - shook his head impatiently, as he sped along—there were twenty miles - between himself and Selkirk, and the quickest, as indeed the only way to - get there, since, unlike Dixer, he was not possessed of a runabout, was - slow at best. There were no westbound passenger trains scheduling Conmore - for two hours or more, and he would scarcely have dared to risk boarding - one at the station if there had been—there remained, then, not by - choice, but by necessity, the way freight. The way freight “made” Conmore - at about ten o'clock, and Selkirk at about eleven-thirty. - </p> - <p> - It would serve admirably, of course, if——He shook his head - again, and then laughed shortly. There were no “ifs”—he would be a - passenger on the way freight. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XVI—AN EVEN BREAK - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T took the Hawk - some twenty-five minutes to reach the spot he had selected as his - objective, a spot some fifty yards east of the Conmore siding switch, and - here he lay down in the grass under the shelter of the embankment. It was - very quiet, very still, very dark; there was nothing in sight save the - winking station lights in the distance, and the siding switch light nearer - at hand. - </p> - <p> - “Twenty-five thousand dollars!” said the Hawk very softly to himself. He - rolled the words like some sweet morsel on his tongue. “Twenty-five - thousand dollars—<i>in cash!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk spread out one side of his coat, and under its protection, in a - diminutive but steady little glow of light, the tiny flashlight played its - ray upon the sheet of paper across which he had scrawled the Wire Devils' - code message. - </p> - <p> - “Key letter—x. One-two-three—stroke at four,” muttered the - Hawk—and in parallel columns set down the letters of the alphabet, - one column transposed. - </p> - <p> - It took the Hawk much longer to decode the message than it had taken those - in the house to perform the same task. The Hawk was working under - difficulties. A stone, none too flat, served to rest his paper upon, and - he had only two hands with which to manipulate pencil, flashlight and - coat. At the expiration of perhaps half an hour the result of his work - looked like this: - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0242.jpg" alt="0242 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0242.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - And then the Hawk looked up—the throb and mutter of a distant train - was in the air. Pencil, paper and flashlight were restored to his pockets, - and he drew further back from the right of way. Far down the track the way - freight's headlight flashed into view. A minute passed, another, and still - another. And now, where the Hawk had lain, the ground was ablaze with - light—then black again; there was the roar of steam, a grind and - clash and shatter ricochetting down the string of cars, the scream and - shriek of brake-shoes, and then, a panting thing, as though the big mogul - were drawing in deep breaths after great exertion, the way freight came to - a standstill a few yards from the siding switch. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk crept forward, his eyes sweeping down the length of the train in - a keen, tense gaze. There was a flat car—it showed in a curious open - space, like a break in the black thread stretched along the track—but - it was too far away, and too perilously close to the caboose. His eyes - travelled back; and, being nearer to the train now he discerned a boxcar, - empty, its door open, almost in front of him. He crawled forward until he - was abreast of it, and until he lay close up against the rails, looked - cautiously up and down the length of the train, sprang to his feet, and in - an instant lay stretched out far back in the interior of the car. - </p> - <p> - The train moved forward, stopped again at the station, and again moved - forward. The Hawk reverted to his pencil, paper and flashlight. The code - message now read: - </p> - <p> - seal waxp aper plan tedb ehin dlar gefr amed pict ureo verm ante lmer idan - ssit ting room - </p> - <p> - It was now simply a matter of grouping the letters properly, and the Hawk - wrote out the message at the bottom of the sheet: - </p> - <p> - Seal, wax (and) paper planted behind large framed picture over mantel - Meridan('.s sitting room. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk stared at it grimly. - </p> - <p> - “'Yea,” said the Hawk, “I guess that's right! I guess the job is wished on - the young fellow to a finish; he wouldn't have a hope, and MacVightie - would never look any further.” The Hawk was silent for a moment. - “Twenty-five thousand dollars—in cash!” murmured the Hawk again. - </p> - <p> - The way freight ran slowly, very slowly—and it had already been from - ten to fifteen minutes late in reaching Conmore. At the next station the - train crew seemed possessed of a perversity infernal for shifting, - shunting and lifting cars. The Hawk, fuming with impatience, consulted his - watch, as they finally pulled out into the clear again. It was twenty-five - minutes of eleven. - </p> - <p> - The train rattled, bumped and jerked its way along—and at the - remaining intermediate stations there was more delay. And when, - approaching Selkirk at last, the Hawk consulted his watch again as the - train whistled, he was conscious that his impatience was tempered with a - sort of sullen, philosophical expectation of defeat. His luck had been too - abundant during the early part of the evening! It was now ten minutes of - twelve. He leaned out of the doorway, peering ahead. They were just - rolling into the Selkirk yard. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk swung himself out from the car, dropped to the ground, darted - quickly to one side over several spur tracks, and stood still. The way - freight, like a snail, dragged past him, opening, as it were, a panorama - of the scene in the yard: the low switch lights, red, green, purple and - white, like myriad and variegated fireflies hovering everywhere over the - ground; the bobbing lantern of a yardman here and there; the dancing gleam - of a headlight, as the little yard engine shot fussily away from a string - of lighted coaches—the Eastern Express—which it had evidently - just made up and backed down on the main line beside the station; while to - his right, up the yard, on one of the spurs, perhaps a hundred yards away, - its platform showing in the glow of the dome light, stood the - superintendent's car; and to his left, not quite so far up the yard, and - therefore nearer to him than the private car, the Hawk could make out the - black, irregular outline of the old freight shed. - </p> - <p> - The yard engine wheezed its way importantly up past the station, stopped, - a switch light winked, changed colour, and the shunter began to puff its - way back. The Hawk shrugged his shoulders resignedly. The game was up and - he was too late, unless Dixer had been forced to defer his attempt until - some time during the run that night, which was hardly likely. The yard - engine was backing down now to take the superintendent's car up to the - main line, preparatory to running it back and coupling it to the string of - coaches beside the station platform. The Hawk smiled in the darkness - without mirth, as he lost sight of the little switcher on the other side - of the private car. Well, at least, he could gamble on the one chance that - was left! There was only one thing to do—go over to the station and - get a Pullman berth. If Dixer and the Butcher—the Butcher was - “Number One”—were on the Pullman, the money was still in the private - car, and—— - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes narrowed suddenly. A man, crouched and running swiftly, - circled the end of the private car, and headed in the direction of the - freight shed—and like a flash the Hawk whirled and leaped forward, - running silently toward the same goal. The Hawk's brain, stimulated, keen, - alert, worked with lightning speed, and suddenly a strange low laugh was - on his lips. Their courses were convergent, his and that black running - shape's, and the other had not noticed him, and there appeared to be - something, a package, under the other's arm. The Hawk, as he ran, slipped - his mask over his face. Was it the dummy package—or the twenty-five - thousand in cash? Had the man succeeded, or had the yard engine, backing - down to couple on, disturbed him in his attempt just at the psychological - instant? Again that strange low laugh, in a panting breath, was on the - Hawk's lips. It did not matter! There was a way now. He was not too late. - If he got <i>both</i> of the packages he could not lose—and there - was a way to accomplish that, a wild, dare-devil way, but a <i>sure</i> - way! - </p> - <p> - It was black, pitch black, in near the shed, and the Hawk, with the - shorter distance to cover, reached the edge of the freight shed platform, - and crouched down on the track. Came the faint crash and bump of the yard - engine coupling to the private car; then the short, quick gasps of a - runner out of breath, and a flying form bounded across the tracks, sprang - to the platform, and dashed for the freight shed door—and the Hawk, - his muscles, rigid, taut as steel, released suddenly, as a coiled spring - is released, leaped and hurled himself upon the other. - </p> - <p> - There was a yell of dismay, of surprise and fury, that seemed to echo from - one end of the yard to the other. The man went down in a heap from the - impact. The package, from under his arm, rolled off along the platform—and - the Hawk in a swoop was upon it. He snatched it up, and running like a - deer now, headed for the yard engine and the private car. - </p> - <p> - Came another yell from behind him. He heard the freight shed door flung - violently open; and then, in grim emphasis of a sudden chorus of wild, - infuriated shouts from Dixer's waiting companions, the vicious tongue - flame of a revolver split the black, and the roar of the report - reverberated through the yard like a cannon shot. - </p> - <p> - And now from the yard itself, the roundhouse and the station came - answering shouts. On the Hawk ran—he was alongside the private car - now, which was already in motion—and now he was opposite the cab of - the yard engine. The fireman, at the sudden pandemonium, head thrust out, - was hanging in the gangway. The Hawk's automatic swung to a line with the - other's head. - </p> - <p> - “Get out!” gritted the Hawk coldly. “Both of you—you and your mate! - Get out—<i>on the other side!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The man, with a dazed oath, retreated, and the Hawk sprang through the - gangway. The engineer, jumping from his seat, hesitated, and in the yellow - light of the cab lamp looked for the fraction of a second into the muzzle - of the Hawk's automatic, and into the hard, uncompromising black eyes - behind the mask—and followed the fireman in a hasty exit through the - opposite gangway. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk snatched at the throttle, pulled it wider—and, like a beast - stung to sudden madness under the spur, the yard engine quivered, and in a - storm of exhausts, coughing the red sparks skyward from the stack, the - drivers racing, spitting fire as they sought to bite and hold the steel, - plunged forward. Ahead the way was clear to the main line, but behind——The - Hawk dropped his package on the floor of the cab, leaned suddenly far out - through the gangway, and as suddenly fired, his automatic cutting a lane - of flame through the darkness. He had fired at the ground, but his shot - had been effective. The engineer or the fireman, he could not distinguish - which, leaping to board the private car by the rear platform, leaped back - instead, and with a series of wild gesticulations, in which arms and fists - waved furiously, vanished in the darkness. - </p> - <p> - The yard engine, as though playing snap-the-whip with the private car - behind it, took the main line switch with a stagger and a lurch, and - straightened away into the clear. There was speed now, and the speed was - increasing with every second. The shouts, the yells, the cries, the - pandemonium from the yard was blotted out in the pound of the drivers and - the belch of the exhaust; and the station and switch lights were lost to - sight as engine and car flew on, heading west into the foothills. The Hawk - chuckled to himself. There would be wild confusion in the dispatcher's - office, and wild confusion all along the line west of Selkirk, as - regulars, extras and traffic of all sorts scurried for safety to the - sidings—but there would be no interference with <i>him!</i> Where - they would otherwise have ditched him, given him an open switch at the - first station and sent him to destruction without compunction, he - possessed, as it was, a most satisfactory hostage in the person of the - division superintendent, whom they would hesitate about sending to - eternity at the same time! - </p> - <p> - Possibly a minute and a half, two at the outside, had passed since he had - jumped through the gangway. He eased the throttle a little now, reducing - the speed to a rate more nearly commensurate with safety; and, placing the - package on the driver's seat, ripped off the outside wrapper. There was a - queer, hard smile on the Hawk's lips, as his fingers tore at the covering - of one of the small sealed packets within. Was it the dummy parcel—or - the twenty-five thousand in cash? Had Dixer succeeded—or was the - money still behind him there in the private car? - </p> - <p> - The cab lamp above the dancing gauge needles seemed to throw its meagre - yellow glow with strained inquisitiveness over the Hawk's shoulder—and - then the Hawk laughed softly, and laughed again. In his hands were - banknotes. He riffled the stack through his fingers. It was here, in his - possession—<i>twenty-five thousand dollars in cash!</i> - </p> - <p> - And he laughed again, and glanced around him—through the cab glass - at the white ribbons of steel glistening under the headlight's glare, - around the murky cab that in its sway and jolt seemed to endow a legion of - shadowy with movement, vitality and life, at the platform of the private - car, which he could see by looking along the edge of the tender, and - which, like its fellow at the rear, was bathed in the soft radiance of a - dome light. Well, he might have known from the fact that the occupants of - the car had not made any move as yet, at least from the forward end, that - they had been in bed and asleep when the disturbance began; and he might, - on that count, if he had stopped to think, have known that Dixer had - succeeded even before he, the Hawk, had put it to the proof by opening the - parcel. - </p> - <p> - A lurch of the cab sent him against the seat, and scattered the sealed - packages. He gathered them together again hurriedly. He had only to slow - down the engine a little more, jump to the ground, let the engine and car - go on, make his own way back through the fields, and he would be safe - unless—that strange, queer smile, half grim, half whimsical, was - flickering across his lips—unless he cared to risk his life for that - dummy package back there in the car behind, that contained nothing more - valuable than neatly trimmed pieces of blotting paper! - </p> - <p> - The smile lost its whimsicality, and the grimness gathered until his lips - drooped in sharp, hard lines at the corners of his mouth—and, - abruptly, lifting up the seat, he swept the packages of banknotes into the - engineer's box, leaped across the cab, and began to claw his way up over - the coal, making for the back of the tender. - </p> - <p> - “Twenty-five thousand in cash for me, and twenty years in the 'pen' for - the kid, doesn't look like an even break,” muttered the Hawk, as he clawed - his way up. “Maybe I'm a fool—I guess maybe I am—but it - doesn't look like an even break. You see,” said the Hawk, continuing to - commune with himself, “they'll know, of course, that some one who wasn't - Meridan tried to get the package, but with the package still there they'll - think that the 'some one' made a bull of it, and to-morrow morning when - they open the package and spot the finger prints, and get that bank seal - in Meridan's home, they'll hold him for it cold, because what's happened - around here to-night'll only look like somebody making a try for the goods - without knowing they were already gone. The kid wouldn't have a hope—the - Ladybird wasn't dealing any aces except to himself—the kid would go - up for having <i>previously</i> stolen the goods on his own account. Yes, - I guess he would—wax, seal and paper in his house to make dummy - packages with—yes, I guess the kid would stand a hot chance!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk rose to his feet at the rear of the tender, preparing to - negotiate a leap down over the ornamental brass platform railing of the - private car—and instantly flung himself back flat on his face on the - coal. The car door was flung open, and Lanson, the superintendent, in - pajamas, a revolver in his hand, stepped out on the platform. He was - closely followed by a young man—Meridan, the bank clerk, obviously—also - in pajamas, but apparently unarmed; and, behind Meridan again, came the - negro porter. - </p> - <p> - Lanson's voice, raised excitedly, carried to the Hawk: - </p> - <p> - “Damn it, there's no one in the cab! What the devil sort of a game is - this!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk edged up to the top of the coal again—and the next instant, - with catlike agility, he launched himself forward. Lanson, clambering over - the platform railing, with the very evident intention of making his way - via the tender to the throttle, gasped audibly over the racket of the - beating trucks, and in a sort of stunned surprise and irresolution - remained poised inertly on the railing, as the Hawk, clinging now with one - hand to the rear handrail of the switcher, his feet planted on the buffer - beam, thrust the muzzle of his automatic into Lanson's face. - </p> - <p> - “Drop that gun!” invited the Hawk in a monotone. - </p> - <p> - The weapon, from Lanson's hand, clattered down, struck the coupling, and - dropped to the track. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk spoke again—with unpleasant curtness: - </p> - <p> - “You—Sambo! Move back, and stand in the doorway! Yes—there! - Now, you, young man, you stand in front of Sambo—your back to him!” - And then, as Meridan too obeyed, though more slowly than the porter and - with a sort of defiant reluctance, the Hawk addressed the superintendent: - “Now, you—your name's Lanson, isn't it?” he snapped. “You, Lanson, - back up against the young fellow. Yes—that's it! Sambo, put your - hands on the young fellow's shoulders—and you, young fellow, do the - same on Lanson's!” The Hawk swung over to the' car platform—and then - the Hawk smiled uninvitingly. “It's the lock-step backwards,” he explained - insolently. “You get the idea, don't you? If either of you two behind lift - your hands, Lanson in front here pays for it. Now—back with you!” - </p> - <p> - They shuffled backward into the observation compartment of the car, - through this, and through a narrow side corridor, and emerged into the - main compartment of the car. The Hawk, guiding their movements by the - simple expedient of prodding the muzzle of his automatic none too gently - into Lanson's body, here ranged the three along the side of the car; and, - backing over to the opposite side himself, halted in front of the - bookcase, and stood surveying his captives with his former insolent stare. - The porter was patently reduced to a state of nervous terror; Meridan, - young, clean-cut, was white to the lips, and his lips quivered, but his - eyes, a hard, bitter light in them, never left the Hawk's face; Lanson, - too, was white, but there was a stern composure in his face that was - absent from the younger man's. - </p> - <p> - It was Lanson who spoke. - </p> - <p> - “I presume,” he said evenly, “that you are the abandoned scoundrel, known - as the Hawk, whom one of these days we are going—<i>to hang</i>.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk shrugged his shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “I haven't a calling card with me, but we'll let it go at that,” he - answered flippantly. - </p> - <p> - The car swayed and lurched suddenly; the trucks beat a louder tattoo as - they clattered over a switch; lights, a row of them from without, - scintillated through the car windows—and were gone. They were not - running perilously fast, but fast enough to prohibit the possibility of - any one, even an acrobatic brakeman from a stalled train, swinging aboard. - The Hawk laughed low. Also, he had been quite right—they had just - passed a station, and, thanks to the superintendent's presence, no attempt - had been made to interfere with the train. - </p> - <p> - From one of the Hawk's pockets—with his left hand—the Hawk - produced a small steel jimmy. He knelt down, and, still covering the three - men, inserted the jimmy in between the cupboard doors. There was a creak, - the rip and split and tear of rending wood and lock, and the doors flew - apart. The Hawk reached in, laughed again, as, with the dummy package - under his arm, he stood up and began to back away toward the corridor - leading to the forward end of the car—and the laugh died on his - lips. In the winking of an eye Meridan had swung his hands from Lanson's - shoulders, and was springing forward. - </p> - <p> - “You'll never get it!” The boy's voice was a hoarse whisper. “Not while I——” - </p> - <p> - “Keep away, you fool!” snarled the Hawk, and fired—at the floor. His - brain seemed instantly in a riot of ironical mockery. He could not fire at - the boy—it was the boy who had brought him here—and now the - other was upon him—like a wild cat—snatching at the automatic. - </p> - <p> - It was only another step backward to the opening of the corridor, and the - Hawk gained it; but still the boy clung on, fighting furiously. He saw - Lanson and the porter leap forward, but for the moment that mattered - little—no more than one at a time could get at him in the confined - and narrow space here. To hold the package rendered his left arm useless. - He dropped the package to the floor, and kicked it deftly back behind him, - as the boy, with both hands, wrenched and battled madly for possession of - the automatic. - </p> - <p> - They were swaying now, the two of them, bumping their shoulders and their - arms and elbows against first one side of the corridor and then the other. - There was the crash of splintering glass as they lunged into a window—another - crash, louder, more ominous, and with it a tongue of flame, as the - automatic went off in their hands—and something like a red-hot iron - seared the Hawk's side, and a blur came before his eyes. - </p> - <p> - He reeled, recovered himself, and, massing all his strength for the - effort, as, with a cry of triumph, Meridan closed again, he tore himself - free from the other's grasp. There was one way—he was still in - possession of the automatic—only one way now. - </p> - <p> - With a lightning swing he whipped the hutt of the weapon to the other's - head, backed rapidly away as the boy slid a limp thing to the floor, and, - picking up the package as he moved backward, holding the narrow corridor - with his automatic, though Lanson was kneeling now at Meridan's side, he - reached the observation compartment, whirled, ran for the door, opened it, - and stepped out on the platform. - </p> - <p> - He stood panting here, a little dizzy, a sort of nauseating weakness upon - him, as he fumbled in his pocket. He was not as quick as usual in his - work, not as expert now in the use of his skeleton keys, but, swiftly for - all that, he locked the car door. - </p> - <p> - The car and the engine seemed to sway and lurch and pitch and toss as they - had never done before. Was the speed greater? What was it? He stumbled and - nearly fell as he climbed to the tender. He fell, unable to maintain his - footing in the shifting coal, as he reached the cab. There was something - hot and wet that seemed to be working its way down his leg; his side was - giving him intolerable pain. - </p> - <p> - He looked at the package in his hands, looked at it queerly for a moment, - and then his drawn lips parted in the old whimsical smile, as he lurched - forward and opened the fire-box door. The red glow filled the cab and - spread upward, tinging the sky with a rosy light—and the Hawk thrust - the package into the fire, and, swaying unsteadily, watched it burst into - flame. - </p> - <p> - He glanced at the gauge now. The steam was dropping rapidly. He swept his - hand across his eyes. He had two things to do, and it seemed as though his - brain clogged in its decision as to which he should do first—he had - to get more coal on the fire, or else the engine would run down, and he - did not want it to run down, for it must keep on going a long way, a very - long way if possible, after he left it; and he must stop the flow of blood - from his wound somehow, or else—— - </p> - <p> - He put coal into the fire-box. It was painful, dizzy work, and he spilled - a great deal of it, and the lumps rolled over the floor of the cab, and he - stumbled over the lumps. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's teeth were biting into his bloodless lips, as he finally shut - the fire-box door, and, staggering to the side of the cab, lifted up the - engineer's seat again. Here, under the packages of banknotes, he found a - bunch of waste and some cord; and then, reeling with the lurch of the cab, - reeling with his own weakness that only an iron nerve held back from - mastering him, he examined his wound, found it, though painful and - bleeding profusely, to be only a bad flesh wound, and, making a thick pad - of the waste, he laid it against his side, and bound it there by passing - the cord tightly several times around his body. It was a crude bandage, - but it should, at least, check the flow of blood—afterwards, if he - had luck, there would be opportunity for a better one! - </p> - <p> - His mind reverted, seemingly without volition of his, to the fight in the - car, and he spoke aloud. - </p> - <p> - “I guess,” said the Hawk, “I didn't hit him as hard as twenty years in the - 'pen' would have hit him—I guess I didn't hit him that hard.” - </p> - <p> - He rested for a moment, sitting on the floor of the cab; then from the - engineer's box he removed the sealed packages, the torn outside wrapper, - and likewise an evening newspaper which he found there. He wrapped up the - banknotes in the newspaper, tied the bundle securely with the remainder of - his cord, replaced the seat, and, crouched low enough on the floor to be - protected by the tender from, say, a shot fired through the observation - window of the private car, kept his eyes fastened on the right of way - ahead. - </p> - <p> - The next station must be close at hand, and there was but one way in which - he could get back to Selkirk—and he <i>must</i> get back. There was - that letter—the Ladybird's letter—that would be received in - Elkhead in the morning! His brain was clearer now. He must be on Extra No. - 92, the eastbound fast freight's, running time, and she must be somewhere - very near here, must have taken to the siding at the next station probably - to avoid him, and to give clearance to what was, undoubtedly now, coming - behind him—a detective's special, with MacVightie, naturally, in - command. - </p> - <p> - He straightened up painfully. Ahead, he had caught the glint of switch and - station lights. The siding was on the left-hand side. He moved to the - left-hand side of the cab, and lay on the cab floor by the gangway. That - letter! It seemed to obsess him now. If, when the letter was read, the - bank seal, the wax, and the wrapping paper were <i>found</i> hidden in the - boy's home, the fact that some one—he, the Hawk—had stolen the - package from the car in no way changed anything. The boy's apparent prior - guilt was as glaring as ever. On the other hand, with the package gone, - and if the seal and those other things were <i>not</i> found, the letter - became simply the expression of some practical joker's perverted sense of - humour, or the irresponsible work of some fool or crank. He frowned in a - sort of dazed irritation. He had known that all along, hadn't he? He had - known when he started after that dummy package in the first place that he - would have to go <i>all</i> the way—so why was his mind dwelling now - on useless repetitions! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk raised his head slightly—a deafening racket was in his - ears. The freight was here—on the siding. He was roaring past it - now. He could not hope for an open boxcar on the fast freight. His eyes - were searching eagerly for a flat car—a flat car loaded with - anything that would afford him shelter. Yes—there was one—two - of them—loaded with steel girders. - </p> - <p> - The roar subsided; he was past the station and into the clear again—and - now the Hawk was at the throttle, easing the speed craftily. He did not - dare to “shut off” entirely, for, behind there at the station, they would - know, if the sound of the exhaust ceased, that he had stopped. He checked - a little with the “air” now. And now, calculating the speed reduced enough - to risk a jump, he opened the throttle to its former notch, took up his - newspaper package, lowered himself to the bottom gangway step, and swung - off. - </p> - <p> - He rolled down the embankment. The switcher and private car went by, and, - gradually gaining speed again, racketed on up the right of way. With a - groan, the Hawk readjusted his displaced and makeshift bandage, and began - to make his way back toward the station. If he had slowed enough to allow - of a safe landing for himself, he had, of course, given Lanson the same - opportunity—but he had no fear of that. Lanson might have jumped, - but Meri-dan, whom he had left unconscious, <i>couldn't</i>, and Lanson - would stick to Meridan. As for the porter—the Hawk shrugged his - shoulders, as he looked about him—the porter had <i>not</i> jumped. - </p> - <p> - He stumbled on. If he were right, if they had started a posse on a special - in pursuit, he had plenty of time. The fast freight could not pull out - until the special had gone by. It seemed a long way, an interminable way, - an immeasurably greater distance than he had covered coming up on the - switcher. And then, at last, the tail-lights of the stalled freight came - into sight around a bend, and grew brighter. And then, too, there came - from the eastward the rumble of an approaching train. He grew cautious - now, and, creeping far out from the side of the track, passed the caboose, - crept in again toward the line of cars, located the position of the flat - cars, climbed aboard one of them, and crawled in under the shored-up - girders. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk lay very quiet. He was weak again, and his head swam, and he was - dizzy. An engine and car—MacVightie and his posse presumably—passed - by on the main line; and then, presently, the freight, with a clatter and - bang echoing from one to another down the length of cars, drew out of the - station. - </p> - <p> - When the Hawk moved again, it was as the train whistled and slowed for the - Selkirk yard. Perhaps twenty minutes had passed—the fast freight, - with no stops and already late, had made time. He put his mask in his - pocket, wormed his way out from under the girders, and peered ahead and - behind. They were just crawling into the upper end of the yard. He slid to - the ground, found himself a little more steady on his feet, slipped across - the spur tracks, dodged in between two buildings that flanked the side of - the yard, and came out on the street. - </p> - <p> - Under a street lamp the Hawk looked at his watch. It was one o'clock. He - swayed a little again, but his lips set hard. There was not very much - time. Somewhere up the line the switcher and the private car would come to - a stop, and they would bring Meridan home—and once that happened, - with its consequent stir in Meridan's apartment, it would be impossible to - get in there, and the game, as far as the boy was concerned, would be up. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk, as he forced himself along the street, “I guess - maybe that's right—I guess maybe I'm a fool—but it wasn't an - even break.” - </p> - <p> - A street car at the next corner took him across town; and fifteen minutes - more found him standing in the unlighted vestibule of the Linden - Apartments. The tiny flashlight swept the ground floor apartment doors—and - an instant later the door of Apartment B yielded noiselessly to the deft - manipulation of a skeleton key. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk closed the door, and stole forward. It was a rather fashionable - apartment, as the Ladybird had said, but it was also a very small one, - small enough to warrant the presumption that the young couple did not keep - a servant, and that there would probably be no one there except Meridan's - wife. A door at his right, as he felt out in the darkness, he found to be - open. He listened—for the sound of breathing. There was nothing. The - flashlight winked—and the Hawk stepped forward into the room. It was - the sitting room. The flashlight was sweeping about now in an inquisitive - little ray. A door, closed, leading to an inner room, was on his right; - facing him was a heavily portièred window, the portières drawn; and a - little to the left of the window was the mantel. - </p> - <p> - The flashlight's ray wavered suddenly, unsteadily—and the Hawk - caught at the nearest thing to him, the table in the centre of the room, - for support, a sense of disaster upon him, a realisation that, lashed on - as it might be by force of will, there was a limit <i>to</i> physical - endurance, and that the limit had well nigh been reached. His hand brushed - across his eyes, and brushed across them again to clear his sight, as he - tried to follow the flashlight's ray to where it played jerkily on a - massively framed picture over the mantel. He bit his lips now, bit them - until they bled—and moved forward—and laid his parcel of - banknotes on the floor that he might have the use of both hands—and - climbed upon a chair, and felt in behind the picture. Yes—it was - there! His fingers closed on a roll of paper, twitched and shook a little - as they pulled it out—and a small package from inside the roll fell - with a slight thud to the mantel, and from the mantel bounded off to the - floor. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk caught his breath, as he listened, and descended from the chair. - </p> - <p> - “Clumsy fool!” he gritted fiercely, as he knelt on the floor. “I—I - guess I'm pretty near the count to do a thing like that.” - </p> - <p> - The flashlight came into play again, and disclosed a metal seal and - several pieces of dark-green wax peeping through the paper wrapper that - had been split apart in the fall. He picked them up, and put them in his - pocket; then, loosening his vest, he tucked the roll of wrapping paper - inside his shirt. Well, it was done now; he had only to get back to his - room, and there was surely strength enough left for that. Again his hand - swept across his eyes, and pressed hard against his temples—and - then, stooping swiftly, he clutched at his package of banknotes on the - floor beside him, and stood up, rigid and tense. - </p> - <p> - Out of the darkness, almost at his elbow, with a startling clamour that - clashed and shattered through the silence, and seemed to set a thousand - echoes reverberating through the room, came the ringing of the telephone. - </p> - <p> - Some one in the inner room stirred. The Hawk drew back hurriedly into the - window recess behind the portières. The telephone rang again. There came a - step now, and now the room was flooded with light, and a woman, a dressing - gown flung hastily over her shoulders, crossed from the inner doorway to - the table, and picked up the instrument. - </p> - <p> - “Yes?... Hello!... What is it?” she asked, a little sleepily. “Yes, this - is Mrs. Meridan... <i>What?</i>... My husband!” Her voice rang out in - sudden terror. “What did you say?” she cried frantically. “Yes, yes—the - Hawk—my husband—unconscious... You are not telling me all the - truth—you are trying to keep the worst from me—for God's sake - tell me the truth!... Not dangerous?... You are sure—you are <i>sure?</i>... - Yes, yes, I understand!... At the station in half an hour... I will be - there.” - </p> - <p> - Mechanically she hung the receiver on the hook, and clung for a moment to - the table's edge, her face grey and bloodless; and then her lips moved, - and one hand clenched until the tight-drawn skin across the knuckles was - an ivory white. - </p> - <p> - “I pray God they get this Hawk!” she whispered. “I pray God they do! And I - pray God they <i>kill</i> him! The coward! The miserable, pitiful coward!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's fingers were digging at the window sill, because somehow his - knees were refusing to support his weight. What was she saying? He did not - quite understand. Well, it did not matter, she was gone now into that - other room—only she had left the light on. It was very strange the - way his hand on the window sill seemed to keep pulling his body around in - circles! - </p> - <p> - Time had lost concrete significance to the Hawk. She appeared again, fully - dressed now, and, switching off the light, went out into the hall, and the - front door closed behind her. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk parted the portières, and staggered across the room—and, a - moment later, a dark form, a newspaper parcel clutched under its arm, - emerged stealthily from the vestibule, and, reeling like a drunken man, - disappeared in the darkness down the street. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XVII—A HOLE IN THE WALL - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE wound was - healed—partially, at least. If the Hawk had unduly shortened his - period of convalescence, he was perhaps justified, and not wholly without - excuse! He stood now in the black shadows, hugged close to the wall of the - roundhouse. And now he moved stealthily forward, until, from a crouched - position, he straightened up against the wall at the side of one of the - few windows which were lighted. Lanson had strolled aimlessly across the - tracks from the station some ten minutes before, and, five minutes later, - MacVightie had followed Lanson—to their chosen spot for secret - conferences, this little “cubbyhole” of a turner's office in the - roundhouse, as the Hawk, from more than one experience in the past, had - very good reason to know. They were in there now, and, as the Hawk was - likewise exceedingly well aware, the events of the next few hours, and - incidentally his own particular movements, depended very pertinently upon - the movements of MacVightie and Lanson. - </p> - <p> - Lanson's voice in quietly modulated tones reached the Hawk: - </p> - <p> - “Yes, both trains are on time to the minute; I've taken care of that. And - so far there doesn't seem to be a hitch anywhere, and with your men - boarding the trains west of here at different stations along the line, and - mixing quietly with the passengers, I don't see how any one could be the - wiser on that score. Yes, it looks as though everything were all right—eh, - MacVightie?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know; I hope so,” MacVightie's deep growl came in reply. “Anyhow, - we've carried out instructions from Washington, and it's up to the Secret - Service crowd as to how it pans out.” - </p> - <p> - “No, it isn't!” declared Lanson, still quietly. “It isn't up to a soul on - earth except those of us who have got the responsibility of this division - on our shoulders! I believe the plan is a good one, but because it came - from Washington doesn't let us out—not for a minute! What about - Birks; has he shown up yet?” - </p> - <p> - “Not yet,” MacVightie answered—and swore suddenly under his breath. - “And I don't mind admitting that the crowd down there in Washington make - me tired! It's over two weeks ago that I put it up to them. They said they - would take the matter under consideration, and in any case would send one - of their men, this Birks, out here to make an investigation. But nothing - doing! Then, as you know, I wrote them again a week ago, when we knew this - Alaskan gold shipment was coming through, and you know their reply; they - outlined a plan for us, and stated definitely that Birks would be on deck - to-night. Maybe he will—in time to tell us what we <i>should</i> - have done!” - </p> - <p> - “The Secret Service isn't a police force,” said Lanson tersely. “The only - excuse they would have for acting at all would be if your pet theory were - correct—that the Hawk and his gang, apart from their systematised - murders and robberies, were also the ones who have been flooding the - country with those counterfeit ten-dollar notes. You had no actual proof - to offer, and Washington evidently hasn't felt quite so sure about it as - you have. However, there's no use discussing that to-night. If Birks shows - up, all right; if he doesn't—well, I don't see that he could make - any difference one way or the other now.” - </p> - <p> - There was silence for a moment, then Lanson spoke again. - </p> - <p> - “What worries me as much as anything,” he said slowly, “is the express - company making a shipment of money at the same time—forty thousand - dollars in the car's safe. Of course, it's logical enough with a half - million to guard anyway, but it's an added incentive to those, devils, - that's all. A half million In raw gold isn't any easy thing to pick up and - walk off with, and there's more than an even chance that the Wire Devils - might pass it up on that account; but with banknotes alone in so large an - amount——” - </p> - <p> - “If they know about it!” interrupted MacVightie brusquely. “And it's not - likely they do! You can't send a heavily guarded express car on from the - coast and keep it mum that gold is going through, especially when the - papers print pictures of the cases being swung out of the steamer's hold - on arrival from Alaska—but the other's different. I'm not banking on - them passing up the gold on any account, though they may, at that; but in - any case they'll be welcome to open the safe now, won't they?” - </p> - <p> - Again there was an instant's silence; and the Hawk now, as though fearful - of losing a word that might be spoken, strained forward closer still to - the side of the window. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that's right!” Lanson laughed now in a grimly humorous way. “It's in - the biggest case of all! Yes, I guess it's all right, MacVightie; anyway, - another hour or two will tell the story. The shift should have been made - at Mornleigh without any trouble, and the Limited will come through here - without a thing in the express car except the guards! If they hold her up - anywhere on the division, that's all they'll find—the guards, and - one of your posses. Yes, it ought to work.” Lanson's voice took on a - curiously monotonous drone, as though he were checking over the details in - his own mind, and unconsciously doing so audibly. “The Limited takes water - at Mornleigh, and No. 18 always takes the siding there to let the Limited - pass, so there's nothing in that to arouse suspicion. In the darkness, - with the door of the Limited's express car only a foot or so away from the - door of No. 18'. baggage car, and a picked crew to transfer the gold, I - don't see how there could be any 'leak.' The Limited pulls in here with - its guarded express car—everything looks just as those Wire Devils - would expect it to look—and they know the gold left the coast on - that train, and in that car. Yes, I think we win to-night. If they hold up - the Limited they'll catch a Tartar, and without any risk on our part as - far as the gold is concerned. How many men in the posse scattered through - the cars on that train?” - </p> - <p> - “Twenty,” said MacVightie tersely. - </p> - <p> - “Good!” said Lanson approvingly. “That ought to be enough to round them up—if - they nibble at the bait at all. And if they don't, if they let the Limited - go through unmolested, it will be pretty nearly safe to assume, as I said - before, that they figure gold in the bulk is too awkward a thing to - handle, and too hard to get away with. But even there we are not taking - any chances; they <i>might</i> have discovered that it had been - transferred. How many men in the posse on No. 18?” - </p> - <p> - “The same number,” replied MacVightie—and then MacVightie's fist - crashed down into the palm of his hand. “I hope they start something!” he - exclaimed savagely. “I'd give a year's salary to get to grips with them, - and if I ever do I'll clean 'em out! And I'll see that some of them, and - particularly that damned Hawk, swing for it! I haven't forgotten the - murder of old Mother Barrett's boy in the express car that night, or a - dozen others, or——” - </p> - <p> - “That's your end of it, MacVightie,” said Lanson grimly. “Mine's to see - five hundred thousand dollars' worth of bullion and forty thousand in cash - over this division and safely on its way East. If the plan——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, slipping silently out of the shadows, began to cross the - railroad yard, heading for the station. - </p> - <p> - “Forty thousand dollars,” said the Hawk softly to himself—and - chuckled suddenly. “Forty thousand dollars in a big packing case! The <i>biggest</i> - case of the lot, he said, wasn't it?” The chuckle died away, and the - Hawk's face grew hard. “I don't know!” muttered the Hawk. “It's no cinch! - I guess there'll be something doing to-night!” - </p> - <p> - A glance at the illuminated dial of the clock on the station tower showed - it to be half past eight, as the Hawk stepped to the platform. He - hesitated an instant in indecision, then went on into the general waiting - room. There was ample time. The Limited was not due for another hour; and - No. 18—in which alone he had now any concern—did not schedule - Selkirk until forty minutes after the Limited. Nearly two hours! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, standing in the doorway of the waiting room, ostentatiously - consulted a time-table which he drew from his pocket, frowned, glanced - about him, and, finally, approaching the news-counter, which appeared for - the moment to be minus an attendant, helped himself to a newspaper, tossed - a copper on top of the pile, and appropriated the nearest seat. The Hawk - opened his paper in front of him—and over the top of the paper - inspected with some interest the view afforded by the open doorway of the - news-counter, which was directly facing him and but a few feet away. The - news-counter was a long, narrow affair, glass enclosed, with big sliding - windows, making one corner of the waiting room, and at its further end - boasted a little office of its own. The door of this private domain was - closed, but it, too, was glass panelled, and the apparent absence of any - attendant was explained. The Hawk permitted a curious smile to flicker - across his lips behind his newspaper. Inside the little office a man, - sprawled forward in a chair, his head resting on his arms, which were - outflung across the desk in front of him, appeared to be sound asleep and - magnificently oblivious to anything so grossly material as business. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk shifted his glance, this time for a more critical survey of the - waiting room. He found himself, strangely enough, quite sheltered from - observation. True, it was “between trains,” and there were very few people - in the room—he had noted several women and an elderly man with a - little boy, as he had come in—but these were now screened from his - view by the large, boxed-in posts, or pillars, that, in the remodelling - and enlargement of the station some years before, had sought to combine, - evidently, ornamentation with stability. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes, under cover of his newspaper, reverted to the man at the - desk. The minutes passed—five, ten of them. The man's hours were - long undoubtedly, and usually there were two in charge of the - news-counter, which might perhaps account for the man's weariness, and the - profound slumber that was possible even in such an uncomfortable position! - The Hawk turned to the editorial page of his newspaper. There were almost - two hours before No. 18 was due, and, though he had a little business of a - purely personal and intimate nature to transact before then, there was - time in abundance and to spare, and it might possibly be utilised as - profitably here as anywhere else. In any case, there was usually an - editorial diatribe, interesting principally for the virulent language in - which it was couched, anent the Hawk and the Wire Devils, with whose - leadership he, the Hawk, was universally credited. The Hawk smiled thinly. - If leadership was vested in the lion's portion of the spoils, then - MacVightie, and Lanson, and the newspapers, and the public generally were - unquestionably right—but, since those spoils had been snatched from - under the noses of the Wire Devils, thanks to his possession of their - secret code, the Wire Devils and the Ladybird in particular, that peer of - the underworld who, as he had discovered a few nights ago, was the moving - spirit of the gang, held a very different and even more decided opinion on - the subject! - </p> - <p> - He folded the paper over, and sprawled himself out lazily on his seat—but - if the editorial in question was on the sheet before him, he did not see - it. The man at the desk raised his head, yawned, stretched himself, and, - as though wearily resuming his work, reached into a small drawer that - stood open in the upper section of the roll-top desk, took out a pad of - paper, and began to write. - </p> - <p> - Still another five minutes passed; and then the man tossed his pencil away - from him, and reached out for the telephone at his elbow. But now he - seemed to hesitate, then evidently changed his mind. He pushed back his - chair, stood up, tore the sheet of paper on which he had been writing from - the pad, replaced the pad in the drawer, closed the drawer, and, turning - quickly, opened the office door. He came down the narrow space behind the - news-counter itself, stepped out into the waiting room, glanced hurriedly - about him, and, breaking suddenly into a run, disappeared through the - waiting room door in the direction of the platform. - </p> - <p> - The Hawks lassitude seemed suddenly to have vanished. In a flash he had - covered the few feet of space that separated his seat from the doorway of - the news-counter, and now, crouched low, hidden by the counter itself, he - darted silently for the little office, gained it, wrenched open the drawer - of the desk—and over the Hawk's set, tense features there flickered - again that curious smile. Faint, muffled, but none the less distinctly, - there came from the interior of the drawer, which, as he reached in his - hand, he found was open through to the wall, the clicking of a telegraph - sounder. But, while he listened, the Hawk was working with breathless - haste. His fingers closed on the pad of paper, and tore off the topmost - sheet. Without folding or crushing the paper, he laid it carefully inside - his vest, buttoned his vest over it again, closed the drawer of the desk - noiselessly—and in another instant was lolling again in his seat in - the waiting room, apparently immersed once more in his newspaper. - </p> - <p> - It had taken the Hawk a matter of less than a minute to go and come, but - for all that his margin of safety had been small. The man returned almost - instantly, and again entered the office. The Hawk, finding that for once - the editorial which might have afforded him a genuine, if passing, - interest, was absent, turned another page of the paper, spent a few - minutes in the somewhat unprofitable perusal of what proved to be massed - columns of “Help Wanted” and “Situations Vacant” advertisements, and, - finally, throwing the paper down on the seat beside him, got up leisurely, - and strolled out through the main entrance of the station to the street. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk crossed the road, and slipped into the lane that was almost - opposite the station. This being accustomed ground to the Hawk, he made - his way quickly along in the blackness, reached the first intersecting - street, dove through the doorway of the dirty and squalid three-story - building, the ground floor of which was occupied by a saloon, and, - mounting the narrow staircase, entered the room that was directly over the - saloon on the first landing. The Hawk locked the door behind him. If his - temporary abode in Selkirk City could be so designated, the Hawk was at - home. - </p> - <p> - He switched on the electric light, drew a chair up to the cheap and - somewhat dilapidated table that stood against the wall opposite the door, - and from under his vest took out the sheet of paper he had purloined a few - minutes before. He spread it out eagerly before him on the table, scanned - it closely, and into his dark eyes there came a half mocking, half - triumphant gleam. - </p> - <p> - “I thought so!” murmured the Hawk. “He didn't dare telephone it. I thought - the messages must be coming in pretty hot to-night—the other fellow - must have gone up to the East End to shoot some mighty important reply - back, or else he'd never have left his pal short-handed. It's no wonder I - never tumbled to that lay until the Ladybird opened the bag! I didn't - recognise those news-counter fellows, did I? Why should I? They're new - ones just breaking into the game, or they'd never have pulled a fool stunt - like this!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk bent over the paper. In places the impression left by the pencil - was faint and, indeed, illegible, and had not come through from the upper - sheet at all; but the Hawk patiently and painstakingly settled himself to - his task. The first few lines were but a confused and, to all outward - appearances, meaningless jumble of letters run together—one of the - Wire Devils' code messages. And here, if this had been all, the Hawk would - have been hopelessly astray; but lower down on the sheet the man had - decoded the cipher, and here, where letters and words were too faintly - impressed on the paper or were missing altogether, the Hawk was able to - supply them by following the general sense of the message. He began by - tracing over the impressions carefully with a sharp lead pencil, and at - the expiration of a few minutes was staring, a grim smile on his lips, at - the following: - </p> - <p> - “Gold transferred to No. 18 at Momleigh. Keep away from Limited. Probably - big posse on No. 18. Every man will join Number One on Train 18 to-night. - Those boarding No. 18 at Selkirk must on no account excite suspicion. All - other details to stand.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's remark, as he reached into his inside coat pocket and brought - out several small slips of paper, which he laid on the table in front of - him, was seemingly quite irrelevant. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk. “I've been curious ever since yesterday to get a - look at that desk—yes, I guess the Ladybird's no fool!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk arranged the slips of paper in what appeared to be a sort of - chronological order, and studied them for a moment. Prefacing the message - he had just obtained, these others, messages that he had intercepted at - intervals during the preceding few days, made a complete and decidedly - enlightening record. The first one, decoded, read: - </p> - <p> - “Reported movement of half million in gold to be made from coast. Number - Three will proceed to coast, verify, and secure details.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk nodded shortly. Number Three was the Bantam. He passed on to the - next message: - </p> - <p> - “Gold coming through on Limited on Thursday night. Express car well - guarded. Numbers One, Seven, Eight, Six and Four will board Limited at - different stopping points west of Mornleigh; all others to hold themselves - in readiness at Selkirk.” - </p> - <p> - Again the Hawk nodded. This was Thursday night! Mornleigh was the - Limited's last stop west of Selkirk. Number One was the Butcher, and the - others were—he shrugged his shoulders. As he had once facetiously - remarked, somebody must have left the door of Sing Sing open! - </p> - <p> - There was still another message: - </p> - <p> - “Hold up train three miles East of Echo Rock. Detach express car, and run - to Willow Creek bridge. Load gold on wagon, and disperse.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk consulted his watch. It was a quarter past nine. He took out his - pipe, lighted it, put his feet up on the table, and gathering together the - various slips of paper abstractedly began to tear them into shreds. - </p> - <p> - Pieced together, the whole affair was quite simple. In a word, every move - that had been made by Larson and MacVightie at the instigation of the - Secret Service men, and, presumably, in particular by one Birks, was known - to the Ladybird and the Wire Devils. Lanson and MacVightie had waited - until the last moment before making the transfer at Mornleigh, the final - stop before Selkirk, but the Bantam was already accompanying the gold east - on the Limited, and, added to the Bantam by that: time, there would have - been those others who were detailed to board the Limited at the various - points still further west of Mornleigh. - </p> - <p> - It was very simple. The Bantam had not been asleep at Mornleigh, and it - was not the contents of the express car alone that had been transferred - there—the Bantam and his companions had likewise transferred - themselves to No. 18! Also, either because the Bantam had spotted some of - MacVightie's men, or because logical deductions in the Ladybird's very - shrewd brain had led to that conclusion, it was known that No. 18 - harboured a posse. It was evident, however, that this in no way dismayed - the Ladybird; and it was equally evident that both Lan-son and MacVightie - were very far astray, in their estimate of the nerve and resourcefulness - of the brain behind the Wire Devils' organisation, to have, even - considered it as a possibility that the physical difficulty in the way of - handling a half million in raw gold would have caused the Ladybird to - hesitate an instant in an effort to get his hands upon it. A half million—was - a half million! That was the answer! The only change the Ladybird had seen - fit to make was to mobilise, as it were, the entire, strength of the Wire - Devils to offset MacVightie's posse. Apart from that, according to the - final message, the prearranged plan was to stand. - </p> - <p> - It was not a plan that was markedly original, paralleling very closely, as - it did, the Wire Devils' removal of the safe from the express car of the - last Mail on a certain night not very long since, but this could hardly be - held up against the Ladybird—there were limitations to originality, - and originality was a secondary consideration as compared with feasibility - and success. Echo Rock station was two stations east of Conmore, the Wire - Devils' headquarters—just far enough distant to preclude the - immediate search from spreading to the neighbourhood of Conmore, and yet - not too far away to make the transport of the gold to the isolated old - farmhouse impractical before daylight. The details of the holdup itself - required little elucidation. In whatever manner they might elect to bring - the train to a stop, all that was necessary, once that was accomplished, - was to keep MacVightie's men from No. 18'. baggage car while the car - itself, into which the Wire Devils would naturally retreat, moved off down - the line to the Willow Creek bridge some two or three miles further on. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk took his pipe from his lips, polished the bowl by rubbing it - along the side of his nose, and inspected the result critically. And then - the Hawk smiled pleasantly to himself. In none of the messages had the - Wire Devils given the slightest evidence of any knowledge of a fact that - was very near to his, the Hawk's, heart. It was quite possible, even - probable, that on one point, at least, Lanson and MacVightie were right—that - the Wire Devils were ignorant of the presence of that forty thousand - dollars in bills—but even supposing that they <i>did</i> know, they - would scarcely give him, the Hawk, credit for being in possession of the - knowledge as well. Therefore, bitter as was the feud between them, the - Ladybird would be almost certain to ignore his, the Hawk's existence in so - far as this night's work was concerned. The Hawk's smile broadened. It was - quite true, single-handed he would have no excuse on earth for attempting - the impossible feat of carrying away a half million in gold—but - forty thousand dollars in banknotes was not as prohibitory in its weight! - His problem, therefore, simplified itself into an intimate investigation - of No. 18'. baggage car before Echo Rock was reached, and before either - MacVightie's posse, or the Butcher and his ungentle crowd in the cars - behind, should have started anything on their own account. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk confidentially to the toe of his boot, “yes, I guess - I'll sit in for a hand in the game myself; yes, I guess it looks pretty - good—if the luck holds.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk relapsed into silence, still studying the toe of his boot. His - last remark seemed suddenly to have obsessed him, and he frowned. If the - luck still held! It wasn't altogether luck—indeed, it was far from - luck. The Ladybird, and, for that matter, a half dozen others of the Wire - Devils whom he could name, were not to be lightly reckoned with. He had no - delusions on that score! Since the day he had begun to trespass on the - Wire Devils preserves, listening when and where he could, he had - intercepted enough of their cipher messages as they came over the wires to - enable him to pull from the fire and pocket for himself the chestnuts they - had been so carefully roasting for themselves, to turn in fact the entire - labour and effort of their organisation to his own account—and in - their turn they had sought by every means within their power to trap him. - And they had nearly caught him, very nearly caught him once, and he had - realised that the haphazard method in which, not knowing their source, he - had been able to obtain the cipher messages would no longer do. It was - through those messages alone that he could hope to get a hint of, and - thereby forestall, the <i>next</i> trap they might set for him. And then - the way had seemed to clear a little when he had at last discovered that - source in the old farmhouse near Conmore, and had discovered that the - Ladybird, thought dead and mourned by the underworld as one of its - greatest, from a wheel chair now, a maimed thing in all save brain, moved - and guided what MacVightie had been pleased to call the most powerful and - dangerous criminal organisation that had ever known existence. Only on the - night that he, the Hawk, had made those discoveries he had been wounded! - That was a week ago. For three days, not daring to let it be known that a - <i>wounded</i> man was in the house, he had remained here in his room, - nursing his hurt as best he could. It had only been a flesh wound, and - those three days were all he had allowed himself to remain inactive; for - in those three days, temporarily blindfolded as to any move against him - that the Ladybird might make, he had lived like a hunted man, wary of - every passing moment, of every sound without his door, his automatic never - for an instant out of reach. After that, during the past four nights, he - had resumed his vigil at the farmhouse again. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk smiled grimly. No, he laboured under no delusions as to the - craft, the cunning, and the power of those against whom he had elected to - play a lone hand! The four nights just past had resulted in something more - than the mere accumulation of those code messages he had just read, in - something besides a more intimate acquaintanceship with the farmhouse and - its surroundings, even including the underground passage, for instance, - that led from the wagon shed to a trapdoor in the cellar—it had - resulted, last night, in a still further insight into the ingenuity and - the sort of remorseless mastery of detail through which the organisation - attained its ends. The method by which they tapped the wires, - commandeering the telegraph system of the railroad, the primary purpose of - which was undoubtedly to supply them with the vital information that must - of necessity pass over the wires and on which they based their own plans, - this gold shipment to-night, for example, or the shipment of diamonds from - New York of a few weeks back, was ingenious enough; but still more - ingenious, when using their secret code and putting the wires to another - purpose, that of enabling the Ladybird to direct his operations and send - his orders as he had done to-night, was the method by which those messages - were received. Every sounder on the line carried them, of course, and - when, in isolated cases, the gang was working at smaller places along the - line, they could readily enough, if expecting a message, as he, the Hawk, - had often done, keep within sound of an instrument by the simple expedient - of occupying a waiting room, or of lounging on the platform outside the - operator's window; but the vast majority of the messages were for those of - the gang who maintained a sort of branch headquarters in Selkirk, and such - a method was neither practical nor possible, since the first essential in - making the scheme of value was that, without the chance of a single - message being missed, the messages should reach their destination at any - hour of the day and night. - </p> - <p> - Again the Hawk smiled grimly. It had puzzled him a good many times—but - it puzzled him no longer! Last night the Ladybird, quite unconscious of a - rapt audience, had, by a chance remark, disclosed the secret; and to-night - he, the Hawk, had seen the plan in operation! The news-counter! It was - simple enough; but it held a deadly significance in its proof of the fact - that there were no obstacles too great, no details too minute to stand in - the way between the Ladybird and the end he sought. The news-counter was - directly beneath the operator's room upstairs. In the old days, before the - station had been enlarged and modernised, it had been a somewhat - diminutive affair, and where the news-counter now stood had been the - superintendent's office. This had connected with the room above by means - of an old-fashioned speaking tube. When the alterations had been made, the - mouthpieces, both above and below, had been removed, the room above had - been papered over, and the waiting room had been plastered; but, as the - wall had been left intact, the speaking tube had remained embedded—in - the wall. Yes, it was very simple! Say, a dint in the wall in the - operator's room above, and a slight tear in the paper that, if it - attracted any attention at all in surroundings where the call boys backed - their chairs against the wall and kept their hair on end with nickel - thrillers, would at least never excite suspicion! And below, with the desk - in the little office of the news-counter backed up against it, who was to - know that a hole had been punched in the wall, or, for that matter, in the - back of the desk itself behind the convenient little drawer, so that one - could sit there and listen to the sounder upstairs! Also, it was quite - obvious now why, several months ago, the old lessee of the news-counter - had been bought out by some newcomers! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's lips tightened. The game to its full extent was wide open now. - The news-counter ran day and night, operated by four of the gang in pairs, - one always on duty at the desk; while, should there, by any chance or at - any time, be an unwelcome intruder in the office, the drawer had only to - be shut and the sound was thereby eliminated. When a message “broke” over - the wires above, the man on duty had only to decipher it and telephone it - to what the Ladybird had referred to as the “boarding house”—the - disguise, it appeared now, under which the gang maintained its - headquarters in the city. That was all there was to it! To-night, it was - true, the operation had been a little different; but the reason for that, - as the Hawk had already decided in his own mind, was obvious enough. With - MacVigh-tie, Lanson, and the authorities generally, on the alert, due to - the gold shipment coming through, the man had not dared to take the risk - of telephoning any such message as he had received, but had taken it - outside to where one of the gang, undoubtedly, in view of the importance - of the night's work, was on additional duty and in readiness to receive - and transmit it on the instant, say, to the local headquarters. As for the - absence of the second man at the news-counter, who ordinarily preserved - the pretence of catering to the public, it was quite possible, and indeed - likely, that he had gone on a similar errand with a previous message; or, - if one of the rare occasions when it was necessary to telegraph a cipher - message <i>from</i> Selkirk had arisen, he might have gone—according - to the Ladybird again—to the little suburban station at the East End - of the city, which was closed at night, but to which an entry and the - subsequent use of the wire would present little difficulty, since - MacVightie had finally given up as impossible the task of guarding all the - numerous stations of that description on the division. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk suddenly, under his breath, “I guess they'd go a long - way to get their hands on what I've got off their bat; and I guess, after - that, I'd go out—like a pricked bubble!” He sucked meditatively at - his brier for a moment; then a mirthless smile parted his lips, and he - spoke again. “Forty thousand dollars,” whispered the Hawk. “Yes, I guess - that's the play—and the last one! If I win out to-night, and I guess - I will, this is where the curtain drops, and the Hawk makes his fade-away - for parts unknown!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XVIII—THE HAWK PACKS HIS VALISE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk looked at - his watch again, removed his feet from the table, knocked the ashes from - the bowl of his pipe, stood up, and crossed leisurely to the window. The - window gave on the fire escape. He lifted aside the shade, and stood there - for a moment staring out into the darkness, then drew the shade very - carefully back into place again. From the window he crossed to the door, - reassured himself that it was locked, and, as an extra precaution, draped - his handkerchief on the door handle, completely screening the keyhole. - </p> - <p> - He returned now to the other side of the room, and from under the bed - pulled out a large, black valise. He laid this on the bed, and opened it. - It was quite empty. - </p> - <p> - Between the bed and the table stood his trunk. He unlocked the trunk, and - threw back the lid. - </p> - <p> - “It's quite possible,” muttered the Hawk, as his fingers worked deftly and - swiftly around the edges of the lid, “that I may not return. I've - forgotten just how I stand on my rent, though, I fancy I've paid up for a - week in advance! In any case, there's the trunk for old Seidelberger - downstairs, and likewise its contents, with the exception, scarcely worth - mentioning—of this!” There was a grim chuckle on the Hawk's lips, as - the false tray came away in his hands. “Yes,” said the Hawk, as he laid - the tray on the bed beside the valise, “I hardly think that I'll be back! - I guess they're pretty peeved as it is, and after to-night I've a notion - their sentiments aren't going to improve any!” - </p> - <p> - He stood looking down at the tray, that bulged to repletion with the - proceeds of a dozen robberies that were almost country-wide in fame, and - which, more pertinent still as far as the Hawk was concerned, represented - the loot that the Wire Devils had already counted their own—when he, - the Hawk, instead, had helped himself to the prize at their expense! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk began to transfer the contents of the tray to the valise. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know how big the lot would size up, but it looks like a garden - villa at Palm Beach—which is going some!” observed the Hawk softly. - “Yes, just one more little play to-night, and I guess I retire!” - </p> - <p> - He held the magnificent diamond necklace up to the light, causing its - thousand facets to leap and gleam and scintillate in fiery flashes, then - laid it in a curiously caressing sort of way in the bottom of the valise. - The Hawk seemed peculiarly entranced with diamonds, as though in their - touch and in their responsive life and fire he found a pure and unalloyed - delight. From their little box he allowed the score or two of unset stones - to trickle into the palm of his hand, and again he brought the light to - flash and play upon them. And for a moment he held them there—then a - sudden hardness set his jaws and lips, and impulsively he thrust the - stones back into the box, and tossed the box into the valise. - </p> - <p> - “Damn it!” said the Hawk through compressed lips. “They make me think of - the kid—and old Mother Barrett.” - </p> - <p> - He laughed harshly, and shrugged his shoulders as though literally to - throw off the weight of an unpleasant memory—and reached again into - the tray. He worked more quickly now. Into the valise he packed away in - rapid succession a very large collection of valuables, amongst them the - ten thousand dollars in banknotes that he had taken from the paymaster's - safe, the contents of the cash box, amounting to some three thousand - dollars, of which he had once relieved one Isaac Kirschell, and, still in - its newspaper wrapper, the Trader's National Bank's twenty-five thousand - dollars, likewise in banknotes, which had been his last venture, and which - he had appropriated on the night he had been wounded. - </p> - <p> - The tray was empty now, save for a black mask, a steel jimmy, and a neat - little package of crisp, new, ten-dollar counterfeit notes. The two former - articles the Hawk laid aside on the table; and the latter, after an - instant's hesitation, was added to the horde in the valise. He closed and - locked the valise. There remained now but the empty tray. He stared at - this ruefully. - </p> - <p> - “I hate to lose that trunk, upon my soul, I do!” he muttered. “But I can't - afford to take any chances of spilling the beans by trying to get it out - of here!” - </p> - <p> - He took out his knife, and slashed away the canvas bottom of the tray, - then broke the framework into a dozen pieces. The lid of the trunk itself - was innocent of fastenings, or of any evidence that it had ever concealed - a tray; and the tray itself, when the Hawk was through with it, was an - unrecognisable debris of splintered wood and ribbons of torn canvas. He - made a bundle of this, tying it together with a strip of the canvas. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk now emptied his pockets, and proceeded to change his clothes. If - he were destined to sacrifice the greater part of his wardrobe, he at - least need not linger long in indecision over the choice of what should be - preserved! There was an exceedingly useful and ingeniously devised pocket - concealed in the back lining of a certain one of his coats. The suit, of - which this coat was an integral part, was a trifle worn and threadbare, - not in quite as good repair as any of the rest of his clothing, and for - that reason he had not worn it of late; but one could not at all times - afford to be fastidious! What he left behind would be minutely searched - and examined. The secret of that pocket, a little invention of his own, - was worth preserving from the vulgar eye, even at the expense of - sacrificing a better suit of clothes for the sake of it! He resurrected - the suit in question from the bottom of the trunk, and put it on. And into - the concealed pocket he tucked away his mask and his bunch of skeleton - keys. A side coat pocket, more instantly accessible, served for his - automatic—the other pockets for his various other belongings, - including the steel jimmy. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk made a final and comprehensive survey of the room, then closed - and locked the trunk, and again consulted his watch. It was five minutes - after ten, and No. 18 scheduled Selkirk at ten-twenty. The Hawk nodded. It - was time to go—just time. He took from his pocket his automatic, - tested and examined its mechanism critically, and restored it to his - pocket. He crossed the room, turned out the light, unlocked the door - without opening it, and took his handkerchief from the keyhole. Without a - sound now the Hawk moved back to the bed, picked up the valise, tucked the - bundle of what had once been the tray under his arm, returned to the door, - opened it silently, and stood peering out into the dark hallway—and - the next instant, the Hawk, stealing like a shadow down the stairs, gained - the street, and in another had swung around the corner into the lane. - </p> - <p> - It was only the length of a block to the station, but here in the lane the - Hawk found means of disposing of the irksome bundle under his arm by the - simple expedient of dropping pieces of the wreckage in the various refuse - barrels as he went along. Nor had the Hawk, evidently, any intention - either of hampering his movements with the care of the valise, or of - risking the valise's contents in the night's work that lay ahead of him. - The Hawk was, perhaps, possessed of a certain ironical sense of humour. - Since his possession of the loot which the valise contained was due in a - more or less intimate degree to the railroad, it seemed eminently fitting - that it should be restored to the railroad for safekeeping temporarily. - The Hawk, as he entered the station, nonchalantly exchanged his valise for - a parcel-room check, paid down the dime for the service to be rendered, - and passed on into the general waiting room. - </p> - <p> - He glanced at the news-counter on his way through to the platform. Its - full complement of two attendants were present now; but, contrary to all - precedent, it being an all-night stand, obvious preparations for closing - it for the night were in progress—the two men were engaged in - removing the magazines, newspapers, and various small wares from the - outside ledge of the counter, and in pulling down the large sliding - windows that enclosed the place. The Hawk's dark eyes flashed a gleam of - grim appreciation. It was then literally a mobilisation of the Wire Devils - to the last man to-night! A half million in gold—was a half million - in gold! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk bought a mileage book in lieu of a ticket to any specific - destination, both because his immediate destination was peculiarly his own - private concern, and because in the very near future he expected to put a - considerable quantity of mileage to excellent use. He strolled out to the - platform, and along to the east end of the station. - </p> - <p> - Here, quite unobtrusively, he awaited the arrival of No. 18. The platform - was fairly well crowded—but not unusually so, or rather, perhaps, - not noticeably so. A half dozen, or even a dozen, extra men circulating - amongst the ordinary press of traffic would hardly be expected to make any - appreciable difference. The Hawk, back under the shadows of the building, - surveyed the lighted stretch of platform narrowly. They were there, the - Wire Devils' reserve, he knew; but he recognised none of them. He smiled a - little whimsically. His acquaintanceship with the gang so far had been - with its more prominent members, as it were, and these, as likewise - Mac-Vightie's posse, had already boarded the train far west of Selkirk—that - each might not excite the other's suspicion! Nor was MacVightie himself in - evidence. Not that this surprised the Hawk! He was interested, that was - all. It was simply a question of whether MacVightie had elected to stay - with the gold, or had gone on with the first posse on the Limited on the - assumption that the Limited was the more likely to be attacked. It made - little difference, of course, as far as he, the Hawk, was concerned, - whether it was MacVightie or some one else who was in command of the posse—his - own plans would in no way be affected on that account. - </p> - <p> - There was a stir along the platform. Up the yard, past the twinkling - switch lights on the spurs, the glare of a headlight flashed into sight - around the bend. Came the roar and rumble of a heavy train, and a moment - later No. 18, its big mogul panting like a thing of life from a breathless - run, its long string of coaches behind it, rolled into the station. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk did not stir. By coincidence, perhaps, the baggage car had come - to a stop directly opposite the position he had chosen. The rearmost - sliding door of the car was slammed back, and the baggageman, a powerfully - built, muscular fellow of perhaps thirty, appeared in the doorway. The - Hawk, from his place of vantage, eyed the other appraisingly, and then his - glance travelled on into the interior of the car—what he could see - of it. What he saw was a mass of trunks, some of which the man now - unloaded on the waiting trucks, and in turn piled others, as they were - heaved up to him from the platform, into the formers' places. The Hawk - nodded his head shortly. True, the forward door of the car had not been, - opened, but MacVigh-tie had done his work well. There was no hint of - concealment, the baggage car of No. 18 was as frankly innocent in - appearance on its run tonight as it had ever been. - </p> - <p> - The train was starting into motion again when the Hawk finally moved. He - crossed the platform, and swung himself on the forward steps of the - smoker, that was immediately behind the baggage car. His slouch hat pulled - a little over his eyes, he opened the door, stepped into the car, - sauntered down the aisle, and out of the rear door to the vestibuled - platform of the first-class day coach behind. But here, the Hawk paused a - moment, and his face, impassive before, was stamped now with a twisted - smile. His reconnaissance of the train so far had proved fruitful. The - four men in the forward double seat of the smoker, a lap board across - their knees, and apparently engrossed in their card game, were the - Butcher, Whitie Jim, the Cricket and the Bantam! And further down the - aisle, unwittingly rubbing shoulders quite probably with some of - MacVightie's men, Parson Joe occupied a seat, and the keen, pale, thin - face of Kirschell peered out from another. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, they're all here,” decided the Hawk, his voice drowned in the rattle - of the train. “Counting those who got on at Selkirk, they're all here to - the last man—except the Ladybird and his wheel chair!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk moved forward, reached out for the handle of the day coach door—and - sucked in his breath, as he drew sharply back again. Through the glass - panel he had caught sight of two men he had not expected to see. Sitting - together on the right-hand side about a quarter of the way down the aisle - were MacVightie and Lanson. The Hawk frowned. He had waited until the - train was in motion, and he had not seen them get on; and <i>they</i>, as - witness that little conference in the roundhouse of a while back, had not - been amongst those who had boarded the train west of Selkirk. And then the - frown gave place to a sort of self-commiserating expression. Where were - his wits to-night! It was simple enough! They had boarded the car from the - yard side of the train, and not from the platform, of course! - </p> - <p> - Well, that put an end to any further reconnaissance through the train! In - one sense it was not altogether true that it made no difference whether - MacVightie was aboard or not. He and MacVightie were not altogether - strangers. They had met once in his, the Hawk's, room, and on that - occasion, the night, to be precise, he had cleaned out the paymaster's - safe of that ten thousand dollars, MacVightie had been in a decidedly - suspicious frame of mind. MacVightie, it was quite certain, had not - forgotten that night; nor, it was quite equally safe to assume, had - MacVightie forgotten his, the Hawk's face—and at that exact moment - the Hawk had no desire that MacVightie should recognise him again! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk turned, re-entered the smoker, found the always unpopular - crosswise seat behind the door vacant, and appropriated it. His eyes - straying forward over the car located two more acquaintances in the person - of Crusty Kline and French Pete, and came back to fix musingly on the worn - nickel faucet of the water-cooler. No. 18'. first stop was at Barne's - Junction, fifteen miles out from Selkirk, and some five miles this side of - Conmore; the next stop was Lorraine, and Lorraine was on the <i>other</i> - side—in fact a good many miles on the other side—of Echo Rock - and the Willow Creek bridge. The deduction was obvious; and the Hawk's - destination, in so far as his occupancy of a seat in the smoker was - concerned, was therefore quite plainly—the Junction. - </p> - <p> - “Three miles east of Echo Rock,” repeated the Hawk to himself. “No, I - don't think so! This is where the Ladybird has another guess! Maybe I - couldn't get away with a half million—but maybe I'm not the only - one! There's one or two guys in this car that haven't got the high-sign to - my lodge! It seems to me I promised the Butcher something the night he - tried to shoot me through his pocket, and it seems as though I promised - Parson Joe something too—yes, it seems to me I did!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XIX—BIRDS OF A FEATHER - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T took twenty - minutes for the run to the Junction. And at the Junction, as far as the - Hawk could tell, since, yielding to what had become a sort of habit with - him, he descended to the ground on the opposite side from the station, he - was the only passenger for that stop. It was dark here; strangely silent, - and strangely lonely. Barne's Junction owed its existence neither to a - town site, nor to commercial importance—it existed simply as a - junction, and for purely railroad operating purposes only. It was, in - fact, the other extreme as compared to Selkirk with its lighted and busy - platform, its extensive yard, and its ubiquitous and, perhaps, too - inquisitive yardmen! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk dropped on all fours and began to creep along the side of the - smoker toward the forward end of the train, his eyes strained warily - through the darkness against the possibility of one or other of the engine - crew descending from the cab. He passed the smoker and kept on along the - length of the baggage car, still crawling, moving without a sound. When he - rose from his knees finally, he was crouched down in between the tender - and the forward end of the baggage car; and a moment later, as the train - jerked forward into motion, he was crouched again—this time on the - end beam of the baggage car which, in lieu of platform, served as a sort - of wide threshold for the door. - </p> - <p> - The train was beginning to gain momentum now, and against the jolt and - swing of the increasing speed the Hawk steadied himself by clinging with - one hand to the iron handrail at the side of the door—with the other - hand he tried the door cautiously, and found it locked. - </p> - <p> - From the pocket in the back lining of his coat he produced his mask, - fingered it speculatively for an instant, then slipped it over his face. - True, this was to be his last venture in the Wire Devils' preserves, but - he had always worn a mask, and—there came a twisted grin—they - perhaps would not recognise him <i>without</i> it. And it was quite - necessary that they should recognise the Hawk—if he was to keep that - promise to the Butcher! It might be a farewell, as far as he was - concerned, but he intended that it should be a memorable one, and that no - doubt should be permitted to linger in their minds as to the identity of - the parting guest they had so lavishly, if ungraciously, entertained! - </p> - <p> - From the same pocket came his skeleton keys. The Hawk now felt tentatively - with his finger over the keyhole, nodded his head briskly, and from the - bunch of keys, still by the sense of touch, selected one without - hesitation. The Hawk, however, for the moment, made no effort to open the - door. The rush of the wind was in his face now; like some black, - monstrous, uncanny wall confronting him, the tender clashed and clattered, - and swayed in dizzy lurches before his eyes; while heavenward the sky was - tinged with a deep red glow, and the cab was ablaze with light from the - wide-flung fire-box door, and the top of the baggage car door, and the - individual particles of coal on the top of the tender's heap stood out in - sharp relief against the background of the night. - </p> - <p> - And then the darkness fell again. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's hand shot forward to the keyhole, lingered there an instant, as - he crouched again swaying with the lurch of the train, then the skeleton - keys were returned to the pocket in the back lining of his coat—and - the Hawk was in action. In a flash he had opened and closed the door - behind him, and, with his back against it, his automatic flung - significantly forward in his hand, he stood staring down the length of the - car. - </p> - <p> - There was a hoarse, startled yell, that was lost in the roar of the flying - train, and the baggageman, from his chair at one side of the car and in - front of a shelf-like desk topped with a rack of pigeonholes, leaped to - his feet. - </p> - <p> - “Sit down!” invited the Hawk coldly. - </p> - <p> - The man hesitated, but the next instant dropped back into his chair, as - the Hawk moved suddenly forward to his side. - </p> - <p> - “What do you want?” he demanded sullenly. - </p> - <p> - “This—to begin with!” The Hawk's voice was an insolent drawl now, as - his deft fingers, like a streak of lightning, were into the other's pocket - and out again with the man's revolver. “How long since they've been arming - the baggagemen on this road? You needn't answer—I'm only talking to - myself. Those are the cases up there by the forward door, aren't they? And - the big one's got the green boys—eh?” He was backing away from the - man now. “Don't move, my bucko—understand? That chair you're sitting - in is the only health resort in this car!” - </p> - <p> - The man's hands clenched, as his eyes narrowed on the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “You damned thief!” he rasped out. “I—I'd like to——” - </p> - <p> - “Quite so!” said the Hawk softly. “I know how you feel about it, and if it - helps any to get it off your chest, go to it! Nobody'll hear you but me, - and I'll try and make the best of it!” - </p> - <p> - Piled along the side of the car from the doorway were a number of solidly - made, heavy-looking cases that obviously contained the gold shipment. In - front of these, between them and where the baggageman sat, and acting too - perhaps as a screen when the rear sliding door was open, as, for instance, - it had been at Selkirk, was a large, innocent-appearing, - flimsily-constructed packing case. The Hawk, beside this now, moved it - slightly. It was very light, so light as to warrant the presumption that - it might even be empty. - </p> - <p> - The baggageman had relapsed into a scowling silence, his eyes still on the - Hawk. The Hawk took his steel jimmy from his pocket, shifted his automatic - to his left hand, and inserted the jimmy under the cover of the case. - There was a rip and tear of rending wood; the operation was twice repeated—and - the Hawk threw the shattered cover on the floor. He glanced inside. At the - bottom of the case lay a large paper package, strongly tied, and heavily - sealed with red wax. - </p> - <p> - Under his mask, the Hawk's lips parted in a smile, as, his eyes on the - baggageman again, he noted that the other was watching his every movement - now with a sort of intense expectancy. The Hawk, however, made no effort - to reach down into the four-foot depth of the packing case; he canted the - box over, and picked up the package from the floor of the car. With the - point of his jimmy he tore a rent in the paper wrapper—and his smile - broadened. - </p> - <p> - “I apologise,” said the Hawk, with an engaging nod to the sullen figure in - the chair. “They're not green boys—they're yellow backs!” - </p> - <p> - “You damned thief!” said the man, in a choked voice. - </p> - <p> - The roar and sway of the train seemed suddenly to increase, as the wheel - trucks, jolting and beating at a siding switch, set up a sort of infernal - tattoo. They were passing the first station after the Junction—Conmore. - </p> - <p> - The smile left the Hawk's face. A little further along, and <i>they</i> - would stop the train. There came a sort of dare-devil set to the Hawk's - clamped jaws. - </p> - <p> - He was taking chances, but he had already weighed those chances well. The - Wire Devils, the Butcher and his crowd, would be on the alert; but equally - so would be MacVightie—and the posse that must far outnumber the - gang. And there was that promise to the Butcher! With their plans awry, - and taken by surprise, instead of profiting by surprise themselves, their - chances, rather than of securing a half million in gold, were most - excellent of securing quite as generous a reward, though of another nature—at - the hands of MacVightie! - </p> - <p> - “I'm going to get off here,” said the Hawk coolly to the figure in the - chair. “And the only way to get off without cracking my bean is to let - that guy there in the engine know that he's infringing the speed laws! You - remember what I told you—the only healthy place in this car for you - is where you're sitting now. Something may crack loose around here—keep - out of the wet!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk reached above his head for the bell cord, and pulled it sharply. - The engine crew, too, were evidently on the alert! The shrill blast of the - whistle answered the signal instantly. There was a sudden jerk that almost - threw the Hawk from his feet, the pound and slam of buffer plates, and the - vicious shriek of the “air.” The Hawk recovered himself, and, cool and - quick in every movement now, thrust his jimmy into his pocket to free his - hands, flung the package of banknotes up the aisle made by trunks and - boxes behind him, and began to retreat toward the forward door, pulling - the empty case along as a shield between himself and the other end of the - car. - </p> - <p> - The rear door of the car smashed inward. The Hawk caught a blurred glimpse - of faces and forms surging through the doorway, and streaming across the - platform from the smoker behind—and, in the lead, the Butcher's - crafty face, with its little black, restless, ferret eyes fixed down the - trunk-made aisle of the car on <i>him!</i> - </p> - <p> - “<i>The Hawk!</i>”—it came in a scream of abandoned fury from the - Butcher—then a headlong rush—a flash, the roar of the report, - as the Butcher fired—another, as the Hawk's automatic answered—and - the <i>spat</i> of a bullet splitting the panel of the forward door. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, stooped low behind the packing case now, still edged backward - toward the door, still dragging the case after him. A smile that was - deadly grim and far removed from mirth curved his lips downward in hard, - merciless lines. He had, at least, attained his object! There was no doubt - concerning their recognition of him as the Hawk! Well, he had weighed the - chances. They would be on him now, but only one at a time; there was not - room for more, with the packing case blocking the way—and it would - be the Butcher first. After that—well, after that, he counted on - MacVightie creating a diversion from the rear, and—— - </p> - <p> - The Butcher had flung himself against the packing case. It toppled to one - side, and the Hawk, like a crouched tiger, sprang and closed, making of - the Butcher's body, as a substitute for the packing case now, a shield - from the onrush behind. There was a furious oath from the Butcher; a - lurch, a stagger, as the train jerked and jerked again—and both men, - gripped and locked together, went to the floor. - </p> - <p> - For an instant they rolled over and over, the Butcher snarling like a mad - beast, wrenching and twisting for an opening at the Hawk's throat—and - then suddenly the car was in an inferno. A voice, MacVightie's, rang out - sternly from the rear door. It was echoed by a yell from one of the Hawk's - companions, then a shot, another, a fusillade of them—and then a - voice above the uproar: - </p> - <p> - “It's MacVightie, an' de bulls!” - </p> - <p> - There was a scurrying of feet, a stampede for cover behind trunks and - boxes by the Butcher's men—and the Butcher's grip was tense upon the - Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “Cut it out!” he whispered hoarsely. “My God, we're trapped—the lot - of us! Make a break for the door—get me? Crawl—that's the only - chance!” Blue eddies of smoke hung in queer, wavering, hesitant suspension - up and down the length of the car; the air was full of the acrid smell of - powder. The firing broke out again. The Hawk released his hold. - </p> - <p> - “All right!” he panted. “I'm with you!” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher was right, it was the only chance—and a chance that was - theirs alone, for, as they lay on the floor, the packing case hid them, - and it was barely two yards to the door. The train was almost at a - standstill now. MacVightie's men had gained an entrance and a position for - themselves behind the trunks at the lower end, firing as they crept - forward, while back on the smoker's platform, through the baggage car's - open door, others commanded the sweep down the center of the car. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk snatched at the package of banknotes, snuggled it under his coat, - and, with the Butcher beside him, began to wriggle toward the door. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie's voice rang out again from the rear of the car: - </p> - <p> - “Marston, take ten men, and surround the car! And——” His voice - rose suddenly in a bull-like roar. “The forward door, there—two of - them! Watch which way they jump—not a man of them gets away - to-night! <i>Quick!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had wrenched the door open, and, with the Butcher behind him, - flung himself out, and leaped to the ground. With the Hawk leading, - running like hares, the two men dashed down the embankment, and hurled - themselves over the barbed-wire fence that enclosed the right of way. - Shouts, the crackle of shots, echoed from behind them—the short, - vicious tongue-flames of the revolvers, a myriad of them, it seemed, - stabbed yellow through the blackness. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk glanced back over his shoulder. He could just make out perhaps a - half dozen dark forms in pursuit—and perhaps fifty yards away. The - darkness and the distance made the shooting at best uncertain. It was only - a chance shot that would get either the Butcher or himself, and ahead, - unless he was mistaken, for the train must have come to a stop at just - about that distance from Conmore, must be the wooded tract of land that - surrounded the old farmhouse. Yes—there it was! The old dare-devil - set clamped his jaws again. Yes, and so was the Ladybird—there! - Well, it was obvious enough that there was no other cover! He glanced at - the Butcher's face that he could just discern in the darkness. The Butcher - might decide against it, but the Butcher evidently had not recognised his - surroundings. The man's lips were working, and he was cursing in abandon - as he ran. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk spoke in short, gasping breaths: “There's some trees over there—to - the right—a little—make for them—cover!” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher swerved automatically in the direction indicated. - </p> - <p> - “Curse you!” he wheezed out. “This is all your infernal, nosey work! What - did you want to butt in for to-night—you fool—you couldn't - have got that gold, anyway!” - </p> - <p> - “You close your face!” snapped back the Hawk. “I'm running my own show! - There was a little cash—forty thousand bucks along with that gold, - that maybe you didn't know about. That's what I was after—see? And - that's what I got—see?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes”—the Butcher's voice broke in infuriated passion—“yes, - and you got them all pinched, every last one of them—blast you! I——” - </p> - <p> - “You save your breath, and put it into running,” retorted the Hawk - savagely, “or else maybe you'll get pinched yourself! It's their lookout! - I don't owe any of you any candy, do I!” - </p> - <p> - MacVightie himself was evidently one of those in pursuit behind, for again - the Hawk recognised the other's voice: - </p> - <p> - “Spread out there to the right! And try and shoot a little straighter—before - they get into that belt of trees!” - </p> - <p> - A renewed outburst of firing came in response—and the Hawk measured - grimly the few yards that still separated him from the trees, as a bullet, - drumming the air venomously, seemed to miss his cheek by but the fraction - of an inch. MacVightie's presence was evidence that the detective was so - well satisfied that the gang penned up in the car could not escape, that - he obviously counted his temporary absence from the scene well warranted - if thereby the clean-up were made complete in the capture of——-The - Hawk's mental soliloquy came to an abrupt end. There was a low cry from - the Butcher, and the man, as they ran shoulder to shoulder, lurched - against him. - </p> - <p> - “What's wrong?” flung out the Hawk sharply. - </p> - <p> - “They got me!” gasped the Butcher—and lurched again. “They got me—in - the leg.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk glanced backward again. They were still those fifty yards behind, - those dark, flitting, oncoming forms, those vicious yellow stabs of flame - in the blackness—it had been a dead heat so far, here to the fringe - of the trees. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher stumbled. The Hawk swung his free arm around the other's - waist, and plunged in amongst the trees. It was slower work now, - desperately slow. He clutched at the package of banknotes beneath his - coat, and with his other hand tightened his grip upon the Butcher. The man - was evidently badly hit, and was beginning to sag limply. Came the - thrashing and branches, and the rush of feet behind them. The fifty yards - was ten now—the Hawk, with his burden, struggled on—and then - there came a cry again from the Butcher—they had gained the edge of - the clearing, and the old farmhouse and its outbuildings loomed up before - them. - </p> - <p> - “It's—it's——” the Butcher's voice choked weakly. - </p> - <p> - “I—I know where we are—my God, <i>quick!</i> They'll search - the house! I got to warn him now—quick!” The man, as though under a - stimulant, with new strength, had sprung forward alone into the clear, - making for the farmhouse door. It was only a few yards, but halfway there - he stumbled again—and again the Hawk pulled him to his feet. - </p> - <p> - A yell went up behind them. MacVightie and his men, too, were now in the - clearing, and the ten yards' lead was cut to five, to three—and then - the door before them was flung suddenly open, and a voice challenged - hoarsely from within: - </p> - <p> - “Who's there? What's——” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher pitched across the threshold, dragging the Hawk down with him - in his fall. - </p> - <p> - “The door, Jim—quick—slam it!” screamed the Butcher. “We're - done—the cellar!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had leaped to his feet. The room was dark, unlighted, but from - across it came, as there had come that other night, the faint glow from - the open door of the cellarway. The Butcher had staggered up again, and - was making in that direction—and then the Hawk, too, was across the - room—but the next instant, turning to meet the rush from without, as - the front door, evidently before the man whom the Butcher had addressed as - Jim could fasten it, burst inward and crashed against the wall, he was - borne backward, and, losing his balance, half pitched, half rolled down - the cellar stairs. - </p> - <p> - The fall must have stunned him for a moment. He realised that as he - struggled to his feet—to find himself staring into the muzzle of - MacVightie's revolver, and to find that the bulging package of banknotes - was gone from under his coat, as, too, were his automatic, his jimmy and - the baggageman's revolver that had been in the side pockets of his coat. - He raised his hand dazedly toward his eyes—and MacVightie, reaching - out, knocked his hand away. - </p> - <p> - “I'll do that for you—we were just getting around to it!” said - MacVightie roughly—and jerked the Hawk's mask from his face. And - then MacVightie leaned sharply forward. “O-ho!” he exclaimed grimly. “So - it's <i>you</i>—is it? I guess you put it over me the night that ten - thousand was lifted at the station—but I've got you now!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk made no answer. He was staring, still in an apparently dazed way, - about him. The cellar was a veritable maze of work benches and elaborate - equipment—for counterfeiting work. A printing press stood over in - one corner; on the benches, plates and engravers' tools of all - descriptions were scattered about; and, near the wall by the stairway, he - made out a telegraph set. But the Hawk's glance did not linger on any of - these things—it fastened on a bent and twisted form that craned its - neck forward from a rubber-tired wheel chair; on a livid face, out of - which the coal-black eyes, narrowed to slits, smouldered in deadly menace, - and from whose thin lips, that scarcely moved, there poured forth now a - torrent of hideous blasphemy in that soft, silken voice that had earned - the Ladybird his name; on the hand, crooked into a claw, that, pushing - away the man who stood guard over him, reached out toward where the - Butcher lay upon the floor. - </p> - <p> - “You ape, you gnat, you brainless pig! And you led them here—here—<i>here!</i>” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't know where I was until I was right on the house,” mumbled the - Butcher miserably. - </p> - <h3> - “I——” - </h3> - <p> - “Shut up—both of you!” ordered MacVightie gruffly. “What do you say, - Lanson? Is this the Hawk?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had not seen the superintendent, and he turned now quickly. - Lanson's steel-grey eyes were boring into him coldly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Lanson evenly, “I think I could swear he was the man who held - us up in the private car the other night—but it's easily proved. If - he is the Hawk, he has got a wound in his right side. I saw him clap his - hand there when the pistol went off in his fight with Meridan.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, we'll soon see!” snapped MacVightie. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk licked his lips. - </p> - <p> - “You needn't look,” he said morosely. “It's there.” - </p> - <p> - “So you admit it, do you?” MacVightie's smile was unpleasant. “Well, then, - since you seem to be so thick with that pack of curs back there in the - train, perhaps you'll admit to a hand in this little counterfeiting plant - as well?” - </p> - <p> - “No; I won't!” said the Hawk shortly. “I never had anything to do with - this! I don't admit anything of the kind! Ask him!”—the Hawk jerked - his hand toward the Ladybird. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, all right!” MacVightie smiled unpleasantly again. “Let it go at that - for now, if you like it that way. It doesn't much matter. You're birds of - a feather, anyway, and there's enough on all of you to go around!” He - reached behind him, and picked up the package of banknotes from where he - had evidently laid it on the nearest bench. “How did you know this was on - the train, and how did you know where it was in the car—and tell the - truth about it!” - </p> - <p> - “I heard you and Mr. Lanson talking about it tonight,” said the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “Where?” - </p> - <p> - “In the roundhouse. I was outside the window. And”—the Hawk's voice - thinned in a sudden snarl—“you go to the devil with your questions!” - </p> - <p> - The Ladybird was craned forward again in the wheel chair listening - intently, he sank back now and scowled murderously at the Hawk. MacVightie - shrugged his shoulders, handed the package to one of his three men who - were with him in the cellar, and drew a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Get that cash down to the train, and put it back with the gold where it - will be under guard, MacGregor!” he ordered brusquely. “And you two carry - this fellow”—he rattled his handcuffs in the Butcher's direction—“down - there, too. Tell Marston to let you have three or four more men. The chap - that Williams has got upstairs there will have to be carried, too, I - guess; and our friend here, in the invalid buggy, with the thanksgiving - expression on his face, will have to have somebody to push him along over - the ruts. Yes, and I'll want a couple to put in the night here—tell - Marston to make it four. And now, beat it! You run ahead, MacGregor, and - get back as soon as you can—we don't want to tie up the traffic all - night!” - </p> - <p> - The two men picked up the Butcher, and, preceded by their companion with - the package of banknotes, went up the stairs. MacVightie caught the Hawk's - arm roughly, snapped one link of the steel cuffs over the Hawk's right - wrist, and yanked the Hawk ungently over to a position beside the wheel - chair. - </p> - <p> - He snapped the other link over the Ladybird's left wrist, and smiled - menacingly. - </p> - <p> - “I guess there's dead weight enough there to anchor you for a few minutes - while I take a look around here!” he said curtly—and turned to - Lan-son. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was licking at his lips again. Upstairs, the tramp of feet was - dying away: There would be no one there now but the other member of the - gang who, it seemed, had been hurt when the house was rushed, and the one - man who was guarding the prisoner. The Ladybird's cultured voice at the - Hawk's side poured out an uninterrupted stream of abandoned oaths that - were like a shudder in the nonchalant, conversational tones in which they - fell from the twitching lips. MacVightie and Lanson were moving here and - there about the place. Snatches of their conversation reached the Hawk: - </p> - <p> - ...Well, I reckon I called the turn, all right, when I said it was the - same crowd that was turning out the phony stuff, eh?... Yes, the telegraph - set. - </p> - <p> - ... Can't trace the wires until daylight, of course. - </p> - <p> - ... Sure, a clean-up....” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes travelled furtively around the cellar. They rested - hungrily on a spot in front of him, where, in the centre of the floor, but - partially hidden by one of the workbenches, was the bolted trapdoor of the - underground passage that led out to the wagon shed. He circled his lips - with his tongue again, and furtively again, his glance travelled on—to - the door at the head of the cellar stairs that had a massive bolt, and - that, evidently swinging back of its own accord after the men had passed - through, now hung just ajar—to a long, narrow window, most - tantalising of all because it was wide open, that was shoulder high, just - above the stonework of the cellar and evidently on a level with the ground - outside. - </p> - <p> - And then suddenly the Hawk's lids drooped—to hide a quick flash and - gleam that lighted the dark eyes. MacVightie had stooped, and throwing - back the bolt, had lifted up the trapdoor. - </p> - <p> - “Hello!” he ejaculated. “What's this? Here, Lanson! It looks like a - passage of some sort.” He was leaning down into the opening. “Yes, so help - me, that's what it is!” He lowered himself hurriedly through the trapdoor, - and his voice came back muffled into the cellar. “Come down here a minute, - Lanson; they certainly had things worked out to a fine point!” - </p> - <p> - Lanson's back, as, following MacVightie, he lowered himself through the - opening, was turned to the Hawk—and in a flash the Hawk's free hand - had swept behind him under his coat to the concealed pocket in the back - lining, and his eyes were thrust within an inch of the Ladybird's as he - lowered his head. - </p> - <p> - “You understand?”—the Hawk's lips did not move, he was breathing his - words, while a skeleton key worked swiftly at the handcuff on his wrist—“you - understand? It's you or me! You make a sound to queer me, and I'll get you—<i>first!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The livid face was contorted, working with impotent fury, but, perhaps for - the first time that it had ever been there, there was fear In the - Ladybird's burning eyes. The Hawk's hand was free now. Lanson's shoulders - were just disappearing through the opening, and with a lightning spring - the Hawk reached the trapdoor, swung it down, bolted it, and, running - without a sound, gained the head of the cellar stairs, pulled the door - gently shut, slid the bolt silently into place—and the next moment - the Hawk, returning, darted to the window, swung himself up to the ledge, - and vanished. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XX—“CONFIDENTIAL” CORRESPONDENCE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WO days later - MacVightie received a letter that had been posted the day before from a - city quite a number of miles nearer the East than Selkirk was. In the - left-hand, lower corner of the envelope, heavily underscored, was the - word: “Confidential.” What MacVightie read, when he opened the letter, was - this: - </p> - <p> - “Dear Mr. MacVightie:— - </p> - <p> - “I feel that you are entitled to an explanation—I will not call it - an apology, for I am sure you will recognise with me the unavoidable - nature of the circumstances existing at the time—of my somewhat - informal leave-taking of you two evenings ago; and I am afraid that my - actions on that occasion have not enhanced your opinion of—the Hawk. - I shall try and redeem myself. You have, I make no doubt, already searched - that room where I first had the pleasure of making your acquaintance—and - have found nothing. Let me begin, then, by saying that the diamond - necklace belonging to His Excellency the Governor's wife, a certain - well-known shipment of unset stones, and cash in varying amounts derived - from sources with which you are acquainted, are in a black valise which - you will find in the parcel room of the Selkirk station—and for - which I enclose herewith the parcel-room check. - </p> - <p> - “I imagine that you are sceptical. I wonder, then, if it would also - occasion you surprise to know that Birks of the Secret Service was, after - all, 'on deck' the night that the Wire Devils fell into your hospitable - hands? Yes, it is quite true—I am Birks. The newspaper biographies - of the Hawk, the apparent authenticity of his prison record and release - from Sing Sing was but 'inspired' fiction supplied from 'authoritative' - sources. The East was being swamped with one of the cleverest counterfeit - notes that the Federal authorities, popularly called the Secret Service, - had ever had to deal with; and it was evident at once that the gang at - work possessed an organisation against which ordinary methods would be of - no avail. Facts in the possession of the Federal authorities indicated - that the headquarters of the gang was in the West, and, indeed, as you - later concluded yourself, that the so-called Wire Devils, who were just - beginning to operate over the wires around Selkirk, were the men we - wanted. That, because of my knowledge of telegraphy, I was detailed to the - case, and how, almost at the outset, I was fortunate enough to secure the - key to their cipher, need not be gone into here. Knowing their code, then, - it would have been a simple enough matter to have run one or two of them - to earth at almost any time, but that was not enough; it was necessary - that the entire organisation, and especially its head, should be caught. - The rôle of the Hawk furnished the solution to the problem. It enabled me - to frustrate their plans, while at the same time I was working on the - case, and it enabled me to do this without arousing their suspicions that - the Secret Service was on the track of their counterfeiting plant. 'Birds - of a feather,' you called us, Mr. Mac-Vightie; and 'birds of a feather' I - am going to ask you to allow us, in the public's eyes, and particularly in - the eyes of those you now have behind the bars, to remain. - </p> - <p> - “I am sure you will readily acquiesce in this. You will instantly see that - my usefulness would be destroyed if the Hawk became known and recognised - as Birks of the Secret Service by every crook in the country, as would - result if he now figured in the case in his proper person. And this leads - to a word of explanation in reference to the final act in our little drama - of two nights ago. I had discovered the headquarters of the gang, and I - had found that cleverest of unhung crooks, the Ladybird, to be in command. - The plan outlined to you from Washington was at my suggestion, and was - simply a trap to collect them <i>all</i> into one net; a trap, I might - add, which they walked into, as they believed, with their eyes wide open, - for they were well aware of every move <i>you</i> had made. The purpose of - the money in banknotes accompanying the gold shipment was to supply the - Hawk with a <i>reason</i> for his appearance on the scene. It was not - altogether a question of coincidence that the train was stopped just - outside Con-more; nor that the chase led you to the farmhouse and the - Ladybird. The rest you know. It was necessary that I should be captured - and arrested in their presence, be caught in fact with the 'goods,' and - also that my escape should in their eyes appear equally genuine, if I was - to preserve the Hawk's identity. As for this last point, things turned out - a little differently than I had planned, for I had expected to be taken to - jail with the common herd, and there had intended to arrange some sort of - an escape to keep up appearances. As it turned out, however, I am sure you - will agree with me that there are worse things at times than a trapdoor in - a cellar floor! - </p> - <p> - “I think that is all—save for one little detail. I would suggest - that you account for the recovery of the 'swag' and the black valise - through the fact that, dissatisfied with your first search of that room - over our friend Seidel-berger's saloon, you searched it again more - minutely, found a parcel-room check ingeniously hidden, say, behind the - wall bracket of the electric-light fixture—and by so doing permit me - to remain, - </p> - <p> - “Ever and most sincerely yours, - </p> - <p> - “The Hawk.” - </p> - <h3> - THE END - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wire Devils, by Frank L. 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- <head>
- <title>
- The Wire Devils, by Frank L. Packard
- </title>
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wire Devils, by Frank L. Packard
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-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
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-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: The Wire Devils
-
-Author: Frank L. Packard
-
-Release Date: May 16, 2016 [EBook #52084]
-Last Updated: March 13, 2018
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIRE DEVILS ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- THE WIRE DEVILS
- </h1>
- <h2>
- By Frank L. Packard
- </h2>
- <h4>
- Author of “Greater Love Hath No Man,” “The Adventure of Jimmie Dale,” Etc.
- </h4>
- <h5>
- A. L. Burt Company Publishers New York
- </h5>
- <h3>
- 1918
- </h3>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0007.jpg" alt="0007 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0007.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE WIRE DEVILS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I—THE SECRET CODE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II—THE TEN-DOLLAR COUNTERFEIT NOTE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III-THE PAYMASTER'S SAFE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV—AT BALD CREEK STATION </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V—IN WHICH A CASH BOX DISAPPEARS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI—SOME OF THE LITTLE SPIDERS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII—WANTED—THE HAWK—DEAD OR
- ALIVE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII—THREADS IN THE WEB </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX—THE LOOTING OF THE FAST MAIL </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> X—THE THIRD PARTY </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XI—THE LEAD CAPSULE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XII—BLINDMAN'S-BUFF </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIII—THE MAN WITH THE SCAR </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIV—THE CLUE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XV—THE LADYBIRD </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVI—AN EVEN BREAK </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVII—A HOLE IN THE WALL </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVIII—THE HAWK PACKS HIS VALISE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XIX—BIRDS OF A FEATHER </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XX—“CONFIDENTIAL” CORRESPONDENCE </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE WIRE DEVILS
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- I—THE SECRET CODE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WO switch lights
- twinkled; one at the east, and one at the west end of the siding. For the
- rest all was blackness. Half way between the switch lights, snuggled close
- against the single-tracked main line, the station, little more than a
- shanty and too insignificant to boast a night operator, loomed up shadowy
- and indistinct. Away to the westward, like jagged points sticking up into
- the night and standing out in relief against the skyline, the Rockies
- reared their peaks. And the spell of the brooding mountains seemed to lie
- over all the desolate, butte-broken surrounding country—for all was
- utter silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then there came a sound, low at first, like a strange muttering from
- somewhere to the westward.
- </p>
- <p>
- It died away, grew louder, was hushed again—and broke into a
- sustained roar. Came then the quick, short gasps of the exhaust—it
- was a freight, and a heavy one. And suddenly, from up the track, circling
- an intervening butte, an electric headlight cut streaming through the
- black. It touched the little station in a queerly inquisitive way in the
- sweep of its arc, lingered an instant over the platform, then swung to the
- right of way, and held there, the metals glistening like polished silver
- ribbons under the flood of light.
- </p>
- <p>
- Straining, panting at its load, reddening the sky as the fire-box door was
- flung open, the big tenwheeler stormed by, coughing the sparks heavenward
- from its stack. The roar in the still night grew deafening, as boxcar,
- flat and gondola, lurching, swaying, clanking, groaning, an endless
- string, tugging at one another, grinding their flanges, screaming as they
- took up the axle play, staggered with a din infernal past the lonely and
- unlighted station.
- </p>
- <p>
- The roar sank into a gradually diminishing murmur. The tail-lights winked
- like mischievous little red eyes in the distance—and vanished.
- </p>
- <p>
- All was stillness and that brooding silence again.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then a man's form, like a black shadow in the darkness, rose from the
- trackside, and crept to the platform, and along the platform to the
- station door.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man bent forward, and the round, white ray of a pocket flashlight
- played upon the lock. He examined the lock for an instant appraisingly,
- then drew a bunch of skeleton keys from his pocket, and, selecting one of
- the number without hesitation, unlocked the door, stepped inside, and
- closed the door behind him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The flashlight swept in a circle around the interior of the little
- station. There were but two rooms—the small waiting room which he
- had entered, and in which he now stood; and, partitioned off from this,
- the door open, a still smaller inner room, the agent's office. He moved at
- once into the latter, and his flashlight, swiftly now, searched around the
- walls and held upon the clock. It was six minutes to ten.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pretty close work!” muttered the man. “Six minutes to wait.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The ray travelled now over the operator's table, and from the table to the
- switchboard. He reached out, “cut in” the office circuit, listened for an
- instant as the sounder began to chatter—then the ray swept over the
- table again. Under a newspaper, that the day man had apparently flung down
- at haphazard on leaving the office, he found a pad of telegraph blanks,
- from which, evidently wary of the consequences of using a pad with its
- resultant tell-tale impressions on the under sheets, he tore off a sheet
- and laid it down ready to hand before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- This done, he nodded complacently, sat down in the operator's chair,
- tilted the chair back, put his feet up on the table, and coolly picked up
- the newspaper. It was the evening edition of the Selkirk City <i>Journal</i>,
- that had presumably been tossed off at the station by a charitable train
- crew of some late afternoon train out from the city. He held the paper in
- one hand, the flashlight in the other, scanned the page, which happened to
- be an inner one, cursorily, turned it over, and suddenly leaned forward a
- little in his seat. He was staring at the headline at the top right-hand
- corner of the front page.
- </p>
- <h3>
- NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL RELEASED FROM SING SING
- </h3>
- <h3>
- POLICE ARE WARNED THAT MAN MAY BE IN THIS VICINITY
- </h3>
- <h3>
- HARRY MAUL, ALIAS THE HAWK, KNOWN TO BE IN THE WEST
- </h3>
- <p>
- The telegraph sounder chattered volubly for an instant, as though to
- challenge and silence the raucous ticking of the clock, and ended in a
- splutter of wrath, as it were, at the futility of its attempt. The clock
- ticked on. There was no other sound. And then the man spoke aloud.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's me,” he said. “The Hawk.” The paper rattled in his hand. There was
- a twisted smile on his lips in the darkness. “I guess I'm pretty well
- known.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's eyes fixed on the text, and he began to read:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is reported that Harry Maul, better known to the police as the Hawk,
- safe-breaker, forger and thief, one of the cleverest 'gentleman' crooks in
- the country, who is at large again after a five-years' penitentiary term,
- is somewhere in the West.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The crime wave that has recently been sweeping over Selkirk City and its
- vicinity, and particularly the daring and, in too many cases, successful
- outrages with which the railroad officials and detectives have been called
- upon to cope of late, may, as a very plausible theory, have lured the Hawk
- here as to a promising field in which to resume his criminal operations.
- Certain it is that, while we have been the victims of a band of mysterious
- desperadoes for some time past, the last week or so has seen a very marked
- increase in the number of crimes that have been committed—a
- significant coincidence with the Hawk's release from Sing Sing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A twenty-thousand-dollar diamond necklace was stolen from a private car
- two nights ago; there was an express car robbery on Monday of this week;
- and a sleeping car was thoroughly and systematically looted the night
- before. True, it is mere conjecture to connect the Hawk with these in any
- way, since the gang that has been operating in this neighbourhood has
- proved itself quite capable of all and more than this without any outside
- and highly specialised assistance, and it would appear is in no whit
- inferior in resource and devilish ingenuity to the best, or worst, that
- Sing Sing has to offer in the shape of this so-called Hawk; but, out of
- conjecture, one question naturally suggests itself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Granting the presence of the Hawk, is he here as a rival of the criminals
- of whose existence we are already only too well aware, or is he one of
- them through old-time associations before Sing Sing put a temporary check
- upon his activities?”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was more—a virulent outpouring of wrath at the intolerable
- extent to which the community, its life and property, was being
- endangered, and a promise of summary vengeance upon the criminals if
- caught.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite so!” murmured the Hawk, lowering his feet slowly to the floor. “I
- guess it wouldn't be healthy to get caught around these parts. I have a
- feeling that it would be the nearest telegraph pole instead of a trial!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He tossed the newspaper back on the table. The sounder, spasmodic in its
- chatter, for the moment was still. All was silence, profound, absolute.
- Then the clock struck, loud, resonant, smashing through the silence,
- startling. And at the same instant the sounder broke into a quick tattoo.
- The Hawk snatched a pencil from his pocket, and jerked his body forward—then
- relaxed again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stray stuff,” he muttered. “Got in ahead of him. We'll get it in a minute
- now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Pencil poised in his hand, the flashlight playing on the blank sheet of
- paper before him, the Hawk waited. The sounder ceased—and almost
- instantly broke again, rattling sharply through the room. The Hawk nodded,
- as his pencil began to travel across the paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'mtlky'—stroke at five. Two-three-one tonight,” he said aloud.
- </p>
- <p>
- Without pause, without hesitation, without the slightest indication of
- spacing to break its continuity, the sounder rattled on—and finally,
- as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the sheet of paper the Hawk had written this:
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>mtlkyeqodktrpcvkqlmtp kpwrtrgtftuqcyqtnt tsghv ukopgfkxtiku kqprelcn
- rcatocuvgdatf gumttlvgpvjf qwucpmtfkp uckjihg vqptkijvrsa wvpxodtt dgtqprg
- qplqosd</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- He reached out for the pad, tore off another sheet, and in two parallel
- columns set down the letters of the alphabet, one column transposed. There
- was a faint smile on his lips, as he turned again to the cipher and began
- to write in another line of letters under the original message.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder what Poe and his predominant 'e' would do with this!” he
- chuckled. “'Combi'—stroke two. Key letter—stroke three.” He
- frowned the next instant. “What's this! Ah—stroke three, instead of
- one.” He completed the transposition, stared at the several lines which
- were now scattered with vertically crossed-out letters, whistled low under
- his breath, and a grim look settled on his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- The message now read:
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>—-combi—natio—-ninup-perdr—eftsi—dediv—sion—al
- paymasterdesk—fousan dinsaj—feton-ight-autnum—-beron-eonjob</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- Mechanically, he separated words and sentences, and, eliminating the
- superfluous letters, wrote out the translation at the bottom of the sheet:
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“Combination in upper drawer left side divisional paymaster ('.) desk.
- Ten thousand in safe to-night. Put Number One on job</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk stood up, “plugged out” the station circuit, and, gathering up
- the two sheets of paper he had used, put them in his pocket; then, leaving
- the door of the operator's room open behind him, as he had found it, he
- stepped out from the station to the platform, and, with his skeleton key,
- relocked the station door. He stood for a moment staring up and down the
- track. The switchlights blinked back at him confidentially. He listened.
- The eastbound freight, from which he had jumped some twenty minutes
- before, would cross Extra No. 83, the westbound way freight, at Elkton,
- seven miles away, but there was no sound of the latter as yet.
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned then, and, jumping from the platform to the track, swung into a
- dog-trot along the roadbed. The Hawk smiled contentedly to himself. It was
- all timed to a nicety! A mile or so to the west, the right of way rose in
- a stiff grade that the way freight would be able to negotiate at no better
- speed than the pace at which a man could crawl. He could make the distance
- readily, board her there, and the way freight would get him to Selkirk—and
- the divisional paymaster's office!—by about midnight.
- </p>
- <p>
- He ran on, the swing and ease of a trained athlete in his stride. And, as
- he ran, he took the sheets of paper from his pocket, and, tearing them
- into small fragments, scattered the pieces at intervals here and there.
- </p>
- <p>
- He reached the foot of the grade, and paused to look back along the track,
- as suddenly from behind him came the hoarse scream of an engine whistle.
- That was the way freight now, whistling perfunctorily for the deserted
- station! He had made the grade in plenty of time, though the nearer to the
- top he could get the better, for the freight, requiring all the initial
- impetus it could attain, would hit the foot of the grade wide open.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk broke into a run again, glancing constantly back over his
- shoulder as he sped on up the grade. And then, when he was well on toward
- the summit, opening the night like a blazing disk as it rounded a curve,
- he caught the gleam of the headlight. It grew larger and larger, until,
- beginning to fling a luminous pathway up the track that, gradually
- lengthening, crept nearer and nearer to him, he swerved suddenly, plunged
- down the embankment, and, well away from the trackside, dropped flat upon
- the ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- The engine, slowed, was grunting heavily on the incline as it strained by
- the spot where he lay; there was the glimmer of the front-end brakeman's
- lamp from the top of one of the forward cars—and, with a quick,
- appraising glance to measure the length of the train, the Hawk, on hands
- and knees, crawled forward, and up the embankment, and, in the shadow of
- the rolling cars themselves, stood up. There would be sharp eyes watching
- from the cupola of the caboose. He laughed a little. And not only the
- train crew there, perhaps! The railroad detectives, at their wits' ends,
- had acquired the habit of late of turning up in the most unexpected
- places!
- </p>
- <p>
- A boxcar rolled by him, another, and still another—but the Hawk's
- eyes were fixed a little further along toward the rear on an open space,
- where, in the darkness, a flat car gave the appearance of a break in the
- train. The flat car came abreast of him. He caught the iron foot-rung,
- jumped, and, with a powerful, muscular swing, flung himself aboard.
- </p>
- <p>
- The car was loaded with some kind of carriage, or wagon,
- tarpaulin-covered. The Hawk crawled in under the tarpaulin, and lay down
- upon his back, pillowing his head on a piece of timber that blocked the
- carriage wheels.
- </p>
- <p>
- The train topped the grade, gained speed, and roared on through the night.
- Occasionally, during what was close to a two-hours' run, it stopped at
- intermediate stations, and the Hawk peered furtively out from under the
- tarpaulin to locate the surroundings, with which he appeared to be
- intimately familiar; and once, nearing the end of the run, as the
- faint-suffused glow from the city's lights in the distance showed under
- the shadows of the towering peaks, he spoke aloud, “Ten thousand dollars,”
- remarked the Hawk pleasantly. “Nice picking for a few hours' work—ten
- thousand dollars!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- II—THE TEN-DOLLAR COUNTERFEIT NOTE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk crawled
- out from under the tarpaulin and dropped to the ground, as the freight,
- slowing down, began to patter in over the spur switches of the Selkirk
- yard. He darted, bent low, across several spurs to escape the possibility
- of observation from the freight's caboose; then began to make his way
- toward the roundhouse ahead of him. He would have to pass around behind
- the roundhouse in order to get up opposite the station and the divisional
- offices. The Hawk glanced sharply about him as he moved along. He dodged
- here and there like some queer, irresponsible phantom flitting amongst the
- low, myriad red, green and purple lights that dotted the yard; and he
- carefully avoided those other lights, the white lights of the yardsmen,
- now bobbing as the men ran up and down, now swinging from the footboard of
- a passing switcher, that seemed to be unusually ubiquitous—for the
- Hawk was secretive, and for certain good and valid reasons was possessed
- of an earnest desire that no stranger should be reported prowling around
- the railroad yard that night.
- </p>
- <p>
- He reached the roundhouse, stepped close up against the wall to take
- advantage of the security afforded by the shadows, and began to circle the
- building. The Hawk was treading silently now. Halfway around the building
- he halted abruptly, his head cocked suddenly in a listening attitude
- toward a small, open and lighted window on a level with his shoulders, and
- in order to pass which he had just been on the point of stooping down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think,” said the Hawk softly to himself, “I think this sounds as though
- it interested me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He crept cautiously forward, and from the edge of the window glanced
- inside. It was the turner's “cubbyhole,” or office. The door was closed,
- and two men were standing there, talking earnestly. The Hawk's face, dimly
- outlined now in the window light, smooth-shaven, square-jawed, the eyes
- and forehead hidden by the brim of the slouch hat that was pulled forward
- almost to the bridge of his nose, set with a curious and significant
- smile. It was not a bad place for a private conference! He had thought he
- had recognised the voice—and he had not been mistaken. The big,
- heavy-built, thin-lipped, pugnacious-faced man was MacVightie, the head of
- the railroad's detective force; the other, a smaller man, with alert grey
- eyes, his forehead furrowed anxiously, whose clenched hand rested on the
- table, was Lanson, the division superintendent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know, damn it, MacVightie!” Lanson was saying savagely. “I don't
- know what to think, or believe—I only know that a Pullman hold-up
- one night, a twenty-thousand-dollar necklace stolen the next, an express
- car looted, and several other little pleasant episodes all jammed one on
- top of the other, means hell to pay out here and nothing to pay it with,
- unless we can do something almighty quick!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Any more of those messages?” inquired MacVightie—there was an
- ominous abstraction in his tones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Make anything of it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Lanson; “and I think it's about time to put a kink in that
- little business, whether they mean anything or not. This cat-and-mouse
- game we've been playing isn't——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We'll get back to that in a minute,” interrupted MacVightie quietly.
- “Here's a little something else that may possibly fit into the
- combination.” He reached into his pocket, took out his pocketbook, opened
- it, and handed the division superintendent a crisp new ten-dollar note.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's lips thinned instantly, and he swore sharply under his breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's this?” asked Lanson, in surprise. “Phony!” said MacVightie
- laconically. “Counterfeit!” Lanson turned the note over in his hands,
- staring at first one side and then the other. “Are you sure? I'd take it
- any time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You'd have lots of company with you”—there was a sudden rasp in the
- detective's voice. “Pretty good one, isn't it? The East is being flooded
- with them. Two of them showed up in the banks here in the city yesterday,
- and one to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson frowned perplexedly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't get you, MacVightie,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Suppose they were being struck off around here,” suggested MacVightie
- curtly. “I don't say they are, but suppose it were so. They'd likely be
- shoved out as far away from this locality as possible, wouldn't they—back
- East, say. They're so good that a jag of them got by before they began to
- be detected—and now suppose we assume that they're beginning to sift
- back around the country.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well”—MacVightie caught the superintendent up quickly—“I
- didn't say I could prove it; but, coupled with the fact that I happen to
- know that the police have traced the work back to somewhere west of
- Chicago, I've got a hunch that the gang that is operating around here and
- the crowd that is turning out the phony money is the same outfit. The Lord
- knows”—he smiled bitterly—“they're clever enough! And to go
- back to those messages now. If there was anything in them at all, anything
- more than some irresponsible idiot tampering with a key somewhere, we were
- face to face, not with a mere gang of train robbers, but with an organised
- criminal league as dangerous and powerful as has ever existed in this
- country—and that's what made me hesitate. We couldn't afford to take
- any chances, to start out after a mare's nest, and we had to make as
- nearly sure of our ground as possible before we played a card. We went on
- the principle that if it was only somebody playing the goat, he'd get
- tired of it before long if no one paid any attention to him; if it meant
- anything more than that, he'd keep on.” MacVightie's pugnacious face
- screwed up into a savage grimace. “Well, maybe this counterfeiting idea
- has had something to do with deciding me, but, anyway, I'm satisfied now.
- He <i>has</i> kept on. And I'm satisfied now that those messages are a
- cipher code that the gang is using, and that our cat-and-mouse play, as
- you call it, instead of being abortive, is exactly what's going to land
- our men for us. That's one thing I came to tell you to-night—that
- I'm ready now to take the gloves off on this wire game.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson smashed his fist down on the table top. “Good!” he exclaimed
- grimly. “I'd like to make things hot for somebody, and it'll at least be
- easy enough to catch whoever is using the wire.” MacVightie shook his
- head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no; it won't!” he said evenly. “I didn't mean to give you that
- impression, and don't you make the mistake of under-estimating the brains
- we're up against, Lanson. I'm no expert on telegraphy, that's your end of
- it, but I know they wouldn't sit in on any game where they didn't hold
- trumps up their sleeves. Get me? Now let's see what it looks like. As I
- understand it, these messages, no matter from what point on the division
- they are sent, would be heard on every sounder on the line—that's
- right, isn't it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—sure! Of course!” agreed Lanson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And it might be an operator working with them as an inside man; or, with
- the necessary outfit, the wire could be tapped at any point, couldn't it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Lanson; “but the minute he starts in, we could begin to
- 'ground' him out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go on!” invited MacVightie. “I'm listening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We could tell whether he was working east or west of any given point,”
- explained the superintendent; “and, with the operators instructed
- beforehand, practically narrow him down to, say, between two stations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, as he, too, listened, permitted an amused smile to flicker
- across his lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Um!” said MacVightie. “And would he be aware that this 'grounding'
- process was going on?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—naturally,” admitted Lanson. “We can't prevent that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- MacVightie shook his head again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That doesn't sound good to me,” he said slowly. “All he'd have to do
- would be to beat it then—and the next time start in fifty miles
- away, and you'd have to begin all over again. And, besides, who's <i>receiving</i>
- the messages? You can't put any tabs on that. Every sounder from Selkirk
- City to Rainy River registers them, and all a man's got to do is <i>listen</i>.
- You see, Lanson, it's not so easy—eh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson frowned.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, what do you suggest?” he asked uncomfortably. “We can stop it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But we don't <i>want</i> to stop it!” returned MacVightie. “We could have
- done that from the first. What we want is our man now. And it strikes me
- that the first thing to do is to find out whether one of our own operators
- is in on this or not. Unless the line is tapped somewhere, it's a cinch
- that a station key is being used, isn't it? Send some linemen that you can
- trust over the division. If they find anything at all, they'll find the
- spot where the messages are coming from, won't they? If they find nothing,
- we'll know we've got to look nearer home—amongst our own men.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson, in his turn, shook his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not necessarily,” he objected. “We've a number of small stations where
- there's no night operator. They might have got into one of those. The
- messages all come through at night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I'll call the turn there!” responded Mac-Vightie, with a short
- laugh. “See that I get a list of those stations in the morning, and I'll
- detail men to take care of that end of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk drew back a little, shifting his strained position—the
- amused smile was no longer on his lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And as for that 'ground' business,” went on Mac-Vightie, “go slow with it
- till you get your linemen's report. Don't do any more than try it out with
- some operator you can absolutely depend upon, say, about halfway down the
- line. You say you would be able to tell whether the messages were coming
- from east or west of that point; that'll cut the division in half for us
- as far as our search is concerned, and that's worth taking a chance on.
- But don't overdo it, Lanson. We don't want to throw any scare into him—yet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right,” agreed Lanson. “I'll start things moving to-night. Martin, at
- Bald Creek, will be the best man, I guess. I'll send a letter down to him
- on No. 8.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And warn him to make no reports by <i>wire</i>,” cautioned MacVightie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right—yes, naturally,” agreed the superintendent again. Then,
- after a short pause, anxiously: “Anything turned up at all, MacVightie?
- Any clue to that necklace? The governor's wife is making a holler that's
- reached from here to the road's directors down in Wall Street.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Damn it,” growled MacVightie. “I'm well enough aware of it—but the
- necklace isn't any more important than any one of the other affairs, is
- it? No; there's nothing—not a blamed thing!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, what about this Sing Sing convict, the Hawk, that the papers are
- featuring to-night?” Lanson asked. “Anything in that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know—maybe,” McVightie answered viciously. “He's only one
- more, anyway. This gang was operating before he was released—and
- it's likely enough, if they're old pals of his, that he's come out here to
- give them a hand. The New York police say he went to Chicago immediately
- after his release, two weeks ago. The Chicago police reported him there,
- and then he disappeared; then Denver spotted him a few days later—and
- that's the last that's been seen of him. You can make what you like of
- that. He's certainly been hitting a pretty straight trail west. He wasn't
- stopped, of course, because he isn't 'wanted' at present; he's only a man
- with a bad record, and labelled dangerous. We were warned to look out for
- him, that's all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Got his description?” inquired Lanson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes”—MacVightie's laugh was a short bark. “Medium height,
- broad-shouldered, muscular, black hair, black eyes, straight nose,
- good-looking, and gentlemanly in appearance and manner, dresses well, age
- twenty-four to twenty-six, no distinctive marks or disfigurement.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There's probably not more than twenty-five thousand men in Selkirk City
- who would answer to every detail of that!” Lanson commented sarcastically.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Exactly!” admitted MacVightie. “And that's——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk was creeping forward again in the shadows of the roundhouse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I guess it interested me,” muttered the Hawk; “I guess it did. I
- guess I'm playing in luck to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- III-THE PAYMASTER'S SAFE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ROM the roundhouse
- it was only a few yards to the rear of the long, low-lying freight sheds
- and, unobserved, the Hawk gained this new shelter. He stole quickly along
- to the further end of the sheds; and there, crouched down again in the
- shadows, halted to make a critical survey of his surroundings. .
- </p>
- <p>
- Just in front of him, divided only by a sort of driveway for the
- convenience of the teamsters, was the end wall of the station, and, in the
- end wall—the window of the divisional paymaster's office. The Hawk
- glanced to his left. The street upon which the station fronted, an
- ill-savoured section of the city, was dark, dimly lighted, and deserted;
- the only sign of life being the lighted windows of a saloon on the corner
- of a narrow lane that bisected the block of somewhat disreputable,
- tumble-down wooden structures that faced the station. To his right, on the
- other side of the freight shed, the railroad yard had narrowed down to the
- station tracks and a single spur alongside the shed. There was no one in
- sight in either direction.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's eyes strayed back to the paymaster's window. The station, like
- its surrounding neighbours, was an old wooden building; and, being low and
- only two-storied, the second-story window offered inviting possibilities.
- From the sill of the lower window, a man who was at all agile had the
- upper window at his mercy. Against this mode of attack, however, was the
- risk of being seen by any one who might pass along the street, or by any
- one who might chance upon the end of the station platform.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's the use!” decided the Hawk, with an abrupt shrug of his shoulders.
- “Play safe. There's a better way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk crept across the driveway, reached the street side of the
- station, peered cautiously around the corner of the building, and,
- satisfied that he was unobserved, edged down along the building for a
- short distance, paused in a doorway, glanced quickly about him again—and
- then the door opened and closed, and he was standing in a murky
- passageway, that was lighted only by a single incandescent far back by a
- stair well.
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood motionless, listening. From above, through the stillness, came
- the faint drumming of a telegraph key. There should be no one upstairs now
- but the dispatcher, whose room was at the opposite end of the building
- from the paymaster's office—and, possibly, with the dispatcher, a
- call boy or two. And the hallway above, he could see, was dark.
- </p>
- <p>
- Moving stealthily forward, as noiseless as a cat in his tread, the Hawk
- took a mask from his pocket, slipped it over his face, and began to mount
- the stairs. He gained the landing—and halted again. It was pitch
- black here, since even the door of the dispatcher's room, where there
- would be a light, was closed.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then once more the Hawk moved forward—and an instant later, the
- paymaster's door at the extreme end of the corridor, under the deft
- persuasion of his skeleton keys, had closed behind him.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not quite so dark here. The lights from the platform and the yard
- filtered in through the window in a filmy sort of way; but it was too dark
- to distinguish objects in anything more than grotesque, shapeless
- outlines.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk produced his flashlight, and turned it upon the lock he had just
- picked. It was a spring lock, opened readily from the inside by the mere
- turning of the doorhandle. He tried it carefully, assuring himself that it
- could not be opened from the corridor without a key—and then his
- light swept around the room. It played in its circuit upon the paymaster's
- flat-topped desk against the wall, and upon a large safe in the corner,
- near the window, whose polished nickel dial sent back an answering flash
- under the darting ray; but the Hawk, for the moment, appeared to be
- interested in neither desk nor safe. The flashlight was holding in a kind
- of dogged inquisitiveness upon another door close to the window, and
- directly opposite the safe.
- </p>
- <p>
- He stepped without a sound across the room, and, reaching this door,
- snapped off his flashlight. He tried the door cautiously, found it
- unlocked, and very softly opened it the space of an inch. He listened
- attentively. There was no sound. He pushed the door open, switched on his
- flashlight again, and stepped through the doorway. It appeared to be a
- clerks' office—for the paymaster's staff, presumably. The Hawk
- seemed to possess a peculiar penchant for doors. The only thing in the
- room that apparently held any interest for him now was the door that
- opened, like the paymaster's, upon the corridor. He slipped quickly across
- the room, and, as before, examined the lock. Like the other, it was a
- spring lock; and, like the other, he tested it to make sure it was locked
- on the outside.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ten thousand dollars,” confided the Hawk to the lock, “isn't to be picked
- up every night; and we can't afford to take any chances, you know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He began to retrace his steps toward the paymaster's office, but now,
- obviously, with more attention to the details of his surroundings, for his
- flashlight kept dancing quick, jerky flashes in all directions about him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” The exclamation, low-breathed, came suddenly. “I thought there ought
- to be something like this around here!”
- </p>
- <p>
- From, beside a desk, he stooped and picked up an empty pay satchel; then,
- returning at once to the other office, but leaving the connecting door
- just ajar, he dropped the pay bag in front of the safe, and went silently
- over to the desk—a mouse running across the floor would have made
- more commotion than the Hawk had made since his entry into the station.
- </p>
- <p>
- “... Upper drawer, left side,” he muttered, “Locked, of course—ah!”
- A tiny key, selected from its fellow outlaws, was inserted in the lock—and
- the Hawk pulled out the drawer, and began to rummage through its contents.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the back of the drawer, after perhaps a minute's search, he picked up
- a card, and with a nod of satisfaction began to study it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Left—two right; eighty-seven, one quarter—left; three... '”
- The Hawk's eyes travelled swiftly over the combination. He read it over
- again, “Thank you!” murmured the Hawk whimsically—and dropped the
- card back in the drawer, and locked the drawer.
- </p>
- <p>
- A moment more, and the white beam of the flashlight was playing on the
- face of the safe, and the silence of the room was broken by the faint,
- musical, metallic whirring of the dial. Bent forward, a crouching form in
- the darkness, the Hawk worked swiftly, a sure, deft accuracy in every
- movement of his fingers. With a low thud, as he turned the handle, the
- heavy bolt shot back in its grooves, and the ponderous door swung open.
- And now the flashlight's ray flooded the interior of the safe, and the
- Hawk laughed low—before him, lying on the bottom of the safe, neatly
- banded as they had come from the bank, were a dozen or fifteen little
- packages of banknotes.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk dropped on his knees, and reached for the pay bag. Ten thousand
- dollars was not so bulky, after all—if the denominations of the
- notes were large enough. He riffled one package through his fingers—twenties!
- Gold, yellow-back twenties!
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a sort of beatific smile on the Hawk's lips. He dropped the
- package into the bag.
- </p>
- <p>
- Tens, and twenties, and fives—the light, in a curiously caressing
- way, was lingering on the little fortune as it lay there on the bottom of
- the safe. There was only a pile or two of ones, and the rest was—<i>what
- was that!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- The smile vanished from the Hawk's lips, and, in a rigid, tense, strained
- attitude, he hung there, motionless. What was that—that dull,
- rasping, sound! It was like some one clawing at the wall outside. The <i>window!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- With a single motion, as though stirred to life by some galvanic shock,
- the Hawk's hand shot out and swept the packages of banknotes into the bag.
- He snapped off his flashlight. The room was in darkness.
- </p>
- <p>
- That sound again! And now a creak! The window was being opened. Something
- black was bulking there on the sill outside—and something queerly
- white, a man's face, was pressed against the pane, peering in.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk glanced sharply around him. Inch by inch he was pushing the safe
- door shut. He could not reach the door leading to the clerks' office, for
- he would have to pass by the window, and—he shrank back quickly, the
- safe door closed but still unlocked, and crouched low in the corner
- against the wall. The window slid up to the top, and with a soft <i>pad</i>,
- like some animal alighting on the floor, the man had sprung into the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's fingers crept into his pocket and out again, tight-closed now
- upon an automatic pistol. The other's flashlight winked, went out, then
- shot across the room, locating the desk—and once more all was
- darkness.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was not a sound now, save the short, hurried breathing of the other,
- panting from the exertion of his climb. Then the man's step squeaked
- faintly crossing the room—and the Hawk, a few inches at a time,
- began to edge along the wall away from the neighbourhood of the safe.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the man's flashlight gleamed again, lighting up the top of the desk.
- There was a sharp, ripping sound, as of the tearing of wood under
- pressure, and the upper drawer, forced open by a steel jimmy, was pulled
- out.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Birds of a feather!” said the Hawk grimly to himself. “Number One, of the
- Wire Devils! I didn't beat him to it by as much margin as I thought I
- would!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk shifted his automatic to the hand that was clutching the pay bag,
- and, with the other hand, began to feel in wide sweeps over the wall above
- his head. The electric-light switch, he had noticed in that first quick
- glance when he had entered the room, a glance that had seemed to notice
- nothing, and yet in which nothing had escaped the sharp, trained eyes, was
- somewhere about here.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dangerous—for both of us—if it's seen outside,” communed the
- Hawk with himself again. “But when he finds the safe unlocked, and the
- goods gone, there'll be trouble. If he gets a flashlight on me, he's got
- me where he wants me. Ah—here it is!” The Hawk's fingers touched the
- switch. He lowered the pay bag cautiously to the floor between his feet,
- his automatic free in his hand again.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a rustling of papers in the drawer; then the man's hand, holding
- a card, was outlined as though thrown upon a screen, as, with his other
- hand, he focused his flashlight upon it. Then the flashlight swung an arc
- over the opposite wall, and pointed a pathway to the safe, as the man
- turned abruptly and stepped back across the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, one hand raised to the switch on the wall, his automatic
- outflung a little in the other, tense, like an animal in leash, watched
- the other's movements.
- </p>
- <p>
- The dark-outlined form was in shadowy relief against the light, that
- played now upon the glistening knob and dial of the safe. The man gave a
- preliminary, tentative twist at the handle. Came a quick, dismayed,
- hissing sound, like the sharp intake of 'breath. The safe door was
- wrenched open with a jerk. There was a low, angry cry now. The man sprang
- back, and as though involuntarily, in a sort of uncertain, panic-struck
- search, his flashlight shot along the wall—and fell full upon the
- Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's finger pressed the switch. The room was ablaze with light. With
- a startled, furious oath, the man's hand was sweeping significantly toward
- his pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, you don't!” snarled the Hawk, covering the other. “No, you don't! Cut
- that out!” His eyes, behind the mask, narrowed suddenly. “Hello!” he
- sneered. “It's 'Butcher' Rose—I might have known from the way you
- opened that drawer!”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a moment before the man answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blast you!” he whispered finally. “You gave me a bit of a start, you did!
- I thought at first you were a 'bull'.” His eyes fastened on the pay bag at
- the Hawk's feet. The top gaped open, disclosing the banknotes inside. The
- man raised his eyes to the Hawk's, and a cunning look came over his thin,
- hatchet-like face. “Caught with the goods this time, eh?” he jerked out.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk smiled unpleasantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” he said. “The nest's empty. What is it they used to tell us in the
- nursery?—it's the early bird that grabs the worm. How long you been
- out in these parts, Butcher?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here,” said the Butcher ingratiatingly, ignoring the question, “I
- guess it's a case of split—eh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You've got a nerve!” ejaculated the Hawk coolly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, put that light out, then, and we'll talk it over,” suggested the
- Butcher. “If it's seen from outside, we'll both get caught.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'd rather take a chance on that, than a chance on you,” replied the Hawk
- curtly. “There's nothing to talk over. I've got the coin, and you've got a
- frost—all you've got to do now is beat it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Sharp, little, black, ferret eyes the Butcher had, and they roamed around
- the room now in an apparently aimless fashion—only to come back and
- fix hungrily on the bag of banknotes again. A sullen look came into his
- face, and the jaw muscles twitched ominously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So you're the Hawk they're talking about, eh?” he said, trying to speak
- smoothly. “Well, there's no use of us quarrelling. If you know me, we must
- be old pals. Take off that mask, and let's have a look at you. There ain't
- any reason why we can't be pals again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nix!” said the Hawk softly. “Nothing doing, Butcher! It suits me pretty
- well the way it is. I've made it a rule all my life to play a lone hand,
- and the more I see of the raw work that guys like you try to get away
- with, the more I pat myself on the back. Savvy? Why, say, even a
- drag-worker on Canal Street wouldn't show his face to a self-respecting
- crook for a month, he'd be so ashamed, if he took a crowbar to a desk
- drawer the way you did, you poor boob!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher's face flushed, and he scowled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're looking for trouble, ain't you!” he said hoarsely. “Well, mabbe
- you'll get it—and mabbe you'll get more than you're looking for.
- How'd you get wise to this game to-night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's the way I make my living—getting wise. How'd you suppose?”
- queried the Hawk insolently.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher was chewing at his lips angrily; his eyes, closed to slits,
- searched the Hawk's masked face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is the second time!” he said, between his teeth. “You pinched that
- necklace, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O-ho!” exclaimed the Hawk, with a grin. “So <i>you</i> were after that,
- too, were you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher's flush deepened.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's none of your damned business!” he gritted. “And if I thought——”
- He bit his lips quickly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go on!” invited the Hawk sweetly. “Don't mind me. If you thought—what?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You've had the luck with you,” mumbled the Butcher, half to himself. “It
- can't be anything else, there's no chance of a leak. But I'm going to tell
- you something—your luck's going to get a hole kicked in it. I'll
- tell you something more. There's a few of us that have picked out this
- little stamping ground for ourselves, and we ain't fond of trespassers.
- Get that? It ain't going to be healthy for you to linger around here over
- more than one train!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are the rest of 'em all like you?” inquired the Hawk maliciously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You'll find out quicker than you'll want to, perhaps!” the Butcher
- retorted furiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right!” said the Hawk. “And now I'll tell you a little something. I
- don't know who are in this gang of yours, but you might take them a little
- message from me. If they're finding it crowded out here, they'd better
- move on to somewhere where competition isn't so likely to put them out of
- business through lack of brains, because I'm kind of figuring on hanging
- around until it gets time to open my château down at Palm Beach and stick
- my feet up on the sofa for a well-earned rest. Do you stumble to that?
- And”—the Hawk was drawling now—“I might say, Butcher, that I
- don't like you. My fingers are crossed on that trespassing gag. It don't
- go! I don't scare for any half-baked outfit of near-crooks! I stick here
- as long as there's anything worth sticking for.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher's eyes seemed to be fascinated by the pay bag—they were
- on it again. He choked a little, swallowing hard; and, attempting a change
- of front, forced a smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, don't get sore!” he said, in a whining tone. “Mabbe I was only
- trying to chuck a bluff, and got called. But, say, how'd you like to break
- in here to-night like I did, and find another fellow'd got all the swag?
- Say, it's damned rough, ain't it? Say, it's fierce! And, look here, I'm in
- on it now, anyhow. I know who took it. I'm going to keep my mouth shut,
- ain't I? You ain't going to leave me out in the cold, are you? All I ask
- is a split.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's not much!” said the Hawk, in a velvet voice. “It hardly seems
- enough. You're too modest, Butcher. Why don't you ask for the whole of it?
- You might as well—you'd stand just as much chance of getting it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The smile faded from the Butcher's lips, and his face became contorted
- with rage again. He raised his fist and shook it at the Hawk. He cursed in
- abandon, his lips livid, beside himself with passion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You'll get yours for this!” He choked, in his fury, over his words. “You
- think you're slick! I'll show you what you're up against inside of
- twenty-four hours! You'll crawl for this, d'ye hear, blast you—you'll
- <i>crawl!</i>—you'll——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's automatic, dangling nonchalantly in his hand, swung suddenly
- upward to a level with the other's eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's enough, you cheap skate!”—there was a cold, menacing ring in
- the Hawk's voice now. “I've heard enough from you. You and your hot-air
- crowd of moth-eaten lags! If you, or any of you, run foul of me again, you
- won't get off so easy! Tell 'em that! Tell 'em the Hawk said so! And you
- beat it! And beat it—<i>now!</i>” He caught up the pay bag, and
- advanced a step.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher retreated sullenly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get out of that window!” ordered the Hawk evenly. “And take a last tip
- from me. If you try to plant me, if you let a peep out of you while I'm
- making my own getaway, I'll <i>get</i> you for it, Butcher, if it's the
- last thing I ever do. Go on, now! Step quicker!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Still sullenly, mumbling, his mouth working, the Butcher retreated
- backward toward the window. The Hawk, his lips like a thin straight line
- just showing under the mask, followed grimly, step by step. And then,
- suddenly, both men halted, and their eyes met and held each other's in a
- long tense gaze.
- </p>
- <p>
- From outside in the corridor came the sound of voices and footsteps. The
- footsteps drew nearer; the voices grew louder. The Hawk shot a glance
- toward the door. He drew in his breath sharply. No, there was no fanlight,
- the light would not show in the hall. That was the superintendent's voice.
- That letter Lanson was going to send down on No. 8! The other, probably,
- was MacVightie. Yes; it <i>was</i> MacVightie—he caught the
- detective's gruff tones now. The door on the opposite side of the corridor
- from the paymaster's room opened.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher licked his lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Me for the window, and for it quick!” he muttered under his breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned, and, his back to the Hawk now, tiptoed to the window, turned
- again sideways, as though to throw one leg over the sill—and his
- right hand, hidden, suddenly lifted the side of his coat.
- </p>
- <p>
- It came quick, quick as the winking of an eye. Racketing through room and
- building, like the detonation of a cannon in the silence, came the roar of
- a revolver shot, as the Butcher fired through his coat pocket.
- Mechanically, the Hawk staggered backward; and then, the quick, keen brain
- working like lightning, he reeled, dropped the pay bag, and clutched
- wildly at his side. He was not hit. The Butcher had missed. So that was
- the man's game! Clever enough! They'd break in here at the sound of the
- shot, and find him dead or wounded on the floor!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher, a devil's triumph in his face now, came leaping back from the
- window, and, stooping, snatched at the pay bag.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'd put another in you to make sure,” whispered the Butcher fiercely;
- “only they'll get you anyway, you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk straightened, his arm streaked outward from his side, his pistol
- butt crashed on the Butcher's skull, and he was upon the other like a
- flash, his free hand at the Butcher's throat.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the room opposite came startled cries; across the corridor came the
- rush of feet—then the doorhandle was tried, the door shaken
- violently.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher was struggling but feebly, making only a pitiful effort to
- loosen the Hawk's clutch upon his throat, hanging almost limply in the
- Hawk's arms, half dazed by the blow upon his head. White to the lips with
- passion, the Hawk whipped his hand into the other's pocket, whipped out
- the other's revolver, and flung the man away from him. And then, as the
- Butcher reeled and lurched backward to the window, and, clawing
- frantically at the sill, attempted to work his way out, the Hawk ran
- silently back, picked up the pay bag, and, jumping to the window again,
- caught the Butcher roughly by the collar of the coat.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher, white, haggard-faced with fear, moaned.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For God's sake!” he pleaded piteously. “Let me go! Let me go! For God's
- sake, let me go—they'll get me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a terrific crash upon the door, as of some heavy body hurled
- against it. The Hawk laughed mirthlessly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I let you go, you'd break your neck!”—the Hawk's words were
- coming through clenched teeth. “Don't worry, Butcher! They'll not get you.
- I don't want <i>them</i> to get you. I want to get you myself for this.
- Some day, Butcher, some day <i>I'll</i> do the getting!” He pushed the
- Butcher's feet over the sill. “Feel with your toes for the window casing
- beneath! Quick!” He leaned out, gripping at the Butcher's collar, lowering
- the man—his lips were close against the Butcher's ear. “Some day—for
- this—you yellow cur—you and me, Butcher—remember—<i>some
- day!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- A crash again upon the door! The Butcher's feet were on the lower sill;
- but here the man lost his hold, and toppled to the ground. The Hawk
- glanced backward into the room. The door was yielding now. He looked out
- of the window again. The Butcher had regained his feet, and was swaying
- against the wall, holding to it, making his way slowly, weakly toward the
- corner.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk threw one leg over the sill. With a rip and tear, the door
- smashed inward, sagging from its lower hinge. Came a hoarse yell.
- MacVightie was plunging through the doorway.
- </p>
- <p>
- Instantly the Hawk, hugging the pay bag, drew back his leg, and dove into
- the clerk's room through the door which he had left ajar. There would have
- been no use in letting the Butcher go at all if he led the chase through
- the window—the man was barely crawling away. Across the room, light
- enough now from the open doorway behind him to point the way, raced the
- Hawk. He reached the corridor door, as MacVightie lunged through the
- connecting door in pursuit.
- </p>
- <p>
- MacVightie's voice rose in a bellow of warning:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look out there, Lanson! The next door—quick!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But the Hawk was the quicker. He tore the door open, and dashed through,
- just eluding the superintendent and another man—the dispatcher
- probably, attracted by the row—as they sprang forward from the
- paymaster's door.
- </p>
- <p>
- Running like a deer, the Hawk made for the stairway. It was lighter now in
- the hall. The dispatcher's door along at the farther end was open. At the
- head of the stairs, a call boy, wide-eyed, gaped, openmouthed. The Hawk
- brushed the boy aside incontinently, and, taking the stairs three and four
- at a time, leaped downward, MacVightie's bull-like roar echoing behind
- him, the top stairs creaking under the detective's rush.
- </p>
- <p>
- The street door opened outward, and as the Hawk reached it, and, wrenching
- at the knob, pushed it open, there was a flash, the report of a revolver
- shot—and, with a venomous <i>spat</i>, the bullet buried itself in
- the door jamb, not an inch from his head, it seemed, for the wind of the
- bullet was on his cheek.
- </p>
- <p>
- Cries sounded now from the railroad yard; but the street in front of him,
- deserted, was still undisturbed. He was across it in a twinkling, and,
- passing the saloon that was now closed, darted into the lane.
- </p>
- <p>
- He flung a glance over his shoulder—and his lips set hard.
- MacVightie, big man though he was, was no mean antagonist in a race. The
- detective, quicker in initiative, quicker on his feet, had outdistanced
- both Lanson and the dispatcher, and was already halfway across the street.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again MacVightie fired.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the Hawk ran. If he could reach the next corner—providing there
- was no one about the street—there was a way, a risky way, but still
- a way, his best chance of escape. The cheap combination lodging house and
- saloon, that was just around the corner, was where he had a room. Yes, it
- was his <i>one</i> chance! He must get to cover somewhere without an
- instant's delay. With MacVightie firing now, emptying his revolver up the
- lane, with the yells and shouts growing constantly in volume from farther
- back toward the station, it was only a question of minutes before the
- whole neighbourhood would be aroused.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again he glanced behind him. It was very dark in the lane. He was grimly
- conscious that it was the blackness, and not MacVightie's poor
- marksmanship, that had saved him so far. That flash of the other's
- revolver was perhaps fifty yards away. He had gained a little, then! If
- there was any one around the corner, the plan of reaching his room would
- not serve him, and he would still have to run for it. Well, he would see
- in an instant—it was only two yards more—a yard—now!
- </p>
- <p>
- Without slackening his pace, at top speed he swung from the lane—and,
- with a gasp of relief at sight of an empty street, slipped into a doorway
- just beyond the now dark entrance to a saloon that occupied most of the
- ground floor of a dirty and squalid three-story building.
- </p>
- <p>
- The door gave on a narrow flight of stairs, and up these the Hawk sprang
- swiftly and with scarcely a sound. And now, as he ran, he pulled his mask
- from his face and thrust it into the pay bag; a pocket-book from his
- inside coat pocket followed the mask, and, with the pocketbook, the
- flashlight, and the two pistols, his own and the Butcher's. He opened a
- door at the head of the landing, and stepped into a room, leaving the door
- partly open.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was not safe yet—far from it! He did not under-estimate
- MacVightie. It would be obvious to MacVightie that he was not far enough
- ahead to have disappeared in any but one way—into some building
- within a very few yards of the lane! And the presumption, at least, would
- be that this was the one.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk worked now with almost incredible speed. He switched on the
- light, ran to the window that opened on the rear of the building, felt
- with one hand along the sill outside, lifted the pay bag out of the
- window, let go of it, and turned instantly back into the room. He hung up
- his hat on a wall peg, and tearing off his jacket, flung it haphazardly
- upon the bed. There was a small table against the wall near the foot of
- the bed. The Hawk opened a drawer, snatched up a pack of cards, and sat
- down at the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- The street door opened and closed. A quick, heavy tread sounded on the
- stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- In his shirt sleeves, his back to the door, the Hawk was coolly playing
- solitaire.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess I'd better be smoking,” murmured the Hawk. “Maybe I'm breathing a
- little hard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He picked up a pipe from the table, lighted a match—and, half the
- deck of cards in one hand, the lighted match in the other, swung around in
- his chair with a startled jerk.
- </p>
- <p>
- The door slammed back against the wall. MacVightie had unceremoniously
- kicked it wide open. MacVightie was standing on the threshold.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, in a sort of surprised gasp, sucked the flame of the match down
- into the bowl of his pipe, and stared at MacVightie through a curtain of
- tobacco smoke. The detective's eyes travelled sharply from the Hawk around
- the room, came back to the Hawk, narrowed, and, stepping into the room, he
- shut the door with equal lack of ceremony behind him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say, you got a gall!” ejaculated the Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You bet your life I have!” flung out MacVightie. “Now then, my bucko,
- what are you doing, here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say,” said the Hawk, as though obsessed with but a single idea, “say, you
- got a gall! You got a gall, busting into a fellow's room and asking him
- what he's doing there! Say, maybe you might answer the same question
- yourself—eh? What are you doing here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your room, is it?” snapped MacVightie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sure it's my room!” replied the Hawk, a little tartly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How long you been here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Bout a week”—the Hawk was growing ungracious.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Boarding here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where'd you come from?” MacVightie was clipping off his words. “What do
- you do for a living?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say,” said the Hawk politely, “you go to hell!”
- </p>
- <p>
- MacVightie stepped forward toward the Hawk, with an ominous scowl; and,
- throwing back the lapel of his coat, tapped grimly with his forefinger on
- a shield that decorated his vest.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk whistled low.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O-ho!” said the Hawk, with sudden cordiality. “Well, why didn't you say
- so before?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm saying it now!” snarled MacVightie. “Well, where do you come from?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Chicago,” said the Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's your business?”—MacVightie's eyes were roving sharply again
- around the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Barkeep—when I can get a job,” answered the Hawk; and then,
- insinuatingly: “And, say, I'm looking for one now, and if you can put me
- on to anything I'd——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess you've got to show me!” growled Mac-Vightie, uncompromisingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here,” ventured the Hawk, “what's up?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm waiting!” prompted MacVightie significantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, all right!” The Hawk flared up a little. “If you love your grouch,
- keep on hugging it tight!” He jerked his hand toward the coat that was
- lying on the bed. “I must have lost the letter the pastor of my church
- gave me, but there's a couple there from the guys back in Chicago that I
- worked for, and there's my union card with them. Help yourself!”
- </p>
- <p>
- MacVightie picked up the coat brusquely, shoved his hand into the inside
- pocket, brought out several letters, and began to read them.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk shuffled the half deck of cards in his hand monotonously.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a puzzled frown on MacVightie's face, as he finally tossed the
- letters down on the bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Satisfied?” inquired the Hawk pleasantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- MacVightie's frown deepened.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, as far as that goes,” he said tersely; and then, evenly, his eyes
- boring into the Hawk: “About five minutes ago a man ran into this house
- from the street. What's become of him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk started in amazement—and slowly shook his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess you've got the wrong dope, ain't you?” he suggested earnestly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't try that game!” cautioned MacVightie grimly. “And don't lie! He had
- to come up these stairs, your door was partly open, and he couldn't have
- passed without you knowing it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's what I'm saying,” agreed the Hawk, even more earnestly. “That's
- why I'm saying you must have got the wrong dope. Of course, he couldn't
- have got by without me hearing him! That's a cinch! And, I'm telling you
- straight, he didn't.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Didn't he?” MacVightie's smile was thin. “Then he came in <i>here</i>—into
- this room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In here?” echoed the Hawk weakly. His gaze wandered helplessly around the
- room. “Well, all you've got to do is look.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm going to!” announced MacVightie curtly—and with a sudden jerk
- he yanked the single bed out from the wall. He peered behind and beneath
- it; then, stepping over to a cretonne curtain in the corner that served as
- wardrobe, he pulled it roughly aside.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were no other places of possible concealment. MacVightie chewed at
- his under lip, and eyed the Hawk speculatively.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's eyes were still travelling bewilderedly about the room, as
- though he still expected to find something.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you dead sure he came into this house,” he inquired heavily, as
- though the problem were entirely beyond him.
- </p>
- <p>
- MacVightie hesitated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well—no,” he acknowledged, after a moment. “I guess you're straight
- all right, and I'll admit I didn't see him come in; but I'd have pretty
- near taken an oath on it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I guess he must have ducked somewhere else,” submitted the Hawk
- sapiently. “There wasn't no one went by that door—I'm giving it to
- you on the level.”
- </p>
- <p>
- MacVightie's reluctant smile was a wry grimace.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I reckon it's my mistake.” His voice lost its snarl, and his fingers
- groped down into his vest pocket. “Here, have a cigar,” he invited
- placatingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, say—thanks”—the Hawk beamed radiantly. “Say, I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right, young fellow”—with a wave of his hand, MacVightie moved
- to the door. “All right, young fellow. No harm done, eh? Good-night!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The door closed. The footsteps without grew fainter, and died away.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, staring at the door, apostrophised the doorknob.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, say, what do you know about that!” he said numbly. “I wonder what's
- up?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He rose from his chair after a moment as though moved by a sort of
- subconscious impulse, mechanically pushed his bed back against the wall,
- and returned to his chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- He dug out his pipe abstractedly, filled it, and lighted it. He gathered
- up the cards, shuffled them, and began to lay them out again on the table—and
- paused, and drummed with his fingers on the table top.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They're after some guy that's ducked his nut somewhere around here,” he
- decided aloud. “I wonder what's up?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk spread out his remaining cards—and swept them away from him
- into an indiscriminate heap.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aw, to blazes with cards!” he ejaculated impatiently.
- </p>
- <p>
- He put his feet up on the table, and sucked steadily at his pipe.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's a cinch he never went by that door,” the Hawk assured the toe of his
- boot. “I guess he handed that 'bull' one, all right, all right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The minutes passed. The Hawk, engrossed, continued to suck on his pipe.
- Then from far down the stairs there came a faint creak, and an instant
- later the outer door closed softly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's feet came down from the table, and the Hawk smiled—grimly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tut, tut!” chided the Hawk. “That treadmill diminuendo on the top step
- and the keyhole stunt is pretty raw, Mr. MacVightie—pretty raw! You
- forgot the front door, Mr. MacVightie—I don't seem to remember
- having heard it open or close until just now!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The back of the Hawk's chair, as he pushed it well away from the table and
- stood up, curiously enough now intercepted itself between the keyhole and
- the interior of the room. He stepped to the door, and slipped the bolt
- quietly into place; then, going to the window, he reached out, and, from
- where it hung upon a nail driven into the sill, picked up the pay bag.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's a pretty old gag, too,” observed the Hawk almost apologetically.
- “I was lucky to get by with it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's attention was now directed to his trunk, that was between the
- table and the foot of the bed. He lifted the lid back against the wall,
- and removed an ingeniously fashioned false top, in the shape of a tray,
- that fitted innocently into the curvature of the lid. The Hawk stared at a
- magnificent diamond necklace that glittered and gleamed on the bottom of
- the tray, as its thousand facets caught the light—and grinned.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you'd only known, eh—Mr. MacVightie!” he murmured.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the pay bag the Hawk took out the packages of banknotes, the
- flashlight, the mask, the two pistols, and packed them neatly away in the
- tray. The only article left in the bag was his pocketbook. He opened this,
- disclosing a number of crisp, new ten-dollar bills. He held one of them up
- to the light for a moment, studying it admiringly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess these won't be much more good around here, according to that
- little conversation between MacVightie and the superintendent,” he
- muttered—and, with a shrug of his shoulders, tossed the entire
- number into the tray.
- </p>
- <p>
- He fitted the false top back into the lid, and closed the trunk. There
- remained the empty pay bag. He frowned at it for an instant; then, picking
- it up, he tucked it under the mattress of his bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll get rid of that in the morning”—he nodded his head, as he
- turned down the bed covers.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk began to undress, and at intervals voiced snatches of his
- thoughts aloud.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pretty close shave,” said the Hawk, “pretty close.... Ten thousand
- dollars is some haul.... All right as long as they don't find out I've got
- the key to their cipher.... And so Butcher Rose is one of the gang, eh?...
- Number One—Butcher Rose.... Guess he got away all right—from
- MacVightie.... He nearly did me.... Pretty close shave....”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk turned out the light, and got into bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess I played in luck to-night,” said the Hawk softly, and for the
- second time that night. “Yes, I guess I did.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- IV—AT BALD CREEK STATION
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was twenty-four
- hours later. A half mile away, along a road that showed like a grey thread
- in the night, twinkled a few lights from the little cluster of houses that
- made the town of Bald Creek. At the rear of the station itself, in the
- shadow of the walls, it was inky black.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was stillness! Then the chattering of a telegraph instrument—and,
- coincident with this, low, scarcely audible, a sound like the gnawing of a
- rat.
- </p>
- <p>
- The chattering of the instrument ceased; and, coincident again, the low,
- gnawing sound ceased—and, crouched against a rear window, the Hawk
- chuckled a little grimly to himself. Within, and diagonally across from
- the window, an otherwise dark interior was traversed by a dull ray of
- light that filtered in through the open connecting door of the operator's
- room beyond. Inside there were Lan-son, the division superintendent, and
- Martin, the trusted Bald Creek operator; while at any minute now,
- MacVightie would be up on No. 12. They were preparing to spring their trap
- for the Wire Devils to-night! The Hawk was quite well-informed on this
- point, for the very simple reason that the Hawk himself had not been
- entirely idle during those twenty-four hours that were just past!
- </p>
- <p>
- Again the sounder broke into a splutter; but this time the gnawing sound
- was not resumed—the window fastenings were loosened now.
- </p>
- <p>
- Came then the distant rumble of an approaching train; the rumble deepening
- into a roar; the roar disintegrating itself into its component sounds, the
- wheel trucks beating at the rail joints, the bark of the exhaust; then the
- scream of the brakeshoes biting at the wheel tires; the hiss of steam—and
- in the mimic pandemonium, the Hawk raised the window, and crawled in over
- the sill.
- </p>
- <p>
- And again the Hawk chuckled to himself. Up and down the line to-night, at
- all stations where there were no night operators, the road's detectives,
- stood guard over the telegraph instruments. It had been MacVightie's plan,
- originated the night before. It was very clever of MacVightie—if
- somewhat abortive! Also, quite irrelevant of course, and quite apart from
- that little matter of ten thousand dollars which he, the Hawk, had taken
- from the paymaster's safe last night, MacVightie to-night was likely to be
- in no very pleasant mood!
- </p>
- <p>
- The engine without, blowing from a full head of steam, drowned out all
- other sounds. The Hawk picked his way across the room to a position near
- the connecting door, and composedly seated himself upon the floor behind a
- number of piled-up boxes and parcels. With a grin of acknowledgment to the
- escaping steam, he coolly moved two of the parcels a few inches to right
- and left, thus providing himself with an excellent view into the
- operator's room. From one pocket he took an exceedingly small flashlight,
- and from another a notebook, and from his hip pocket his automatic pistol.
- This latter he transferred to his right-hand coat pocket. Bunching the
- bottom of his coat over his hand, he flashed on the tiny ray, found a
- convenient ledge formed by one of the boxes, and upon this laid down his
- notebook. The first page, as he opened the book, contained a neatly drawn
- sketch of the interior of Bald Creek station. He turned this over, leaving
- the book open at a blank page, and switched off his light.
- </p>
- <p>
- The door from the platform opened and closed, as the train pulled out
- again, a man stepped into the operator's room—and in the darkness
- the Hawk smiled appreciatively. It was MacVightie, and Mac-Vightie's thin
- lips were drawn tighter than usual, and the brim of the slouch hat, though
- pulled far forward, did not hide the scowl upon MacVightie's countenance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, you're here all right, Lanson, eh?” he flung out brusquely.
- “Nothing yet, by any chance, of course?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson, from a chair at the operator's elbow, nodded a greeting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not yet,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- MacVightie was glancing sharply around him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Martin,” he ordered abruptly, “close those two ticket wickets!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The operator rose obediently, and pulled down the little windows that
- opened, one on each side of the office, on the men's and women's waiting
- rooms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's that door there?” demanded MacVightie, pointing toward the rear
- room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just a place I had partitioned off for stores and small express stuff,”
- Martin answered. “There's no back entrance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right, then,” said MacVightie. He pulled up a chair for himself on
- the other side of the operator, as Martin returned to his seat. “You know
- what you're here for, Martin—what you've to do? Mr. Lanson has told
- you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” Martin replied. “I'm to test out for east or west, if there's any
- of that monkeying on the wire to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Show me how it's done,” directed MacVightie tersely. .
- </p>
- <p>
- The operator reached over to the switchboard and picked up a key-plug.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I've only got to plug this in—here—or here. Those are my
- ground wires east and west. The main batteries are west of us at Selkirk,
- you know. If I ground out everything east, for instance, and he's working
- to the east of us the sounder'll stop because I've cut him off from the
- main batteries, and we'll hear nothing unless I adjust the relay down to
- get the weak circuit from the local batteries. If he's working west of us
- the sounder will be much stronger because the main batteries at Selkirk,
- with the eastern half of the division cut out, will be working on a
- shorter circuit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'T see.” MacVightie frowned. “And he'd know it—so Mr. Lanson told
- me last night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; he'd know it,” said Martin. “The same as we would.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, you can do it pretty quick, can't you?” suggested MacVightie. “Sort
- of accidentally like! We don't want to throw a scare into him. You'd know
- almost instantly whether he was east or west, wouldn't you? That's all
- that's necessary—<i>to-night!</i> Then let him go ahead again. We'll
- have found out what we want to know.” He turned to Lanson, his voice
- rasping suddenly. “Did you see the <i>Journal</i> on the 'Crime Wave' this
- afternoon?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson's alert, grey eyes took on an angry glint. “No; I didn't see it,
- but I suppose it's the old story. I wish they'd cut it out! It hurts the
- road, and it doesn't get them anywhere.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps not,” said MacVightie, with a thin smile; “but it gets <i>me!</i>
- Yes, it's about the same—all except the last of it. Big headlines:
- 'Ten thousand dollars stolen from paymaster's safe last night—What
- is being done to stop this reign of assassination, theft, outrage, crime?—Has
- the clue afforded by the Hawk's release from Sing Sing been thoroughly
- investigated?' And then a list of the crimes committed in the last ten
- days—two murders, one in the compartment of that sleeping car; the
- theft of the diamond necklace; the express robbery; and so on through the
- list, ending up with last night. Then a nasty shot at the local police;
- and, finally, prefacing the remark with the statement that the crimes were
- all connected with the railroad, a thinly veiled hint that I am either a
- boy on a man's job, or else asleep, in either of which cases I ought to be—well,
- you understand?” MacVightie's fist came down with a crash on the
- operator's table.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson, with a worried look, nodded his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Damn it!” said MacVightie. “I——” He stopped abruptly, and
- laid his hand on the operator's sleeve. “Look here, Martin,” he said
- evenly, “you're the one man that Mr. Lanson has picked out of the
- division, you're the one man outside of Mr. Lanson and myself who has any
- inkling that these secret messages coming over our wires have anything to
- do with these crimes—you understand that, don't you? This is pretty
- serious business. The newspaper didn't exaggerate any. We're up against a
- gang of crooks, cleverly organised, who will stop at nothing. Murder
- appears to be a pastime with them! Do you get me—Martin?”
- </p>
- <p>
- For a long second the two men looked each other steadily in the eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Martin simply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right!” said MacVightie. “I just want you to realise the necessity of
- keeping anything you may hear, or anything that may happen here to-night,
- under your hat.” He turned to Lanson again, the scowl heavy upon his face
- once more. “I was going to say that I know who the man is that slipped
- through my fingers last night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You—<i>what!</i>” Lanson leaned sharply forward in his chair. “But
- he got away! You said he——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was the Hawk”—MacVightie bit off the words.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Hawk?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Hawk!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how do you know?” demanded Lanson incredulously. “You said yourself
- that he had left no clue to his identity. How do you know?” MacVightie
- reached into his pocket, took out his pocketbook, and from the pocketbook
- passed a new, crisp ten-dollar banknote to Lanson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's this?” inquired Lanson. “The counterfeit ten-dollar bill you
- showed me last night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—another one,” MacVightie answered curtly. “Look on the other
- side.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson turned the banknote over, stared at it, and whistled suddenly under
- his breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'With the compliments of the Hawk!'.rdquo; he read aloud. He stared now at
- MacVightie. “Perhaps it's a fake, inspired by that newspaper article
- yesterday evening,” he suggested.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's no fake,” declared MacVightie grimly. “The Hawk wrote that there all
- right—it was inside the <i>pay bag</i> in which the ten thousand was
- carried away from the paymaster's office last night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean—you recovered the bag?” cried Lanson eagerly. “Where?
- When?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, watching MacVightie's face, grinned wickedly. MacVightie's jaws
- were clamped belligerently, and upon MacVightie's cheeks was an angry
- flush.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, I 'recovered' it!” MacVightie snapped. “He's got his nerve with
- him! The bag was found reposing in full view on the baggage counter at
- Selkirk this afternoon—addressed to me. Nobody knows how it got
- there. But”—MacVightie's fist came down again upon the operator's
- table—“this time he's overplayed his hand. We knew he had been
- released from Sing Sing, and that he had come West, but it was only
- surmise that he was actually around here—now we <i>know</i>. In the
- second place, it's pretty good evidence that he's in with the gang that's
- flooded the country with those counterfeit tens, and you'll remember I
- told you last night I had a hunch it was the same gang that was operating
- out here—well, two and two make four!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You think he's——?” Lanson swept his hand suggestively toward
- the telegraph instruments.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—and the leader of 'em, now he's out here on the ground!”
- returned MacVightie gruffly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk had taken a pencil from his pocket, and was scribbling aimlessly
- at the top of the page in his notebook.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sure!” confided the Hawk to himself. “I thought maybe you'd dope it out
- like that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was silence for a moment in the office, save for the intermittent
- clicking of the sounder, to which the Hawk now gave his attention. His
- pencil still made aimless markings on the top of the page—it was
- only routine business going over the wire. Then Lanson moved uncomfortably
- in his chair, and the chair legs squeaked on the bare floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- MacVightie spoke again:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” he said bluntly, “you've got all of my end of it, except that I've
- placed men in hiding at every station on the line where there are no night
- operators. What about you? Started your outside line inspection?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” Lanson answered. “I've had three men out with section crews working
- from different points. But it's slow business making an inspection that's
- careful enough to be of any use, and even then it's a pretty tall order to
- call the turn on anything when there's already so many legitimate splices
- and repairs on the wires.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well—any results?” asked MacVightie.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson shook his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We found what we thought was a new splice in one place, but it turned out
- to have been made by one of our own men two weeks ago, only he had
- forgotten to report it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- MacVightie's eyes narrowed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “One of our <i>own</i> men—eh?” he repeated curtly. “Who was it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing doing there!” Lanson shook his head again, emphatically this
- time. “It was Calhoun.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Calhoun—eh?” observed MacVightie softly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson bridled slightly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's the matter with Calhoun?” he inquired testily. “Got anything
- against him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never heard of him before,” said MacVightie, with a short laugh. “But
- I'll take pains to make his acquaintance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you might as well spare yourself the trouble,” advised Lanson. “I
- can tell you before-hand that he carries a good record on this division,
- and that he's one of the best linemen we've got.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I daresay,” admitted MacVightie coolly. “But amongst other things we're
- looking for <i>good</i> linemen to-night—who forget to make reports.
- You needn't get touchy, Lanson, because one of your men's names comes up.
- You can make up your mind to it there's an inside end to this, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The tiny ray of the Hawk's flashlight shot suddenly upon the notebook's
- open page, as the sounder broke into a sharp tattoo.
- </p>
- <p>
- “;wtaz'—stroke at four,” he muttered, as he began to write. “Three—one—two.
- They've changed the code to-night—'qxpetlk——'”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a sharp exclamation from the other room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen! There he is now!” Martin cried. Chairs were pushed back—the
- three men were on their feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's he sending?” questioned MacVightie instantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk scowled at the disturbance, as, over their voices, he
- concentrated his attention upon the sounder. He wrote steadily on:
- </p>
- <p>
- “... huwkmuh hdtlqgvh...
- </p>
- <p>
- “Same as usual,” Martin replied. “Just a jumble of letters.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then, get ready to throw that ground, or whatever you call it, into
- him!” ordered MacVightie tensely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm ready,” said Martin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right then—<i>now!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk nodded to himself, as his pencil unflaggingly noted down letter
- after letter. The sounder was very perceptibly stronger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “West!” Martin cried out. “You noticed the difference in strength, didn't
- you? He's somewhere between here and Selkirk. That's——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The sounder had suddenly ceased.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But he's stopped,” said MacVightie; “and you said if he stopped——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's nothing to do with it!” Martin interposed hurriedly. “The wire
- isn't grounded now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He's taken to cover, I guess,” said Lanson. “I was afraid he would scare,
- no matter how——” He broke off abruptly. “Wait! What's that!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The sounder was clicking again; but the sharp, quick tattoo was gone, and
- in its place, as though indeed it drawled, the sending came in leisurely,
- deliberate fashion.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's pencil resumed its labours—and then, with a queer smile,
- the Hawk scratched out what he had just written. It was no longer code—it
- was in exceedingly plain English.
- </p>
- <p>
- Martin was reading directly from the sounder:
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Try—that—game—just—once—more—and—the—division—goes—up—
- in—the—air—and—a—train—or—two—maybe—to—a—
- place—that—Mister—MacVightie—will—some—day—honour—with—
- his—presence. That's—quite—plain—isn't—it?
- If—you—think—this—is—a—bluff—call—it.
- Now—keep—off—the—wire—or—have—it—cut.
- Suit—yourselves.'.rdquo;
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, of all the infernal nerve!” exploded MacVightie furiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the worst of it,” said Lanson shortly, “is that he's got us where he
- wants us!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Once more the sounder broke into the old quick tattoo. The Hawk was
- writing steadily again. There was silence now between the three in the
- office.
- </p>
- <p>
- A minute, two, three went by—the sounder ceased—the Hawk
- closed his notebook. Then in its leisurely drawl the sounder broke again;
- and again Martin read aloud:
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Pleasant—evening—isn't—it? Ask—MacVightie—if—he—has—seen—anything—of—the—Hawk.
- Good-night.'.rdquo;
- </p>
- <p>
- But this time there was only a menacing smile on MacVightie's lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He's west of here, you say?” he shot at Martin. “Yes,” said Martin
- briefly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that splice of Calhoun's, Lanson? Where was that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson, drumming with his fingers on the edge of the operator's table,
- looked up with a frown.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing but coincidence,” he said tersely. “Yes, it was west of here—pretty
- near Selkirk.” He moved toward the door. “There's nothing more we can do
- here to-night. I'm going back on No. 17. Let's get out on the platform
- until she shows up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk very carefully replaced his notebook, his flashlight and his
- pencil in his pockets, and, as MacVightie and the superintendent went out
- of the door, he retreated softly back to the rear window. The window being
- up, he quite as noiselessly slipped out over the sill. He debated a moment
- about the window, and decided that if any significance were attached to
- the fact that it was found open, MacVightie, for instance, was fully
- entitled to make the most of the significance! Then, the rattle of a wagon
- sounding from the direction of the road, the Hawk moved along to the end
- of the station, and waited.
- </p>
- <p>
- The wagon, in the light of its own smoky oil lamps, proved to be the town
- hotel bus. There were evidently other passengers for Selkirk besides
- himself and the two officials, as several people alighted from the bus. In
- view of this fact the Hawk calmly lighted a cigarette, though the glow of
- the match exposed his face only to the blank wall of the station, and
- walked around to the front platform.
- </p>
- <p>
- He located MacVightie and Lanson; and, thereafter, at a safe distance, did
- not lose sight of them. MacVightie's memory for faces would hardly be
- over-rated if credited with being able to bridge a matter of some
- twenty-four hours, particularly as MacVightie had evidenced unusual
- interest in the occupant of the room on the first landing over a certain
- ill-favoured saloon the night before! The Hawk, therefore, was
- unostentatiously attentive to MacVightie's movements; so much so that,
- when No. 17 pulled in and MacVightie and Lanson boarded the chair car at
- the rear of the train, the Hawk, when No. 17 pulled out, quite logically
- boarded the smoking car at the forward end.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk chose the most uncomfortable seat in the car—the rear seat
- with stiff, upright, unyielding back, that was built against the wash-room—and,
- settling himself down, produced his notebook and pencil. The water-cooler
- could be quite confidentially trusted not to peer over his shoulder!
- </p>
- <p>
- On the second page of the notebook—the first having been devoted to
- the sketch of Bald Creek Station—-the Hawk, as he had taken it from
- the sounder, had written this:
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>wtaz qxpetlkhu wkmuh hdtlq gvhmmpy hqltvd df rmnluvpo nfkhomovfdh
- gvkerkmmawrq fljkwte dvsoedtdqqh mgfdoifk rxqkuvwruh gsruwmtdoo
- ommtlqhvksol foghvklst rvrzqmqxpe mkhurqjkh hvdbfvkdzc mnvohrtpqg
- hutzklwkj hkdqm mo g v pdlqlfxoq uhgpifthglxg pkhlmfj kwhttwb hv d p q g
- kdrllu eomosdfnhta shqkjvlyhtg mwdlomruhgegf orwmpqk hvwtzrwk mmrxvddg
- iqggrqo odusnvrx wmfkriu hkvhuymt hixqljtg wrqpxpeh houwkdmd gwsxws
- vdexmuooh wtjqlqklmp</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk tore out a page from the back of the notebook, and set down the
- letters of the alphabet in a column. Opposite these he painstakingly set
- down another column of letters. After that the Hawk worked slowly. It was
- not quite so simple as it looked—not merely the substitution of
- letters in a different order of rotation. Nor, apparently, from the Hawk's
- observations as he muttered to himself, were all messages to be deciphered
- alike—the code appeared to possess within itself an elasticity for
- variation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “At four... key letter changed... stroke!” muttered the Hawk. “N-u-m-b...
- pass three... e-r-t-h... stroke one....”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's notebook, closed, was reposing idly on the window ledge and the
- Hawk was lighting another cigarette, as the conductor came down the aisle.
- The Hawk presented the return stub of a ticket to Selkirk. The conductor
- punched it, and passed on—and the Hawk picked up his notebook again.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again he was interrupted—and again. The water-cooler, after all, was
- not proving an unmixed blessing. It seemed as though every man in the car
- were possessed of an inordinate thirst. They were well on toward Selkirk
- when the Hawk finally completed the deciphering of the message.
- </p>
- <p>
- It now ran:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0074.jpg" alt="0074 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0074.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- He arranged the scattered letters into words, and the words into
- sentences:
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>“Number Three and Seven Isaac Kir-schell('.s cash box to-night as
- planned. Calhoun to report all line splices his own. Number One says Hawk
- slender white hands, manicured, medium height, eyes and hair black,
- expensive tailored clothes. Two thousand dollars out of reserve fund to
- Number that puts a bullet in him.</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk inspected his hands, and smiled whimsically. Number One was the
- Butcher. He had not given the Butcher credit for being so observant!
- Presently he stared out of the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wonder how much of a haul I can make tonight?” he murmured. “Regular El
- Dorado—having 'em work it all up and handing it to you on a gold
- platter. Pretty soft! Hope they won't get discouraged and quit picking the
- chestnuts out of the fire for me—while there's any chestnuts left!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And then the Hawk frowned suddenly. The chestnuts appeared to be only
- partially picked for him to-night. What was the game—as planned?
- There must have been a previous message that had got by him. His frown
- deepened. There was no way of remedying that. To hope to intercept them
- all was to expect too much. There was no way whereby he could spend
- twenty-four hours out of twenty-four in touch with a sounder. He shrugged
- his shoulders philosophically after a moment. Perhaps it was just as well.
- They credited him with playing a lone hand, believing that his and their
- depredations were clashing with one another simply by virtue of the fact
- that their mutual pursuits were of a competitive criminal nature, that was
- all. If it happened with <i>too</i> much regularity, they might begin to
- suspect that he had the key to their cipher, and then—the Hawk did
- not care to contemplate that eventuality. There would be no more
- chestnuts!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk read the first part of the message over again. Who was Isaac
- Kirschell? The name seemed to be familiar. The Hawk studied the toe of a
- neatly-fitting and carefully polished shoe thoughtfully. When he looked up
- again, he nodded. He remembered now. He had lunched the day before in a
- restaurant that occupied a portion of the ground floor of an office
- building, the corridor of which ran through from street to street. In
- going out, he had passed along the corridor and had seen the name on the
- door panels of two of the offices.
- </p>
- <p>
- He resumed the study of his boot toe. It was not a very vital matter. A
- moment spent in consulting the city directory would have supplied the
- information in any case. He nodded again. MacVightie was unquestionably
- right. Some one on the inside, some railroader, and probably more than
- one, was in on the game with the Wire Devils—and it was perhaps as
- well for this Calhoun that MacVightie, already suspicious, was not
- likewise possessed of the key to the cipher! Also, Lanson had been right.
- It was no easy task to locate a new splice on a wire that was already
- scarred with countless repairs. Still, if Lanson's men went at it
- systematically and narrowed down the radius of operations, it was not
- impossible that they might stumble upon a clue—if Calhoun did not
- placidly inform them that it was but another of his own making! But even
- then, granted that the wire was found to have been tapped in a certain
- place one night, that was no reason why it should not, as Mr. MacVightie
- had already suggested, be tapped fifty miles away the next! The Hawk
- grinned. Mr. Lanson and his associates, backed even by Mr. MacVightie,
- were confronted with a problem of considerable difficulty!
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder,” communed the Hawk with himself, “who's the spider that spun
- the web; and I wonder how many little spiders he's got running around on
- it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He perused the message once more; but this time he appeared to be
- concerned mainly with the latter portion. He read it over several times:
- “Two thousand dollars to the Number that puts a bullet in him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nobody seems to like me,” complained the Hawk softly. “MacVightie.
- doesn't; and the Butcher's crowd seem peeved. Two thousand dollars for my
- hide! I guess if I stick around here long enough maybe it'll get exciting—for
- somebody!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk tore up the message, the sheet on which he had deciphered it, the
- sketch of Bald Creek station, tore all three into small fragments, opened
- the window a little, and let the pieces flutter out into the night. He
- closed the window, returned the notebook, innocent of everything now but
- its blank pages, to his pocket—and, pulling his slouch hat down over
- his eyes, appeared to doze.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- V—IN WHICH A CASH BOX DISAPPEARS
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WENTY minutes
- later, as No. 17 pulled into Selkirk, the Hawk, his erstwhile drowsiness
- little in evidence, dropped to the platform while the train was still in
- motion, and before MacVightie and Lanson in the rear car, it might be
- fairly assumed, had thought of leaving their seats. The Hawk was
- interested in MacVightie for the balance of the night only to the extent
- of keeping out of MacVightie's sight—his attention was centered now
- on the office of one Isaac Kirschell, and the possibilities that lay in
- the said Isaac Kirschell's cash box.
- </p>
- <p>
- He glanced at the illuminated dial of the tower clock. It was eighteen
- minutes after ten.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's the worst of getting the dope a long way down the line,” he
- muttered, as he hurried through the station and out to the street. “But I
- had to get a look at MacVightie's cards to-night.” He struck off toward
- the downtown business section of the city at a brisk pace. “It ought to be
- all right though tonight—more than enough time to get in ahead of
- them—they're not likely to pull any break in that locality until
- well after midnight. Wonder what Kirschell's got in his cash box that's so
- valuable? I suppose they <i>know</i>, or they wouldn't be after it! They
- don't hunt small game, but”—the Hawk sighed lugubriously—“there's
- no chance of any such luck as last night again. Ten thousand dollars in
- cash! <i>Some</i> haul! Yes, I guess maybe they're peeved!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, arrived at his destination, surveyed the office building from
- the opposite side of the street. The restaurant on the ground floor was
- dark, but a lighted window here and there on the floors above indicated
- that some of the tenants were working late. It was therefore fairly safe
- to presume that the entrance door, though closed, was unlocked. The Hawk
- crossed the street unconcernedly, and tried the door. It opened under his
- hand—' but noiselessly, and to the extent only of a bare inch, in
- view of the possibility of a janitor being somewhere about. Detecting no
- sound from within, however, the Hawk pushed the door a little further
- open, and was confronted with a dimly lighted vestibule, and a long, still
- more dimly lighted corridor beyond. There was no one in sight. He slipped
- inside—and, quick and silent now in his movements, darted across the
- vestibule and into the corridor.
- </p>
- <p>
- Halfway along the corridor, he halted before a door, on whose glass panel
- he could just make out the words “Isaac Kirschell,” and, beneath the name,
- in smaller letters, the intimation that the entrance was next door. The
- Hawk's decision was taken in the time it required to produce from his
- pocket a key-ring equipped with an extensive assortment of skeleton keys.
- If by any chance he should be disturbed and had entered by the designated
- office door, his escape would be cut off; if, on the other hand, he
- entered by this unused door, and left it unlocked behind him, he would
- still be quite comfortably the master of the situation in almost any
- emergency.
- </p>
- <p>
- The door seemed to offer unusual difficulties. Even when unlocked, it
- stuck. The Hawk worked at it by the sense of touch alone, his eyes busy
- with sharp glances up and down the corridor. Finally, succeeding in
- opening it a little way, it was only to find it blocked by some
- obstruction within. He scowled. A desk, probably, close against it! The
- door was certainly never used. He would have to enter by the other one,
- after all, and—no! He had reached his arm inside. It was only a
- coat-stand, or something of the sort He lifted it aside, stepped in, and
- closed the door behind him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's flashlight—not the diminutive little affair that had
- served him for his notebook—began to circle his surroundings
- inquisitively. He was in a small, plainly furnished private office. There
- was a desk, two chairs, and a filing cabinet. Also there were two doors.
- The Hawk opened the one at his left, and peered out. It gave on what was
- presumably the general office; and at the upper end was a partition with
- the name, “Mr. Kirschell,” upon the door. He looked at the panel of the
- door he had just opened. It bore no name.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This belongs to Kirschell's secretary probably,” he decided. “The other
- door from here opens, of course, into Kirschell's private office. Wonder
- what Mr. Isaac Kirschell's business is?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He closed the door leading into the outer office, and moved across the
- room to the second door that already stood wide open, and almost directly
- faced what he had taken for granted was the secretary's desk. He stepped
- over the threshold. Mr. Kirschell's sanctum was somewhat more elaborately
- furnished. Apart from a rather expensive flat-topped desk in the centre of
- the room, there was a massive safe, new and of modern design, a heavy rug
- upon the floor, and several very comfortable leather-up holstered chairs.
- A washstand, the metal taps highly polished, and a mahogany towel rack
- occupied the far corner. The Hawk inspected the safe with the eye of a
- connoisseur, scowled unhappily by way of expressing his opinion of it, and
- turned to the desk. He opened a drawer, and picked up a sheet of business
- stationery. The letterhead read:
- </p>
- <h3>
- ISAAC KIRSCHELL
- </h3>
- <h3>
- LOANS, MORTGAGES & GENERAL EXCHANGE
- </h3>
- <p>
- “Ho, ho!” observed the Hawk. “Sort of a glorified pawnbroker, eh? I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The sheet of paper was shot back into the drawer, the flashlight was out—and
- on the instant the Hawk was back in the other office, and crouched on the
- floor behind the desk. Some one had halted outside in the corridor before
- the main office door, and now a key was turned in the lock. The door was
- opened and closed, footsteps crossed the general office, paused for a
- moment outside Mr. Kirschell's door, then the lights in Mr. Kirschell's
- room went on, a man entered, tossed his hat on a chair, and sat down at
- the desk. It was obviously Mr. Kirschell himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Through the wide opening between the ends of the desk that sheltered him,
- the Hawk, flat on the floor, took stock of the other. The man was rather
- small in stature, with a thin, palish face, sharp, restless, very small
- black eyes, and he was extremely well dressed—the Hawk noted the
- dainty little boutonnière in the lapel of the man's coat, and smiled
- queerly. From Mr. Kirschell's face he glanced at the face of Mr.
- Kirschell's safe, then back at Mr. Kirschell again—and fingered his
- automatic in the pocket of his coat.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, however, made no further movement—Mr. Kirschell's actions
- suggested that it would be unwise. The man, though apparently occupied
- with some mail which he had taken from his pocket, kept glancing
- impatiently at his watch. It was quite evident that he was expecting some
- one every moment. The Hawk frowned perplexedly. The message that night,
- even when deciphered, left much, too much, to the imagination! It was
- quite possible that Mr. Kirschell was to be relieved of his cash box with
- more address and finesse than by the bald expedient of ruining Mr.
- Kirschell's safe! This appointment, for instance, might—and then the
- Hawk smiled queerly again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The corridor door had opened and closed for the second time. A heavy step
- traversed the outer office, and a man, hat in hand, in cheap store
- clothes, stood before Mr. Krischell's desk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mentioned in dispatches!” said the Hawk very softly to himself. “I guess
- that's Calhoun. So that's the game—eh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're late, Mr. Calhoun!” Kirschell greeted the other sharply. “Five
- minutes late! I have put myself to considerable inconvenience to give you
- this appointment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun's hair was tossed, there was a smudge across his cheek, and his
- hands were grimy, as though he had just come from work. He was a big man,
- powerfully shouldered. His grey eyes were not friendly as they met
- Kirschell's.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I couldn't help it,” he said shortly. “I've been up the line all day. I
- told you I couldn't get here until about this time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, all right, all right!” said Kirschell impatiently. “But, now that
- you are here, are you prepared to settle?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can give you a small payment on account, that's the best I can do,”
- Calhoun answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- Kirschell tilted back in his swivel chair, and frowned as he tapped the
- edge of his desk with a paper cutter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How much?” he demanded coldly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forty dollars”—Calhoun's hand went tentatively toward his pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forty dollars!” There was derision in Kirschell's voice, an uninviting
- smile on Kirschell's lips. “That's hardly more than the interest!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Calhoun, snarling suddenly, “at the thieving rates you, and
- the bloodsuckers like you, charge.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Kirschell's uninviting smile deepened.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Considering the security, the rate is very moderate,” he said evenly.
- “Now, see here, Calhoun, I told you plainly enough this thing had to be
- settled to-day. You don't want to run away with the impression that I'm a
- second Marakof, to be staved off all the time. I bought your note from the
- pawnbroker's estate because the executors didn't like the look of it, and
- weren't any too sure they could collect it. Well, I can! I'm new out here,
- but I'm not new at my business. Excuses with me don't take the place of
- cash. I hold your note for five hundred dollars, which is past due, to say
- nothing of six months' interest besides—and you come here to-night
- and offer me forty dollars!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would have paid Marakof,” said Calhoun, in a low voice; “and I'll pay
- you as fast as I can. You know what I'm up against—I told you when
- you first got after me, as soon as you got that note. My brother got into
- trouble back East. What would you have done? That five hundred kept him
- out of the 'pen.' He's only a kid. Damn it, don't play the shark! Marakof
- renewed the note—why can't you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because I don't do business that way,” said Kir-schell curtly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun's voice grew hard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How much did you pay for that note, anyway?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Kirschell shrugged his shoulders.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn't say I wasn't taking <i>any</i> risk with you,” he replied
- tersely. “That's the profit on my risk. And as far as you are concerned—it's
- none of your business!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun shrugged his shoulders in turn, and, taking a small roll of bills
- from his pocket, smoothed them out between his fingers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I got a wife, and I got kids,” said Calhoun slowly. “And I'm doing the
- best I can. Do you want this forty, or not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It depends,” said Kirschell, tapping again with his paper cutter. “How
- about the rest?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll pay you what I can every month,” Calhoun answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How much?”—bluntly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What I can!” returned Calhoun defiantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two men eyed each other for a moment—and then Kirschell tossed
- the paper cutter down on the desk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, all right!” he decided ungraciously. “I'll take a chance for a
- month—and see how you live up to it. Hand it over, and I'll give you
- a receipt.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun shook his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't trust the man who don't trust me,” he said gruffly. “I don't want
- that kind of a receipt. You'll indorse the payment on the back of the
- note, Mr. Kirschell, if you want this forty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What?” inquired Kirschell, staring.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You heard what I said,” said Calhoun coolly. “I'm in the hands of a
- shark, and I know it. That's plain talk, isn't it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” Kirschell flared up angrily, “I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun calmly returned the money to his pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Suit yourself!” he suggested indifferently. “I ain't asking for anything
- more than I have a right to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well, my man!” said Kirschell icily. “If our dealings are to be on
- this basis, I hope you will remember that the basis is of your own
- choosing.” He swung around in his chair, and, rising, walked over to the
- safe.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then, for the first time, the Hawk moved. He edged silently back along
- the floor until far enough away from the doorway to be fully protected by
- the darkness of the room, and stood up. Kirschell was swinging the heavy
- door of the safe open. The cash box was to be produced! Lying down, the
- Hawk could not hope to see its contents if it were opened on the desk;
- standing up, he might be able to form a very good idea of how tempting its
- contents would prove to be.
- </p>
- <p>
- Kirschell took a black-enamelled steel box from the safe, and returned to
- the desk. He opened this with a key, threw back the cover—and the
- Hawk stuck his tongue in his cheek. A few papers lay on the top—otherwise
- it was crammed to overflowing with banknotes. Kirschell selected one of
- the papers, and picked up a pen in frigid silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the Hawk was no longer watching the scene. His head was cocked to one
- side, in a curious, bird-like, listening attitude. He could have sworn he
- had heard the outer office door being stealthily opened. And now Calhoun
- was speaking—rapidly, his voice raised noticeably in a louder tone
- than any he had previously employed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain't looking for trouble, Mr. Kirschell,” he stated Hurriedly, as
- though relenting, “and I don't want you to think I am, but——”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a sharp cry from Kirschell. The room was in darkness. Came a
- quick step running in from the outer office, no longer stealthy now—the
- crash of a toppling chair—a gasping moan in Kirschell's voice—the
- thud of a falling body—a tense whisper: “All right, I've got it!”—then
- the steps running back across the outer office—the closing of the
- corridor door—and silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, grim-lipped, had backed up against the wall of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun's voice rose hoarsely:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good God, what's happened! Where's the electric-light switch?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Kirschell answered him faintly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “At—at the side of the door—just—outside the partition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lights went on again, and the Hawk leaned intently forward. Calhoun
- was standing now in the doorway between the outer and the private office,
- his eyes fixed on Kirschell. The swivel chair had been overturned; and
- Kirschell, a great crimson stream running down his cheek from above his
- temple, was struggling to his knees, clutching at the edge of the desk for
- support. The cash box was gone.
- </p>
- <p>
- Kirschell's eyes swept the top of the desk haggardly, as though hoping
- against hope. He gained his feet, lurching unsteadily. A crimson drop
- splashed to the desk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My chair!” he cried out weakly. “Help me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun stepped forward mechanically, and picked up the chair. Kirschell
- dropped into it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're hurt!” Calhoun said huskily. “You're badly hurt!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” Kirschell answered; “but it—can wait. The police first—there
- was—three thousand dollars—in my cash box.” With an effort he
- reached out across the desk for the telephone, pulled it toward him—and,
- on the point of lifting the receiver from the hook, slowly drew back his
- hand. A strange look settled on his face, a sort of dawning, though
- puzzled comprehension; and then, swaying in his chair, his lips thinned.
- He drew his hand still further back until it hovered over the handle of
- the desk's middle drawer. His eyes, on Calhoun, were narrowing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You devil!” he rasped out suddenly. “This is your work! I was a fool that
- I did not see it at first!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun's face went white.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean?” he said thickly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What I say!” Kirschell's voice was ominously clear now, though he sat
- none too steadily in his chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you lie!” said Calhoun fiercely. “You lie—and if you weren't
- hurt, I'd——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, you wouldn't!”—Kirschell had whipped the drawer open, and,
- snatching out a revolver, was covering Calhoun. He laughed a little—bitterly.
- “I'm not so bad that I can't take care of myself. It was pretty clever,
- I'll give you credit for that. You almost fooled me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Damn you!” snarled Calhoun. “Do you mean to say I've got your cash box?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no,” said Kirschell. “I can <i>see</i> you haven't. I don't even know
- which of you two struck me. But I do know that you and the man who <i>has</i>
- my cash box worked up this plant together.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun stepped forward threateningly—only to retreat again before
- the lifted muzzle of the revolver.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're a fool!” he snarled. “You've nothing on me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's for the police to decide,” returned Kirschell evenly. “It would
- have been a pleasant way of disposing of that note, wouldn't it—if
- you hadn't under-rated me! And your pal for his share, I daresay, was to
- take his chance on whatever there might be in the cash box! Why did you
- say you couldn't come until <i>night</i>, when I gave you until to-day as
- the last day in which to settle? Why did you insist on my indorsing the
- payment on the note, which necessitated my opening the safe and taking out
- the cash box in which you knew the note was kept, for you saw me put it
- there a week ago, when you first came here? And just after I was knocked
- down I heard your accomplice whisper: '<i>All right, I've got it.</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's possible the police might form the same opinion I have as to <i>whom</i>
- those words were addressed!” Calhoun's face had grown whiter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's a lie!” he said scarcely above a whisper. “It's a lie! I had nothing
- to do with it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want my three thousand dollars!” Kirschell's lips were set. He held a
- red-stained handkerchief to his cheek. “If I call the police now they'll
- get <i>you</i>—but it's your accomplice that's got my money. And
- it's my money that I want! I'll give you half an hour to go to him, and
- bring the money back here—and leave the police out of it. If you're
- not here in that time, I put it up to the police. Half an hour is time
- enough for you to find your pal; and it's not time enough for you to
- attempt to leave the city—and get very far!” Kirschell laid his
- watch on the desk. “You'd better go—I mean half an hour from <i>now</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun hung hesitant for a moment, staring at the muzzle of Kirschell's
- revolver. He made as though to say something—and instead, abruptly,
- with a short, jarring laugh, turned on his heel, and passed out of the
- room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk was already edging his way along the wall toward the corridor
- door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Three thousand dollars!”—the Hawk rolled the words like so many
- dainty morsels on his tongue, as he communed with himself. “I guess it's
- my play to stick to Mr. Calhoun!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- VI—SOME OF THE LITTLE SPIDERS
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk reached
- the door, as Calhoun stepped into the corridor from the general office and
- passed by outside, evidently making for the main entrance of the building.
- He opened the door cautiously the width of a crack—and held it in
- that position. A man's voice, low, guarded, from the corridor, but from
- the opposite direction to that taken by Calhoun, reached him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here! Calhoun! Here!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun halted. There was silence for an instant, then Calhoun retraced
- his steps and passed by the door again. There were a few hurried words in
- a whisper, which the Hawk could not catch; and then the footsteps of both
- men retreated along the corridor.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk opened the door wider, and peered out. The two men were well down
- the corridor now; and now, as they passed the single incandescent that
- lighted that end of the hall, Calhoun's companion reached up and turned it
- out.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, say—-thanks!” murmured the Hawk, and stepped out into the
- corridor himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was now quite dark at that end, and the men had disappeared. The Hawk
- moved silently and swiftly along, keeping close to the wall. Presently he
- caught the sound of their voices again, and nodded to himself. He
- remembered that in going out this way yesterday he had noticed that the
- corridor, for some architectural reason, made a sharp, right-angled jut
- just before it gave on the side-street entrance. He stepped now across to
- the other side of the corridor, and stole forward to a position where he
- could look diagonally past the projecting angle of the jut. The two men,
- standing there, showed plainly in the light from a street arc that shone
- into the entranceway through the large plate-glass square over the door.
- The Hawk, quite secure from observation, nestled back against the wall—and
- an ominous smile settled on the Hawk's lips. The face of Calhoun's
- companion was covered with a mask.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There's nothing to be leery about here,” the man was saying. “There's no
- one goes out or comes in this way at night. Well, it's a nice mess, eh? So
- the old Shylock called the turn on you, did he?”
- </p>
- <p>
- There seemed to be a helpless note in Calhoun's voice. He passed his hand
- heavily across his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's the meaning of this?” he cried out. “What do you know about what
- happened in there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing much,” said the other coolly. “Except that I'm the guy that
- pinched the swag, and hit Kirschell that welt on the head.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>You!</i>” Calhoun involuntarily stepped back. “Yes, sure—me!”
- The man shrugged his shoulders. “Me and a pal who was outside. He's away
- now putting the cash box where it won't come to any harm—savvy?
- He'll be back pretty soon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's lips moved.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Number Three and Number Seven,” whispered the Hawk gently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—I don't understand,” said Calhoun dazedly. “Then why are you
- telling me this. And why are you staying here? And how did you know that
- Kirschell accused me of being in it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's another one that's easy,” announced the man evenly. “Because it
- was part of the game to <i>make</i> him think so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun seemed to stiffen up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! You mean, you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're getting it!” said the other shortly. “But you'd better wait until
- you get it all before you start spitting your teeth out! Mabbe you've
- heard of a little interference with the telegraph wires, and a few small
- jobs pulled off around here where some innocent parties accidentally got
- croaked? Ah—you have, eh! Well, that's where you come in, Calhoun.
- We want you—and when we want anything, we get it! See? We knew about
- that note, and we've been expecting the railroad crowd to wake up some
- time, and we had you picked out to place our bets on against them. They
- woke up to-day and began to nose over the line. It ain't likely to do them
- much good, but there's a chance—and we ain't taking chances. We
- don't want much from you, Calhoun, just a little thing, and it'll bring
- you more money than you ever saw in your life before and without you
- running any risk. All you've got to do is stand for anything in the shape
- of a splice or tap on the line that they're suspicious of—you can
- say it's a repair job of your own, see?”
- </p>
- <p>
- An angry flush was tinging Calhoun's cheeks.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is that all?” he burst out passionately. “Well, I'll see you damned
- first!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you?” returned the other calmly. “All right, my bucko! It's your
- funeral. Take your choice. That—or twenty years in the penitentiary.
- You're in cold on this. Think it over a bit. For instance, how did you
- come to make the break of wanting Kirschell to indorse the payment on the
- back of the note, which made him open his safe?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you know I did?” Calhoun flashed back sharply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mabbe I'm only guessing at it,” said the man nonchalantly; “and mabbe I
- was back in the outside room when you did. But, say, you don't happen to
- remember, do you, a little talk you had with a stranger up the line
- to-day? And how the conversation got around to loan sharks, and how he
- told about a trick they had of giving receipts that were phony, and how he
- beat one of them to it by making the shark indorse on the paper itself?
- Kind of sunk in, and you bit—eh, Calhoun? We don't do things by
- halves. We happen to <i>need</i> you. And what do you think I made the
- break of whispering so Kirschell would hear me for?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The color was ebbing from Calhoun's face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's not proof!” The defiant ring in his voice was forced. “I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's enough to make Kirschell believe it, and that's all we wanted for a
- starter. We'll take care of the rest!” stated the man grimly. “What did he
- say to you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun answered mechanically:
- </p>
- <p>
- “He said if I didn't return in half an hour with the cash box, he'd notify
- the police.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, ho!” The man's lips widened in a grin under the edge of his mask. “So
- he's going to wait here, eh? Well, so much the better! It'll save us a
- trip to his house. Now, see here, Calhoun, let this sink in!” He put his
- hand in his pocket and drew out a slip of paper. “Here's your note. It was
- on the desk where Kirschell was writing on it, and I pinched it when I
- pinched the cash box. We didn't figure we were going to make the haul we
- did to-night—we were after you. But there's <i>some</i> money in
- that cash box, as you saw for yourself. Here's the idea: Kirschell's read
- a thing or two about what's going on around here—enough to make him
- know that there ain't much our gang'll stop at. If you say you're with us,
- me and my pal 'll go in there and throw the fear of God into him. Do you
- get it? He'll think himself lucky to get off by keeping his mouth shut
- about to-night when he finds out who he's up against. Also you get the
- note back, and a share of the cash—and more to come later on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No!” Calhoun cried out. “No! I'm no thief!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right!” agreed the other indifferently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's one side of it. Here's the other: Kirschell certainly believes you
- took it. He's a shark all right, and he thinks more of his money than he
- does of anything else, or he wouldn't have given you the chance he did.
- But when you don't show back there with the coin, he'll take the only
- other hope he's got of getting his money and turn on the police tap—see?
- What are you going to do then? Make a break for it, or let 'em get you?
- Well, it doesn't matter which. This note and a chunk of the cash gets
- mailed to-night—and the police get tipped off to watch your mail in
- the morning. Kind of reasonable, isn't it? Your pal, not being able to
- find you, and not tumbling to the fact that the police have got you until
- too late, comes across with your share like an honest little man! I think
- you said something about proof, Calhoun? And I think I told you before
- that we didn't do things by halves. How about that on top of Kirschell's
- story—do you think it would cinch a jury, or do you think they'd
- believe any little fairy story you might tell them, say, about meeting me?
- Does it look any more like twenty years than it did?”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a sudden agony in Calhoun's face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My God!” he whispered. “You—you wouldn't do that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man made no answer. He still held the note-in his hand—but in
- the other now he carelessly dangled a revolver.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You wouldn't! You wouldn't!” Calhoun's voice was broken now. “I've a wife
- and children, and—my God, what am I to do!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That half-hour Kirschell gave you is slipping along,” suggested the other
- uncompromisingly. “Here's the note, and there's easy money waiting for
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun turned on the other like a man demented.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you think I'd touch that cash! Or touch that note—I <i>owe</i>
- it! I may not have been able to pay it—but I owe it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, well, suit yourself as to that, too!” said the man cynically. “It's
- the other thing <i>we</i> want. What's the wife and the kids you're
- talking about going to do if you go up for twenty years?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun, with a miserable cry, buried his face in his hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was silence—a minute dragged by.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?” prompted the man curtly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun dropped his hands, met the other's eyes for an instant—and
- turned his head away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, I thought you would!” said the man calmly. “My pal ought to be back
- by now, and as soon as he comes we'll go in there and hand Kirschell his
- little jolt, and——” He stopped. There was a light rapping on
- the entrance door. “Here he is now! We'll——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk was retreating back along the corridor. Again he opened the door
- of what he had designated to himself as the secretary's office, and for
- the second time that night stepped silently into the room, closing the
- door behind him. The sound of running water came from Kirschell's private
- office, but there was no other sound—the Hawk made none as he once
- more gained his place of vantage behind the desk. Kirschell was bending
- over the washbowl, his back turned, bathing his temple and face, and now,
- straightening up, he bound a towel tightly around his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk watched the proceedings impassively, his head, in that bird-like,
- listening attitude, cocked on one shoulder toward the outer door. Steps
- were coming along the corridor. But this time Kirschell, too, heard them—for
- he turned, and, as the corridor door opened, started toward his desk. He
- reached it and sat down, as Calhoun entered the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, ha!” snapped Kirschell triumphantly. “So you've thought better of it,
- have you? I imagined you would! Well, where's the——” The words
- seemed to freeze on his lips; there was a sudden terror in his face. “What—what
- does this mean?” he faltered.
- </p>
- <p>
- Two masked men, the one who had been with Calhoun in the corridor, and a
- taller, more heavily built man, had stepped in behind Calhoun, and were
- advancing toward the desk.
- </p>
- <p>
- The short man pointed a revolver at Kirschell's head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Calhoun says he keeps a gun in the middle drawer of the desk,” he grunted
- to his companion. “Get it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The other, leaning over, pulled the drawer open, and, appropriating
- Kirschell's revolver, stuck it in his pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- Kirschell's tongue circled his lips. He looked wildly from one to the
- other.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We just dropped in to make a confession, Mr. Kirschell,” said the short
- man, with an ugly jeer. “We don't like to see an innocent man suffer—understand?
- I'm the one that lifted your cash box, you measly shark—me and my
- pal there. I heard you trying to stick it on Calhoun. We ain't asking any
- favours for ourselves, and when we get through with you, you can tell the
- police it was us, and that we're part of the crowd that's been making
- things lively around these parts—you've been reading the papers,
- ain't you?—but you open your mouth about Calhoun, you put him in bad
- when he had nothing to do with it, and inside of twenty-four hours you'll
- be found in a dark alley somewhere with a bullet through you! Get me? You
- know who you're up against now, and you've got fair warning!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Kirschell was huddled in his chair. His little black eyes were no longer
- restless—they were fixed in a sort of terrified fascination on the
- speaker.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.” He licked his lips again. “Yes, I—I understand,” he mumbled.
- </p>
- <p>
- From his pocket the Hawk took a mask, which he slipped over his face; and
- from his pocket he took his automatic.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't think he believes you,” sneered the second masked man, with a
- wicked grin. “Perhaps mabbe we'd better twist his windpipe a little, just
- to show him in a friendly way that there ain't any mistake about it—eh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no!” Kirschel's voice was full of fear. “No, no! I believe—I——”
- His words ended in a choked scream.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man's hands had shot swiftly out, and closed on Kirschell's throat. He
- was shaking, twisting, and turning Kirschell's head from side to side. His
- companion laughed brutally. Came a series of guttural moans from Kirschell—and
- Kirschel's body began to slip limply down in his chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun had gone white to the lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stop it! My God, stop it!” he burst out frantically. “You promised me you
- wouldn't do him any harm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mind your own business!” snarled the man with the revolver. “We know
- how to handle his breed. Give him enough to hold him for a while Jim! We——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Drop that revolver! <i>Drop it!</i>” The Hawk was standing in the
- doorway.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a startled oath from the leader of the two men as he whirled
- around, a gasp as he faced the Hawk's automatic—and his weapon
- clattered to the floor. The other, in a stunned way, still hung over
- Kirschell, but his hands had relaxed their hold on Kirschel's throat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you!” drawled the Hawk. “I must say I agree with Mr. Calhoun. It's
- not a pleasant sight to watch a man being throttled.” His voice rang
- suddenly cold. “You, there!” His automatic indicated the man beside
- Kirschell. “Stand back at the end of the desk, and put up your hands!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun had not moved. He was staring numbly at the Hawk. Kirschell,
- making guttural sounds, was clawing at his throat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Calhoun,” requested the Hawk coolly, “as I happen to know that you
- have little reason to love either of these two gentlemen, will you be good
- enough to pick up that revolver and hand it to me?” Calhoun stooped
- mechanically, and extended it to the Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now our friend over there with his hands up, Mr. Calhoun,” purred the
- Hawk. “You will find two in his pockets—his own, and Mr.
- Kirschell's. Mr. Kirschell, I am sure, is already fairly well convinced
- that you are in no way connected with the robbery of his cash box, and I
- am equally sure that in no way could you better dispel any lingering
- doubts he might still entertain than by helping to draw these gentlemen's
- teeth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun laughed a little grimly now.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know who you are,” he said, his lips set, as he started toward
- the man; “but I guess you're right. I'd like to see them get what's coming
- to them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite so!” said the Hawk pleasantly. He accepted the two remaining
- revolvers from Calhoun; and from his pocket produced his skeleton keys. He
- handed them to Calhoun, designating one of the keys on the ring. “One more
- request, Mr. Calhoun,” he said. “I entered by the door that opens on the
- corridor from this other office here. Will you please lock it; and, on
- your way back, also lock this connecting door through which I have just
- come in—the key of the latter, I noticed, is in the lock.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun nodded, took the keys, and stepped quickly from the room.
- Kirschell, evidently not seriously hurt from the handling he had received,
- though still choking a little and clearing his throat with short coughs,
- was regarding the Hawk with a questioning stare. The eyes of the other two
- men were on the Hawk's revolver. The shorter of the two suddenly raised a
- clenched fist.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Hawk!” he flashed out furiously. “You cursed snitch! You'll wish you
- were dead before we're through with you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So the Butcher told me last night.” The Hawk smiled plaintively. “Move a
- little closer together, you two—yes, like that, at the far end of
- the desk beside each other. Thank you! You are much easier to cover that
- way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun returned, locking the connecting door behind him, and handed the
- door key, together with the key-ring, back to the Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk moved forward to the desk. He was alert, quick, ominous now. The
- drawl, the pleasantry was gone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Out there in the hall,” he said coldly, “I heard Mr. Calhoun refuse to
- take back his note—from a thief. You”—his revolver muzzle
- jerked toward the short man—“hand it out!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man reached viciously into his pocket, and tossed the note on the
- desk.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk pushed it toward Kirschell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Kirschell,” he said quietly, “you no doubt had good reasons for it,
- but you have none the less falsely accused Mr. Calhoun. Furthermore, Mr.
- Calhoun has been instrumental in laying these two who have confessed by
- the heels. Under the circumstances, if you are the man I think you are,
- you will tear that up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Kirschell lingered the note for an instant. He looked from Calhoun to the
- Hawk, and back at Calhoun again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” he said abruptly—and tore it into several pieces. “I suppose
- I could hardly do less. You are quite right! And, Mr. Calhoun, I—I
- apologise to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A flush spread over Calhoun's face. He swallowed hard, and his lips
- quivered slightly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Kirschell,” he stammered, “I—I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's all right!” interposed the Hawk whimsically. “Don't start any
- mutual admiration society. I dislike embarrassing situations; and besides,
- Mr. Calhoun”—his eyes travelled from one to the other of the two
- masked men—“I think you had better go now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go?” repeated Calhoun, somewhat bewilderedly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” supplemented the Hawk. “As far as you are concerned, you are clear
- and out of this now. Stay out of it, and say nothing—that's the best
- thing you can do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, that suits me,” said Calhoun with a wry smile, “if Mr. Kirschell——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Exactly! I see!” approved the Hawk. “It does you credit. But Mr.
- Kirschell and I are quite capable of settling with these two; and you can
- thank Mr. Kirschell further to-morrow if you like—when I'm not here!
- Now—if you please!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Calhoun turned, and walked to the door. His footsteps echoed back from the
- general office. Then the corridor door closed behind him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk addressed the two masked men.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Last night,” remarked the Hawk gently, “it was the Butcher, and to-night
- it is—pardon me”—he was close in front of the two now, and,
- with a jerk, snatched the masks from their faces—“Whitie Jim, and
- the Bantam! Well, I might have known from the Butcher! You're all out of
- the same kind of cocoons! The poor old simp at the head of your gang is
- sure stuck with a moth-eaten lot! He's sure collected a bunch of
- left-overs! Why, say, back there in New York, where a <i>real</i> crook
- couldn't keep the grin off his face every time he met you, even the police
- had you passed up as harmless cripples!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You go to blazes!” growled the Bantam, with an oath. “You'll sing through
- the other side of your mouth for this yet!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are not nice to me, Bantam,” said the Hawk, in a pained voice. “You
- don't appreciate what I'm doing for you. It was a piker game you tried to
- hand Calhoun; but, even at that, I wouldn't have queered it if it would
- have helped you work out a few more little deals, so that I could skim the
- cream off them. But it wouldn't! I don't see what you gain by interfering
- with the telegraph lines, but I'll let you in on something. I've been
- keeping an eye on MacVightie because MacVightie's been keeping an eye on
- me, and I overheard him talking to the superintendent to-night.
- MacVightie's got an idea that Calhoun's fooling with the wires now. See
- where you would have been? If Calhoun had ever got started on the real
- thing, some of you would have been nipped—and, say, there's nothing
- like that going to happen if I can help it! You and your crowd are too
- valuable to me to take any chances of your getting in wrong anywhere. I'm
- not wringing the neck of the goose that lays my golden eggs! Tell that to
- the guy that's supposed to have the brains of your outfit, will you? And
- you might add that I don't want any thanks. I'm getting well paid.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You'll get paid, curse you!” The Bantam's voice was hoarse with fury.
- “You butted in once too often last night. The Butcher warned you. There
- ain't any more warnings. You've got the drop on us here to-night, but——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's getting late,” said the Hawk wearily. “And I'm sure Mr. Kirschell
- agrees with me that it is about time to produce that cash box—do you
- not, Mr. Kirschell?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Kirschell made no reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk smiled—unhappily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't think you put it back in the safe—I see that the door is
- still wide open. A drawer in the desk, then, perhaps? Ah—<i>would
- you!</i>” There was a sudden deadly coldness in the Hawk's voice. The
- Bantam had edged around the corner of the desk. “If any of you move
- another inch, I'll drop you as quick as I'd drop a mad dog! Now then—if
- the Cricket will oblige? I'll give him until I count three. One—two——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Damn you!—Kirschell's face was livid and contorted. He wrenched a
- lower drawer open, and flung the cash box on the desk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Butcher, Whitie Jim, the Bantam, and the Cricket,” murmured the Hawk.
- “It's good to see old New York faces out here, even if you do size up like
- bush-leaguers trying to bust into high society. You can take that towel
- off, if you like, Cricket, it doesn't become you particularly—and,
- as you've washed off the heart-rending effect of that little bag of liquid
- stain you smashed over your temple, I'm sure you'll look less like a comic
- opera star! No? Well, please yourself!” The Hawk was coolly transferring
- the contents of the cash box to his pockets with his left hand. “These
- papers,” mused the Hawk deliberately aloud, “appear to be some securities
- you lifted on that Pullman car raid. Rather neat idea, this, establishing
- this office—sort of a clearing house, I take it, for the gang's
- drag-net—'loans, mortgages and general exchange!' I take back part
- of what I said—this shows a first faint glimmer of brains. Well,
- keep the office going, your interests are mine! You'll notice that I was
- considerate enough to get Calhoun out of the way before the show-down. You
- were very generous, magnanimous even, Cricket—I admire you!
- Calhoun'll swear Mr. Kirschell is the squarest man on earth—and
- don't forget that's another little debt of gratitude you owe the Hawk.
- Three thousand dollars!” The Hawk's pockets were bulging. “Must have been
- what you separated some one from when I wasn't looking! Glad you weren't
- stingy with your bait for Calhoun! I heard to-day that Mr. Kirschell kept
- a good deal of cash in his safe, but I had no idea that Mr. Kirschell was
- the Cricket—not till I came here this evening to take a look at Mr.
- Kirschell's safe. I must say it has been a surprise—a very pleasant
- surprise.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The cash box was empty. The Hawk backed away from the desk.
- </p>
- <p>
- None of the three men spoke—they were eying him like caged and
- infuriated beasts.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk reached the doorway.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will observe,” smiled the Hawk engagingly, “that this is now the only
- exit, and that as I walk backward across the outer office any one who
- steps into this doorway will be directly in the line of fire.” He bowed
- facetiously, backed through the doorway and across the general office,
- and, still facing the inner room, opened the corridor door and stepped
- out.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then the Hawk spoke again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I bid you good evening, gentlemen!” said the Hawk softly. “You will
- pardon me if I put you to the inconvenience of locking this door—on
- the outside.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- VII—WANTED—THE HAWK—DEAD OR ALIVE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>ACVIGHTIE had
- become troublesome. For two days MacVightie had very seriously annoyed the
- Hawk. It was for that reason that the Hawk now crept stealthily up the
- dark, narrow stairs, and, on the landing, listened in strained attention
- before the door of his own room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Reassured finally, he opened the door inch by inch, noiselessly. The bolt,
- in grooves that were carefully oiled, made no sound in slipping into
- place, as the Hawk entered and closed the door behind him. So far, so
- good! He was quick, alert, but still silent, as, in the darkness, he
- crossed swiftly to the window, and crouched down against the wall. A
- minute, two, went by. The fire-escape, passing at an angle a short
- distance below the window sill, and at first nebulous in the blackness,
- gradually took on distinct and tangible shape. Still the Hawk held there
- motionless, searching it with his eyes—and then, abruptly, satisfied
- that it sheltered no lurking shadow, he straightened up, thrust his
- automatic back into his pocket, pulled down the shade, and, turning back
- into the room, switched on the light.
- </p>
- <p>
- MacVightie, it appeared, still had lingering suspicions of this room over
- the somewhat disreputable saloon below, and still had lingering suspicions
- of its occupant. All that afternoon the Hawk was quite well aware that he
- had been shadowed—but the result had been rather in his favour than
- in Mac-Vightie's. From the moment he had discovered that he was being
- followed, he had devoted his time to making applications for a job—for
- MacVightie's benefit—that being the reason he had given MacVightie
- for his presence in Selkirk. Later on, when it had grown dark, having
- business of his own, he had left MacVightie's satellite standing on a
- street corner somewhat puzzled just which way to turn! That, however, had
- no bearing on the watch that had been, or might be at the present moment,
- set upon this room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, in apparent abstraction, was flipping a coin up in the air and
- catching it. There was a slight frown on the Hawk's face. MacVightie's
- suspicions were still lingering for the simple reason that MacVightie,
- utterly at sea, was clutching at the only straw in sight, unless—the
- coin slipped through the Hawk's fingers and fell beside his trunk. He
- stooped to pick it up—yes, not only had the room been searched, but
- the trunk had been opened! The single strand of hair, almost indiscernible
- against the brass and quite innocently caught in the lock, was broken.
- Well, he had not finished that mental sentence. Unless—<i>what?</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- He tucked the coin into his pocket, and, standing up, yawned and stretched
- himself. With the toe of his boot he lazily pushed a chair out from the
- wall. The chair fell over. The Hawk picked it up, and quite casually set
- it down—near the door. He took off his coat, and flung it over the
- back of the chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's face was greyer now, as it set in rigid lines, but there was no
- tremor in the hand that inserted the key in the lock of the trunk. He
- flung back the lid—and his eyes, for an instant, searched the room
- again sharply. The window shade was securely drawn; the coat over the back
- of the chair completely screened the keyhole of the door. He laughed a
- little then—mirthlessly. Well, the trunk had been opened! Had
- MacVightie found <i>all</i>—or nothing?
- </p>
- <p>
- His fingers were working swiftly, deftly now around the inside edges of
- the lid. He was either caught here, cornered, at bay—or MacVightie,
- once for all, would be satisfied, and, as far as MacVightie was concerned,
- the coast would hereafter be clear. The Hawk's dark eyes narrowed, the
- square under jaw crept out and set doggedly. It had been a close call,
- perilously close, that other night when he had taken the ten thousand
- dollars from the paymaster's safe, and MacVightie had followed him here to
- this room. He had pulled the wool over MacVightie's eyes for the moment—but
- MacVightie had returned to the old trail again. Well, the cards were on
- the table now, and it was a gamble that was grim enough! Either he was
- quit of MacVightie, could even count on MacVightie as a sort of sponsor
- for his innocence; or—“Ah!” The ingeniously fashioned false tray in
- the curvature of the lid had come away in the Hawk's hands. He was safe!
- MacVightie had missed it! In the tray, untouched, where he had left them,
- lay the packages of banknotes from the paymaster's safe; in the tray still
- glittered the magnificent diamond necklace, whose theft from the wife of
- His Excellency the Governor of the State had already furnished more than
- one of the big dailies back in the East with attractive copy for their
- Sunday editions; and there, undisturbed, were the contents of Isaac
- Kirschell's cash box, a trifling matter of some three thousand dollars;
- and there too, snugly tucked away in one corner, was the bundle of crisp,
- new, counterfeit ten-dollar bills. The Hawk grinned maliciously, as his
- eyes rested on the counterfeit notes. The one he had sent, inscribed with
- his compliments, to MacVightie, when he had returned the otherwise empty
- paymaster's bag to the detective, had not pleased MacVightie!
- </p>
- <p>
- Quite at his ease now, the Hawk fitted the false top back into the lid,
- closed the trunk, locked it, drew a chair up to the table, and sat down.
- With MacVightie removed as a possible factor of interruption, there was
- another, and very pressing little matter to which he was now at liberty to
- give his attention. He produced a folded sheet of paper from his inside
- vest pocket, spread it out on the table before him, and inspected it with
- a sort of cynical curiosity. In each corner were tack holes. He had
- removed it less than half an hour ago—not through any misguided
- dislike to publicity, but simply because he had urgently required a piece
- of paper—from a conspicuous position on the wall of the railroad
- station. It was a police circular. The Hawk had not before had an
- opportunity to absorb more than the large type captions—he filled
- his pipe calmly now, as he read it in its entirety:
- </p>
- <h3>
- $5,000 REWARD—FOR EX-SING SING CONVICT
- </h3>
- <p>
- Five Thousand Dollars Reward Will Be Paid For Information Leading to the
- Arrest and Conviction of THE HAWK, Alias HARRY MAUL.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here followed a description tallying with the one given by MacVightie to
- Lanson, the division superintendent, and which Lanson had caustically
- remarked would not fit more than twenty-five thousand men in Selkirk City;
- followed after that a résumé of the crimes recently committed on the
- railroad, amongst them the theft of the diamond necklace and the robbery
- of the paymaster's safe; and, at the end, in bold-faced type again:
- </p>
- <h3>
- $2,000 REWARD
- </h3>
- <p>
- Two Thousand Dollars Reward Will Also be Paid For Information Leading to
- the Arrest and Conviction of Each and Every One of THE HAWK'S
- Confederates.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk smiled broadly, as he held the flame of a match to his pipe bowl.
- The last paragraph was exquisitely ironical. Those whom MacVightie so
- blithely called the “Hawk's confederates” were vying with each other at
- that exact moment, and for the exact amount of two thousand dollars
- offered by the Master Spider of the gang, for the privilege of putting an
- even more conclusive end—in the shape of a knife thrust, a bullet,
- or a blackjack—to the Hawk!
- </p>
- <p>
- “And,” said the Hawk softly, as he turned the circular over, “I guess
- they'd make it a whole lot more if they knew that I had—<i>this!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- The back of the circular was covered with line after line of what,
- seemingly, was but a meaningless jumble of scribbled letters—nor, in
- this case, were the letters any too well formed. The Hawk had laboured
- under difficulties when the telegraph sounder had “broke” unexpectedly
- with the message. He had been listening—as he was always listening
- when within sound of a telegraph instrument—but he had never known a
- message from the Wire Devils to come through at so early an hour in the
- evening before. He had shaken MacVightie's man off the trail and had gone
- down to the depot, intending to go up the line to the first small station,
- where, with little chance of being discovered, he could spend the night
- within earshot of the operator's instrument—in the hope that his
- vigil would not, as it sometimes did, prove futile. He had been standing
- under the dispatcher's open window waiting for a train, when the police
- circular tacked on the station wall had caught his eye. The large type was
- readily decipherable, but the platform lights were poor, and he had
- stepped closer to read the remainder—and instead, glancing quickly
- about him to see that he was not observed, he had snatched the circular
- from the wall, and, whipping a pencil from his pocket, had scrawled on the
- reverse side, as best he could, the message that was rattling in over the
- dispatcher's sounder from the room above. He had taken chances—but
- he had played in luck. No one had noticed him, and—well, he was here
- now with the message; and, since it must sooner or later have been put to
- the proof in any case, he was back here, too, to find that he was quit of
- MacVightie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” confided the Hawk to himself, as he reached for a blank sheet of
- paper in the drawer of the table, “I guess I played in luck—both
- ways. Wonder if there's another ripe little melon here going to be shoved
- my way on a gold platter by the Butcher and his crowd?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk studied the cipher for a moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “lqrtvy... key letter... stroke at six...two-three-one,” he murmured.
- </p>
- <p>
- He drew the fresh sheet of paper toward him, and began to work busily.
- Occasionally he paused, staring dubiously at a letter—he had taken
- the message under far from ideal conditions, and a mistake here and there,
- if not fatal, was annoying and confusing. Finally, however, the Hawk
- leaned back in his chair, and whistled low under his breath. The message,
- deciphered and arranged into words and sentences, ran:
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Final orders. Number One, Three, and Six hold up Fast Mail three miles
- east of Burke's Siding to-night. Cut wires on approach. Express car next
- to engine. Uncouple and proceed. Diamond shipment in safe. Messenger
- drugged. No interference with remainder of train. Deliver safe five-mile
- crossing to Number Four and Seven. Number One, Three, and Six take engine
- and car further along the line. Return separately to Selkirk.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- Again the Hawk whistled low under his breath—and for the second time
- reached into his inside vest pocket. He took out a letter that was
- addressed, care of general delivery, to Mr. J. P. Carrister. The Hawk
- puffed pleasantly at his pipe as he read it:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear Friend: The folks are all well, and hope you are the same. I haven't
- had time to write much lately. I like my new job fine. Say, I felt like a
- Fifth Avenue dook for about umpty seconds to-day. One of the fellows in
- the office let me hold a package of diamonds in my hand just to see what
- it felt like. Gee! Say, you could almost shove it in your vest pocket, and
- it was invoiced through customs at twenty thousand plunks. They were unset
- stones, and came in from Amsterdam. It made me feel queer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wouldn't like to be the fellow that has to keep his eye on it any of
- the way from here to San Francisco, where it's going to-morrow by express.
- If you see any bright lights flashing around your burg that you can't
- account for about 11:15 next Wednesday night, you'll know it's the
- diamonds going through in the express-car safe. I'm getting to be some
- joker, eh? We all went down to Coney last Sunday. It's been fierce and hot
- here. Say, don't be a clam, write us a line. Well, I guess there ain't any
- more news. Yours truly, Bud.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, instead of folding up the letter and returning it to his pocket,
- began meditatively to tear it into minute shreds, and with it the police
- circular and the sheet of paper on which he had worked out the cipher
- message. The Fast Mail scheduled Selkirk at 11:15—<i>and this was
- Wednesday night!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twenty thousand dollars,” said the Hawk gently under his breath. “Thanks,
- Bud, old boy! You were there with the goods all right, but it wasn't a
- one-man job, and I didn't think there was going to be anything doing.” The
- Hawk grinned at the ceiling. “And just as I was about passing up the last
- check, here they go and fix it for me to scoop the whole pot! Three miles
- east of Burke's Siding, eh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk relapsed into silence for a moment; then he spoke again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the Hawk, “I guess that ought to work. She won't make the
- three miles from the siding under five or six minutes. She's due at
- Burke's at ten-ten. I can make it on the local out of here at
- eight-thirty. Twenty thousand dollars—in <i>unset</i> stones! Just
- as good as cash—and a lot easier to carry!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk looked at his watch. It was five minutes of eight. He rose
- leisurely from his chair, stooped for a precautionary inspection of the
- trunk lock, put on his coat, and, moving toward the door, switched off the
- light.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I get away with this,” observed the Hawk, as he went down the stairs
- and let himself out through the street door, “it'll be good-night for
- keeps if any of the gang ever pick up my trail—and they won't quit
- until they do! And then there's MacVightie and the police. I guess
- there'll be some little side-stepping to do—what? Oh, well”—he
- shrugged his shoulders—“I guess I'll get a bite of supper, anyway—there's
- no telling when I'll have a chance to eat again!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- VIII—THREADS IN THE WEB
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was not far to
- the station—down through the lane from the Palace Saloon—and
- close to the station, he remembered, there was a little short-order house
- that was generally patronised by the railroad men. Old Mother Barrett's
- short-order house, they called it. She was the wife of an engineer who had
- been killed, he had heard, and she had a boy working somewhere on the
- railroad. Not that he was interested in these details; in fact, as he
- walked along, the Hawk was not interested in old Mother Barrett in a
- personal sense at all—but, as he reached the short-order house and
- entered, his eyes, as though magnetically drawn in that direction, fixed
- instantly on the little old woman behind the counter.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk was suddenly very much interested in old Mother Barrett. It was
- not that she made a somewhat pathetic figure, that she drooped a little at
- the shoulders, that her face under her grey hair looked tired, or that,
- though scrupulously neat, her clothes were a little threadbare—it
- was none of these things—it was old Mother Barrett's hands that for
- the moment concerned the Hawk. She was in the act of adjusting her
- spectacles and picking up a very new and crisp ten-dollar bill, that a
- customer from the stool in front of her had evidently tendered in payment
- for his meal. The Hawk shot a quick glance up and down the room. There
- were several other customers at the long counter, but the stool beside the
- owner of the ten-dollar bill was vacant—and the Hawk
- unostentatiously straddled it.
- </p>
- <p>
- He glanced casually at the man at his elbow; allowed his eyes to stray to
- the kindly, motherly old face with its grey Irish eyes, that was puckered
- now in a sort of hesitant indecision—and glanced a little more than
- casually at the banknote she kept turning over and over in her hands. No,
- he had not been mistaken. It was one of those counterfeits which,
- according to MacVightie, had flooded the East and were now making their
- appearance in Selkirk, and it was a duplicate of those in the false tray
- of his trunk. His eyes perhaps were sharper than old Mother Barrett's—in
- any case, his identification was the quicker, for his gaze had wandered to
- the coffee urn, and he was drumming idly on the counter with his finger
- tips before the little old woman finally spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—I'm afraid I can't take this,” she said slowly, handing the
- banknote back across the counter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's the matter with it?” demanded the man gruffly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why—it's—it's counterfeit,” she said a little anxiously, as
- though she were fearful of giving offence.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's eyes, with mild and quite impersonal interest, were on the
- man's face now. The man had picked up the bill, and was pretending to
- examine it critically.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Counterfeit!” echoed the man shortly. “Say, what are you giving us! It's
- as good as wheat! Give me my change, and let me get out—I'm in a
- hurry!” He pushed the bill toward her again.
- </p>
- <p>
- She did not pick it up from the counter this time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm sorry.” She seemed genuinely disturbed, and the sweet old face was
- full of sympathy. “I'm sure you did not know that it was not good, and ten
- dollars is a great deal to lose, isn't it? It's too bad. Do you remember
- where you got it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here, you're dippy!” snapped the man. “I tell you it's not
- counterfeit. Anyway, it's all I've got. If you want your pay, take it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You owe me thirty-five cents, but I can't take it out of this.” She shook
- her head in a troubled way. “This is a counterfeit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You seem to be pretty well posted—on counterfeits!” sneered the man
- offensively. “How do you know it's a counterfeit—eh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because I've seen one like this before,” she said simply. “My son showed
- me one the last time he was in from his run, and he warned me to be
- careful about taking any.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, your son—eh?” sneered the man again. “Some son! Wised you up,
- did he? Carries it around with him—eh? And who does <i>he</i> shove
- it off on?”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a queer little sound from the old lady—like a quick, hurt
- catch of her breath. The Hawk's eyes travelled swiftly to her face. She
- had turned a little pale, and her lips were trembling—but she was
- drawn up very proudly, and the thin shoulders were squared back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I love my boy,” she said in a low voice, and tears came suddenly into her
- eyes, “I love him with all my heart, but I should a thousand times rather
- see him dead than know him for a thief. And a man who attempts to pass
- these things knowingly is a—<i>thief</i>. I have been very
- respectful to you, sir, and I do not deserve what you have said. I assumed
- that you had been swindled yourself, and that you were perfectly honest in
- offering the bill to me, but now from your——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's the trouble, Mother Barrett?”—a big railroader farther up
- the counter had laid down his knife and fork, and swung round on his
- stool.
- </p>
- <p>
- With a hurried glance in that direction, the man hastily thrust the
- counterfeit note into his pocket, laid down thirty-five cents on the
- counter—and, with a dive across the room, disappeared through the
- door.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk stared thoughtfully after him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I couldn't butt in on that, and hand him one,” said the Hawk to himself
- almost apologetically. “Not with twenty thousand in sight! I couldn't
- afford to get into a row, and maybe miss the local, and spill the beans,
- could I?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked around again to find the little old woman wiping her spectacles,
- and smiling at him a little wistfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm sorry that you had to listen to any unpleasantness,” she said. “My
- little place isn't very pretentious, but I would not like to have you, a
- stranger, think that sort of thing was customary here. What can I get you,
- sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was no wonder that the railroaders evidently swore by old Mother
- Barrett, and that one of them had been quick to shift her trouble to his
- own shoulders!
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess he was a bad one, all right!” growled the Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- She shook her head regretfully. There was no resentment left—it was
- as though, indeed, the man was a charge upon her own conscience.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He meant to be dishonest, I am afraid,” she admitted reluctantly; “but I
- am sure he cannot be thoroughly bad, for he wasn't very old—just a
- young man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She was a very simple, trusting little old lady—as well as a sweet
- little old lady. Why should her illusions be dispelled? The Hawk nodded
- gravely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps,” suggested the Hawk, “perhaps he hasn't had any one to keep him
- straight. Perhaps he hasn't got what keeps a good many chaps straight—a
- good mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The mist was quick in her eyes again. He had not meant to bring that—he
- had meant only to show her a genuine admiration and respect.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps not,” she answered slowly. “But if he has, I hope she will never
- know.” She shook her head again; and then: “But you have not told me yet
- what you would like, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk gave his order. He ate mechanically. Back in his mind he was
- reviewing a rather extensive acquaintanceship with certain gentry whose
- morals were not wholly above reproach. Failing, however, to identify the
- individual with the counterfeit note as one of this select number, he
- finally dismissed the man somewhat contemptuously from his mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just a piker crook, I guess,” decided the Hawk. “I'd like to have found
- out though how many more of those he's got, and who the fool was that let
- an amateur skate like that loose with any of the goods!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He finished his meal, paid his bill, smiled a goodnight to old Mother
- Barrett, walked out of the short-order house, and made his way over to the
- station. Five minutes later, having purchased a magazine, the Hawk, with a
- ticket in his pocket for a station a number of miles beyond Burke's
- Siding, curled himself up with his pipe on a seat in the smoker of the
- local.
- </p>
- <p>
- The train started, and the Hawk apparently became immersed in his
- magazine. The Hawk, however, though he turned a page from time to time,
- was concerned with matters very far removed from the printed words before
- him. The game to-night was more hazardous, more difficult, and for a
- vastly greater stake than any in which he had before pitted his wits or
- played his lone hand against the combined brains of the Butcher, his
- fellows, and their unknown leader, who collectively were referred to by
- the papers as—the Wire Devils.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk tamped down the ash in the bowl of his pipe with a wary
- forefinger. He, the Hawk, according to MacVightie, was the leader of this
- ingenious criminal league! It was very complimentary of MacVightie—very!
- Between MacVightie and the Wire Devils themselves, he was a personage much
- sought after! MacVightie, however, was not without grounds for his
- assertion and belief—the Hawk grinned pleasantly—he, the Hawk,
- had certainly, and for some time back, helped himself to the leader's
- share of the spoils, and helped himself very generously!
- </p>
- <p>
- The grin died away. He had beaten them so far, appropriated from under
- their very noses the loot they had so carefully planned to obtain, and he
- had mocked and taunted them contemptuously in the doing of it; but the
- cold fact remained that luck sometimes was known to turn, and that the
- pitcher that went too often to the well ran the risk of getting—smashed!
- If they ever caught him, his life would not be worth an instant's
- purchase. He knew some of them, and he knew them well for what they were,
- and he laboured under no delusions on that score! The Butcher, for
- example, who was the Number One of the message, had already nearly done
- for him once; and the Butcher had nothing on Number Three, who was the
- Bantam, or on Number Seven, who was Whitie Jim—or, it was safe to
- presume, on any of the others that he had not yet identified—this
- Number Four and Number Six, for instance, who were mentioned in the cipher
- message to-night. And how many more were there? He did not know—except
- that there was the Master Spider of them all.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk had ceased now even to turn cursorily the pages of the magazine.
- He was staring out of the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder,” muttered the Hawk grimly, “when I'll run up against <i>him?</i>
- And who he is? And where the head office is?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He nodded his head after a moment. MacVightie had called the turn. The
- Wire Devils formed as powerful and dangerous a criminal organisation as
- had probably ever existed anywhere. And not for very long would they put
- all their resources at work to pull off some coup, only to find that he,
- the Hawk, had made use of their preparations to snatch the prize away from
- them; they were much more likely to put all their resources at work—with
- the Hawk as their sole objective!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's lips tightened. He might under-estimate, but he could not
- exaggerate, his danger! The man in the seat behind him might be one of
- them for all he knew. Somewhere, hidden away in his web, at the end of a
- telegraph wire, was the Master Spider directing the operations; and there
- must be very many of them—the little spiders—spread all over
- the division. Where there was a telegraph sounder that sounder carried the
- messages, the plans, the secret orders of the brain behind the
- organisation; and the very audaciousness with which they made themselves
- free of the railroad's telegraph system to communicate with each other was
- in itself a guarantee of success. If one of their messages was interfered
- with, they threatened to cut the wires; and that meant, if luckily it
- meant no more, that train operating was at an end until the break could be
- located and repaired. Were they tapping the wire somewhere? What chance
- was there to find out where? There were hundreds of old splices on the
- wires. Or, if found, what would prevent them tapping the wire on the next
- occasion many miles away? Also the sources of information that they tapped
- must be far-flung. How, for instance, unless they too had a “Bud” back
- there in New York, did they know of this diamond shipment coming through
- to-night?
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's lips grew still a little tighter. His safety so far had
- depended on the fact that he possessed the key to their cipher messages,
- which not only enabled him to reap where they had sown, but warned him of
- any move they might make against him. But it was becoming increasingly
- difficult to intercept those messages. He had MacVightie to thank for
- that. Where before he had only to crawl into some little way-station where
- there was no night operator, MacVightie now had every one of those
- stations securely guarded. Yes, it had become exceedingly more difficult!
- If only he could find out <i>where</i> those messages emanated from, or
- the system in force for receiving them!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk slid further down in his seat, tossed the magazine to one side,
- pulled his hat over his eyes, and appeared to sleep. All that was neither
- here nor there—<i>to-night</i>. He <i>had</i> the message to-night—but
- he had not yet got that twenty thousand dollars in unset stones! He would
- perhaps do well, now that he had the leisure, to give the details of that
- matter a little more critical attention than they had received when he had
- made up his mind that his best chance lay in the three miles between
- Burke's Siding and the point where the Butcher and his men planned to hold
- up the train. According to the message, the implication was that there
- would be nobody in the express car at that time except a drugged
- messenger. And now, somehow, he did not quite like the appearance of that.
- It seemed a little queer. What was the object of drugging the man if they
- did not take immediate advantage of it? He pondered the problem for a long
- time. No, after all, it was logical enough—since they meant to
- remove the safe bodily. There evidently was not a specialised cracksman
- amongst them who had lifted his profession to the plane of art, no
- “knob-twirler” such as—well, such as himself! The Hawk opened his
- eyes sleepily to inspect the tips of his carefully manicured fingers.
- Otherwise, with no one to interfere but a drugged messenger, they could
- have opened the safe, looted it, and, since the Fast Mail carried only
- through express matter, have slipped away from the car at the first stop,
- with no one being the wiser until, somewhere up the line, the messenger
- returned to life and gave the alarm.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, it was very craftily worked out. The Master Spider was far from a
- fool! They would have to “soup” the safe, and blow it open. If they
- attempted that while the train was en route they ran the risk of being
- heard, and trapped like rats in the car; and if they were heard, even if
- they managed to stop the train and make their escape, they invited instant
- and definite pursuit on the spot. The reason for drugging the express
- messenger became quite evident now. If the man were already helpless when
- they held up the train, they, at one and the same time, assured their
- access to an otherwise guarded car without danger to themselves, and
- without danger of being balked at the last moment of their reward—which
- the messenger, with a small package like that, might easily have been able
- to accomplish if he were a game man. He could have opened the safe, say,
- the instant the first alarm came as they tried to force the car door,
- taken out the package, and secreted it somewhere. It needed only the nerve
- after that to defy them, and they had evidently given him credit for it
- whether he possessed it or not.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, decidedly, the Master Spider was no fool in the spinning of his web!
- As it was, the safe, which would only be a small affair anyhow, would
- disappear bodily; and between the point where the train was held up and
- the point where they finally left the engine and express car there would
- be a distance of at least ten miles, even allowing that they approached no
- nearer than within two miles of Bradley, the first station west of Burke's
- Siding. With the wires cut and the coaches of the Fast Mail stalled three
- miles out of Burke's, considerable time must elapse before any one could
- make a move against them; and even when the pursuit finally started,
- MacVightie, for instance, would be confronted with that somewhat illusive
- stretch of ten miles in which to decide <i>where</i> the pursuit should
- begin. Ten miles was some little distance! MacVightie would be quite at
- liberty to make his guess, and there was the chance, with the trifling
- odds of some few odd thousand to one against it, that he might guess right—unless
- he guessed that the safe had been removed at the point where the engine
- and car were finally left, in which case MacVightie would guess wrong.
- </p>
- <p>
- If the Hawk was asleep, he was perhaps dreaming—for the Hawk smiled.
- The chances were just about those few odd thousand to one that MacVightie
- would guess exactly that way—wrong. Yes, it was an exceedingly neat
- little web that the Master Spider had spun. If he, the Hawk, were
- permitted to make a guess, he would guess that the safe would never be
- found!
- </p>
- <p>
- His mind reverted to the cipher message. The safe was to be delivered at
- “five-mile crossing.” Where that was the Hawk did not know—except
- that it must necessarily be somewhere between the point where the train
- was held up and Bradley. However, that was a detail with which he need
- hardly concern himself. Long before this “five-mile crossing” was reached,
- his vest pocket, if he played in luck, would be very comfortably lined! He
- would enter the express car as the Fast Mail pulled out of Burke's Siding,
- trust to certain long and intimate experience to open the safe—and
- get off the train as it slowed down at the Butcher's very thoughtful
- request! For the rest, the details—circumstances must govern there.
- In the main, that would be his plan.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk “slept” on. Station after station was passed. His mind now dealt
- in little snatches of thought. There was MacVightie and the police
- circular; and the search of his room that day; and speculation as to how
- they had managed to drug the express messenger; and the man with the
- counterfeit ten-dollar bill in old Mother Barrett's short-order house; and
- the little old woman herself, with her shabby clothes and her tired,
- gentle face—and finally the Hawk stirred, glanced at his watch, and,
- as the train whistled, picked up his magazine and sauntered down the car
- aisle to the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were approaching Burke's Siding. The Hawk opened the door, went out
- on the platform, and descended to the lowest step. The train slowed. A
- water-tank loomed up, receded—and the Hawk dropped to the ground. A
- minute later, as the tail-lights winked by and came to a stop at the
- station a short distance down the track, he had made his way back, to the
- water-tank, crossed to the opposite side of the track, and stretched
- himself out on the grass in the hollow at the foot of the embankment. The
- Fast Mail's sole excuse for a stop at Burke's Siding was the water-tank—which
- would bring the express car to a halt directly in front of the spot where
- he now lay.
- </p>
- <p>
- The local pulled out, and racketed away into the night. The tail-lights
- vanished. Silence fell. There was only the chirping of the insects now,
- and the strange, queer, indefinable medley of little night-sounds. Burke's
- Siding was a lonely place. There was a faint yellow gleam from the station
- windows, and there was the twinkle of the switch lights—no other
- sign of life. It was pitch black—so black that the Hawk could just
- barely distinguish the outline of the water-tank across the track.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's a nice night,” observed the Hawk pleasantly to himself. “A very nice
- night! It's strange how some people prefer a moon!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- IX—THE LOOTING OF THE FAST MAIL
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE minutes went
- by, ten, fifteen, twenty of them—a half hour—and then, from
- far down the track, hoarse through the night, came the scream of a
- whistle. From his pocket the Hawk took out his diminutive flashlight, thin
- as a pencil. It might have been the winking of a firefly, as he played it
- on the dial of his watch.
- </p>
- <p>
- “On the dot!” murmured the Hawk. “Some train—the Fast Mail! I guess,
- though, she'll be a little late, at that, to-night—when she pulls
- into Selkirk!” A roar and rumble was in the night again, increasing
- steadily in volume. Down the right of way, in the distance, a flash of
- light stabbed through the black. It grew brighter and brighter. The Hawk,
- wary of the spread of the powerful electric headlight, edged further away
- from the trackside. And now the rails gleamed like polished silver—and
- the water-tank stood up out of the darkness, a thing of monstrous size.
- There was the hiss of steam, the rasp and grind of the setting brakes, the
- glinting rays from the windows of a long string of coaches that trailed
- back to the station platform, and a big ten-wheeler, like some human
- thirsty thing, was panting beside the water-tank.
- </p>
- <p>
- The engineer, with his torch, swung from the gangway for an oil around.
- There was the creak of the descending spout, the rush of water, and,
- silhouetted against the water-tank, the Hawk could make out the fireman
- standing on the back of the tender. And now, poking with his long-spouted
- oil can, weirdly swallowed up in the darkness at intervals as he thrust
- the torch far in under the big machine, the engineer moved slowly along
- the side of the engine, and finally disappeared around the end of the
- pilot.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk stole forward closer to the track again, his eyes on the fireman,
- who, now that the engineers torch was on the other side, was more sharply
- outlined than before. Came then the swish and gush of water as it
- overflowed, the spout banged back against the water-tank, and the fireman
- scrambled back over the tender into the cab. It was the moment the Hawk
- had been waiting for. Swiftly, but still crawling as a safeguard against
- being seen by any of the train crew in the rear, he moved up the
- embankment, and in an instant had swung himself up between the tender and
- the forward door of the express car. There was no platform here, of
- course, but the end beam of the car, making a sort of wide threshold, gave
- him ample room on which to stand.
- </p>
- <p>
- The roar of escaping steam drowned out all other sounds; the back of the
- tender hid him from any chance of observation from the cab. He tried the
- door cautiously. It was locked, of course—there were twenty thousand
- dollars' worth of stones in the safe inside! The Hawk felt carefully over
- the lock with his fingers, classifying it in the darkness, as it were, by
- the sense of touch, and produced from his packet his bunch of skeleton
- keys. He inserted one of the keys, worked with it for a moment, then shook
- his head, and selected another. This time he felt the lock-bolt slide
- back. The train was jerking into motion now. He exchanged his keys for his
- automatic, turned the knob softly, opened the door an inch, and listened.
- Even the Wire Devils were not infallible, and if by any chance the
- messenger—
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk whistled low and contentedly under his breath. He had caught a
- glimpse of the interior of the car—and now he slipped quickly
- through the door, closing the door behind him.
- </p>
- <p>
- A quarter length down the car, in the aisle made by the express packages
- which were piled high on either side, the messenger, a young man of
- perhaps twenty-two, was huddled, apparently unconscious, in his chair. In
- a flash the Hawk was down the car, and bending sharply over the other. The
- man sat in a helpless, sagging attitude; he was breathing heavily, and his
- head, hanging forward and a little to one side, swayed limply with the
- motion of the car. There was no question as to the messenger's condition—he
- was drugged, and well drugged. From the man, the Hawk's eyes travelled to
- a sort of desk, or ledge, built out from the side of the car, and topped
- by a pigeonholed rack stuffed with express forms and official-looking
- manila envelopes. On the desk was a small leather satchel containing some
- lunch, and a bottle of what was evidently cold tea, now but barely a
- quarter full; and, as though to supply further evidence that the man had
- succumbed in the midst of his meal, a little to one side lay a meat
- sandwich, half eaten.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk nodded quietly to himself, as again his eyes shifted—this
- time to a small safe, about three feet square, that stood beneath the
- desk. It was quite easy to understand now. The Wire Devils had only to
- ascertain the fact that it was the messenger's habit to eat his lunch at a
- certain time, choose the point of attack on the line to correspond
- therewith, and see that a sufficient quantity of knockout drops was
- introduced into the cold tea—not a very weighty undertaking for the
- Wire Devils!
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, it was a bit rough on the boy—the Hawk was kneeling now in
- front of the safe—but he, the Hawk, was greatly indebted to the Wire
- Devils! Twenty thousand dollars was a snug little sum—quite a snug
- little sum!
- </p>
- <p>
- The figure in the chair, with swaying head, breathed stertorously; there
- was the pound, quick in its tempo, of the trucks beating at the rail
- joints; the give-and-take of the car in protesting little creaks; and,
- over all, a muffled roar as the Fast Mail tore through the night—but
- the Hawk heard none of this. His ear was pressed close against the face of
- the safe listening for the tumblers' fall, as his fingers twirled the dial
- knob.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a little while the Hawk spoke aloud.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Left, twenty-eight, one quarter... two right, fourteen... two left,
- eighteen, one-half,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- He straightened up, swung the handle of the safe—and a dismayed,
- anxious look flashed across his face. There was not much time, very little
- time—-and he had missed it! How far along those three miles from
- Burke's Siding to where the Butcher was waiting had the train already
- come?
- </p>
- <p>
- He tried again, coolly, methodically—and again he missed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess I'm out of practice to fall down on a tin box like this!” he
- muttered grimly. “But the first two are right, that's sure—it's the
- last turn that's wrong somewhere. Give me another minute or two”—he
- was twirling the dial knob with deft, quick fingers once more—“that's
- all I ask, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- A sudden jolt flung him forward against the safe. Came the scream of the
- whistle, the screech of the tight-set brakes, the bump, and jerk, and
- pound, and grind of the flying train coming to an emergency stop. The limp
- form of the messenger, sliding down, was almost doubled over the arm of
- the chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- In an instant the Hawk had recovered his balance, and, his face set like
- iron, his jaws clamped hard, he snatched at the knob, and with desperate
- haste now made another attempt. There were a few seconds left, a few
- seconds before the train would come finally to a standstill and—no,
- they were gone now, those seconds—and he had missed again!
- </p>
- <p>
- His automatic was in his hand as he stood up. It was no longer a question
- of twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset diamonds—it was a
- question of his life. There was a bitter smile on his lips, as he ran for
- the forward door. It looked as though the pitcher had at last gone once
- too often to the well! The train had stopped now. He reached the door, and
- opened it guardedly a little way. A great red flare from somewhere ahead
- lighted up the night. He heard and recognised the Butcher's voice,
- menacing, raucous, punctuated with vicious oaths:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get out of that cab, and get out <i>damned</i> quick! Down you come—jump
- now! Now, boys, run 'em back, and keep firing down the length of the train
- as you go; and if these guys don't run faster than you do, let 'em have it
- in the back! Beat it now—beat it like hell! I'll pull out the minute
- you're uncoupled. You two grab the rear end as she moves, there's room
- enough for you, and you can bust in the door, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- A fusilade of shots rang out. Flashes cut the black. The Butcher's two
- companions, evidently driving the engineer and fireman before them, were
- coming on the run along the trackside from the cab. The Hawk retreated
- back a step, and closed the car door. He heard the men rush past outside.
- The fusilade seemed to redouble in intensity; and now, added to it, were
- shouts and yells from the rear of the train itself, and—if he were
- not mistaken—answering shots.
- </p>
- <p>
- His hand on the doorknob, he stood waiting tensely. With the Butcher on
- guard out there in front, it would have been equivalent to suicide to have
- opened the door again until he knew the other was back in the cab—against
- the background of the lighted interior he would have made a most excellent
- mark for the Butcher!
- </p>
- <p>
- His eyes swept past the huddled form of the young messenger in the chair,
- and fixed speculatively on the safe. He nodded suddenly, grimly. Twenty
- thousand dollars! Well, he wasn't beaten yet—not till he threw down
- his own hand of his own accord—not till he lost sight of the safe
- for keeps!
- </p>
- <p>
- Over the shouts and revolver shots came the sharp, vicious hiss of the
- air-hose, as it was uncoupled; and then, with a violent jerk, the car
- started forward, as the Butcher evidently whipped the throttle open. And,
- coincidently, there was a smash upon the rear door—and the Hawk
- opened the forward door and slipped out again.
- </p>
- <p>
- A din infernal was in his ears. Like a maddened thing under the Butcher's
- unscientific spur, the big ten-wheeler was coughing the sparks heavenward
- in a volleying stream, while the huge drivers raced like pinwheels in
- another shower of sparks as the tires sought to bite and hold. And now the
- rear door of the car crashed inward; the shots came fast as a gatling, and
- shouts, screams and yells added their quota to the uproar.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, crouched by the door, moved suddenly to one side, as he caught
- the dull, ominous <i>spat</i> of a bullet against one of the panels. The
- train crew and those of the passengers who were armed were, very
- obviously, keeping up a running fight from the stalled section of the
- train, and pumping their bul-lets through the broken rear door and up the
- aisle of the express car as long as they could hold the range; and, from
- within, he could distinguish the duller, muffled reports of the Butcher's
- confederates firing in return, preventing any attempt being made to rush
- the rear of the car.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then the sounds began to recede and die away. The men inside the car
- ceased firing, and he could hear them now moving the safe out from the
- side of the car. It seemed as though a very long interval of time had been
- consumed in the hold-up; but in reality he knew it had been little more
- than a matter of seconds—the time it had taken the two men to run
- the length of the car, uncouple it, and leap on the rear end. The fight
- afterwards could hardly count, for once the express car began to pull away
- the thing was done.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were moving fast now, and with every instant the speed was
- increasing. The Hawk clutched at the handrail, and lowered himself to the
- iron foot-rung which, on the express car, served in lieu of steps. Here,
- having chosen the opposite side to that of the Butcher at the throttle in
- the cab, he ran no risk of being observed. This “five-mile crossing,”
- wherever it was, promised to concern him a great deal more than he had
- anticipated! He leaned out, and clung there, staring ahead.
- </p>
- <p>
- The big ten-wheeler was swaying and staggering like a drunken thing; the
- rush of the wind whipped at his face; a deafening roar sang in his ears.
- The Fast Mail usually ran <i>fast</i>; but the Butcher was running like a
- dare-devil, and the bark of the exhaust had quickened now into a single
- full-toned note deep as thunder.
- </p>
- <p>
- With a sort of grim placidity, the Hawk clung to the lurching rail. Far
- ahead along the right of way, a shaft of light riven through walls of
- blackness, played the headlight. Shadowy objects, trees that loomed up for
- an instant and were gone, showed on the edge of the wavering ray. They
- tore through a rock cut, and, in the confined space and in the fraction of
- a second it took to traverse it, the roar was metamorphosed into an
- explosion. And then suddenly, as though by magic, the headlight shot off
- at a tangent, and the glistening lines of steel, that were always
- converging but never meeting, were gone, and the ray fell full upon a
- densely wooded tract where leaves and foliage became a soft and wonderful
- shade of green under the artificial light. The Hawk braced himself—and
- just in time. The ten-wheeler, unchecked, swung the curve with a mighty
- lurch, off drivers fairly lifted from the rails. She seemed to hang there
- hesitantly for a breathless instant, then with a crunch, staggering,
- settled back and struck into her stride again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The thunder of the exhaust ceased abruptly, and the speed began to
- slacken. The Butcher had slammed the throttle shut. At the end of the
- headlight's ray, that was straight along the track again, a red light
- flashed up suddenly three times and vanished. The Hawk leaned farther out,
- tense now, straining his eyes ahead. It was evidently Number Four and
- Number Seven signalling from “five-mile crossing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher began to check with the “air.” And now, in the headlight's
- glare, the distance shortened, the Hawk could discern a large wagon, drawn
- by two horses, that appeared to be backed up close to the right-hand side
- of the track. Two forms seemed to be tugging at the horses, which equally
- seemed to be plunging restively—and then, being on the wrong side of
- the car, the angle of vision narrowed and he could see no more.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk turned now—his eyes on the door of the car. There was a
- possibility, a little more than a possibility, that the men inside,
- knowing that they had reached their destination, would come out this way.
- No—he had only to keep hidden from the men out there with the wagon
- until the car stopped—the men within were sliding back the side
- door. He swung himself still farther out on the foot-rung; then, curving
- back with the aid of the handrail, flattened himself against the side of
- the car.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were close up to the wagon now, and he could hear voices cursing
- furiously at the horses, as the frightened animals stamped and pawed. And
- then the car bumped and jerked to a standstill, and the Butcher was
- bawling from the cab:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take the horses out, you blamed fools, and tie 'em back there on the road
- a bit till we're gone! We'd have a sweet time loading the wagon with them
- doing the tango every second! Take 'em out! We'll back the wagon up
- against the car.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk lowered himself silently to the ground—to find that the car
- had come to a stop directly over a road crossing. The men in the car had
- joined their voices with the Butcher's, and in the confusion now the Hawk
- slipped quickly along the side of the car, stole around the rear end, and
- from that point of vantage stood watching the Butcher and his men at work.
- </p>
- <p>
- He could see quite plainly, thanks to the light from the car's wide-open
- side door that flooded the scene. The horses had been unharnessed, and
- were being led away along the road. One of the men in the car jumped to
- the ground, as the Butcher called out, and together they backed the wagon
- close up against the car doorway; and then, presently, the men who had
- accompanied the horses, one carrying a lantern, came running back. The
- Hawk's eyes, from a general and comprehensive survey of the scene, fixed
- on the man who until now had not left the car, but who had now sprung down
- into the wagon and was running a short plank, to be used as a skid
- evidently, up to the threshold of the car door, which was a little above
- the level of the wagon. The light shone full in the man's face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Number Six—Crusty Kline!” confided the Hawk softly to himself. “I'm
- glad to know that. The last time I chummed with Crusty was back in little
- old Sing Sing. Guess he got out for good behaviour—thought he was
- elected for five spaces yet!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Crusty spoke now, as he jumped back into the car.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here, Butcher, I'm telling you again, this guy in here's in pretty
- bad shape.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind about that!” replied the Butcher roughly. “Get the safe out!
- All hands now! We've got no time to monkey with him. He'll come around all
- right, I guess—anyway, it's none of our lookout!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The men were bunched together now, three in the doorway of the car and two
- in the wagon, the safe between them. The Hawk was studying one of the two
- who stood in the wagon. One was Whitie Jim, as he already knew, but the
- other had had his back half turned, and the Hawk had not been able to see
- his face. The safe slid down the plank, and was levered and pushed forward
- into the middle of the wagon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “French Pete!” said the Hawk suddenly and as softly as before, as the man
- he had been watching straightened up and turned around. “Say, I guess Sing
- Sing's gone out of business—or else somebody left the door open!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But if the Hawk's words were indicative of a facetious mood, his actions
- were not. There was a sort of dawning inspiration in the dark, narrowed
- eyes; and the strong jaw, as it was outthrust, drew his lips into a grim,
- hard smile. They were spreading a huge tarpaulin over the wagon and safe—and
- abruptly the Hawk drew back, dropped to his hands and knees, crawled along
- the trackside on the opposite side of the car again until almost opposite
- the wagon, and there lay flat and motionless at the side of the road.
- There was a chance yet, still a chance, a very good chance—for that
- twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset stones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right, now!” It was the Butcher's voice. “Pull her away a few feet
- into the clear!” The wagon creaked and rattled. “That's enough! Now get a
- move on—everybody!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Steps crunched along the trackside—the Butcher and his two
- companions obviously making for the cab—and a moment later came the
- cough of the engine's exhaust, and the express car began to glide past the
- spot where the Hawk lay.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk raised himself cautiously on his elbows. Two dark forms and a
- bobbing lantern were already speeding toward where the horses had been
- left. The Hawk crawled forward, crossed the track—and paused. The
- engine and express car were fast disappearing in the distance; the lantern
- glimmered amongst the trees at the side of the road a good hundred yards
- away.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was no shadow to fall across the back of the wagon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I said it was a nice night, and that it was strange how some people
- preferred a moon!” observed the Hawk cheerfully—and, lifting the end
- of the tarpaulin, he swung noiselessly under it into the wagon, and
- stretched himself out beside the safe.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- X—THE THIRD PARTY
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Hawk felt
- upward with his hand over the safe. It was faced, he found, toward the
- rear of the wagon. This necessitated a change in his own position. He
- listened tensely. They were coming back with the horses now, but they were
- still quite a little way off. He shifted quickly around until his head and
- shoulders were in front of the safe.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was the last turn of the combination that I fell down on, though I
- don't see how it happened!” muttered the Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- He felt above his head again, this time rubbing his fingers critically
- over the tarpaulin—and then the diminutive little flashlight winked,
- winked again as it played around him, and finally held steadily on the
- nickel dial. There were no inadvertent openings, and, particularly, no
- holes in the tarpaulin, and the texture of the tarpaulin was a guarantee
- that the tiny rays of light would not show through.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were harnessing the horses into the wagon now. The Hawk, in a
- somewhat cramped position, due to the wagon's narrow width, his legs
- twisted at right angles to his body as he lay on his back, reached up and
- began to twirl the dial knob slowly and with painstaking care.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Left, twenty-eight, one quarter,” murmured the Hawk; and, a moment later:
- “Two right, four——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk swore earnestly under his breath. The jolt of the wagon, coming
- unexpectedly as it started forward, had caused him to spin the knob too
- far around.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was hot, stifling hot, under the heavy tarpaulin, that, slanting
- downward from the little safe, lay almost against his face. A bead of
- sweat had gathered on his forehead. He brushed it away, and began again to
- work at the dial. It was more difficult now—the wagon bumped
- infernally. And as he worked, he could hear the muffled clatter of the
- horses' hoofs, and occasionally the voices of the two men on the seat.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then suddenly the Hawk's fingers travelled from the dial knob to the
- handle. Had he got it this time, or—yes! The handle swung easily—there
- was a low metallic thud—the bolt had slipped back to the end of its
- grooves. The safe was unlocked!
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twenty thousand dollars!” said the Hawk very softly—and, without
- the slightest sound, he edged his body backwards to afford space for the
- swing of the opening door. “Twenty thousand doll——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The word died, half uttered, on the Hawk's lips. The flashlight was
- illuminating the interior of the safe. On the bottom lay a single, crisp,
- ten-dollar counterfeit note, over the face of which was scrawled in ink—“<i>With
- the Hawk's compliments!</i>” Otherwise the safe was empty.
- </p>
- <p>
- For a moment, like a man dazed, he stared at the counterfeit note. He
- could not seem to believe his eyes, Empty—the safe was empty! The
- diamonds were gone—gone! Gone—and these poor fools were
- driving an empty safe to the Master Spider—and another poor fool,
- with dropped jaw, was staring, gaping like an imbecile, into one! And
- then, a grip upon himself again, he laughed low, grimly, unpleasantly.
- “With the Hawk's compliments!” He had sent a bill like that once to
- MacVightie inscribed—“With the Hawk's compliments!” This was very
- neat, very clever of—<i>somebody</i>. Of somebody—who must
- have known what the Wire Devils were up to to-night! There would be no
- doubt in the minds of the Wire Devils, who would have heard of that little
- episode with MacVightie, but that the Hawk had again forestalled them, and
- left them a ten-dollar counterfeit bill in exchange for—twenty
- thousand dollars' worth of unset diamonds! Only it was this somebody, and
- not he, the Hawk, who was twenty thousand dollars the richer for it!
- </p>
- <p>
- He reached in, picked up the bill to put it in his, pocket—and
- suddenly laid it back again, and closed and locked the safe. Why deprive
- the Master Spider of a little joy; and, besides, it would carry a message
- not perhaps so erroneous after all—for, in a flash, logically,
- indisputably, apparently impossible though it appeared to be on the
- surface, he knew who that <i>somebody</i> was. The shelving of the theft
- to the Hawk's shoulders would have defeated its own object unless the
- theft were committed and discovered on this particular division of the
- railroad where the Hawk and, incidentally, his supposed gang of
- desperadoes were known to be operating. The messenger certainly had not
- been in a drugged condition when he went on duty, and, since it was only
- reasonable to assume that he would have satisfied himself everything was
- all right at that time, it was evident, as he had given no alarm, that the
- contents of the safe had been intact when he took charge—whether as
- a “through” man in New York, or at the eastern terminus of the road, or at
- the last divisional point—it did not matter which. The robbery,
- then, had been committed while the messenger was present in the car—and
- it had been committed on this division. The safe had not been forced, it
- showed not the slightest sign of violence—it had been opened on the
- combination. Some one then, an expert safe-worker, in the first stages of
- the messenger's drugged condition, had happened into the car just ahead of
- him, the Hawk, and had done exactly what he, the Hawk, had intended to do?
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said the Hawk. “No, I guess not.” He was wriggling noiselessly
- backward, and his feet were hanging out now over the end of the wagon. “No—coincidences
- like that don't happen—not very often!” The Hawk's head and
- shoulders were still under the tarpaulin, but his feet now could just feel
- the ground beneath them. “I guess,” said the Hawk, as he suddenly withdrew
- his head, and, crouching low, ran a few steps with the wagon, then dropped
- full length in the road, “I guess it's—the third party.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The wagon disappeared in the darkness. The Hawk rose, and, turning, broke
- into a run back along the road.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had been longer in the wagon than he had thought—it took him ten
- minutes to regain the railroad tracks.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here, without pause, still running, he kept on along the right of way—but
- there was a hard twist to his lips, and the clenching of his fists was not
- wholly due to runner's “form.” How far had the Butcher taken the car
- before deserting it? A mile? Two miles—three? He could not run three
- miles under half an hour, and that would be <i>fast</i> over railroad
- ties! How long would it be before the train crew of the stalled Mail got
- back to Burke's Siding and managed somehow, in spite of the cut wires, to
- give the alarm—or how long before the dispatcher at Selkirk, with
- the Fast Mail reported “out” at Burke's Siding and no “O. S.” from
- Bradley, would smell a rat? It would take time after that, of course,
- before anything could be done; but, at best, the margin left for him was
- desperately narrow.
- </p>
- <p>
- He ran on and on; his eyes, grown accustomed to the darkness, enabling him
- to pick out the ties with a fair degree of accuracy. There was not a sound
- save that of his own footsteps. He stopped for breath again and again; and
- again and again ran on at top speed. It seemed as though he had run not
- three miles, but six, when finally, far ahead, he caught a glow of light.
- The Butcher and his confederates had evidently not taken the trouble to
- close the side door of the car!
- </p>
- <p>
- Instinctively, the Hawk, in caution, slowed his pace—and the next
- instant, smiling pityingly at himself for the act, ran on the faster. The
- Butcher and the other two would long since have made their getaway! There
- was only the messenger—and the messenger was drugged. That was all
- that need concern him now—the messenger—to find some way to
- rouse the man so that he could talk.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk reached the car, ran along the side to the open door—and
- stood suddenly still. And then, with a low, startled cry, he swung himself
- up and through the doorway, and running forward, knelt beside a huddled
- form on the floor. It was the messenger, sprawled on his face now,
- motionless, and it was no longer a case of being drugged—<i>the man
- had been shot!</i> There was a dark, ugly pool on the flooring, and a thin
- red stream had trickled away in a zigzag course along one of the planks.
- The Hawk's lips were tight. The Butcher's work! But why? <i>Why?</i> Yes!
- Yes, he understood! The Butcher, too, in some way had discovered that the
- messenger was—the third party!
- </p>
- <p>
- The boy—he was even more of a boy now in appearance, it seemed to
- the Hawk, with his ashen face and colourless lips—the boy moaned a
- little, and, as the Hawk lifted him up, opened his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk produced a flask, and forced a few drops between the other's
- lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen!” he said distinctly. “Try and understand what I am saying. Did
- they get the diamonds from you after they shot you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The boy's eyes widened with a quick, sudden fear. Perhaps the drug had
- begun to wear off—perhaps it was the wound and the loss of blood
- that had cleared his brain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The diamonds?” he faltered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the Hawk grimly. “The diamonds! You took them. Did you tell
- those men where they were?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's—it's a lie!” The boy seemed to shiver convulsively. Then, his
- voice scarcely audible: “No, it's—it's true. I—I did. I—I
- guess I'm going out—ain't I? It's—it's true. But I—I
- didn't tell. There weren't any men—I——” He had fainted
- in the Hawk's arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My God!” whispered the Hawk solemnly. “It's true—the kid's dying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He held the flask to the other's lips again. It wasn't the Butcher, then,
- who had shot the boy; and, besides, he saw now that the wound was in a
- strangely curious place—in the back, below the shoulder blade; the
- boy had been sitting in his shirt sleeves, and the back of his vest was
- soaked with blood. And the Hawk remembered the fusillade of bullets that
- had swept up the interior of the car, and the <i>spat</i> upon the forward
- door panel as he had crouched there outside—and he understood. The
- boy, sitting in a stupor in his chair facing the forward door, had been
- directly in the line of fire, and a stray bullet had found its mark.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—I don't know how you knew”—the boy had roused, and was
- speaking again—“but—but I'm going out—and—and it's
- true. Two days ago, a man gave me a hundred dollars to stand for—for
- knockout drops on the run to-night. I—I couldn't get caught—I—I
- was safe—whatever happened. I'd be found drugged—and—and
- no blame coming to me—and——” He motioned weakly toward
- the flask in the Hawk's hand. “Give me—give me some more of that!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not speak for a moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And, instead,” prompted the Hawk quietly, “you double-crossed the game.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—I had a counterfeit ten-dollar bill,” the boy went on with an
- effort. “I'd heard about the Hawk—and—and MacVightie. I knew
- from what:—the fellow said—that the Hawk—wasn't one of
- them. I—I got to thinking. All I had to do was empty the safe—and—and
- write just what the Hawk did on the bill—and—and shove it in
- the safe—and—and take the diamonds—and—and then
- drink the tea that had the drops in it. I—I would be drugged, and
- they—they'd think the Hawk did it while I was drugged before they—they
- got here—and—and that's what I did.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The boy was silent again. It was still outside, very still—only the
- chirpings of the insects and the night-sounds the Hawk had listened to
- while he had lain below the embankment waiting for the train at Burke's
- Siding. There was a set, strained look on the Hawk's face. The kid was
- paying the long price—for twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset
- diamonds!
- </p>
- <p>
- “To make it look like—like the real thing”—the boy's lips were
- moving again—“I—I cleaned out everything in the safe—but—but
- of course there mustn't any of that be found—and—and I tied
- the stuff up—and—and weighted it, and dropped it—into—the—river
- as we came over the bridge at Moosehead. And then I had to—to hide
- the diamonds so they wouldn't be found on me, and yet so's they—they'd
- come along with me—and—and not be left in the car. I was
- afraid that when some of the train crew found me drugged—they—they'd
- undress me—and—and put me to bed—and—and so I
- didn't dare hide the diamonds in my clothes. They're—they're—in——”
- He raised himself up suddenly, clutched frantically at the Hawk's
- shoulders and his voice rang wildly through the car. “Hold me tight—hold
- me tight—don't let me go out yet—I—I got something more
- to say! Don't tell her! Don't tell her! I'll tell you where the stones
- are, they're in the lining of my lunch satchel—but don't—oh,
- for God's sake, don't tell her—don't let her know that—that
- I'm a—thief! You don't have to, do you? Say you don't! I'm—I'm
- going out—I—I've got what's coming to me, and that's—enough—isn't
- it—without her knowing too? It—it would kill her. She was a
- good mother—do you hear!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was stiffening back in the Hawk's arms. “And this ain't coming to her.
- She was a good mother—do you hear—everybody called her mother,
- but she's <i>my</i> mother—you know—old Mother Barrett—short-order
- house—you know—old—Mother—Barrett—good——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The boy never spoke again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk laid the still form gently back on the floor of the car, and
- stood up. And there was a mist in the Hawk's eyes that blotted out his
- immediate surroundings, and in the mist he seemed to see another scene,
- and it was the picture of a gentle, kindly-faced old woman, who had silver
- hair, and who wore clothes that were a little threadbare, and whose grey
- Irish eyes behind the spectacles were filled with tears, and he seemed to
- see the thin shoulders square proudly back, and he seemed to hear her
- speak again: “I love my boy, I love him with all my heart, but I should a
- thousand times rather see him dead than know him for a thief.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mechanically the Hawk moved over to the desk where the lunch satchel still
- lay, and emptied out the remainder of the food.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said the Hawk, “I guess she'll never know; and I guess I'd have to
- take the stuff now, anyway, whether I wanted to or not—if she's not
- to know.” He was examining the inside of the satchel. It was an old and
- well-worn affair, and a torn piece of the lining, stuck down with paste at
- the edges, would ordinarily have attracted no attention. The Hawk loosened
- this, and felt inside. At the bottom, carefully packed away, were strips
- of cotton wadding. He took one out. Embedded in this were a number of
- diamonds, which, as he drew the wadding apart, flashed brilliantly in the
- light of the oil lamps above his head. He wrapped the stones up again, and
- put them in his pocket—took out the remainder from the satchel, put
- these also in his pocket, and replaced in the satchel the portion of the
- lunch he had removed. It mattered little about the torn lining now!
- </p>
- <p>
- “He kind of put it up to me,” said the Hawk slowly. “Yes, and she did too—without
- knowing it—old Mother Barrett. It's kind of queer she should have
- said that—kind of queer.” The Hawk pulled the drawer of the desk
- open, and nodded as he found and took out the messenger's revolver.
- “Thought he'd have one, and that it would most likely be here,” he
- muttered.
- </p>
- <p>
- He crossed the car, and listened intently at the open side door. There was
- no sound—nothing, for instance, coming from Bradley yet. He closed
- the door, and stood for an instant looking down at the boy's form on the
- floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess I can fix it for you, kid—maybe,” he said simply. “I guess
- I can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In rapid succession he fired five of the seven shots from the revolver;
- then, stooping, laid the weapon, as though it had dropped at last from
- nerveless fingers, just beside the boy's outstretched hand. He
- straightened up, stepped to the side door, and slid it open again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It'll let the smoke out before anybody gets here,” said the Hawk. “The
- Butcher isn't coming forward with any testimony, and with all those shots
- fired at the time of the hold-up who's to know the boy didn't fight till
- he went down and out? And now I guess I'll make my own getaway!” He
- dropped to the trackside, and started forward at a brisk pace. “I'll keep
- on a bit until I hear something coming,” he decided. “Then I'll lay low
- while they're cleaning up the line, and wait till I can hop a freight,
- east or west, that will get me out of this particular locality. After
- that, there's nothing to it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- A hundred yards farther on the Hawk spoke again, and there was a twisted
- smile on the Hawk's lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It'll break her heart anyway, I guess,” he said; “but it'll help some
- maybe to be proud of him. Yes, I guess they'll tell her that, all right—that
- he died a game kid.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- XI—THE LEAD CAPSULE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk yawned. He
- had been almost forty-eight hours without sleep. He had slept all day
- after he had regained his room, following the night at “Five-Mile
- Crossing,” but after that——
- </p>
- <p>
- He frowned in a perturbed and puzzled way. Ensconced now in a wicker
- lounging chair in the observation car of the Coast Limited, he was
- apparently engrossed in the financial page of his newspaper, and
- apparently quite oblivious of his fellow travellers, some four or five of
- whom lounged and smoked in their own respective wicker chairs around him.
- On a little pad of paper, which he held in his left hand, he might even,
- without serious tax upon the imagination, have appeared to be calculating
- the effect of the market's fluctuations upon personal, and perhaps
- narrowly held, margins—for again he scowled unhappily. The Hawk,
- however, at the moment, was engrossed solely with a few curiously assorted
- letters of the alphabet, which were scrawled across the top of the pad.
- They ran:
- </p>
- <p>
- pzudl kmlqpb.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beneath this his pencil had already been at work, and he had transformed
- the line as follows:
- </p>
- <p>
- He was staring at this result now in a bewildered way. Then his pencil
- picked out the remaining five unscored letters, and mechanically set them
- down as a third line:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rainy”—there was one word, just one word—“rainy.” What did it
- mean? What was the significance of the word? No message in the Wire
- Devils' cipher, once the message was decoded, but had been at once clear
- and unmistakable in its meaning before. Had they resorted now to <i>code</i>
- words as well, to a cipher within a cipher? Into the grimness of the
- Hawk's smile there crept a hint of weariness, as he slipped the pad into
- his pocket, allowed the newspaper to drop to his knees, and, edging his
- chair around, gazed out of the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- For once his knowledge of their cipher was obviously useless to him—and
- useless when a foreknowledge of their plans at that moment meant scarcely
- less than a matter of life and death to him in a very unpleasantly real
- and literal sense. Not a word had come from them; not a message had gone
- over the wires on either of the two preceding nights; not a sign of
- existence had they given since three nights ago when, with an empty safe
- as the sole reward for their elaborately laid plans, he, the Hawk, had
- enriched himself with the twenty thousand dollars' worth of diamonds it
- had once contained. There had been something sinister, something ominous
- in their silence, as compared with the almost insane ravings of
- MacVightie, the police, and the press—yes, and the railroad men as
- well, who were particularly incensed over the “murder” of the young
- messenger found dead at his post in the express car with his revolver
- partially emptied on the floor beside him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk drummed abstractedly with his finger tips upon the window pane.
- MacVightie, the police, and the press made no doubt but that he, the Hawk,
- was the leader of the desperadoes who were terrorising that particular
- section of the country; on the other hand, the gang itself had already had
- occasions enough and in plenty to be painfully aware that he, the Hawk,
- played always a lone hand—and won! A smile, grim and ironical,
- parted the firm, set lips. The police and the Wire Devils had a common
- interest—the Hawk. He was the storm centre.
- </p>
- <p>
- The smile faded, the strong jaws clamped, and the dark eyes narrowed on
- the flying landscape. It was not the police who concerned him, it was not
- the impotent frothings of the press—it was the <i>silence</i> that
- the Wire Devils had not broken since that night until they had broken it
- this morning with the single word that, now that he had deciphered it,
- still meant nothing to him. A dozen times, stealing their cipher messages,
- he had turned all their carefully prepared plans to his own account, and
- snatched away the prize, even as they were in the act of reaching for it.
- But he was not a fool to close his eyes to the inevitable result. He was
- pitted against the cleverest brains in the criminal world; all the cunning
- that they knew would be ruthlessly turned against him; and, already out to
- “get” him, a price already guaranteed to the lucky member of the band out
- of the common funds, the empty safe of three nights before, with its
- jeering ten-dollar counterfeit bill flung in their faces, crowned, he
- feared, their injuries at his hands, and marked the turning point where
- they would leave no stone unturned to wreak their vengeance upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- And he did not like this silence of theirs since that night. Were they
- suspicious at last that he had the key to their cipher? He did not think
- so, and yet he did not know—it was always a possibility. But in any
- case, wary of any move they might make, he had, as far as it was humanly
- possible, remained within sound of a telegraph instrument ever since. Last
- night, for example, taking advantage of some repairs that were being made
- on the station at Elk Head, fifty miles east of Selkirk, he had lain
- hidden behind a mass of building material in the dismantled waiting room
- within earshot of the telegraph sounder—and there had been nothing.
- Forced to retire from there by the advent of the workmen, he had eaten a
- very leisurely breakfast at the lunch counter—still within earshot
- of the sounder. He had lingered around the station as long as he had dared
- without running the risk of exciting suspicion, and then he had taken the
- local east for Bald Creek—and taken the chance, because he had no
- choice, that nothing would “break” over the wires during the
- three-quarters of an hour that he was on the train. The Limited scheduled
- Bald Creek, and that would give him an excuse for remaining there, an
- innocent and prospective patron of the road, until the Limited's arrival
- some two hours later. After that, if nothing happened, he had intended to
- go back on the Limited to Selkirk—and get some sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk yawned heavily again. Yes, after an almost uninterrupted vigil of
- forty-eight hours one needed sleep. Well, he was on his way back to
- Selkirk now—on the Limited. Only something <i>had</i> happened.
- Almost at the moment that the Limited had pulled into Bald Creek, the Wire
- Devils had broken their silence, and a cipher message had flashed over the
- wires. He had waited for it, fought for it, schemed for it, gone without
- sleep for two days and nights for it—and he had been rewarded. He
- had intercepted the message, deciphered it, he had got it at last—he
- had it now! It was the one word—“rainy.” And the word to him meant—nothing!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's fingers ceased their drumming on the window pane, his head
- inclined slightly to one side, and he listened. His fellow travellers had
- evidently scraped up acquaintanceship. The conversation had become general—and
- suddenly interesting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “... Yes, unquestionably! The amount I have with me is worth quite easily
- a half million francs—a hundred thousand dollars. It is not my
- personal property, I regret to say. Quantities sufficient to be of
- material service are for the most part institutionally held.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk swung around in his chair, and with frank interest surveyed the
- little group. He had scanned them once already, critically,
- comprehensively—at the moment he had first entered the car. The man
- who sat nearest to him was a doctor from Selkirk; and, it being the
- ingrained policy of the Hawk to know a reporter as he would know a
- plain-clothes man, he had recognised one of the others as a young reporter
- on the staff of the Selkirk <i>Evening Journal</i>. The others again, of
- whom there were three, were strangers to him. His eyes rested—with
- frank interest—on the man who had just spoken. There had been just a
- trace of accent in the other's perfect English, and it bore out the man's
- appearance. The man was perhaps forty-five years of age, rather swarthy in
- complexion, and, though slight in build, commanding in presence. The black
- Vandyke beard, as well as the mustache, was carefully trimmed; and his
- face had an air of the student about it, an air that was enhanced by the
- extraordinarily heavy-lensed spectacles which he wore. The excellent
- clothes were unmistakably of foreign cut.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Great Scott!” ejaculated the reporter. “Is that straight?” He twisted his
- cigar excitedly from one corner of his mouth to the other. “I say, I don't
- suppose there's a chance of getting a squint at it, eh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A—squint?” The foreigner's face was politely puzzled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I mean a chance to see it—to see what it looks like,” interpreted
- the reporter, with a laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, of course—a squint. I will remember that!” The foreigner
- joined in the laugh. “One learns, monsieur, always, eh—if one keeps
- one's ears open!” He reached down and picked up a small black bag from the
- floor beside his chair. “No, I am afraid I cannot actually show it to you,
- monsieur, owing to the nature of the container; but perhaps even the
- manner in which it is carried may be of interest, and, if so, I shall be
- delighted.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The others, the Hawk among them, leaned spontaneously forward in their
- chairs. From the bag the man produced a lead box, some four inches square.
- He opened this, and, from where it was nested in wadding, took out what
- looked like a cylindrical-shaped piece of lead of the thickness and length
- of one's little finger. He held it out in the palm of his hand for their
- inspection.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Inside this sealed lead covering,” he explained, “is a glass tube
- hermetically sealed. The lead, of course, absorbs the rays, which
- otherwise would render the radium extremely dangerous to handle. You
- perhaps remember the story—if not, it may possibly be of interest.
- Radium, you know, was discovered in 1898 by Monsieur and Madame Curie; but
- the action of radium on human tissues was unknown until 1901, when
- Professor Becquerel of Paris, having incautiously carried a tube in his
- waistcoat pocket, there appeared on the skin within two weeks the severe
- inflammation which has become known as the famous 'Becquerel burn.' Since
- that time, I may add, active investigation into the action of radium has
- been carried on, resulting in the establishment in Paris in 1906 of the
- Laboratoire Biologique du Radium.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The doctor from Selkirk reached out, and, obtaining a smiling permission,
- picked up the lead cylinder from the other's hand. The reporter sucked
- noisily on the butt of his cigar.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And d'ye mean to say <i>that's</i> worth one hundred thousand dollars?”
- he demanded helplessly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fully!” replied the foreigner gravely. “I should consider myself very
- fortunate if I had the means and the opportunity of purchasing it at that
- price. There are only a few grains there, it is true, and yet even that is
- a very appreciable percentage of the world's entire output for a single
- year. The Austrian Government, when it bought the radium-producing
- pitchblende mines at Joachimsthal, you know, acquired what is practically
- a world's monopoly of radium. And since the annual production of ore from
- those mines is but about twenty-two thousand pounds, and that from those
- twenty-two thousand pounds only something like forty-six grains of radium
- are obtained, it is not difficult to understand the enormous price which
- it commands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The little lead cylinder passed from hand to hand. It came last to the
- Hawk. He examined it with no more and no less interest than had been
- displayed by the others, and returned it to its owner, who replaced it in
- the black handbag.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here,” said the reporter impulsively, “I don't want to nose into
- personal affairs; but, if it's a fair question, what are you going to do
- with the stuff?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the doctor from Selkirk who spoke before the foreigner had time to
- reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was being tempted to ask the same question myself,” he said quickly. “I
- am a physician—Doctor Moreling is my name—and from what you
- have said I imagine that possibly you are a medical man yourself?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you are quite right,” the other answered cordially. “I am Doctor
- Meunier, and I come from Paris.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What!” exclaimed the Selkirk physician excitedly. “Not Doctor Meunier,
- the famous cancer specialist and surgeon of the Salpêtrière Hospital!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The other shrugged his shoulders protestingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” he smiled, a little embarrassed, “my name is certainly Meunier,
- and it is true that I have the honour to be connected with the institution
- you have mentioned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The reporter had a notebook in his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gee!” he observed softly. “You don't mind, do you, Doctor Meunier? This
- looks like luck to me. I'm on the <i>Evening Journal</i>—Selkirk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah—a reporter!” The dark eyes seemed to twinkle humorously from
- behind the heavy lenses. “I have met some—when I landed in New York.
- They were very nice. I liked them very much. Certainly, young man, why
- should you not say anything I have told you? You have my permission.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fine!” cried the reporter enthusiastically. “And now, Doctor Meunier, if
- you'll just round out the story by telling us why the celebrated Paris
- surgeon is travelling in America with a hundred thousand dollars' worth of
- radium, I'll be glad I got panned on the story I went after this morning
- and so had to take this train back.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Panned?” inquired the other gravely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.” The reporter nodded. “It blew up, you know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blew up! Ah!” The foreigner's face was at once concerned. “So! You were
- in an accident, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no,” laughed the reporter. “There wasn't anything in the story. It
- didn't have any foundation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Again I learn,” observed the foreigner, with an amused drawl. He studied
- the reporter for an instant quizzically. “And so I am to supply the place
- of the panned story that blew up—is that it? Well, very well! Why
- not? I see no reason against it, if it will be of service to you. Very
- well, then. I have been summoned to Japan to attend a case of cancer—radium
- treatment—and I am on my way there now.” He smiled again. “I have
- noticed that American reporters are observant, and it may occur to you
- that I might have reached my destination quicker by way of Russia. As a
- matter of fact, however, I was in New York attending a convention when I
- received the summons. I cabled for the radium, and—well, young man,
- that pretty well completes the story.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—thanks!” said the reporter. He wrote rapidly. “Operation on a
- Japanese?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, yes, of course—on a Japanese.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Summoned,' you said. That listens as though it might be for one of the
- Emperor's family,” prodded the reporter shrewdly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not say so,” smiled the other imperturbably.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And even if it were so——” He shrugged his shoulders
- significantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I get you!” grinned the reporter. “Well, there's no harm in saying a
- 'High Personage' then, is there? That sounds good, and it would have to be
- some one on the top of the heap to bring a man like you all this way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let us be discreet, young man, and say—well, let us say, a member
- of prominent family,” suggested the other, still smiling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right,” agreed the reporter. “I won't put anything over on you, I
- promise you. And now, doctor, tell us something more about radium, how it
- acts and all that, and how an operation is performed with it, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk had apparently lost interest. He settled back in his chair, and
- picked up his previously discarded newspaper—yet occasionally his
- eyes strayed over the top of his newspaper, and rested meditatively on the
- little black handbag on the car floor beside the Frenchman's chair. The
- doctor from Selkirk, the reporter, and the French specialist talked on.
- The Limited reached the last stop before Selkirk. As the train pulled out
- again, the Hawk, as it were, summed up his thoughts.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A hundred thousand dollars,” confided the Hawk softly to himself. “Maybe
- it wouldn't be easy to sell, but it would make a very nice haul—a
- very nice haul. It would tempt—almost anybody. Yes, bad stuff to
- handle; the fences would be leery probably, because I guess every last
- grain on this little old globe is catalogued as to ownership, and they'd
- be afraid it would be an open-and-shut game that what they were trying to
- shove would be spotted as the stolen stuff—not that it couldn't be
- done though, at that! There's always somebody to take a chance—on a
- hundred thousand dollars! And what about the institution that owns it
- coming across big and no questions asked to get it back again? Yes, I
- guess it would make a nice haul—a very nice haul. I wonder——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The conductor had entered the car, had said something that the Hawk had
- not caught—and now the French specialist was on his feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How long did you say?” he demanded excitedly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn't say,” replied the conductor; “I only guessed—twelve hours
- anyway, and if we're through under twenty-four it'll be because some one
- has performed a miracle.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twelve hours—twenty-four!” echoed the Frenchman wildly. “But, <i>mon
- Dieu</i>, I have not that to spare to catch my steamer for Japan in San
- Francisco!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what's wrong, conductor?” asked the Selkirk doctor. “You haven't told
- us that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Rainy River bridge is out,” the conductor answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- The <i>Rainy</i> River bridge! The Hawk reached into his pocket, withdrew
- his cigarette case, and made a critical choice of one of the six identical
- cigarettes the case contained.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Out! How?” the doctor from Selkirk persisted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No details,” said the conductor; “except that it was blown up a little
- while ago and that they think it's the work of the Hawk's gang. They just
- got word over the wire at the last stop.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jumping whiskers!” yelled the reporter. “Is that right, conductor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I guess it's right, fast enough,” said the conductor grimly. He
- turned to the Frenchman. “It's tough luck, sir, to miss transpacific
- connections; but I guess that's the man you've got to thank for it—the
- Hawk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Hawk? What is that? Who is the Hawk?” The Frenchman had lost his
- poise; he was gesticulating violently now.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll tell you,” said the reporter briskly. “He's the man that's got your
- original reign of terror skinned a mile—believe me! He's an ex-Sing
- Sing convict, and he's the head, brains and front of a gang of criminals
- operating out here compared with whom, for pure, first-water deviltry, any
- one of Satan's picked cohorts would look as shy and retiring as a maiden
- lady of sixty who suddenly found herself in a one-piece bathing suit—in
- public. That's the Hawk! Yes, sir—believe me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doctor Meunier waved his hands, as though to ward off a swarm of buzzing
- bees.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not understand!” he spluttered angrily. “I do not care to
- understand! You do not speak English! I understand only of the delay!” He
- caught at the conductor's sleeve. “You, monsieur—is there not
- something that can be done?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know, sir,” said the conductor. “We'll be in Selkirk now in a few
- minutes, and the best thing you can do is to see Mr. Lanson, the
- superintendent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The conductor retired.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Frenchman sat down in his chair, mopped his face with a handkerchief,
- and stared from one to another of his fellow passengers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Messieurs, it is necessary, it is imperative, that I catch the steamer!”
- he cried frantically. “What am I to do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lanson's a good head; he'll fix you up some way,” said the reporter
- soothingly. “Don't you worry. I'm mighty sorry for you, Doctor Meunier,
- upon my soul—but, say, this is <i>some</i> story—whale of a
- climax!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Frenchman glared for an instant; then, leaning forward, suddenly shook
- his fist under the other's nose.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Young man, damn your story!” he snarled distractedly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk retired once more behind his newspaper. The reporter was
- pacifying the excited Frenchman. The Hawk was not interested in that. The
- message, that single word which had puzzled him, was transparently clear
- now—and had been from the moment the conductor had spoken. The
- surmise of the railroad officials, even if it were no more than surmise on
- their part, was indubitably correct—barring the slight detail of his
- own participation in the affair! The Wire Devils had blown up the Rainy
- River bridge. This, as a detached fact, did not interest him either—they
- were quite capable of blowing up a bridge, or anything else. That was a
- detail. But they were quite incapable of doing it without a very good and
- sufficient reason, and one that promised returns of a very material nature
- to themselves. What was the game? Why the Rainy River bridge? Why this
- morning? Why at this time? The Rainy River bridge was but a few miles west
- of Selkirk, and—the Hawk's eyes strayed over his newspaper again,
- and rested mildly upon the Frenchman's little black handbag, that was
- quite slim, and not over long, that was of such a size, in fact, that it
- might readily be concealed under one's coat, for instance, without
- attracting undue attention—and with the bridge out a passenger, say
- on the Coast Limited this noon would experience an annoying, somewhat
- lengthened, but unavoidable interruption in his journey. The passenger
- might even be forced to spend the night in Selkirk, and very much might
- happen in a night—in Selkirk! It was a little elaborate, it seemed
- as though it might perhaps have been accomplished with a little less fuss—though
- lack of finesse and exceeding cunning was, in his experience, an unmerited
- reproach where that unknown brain that planned and plotted the Wire
- Devils' acts was concerned; but, however that might be, the reason that
- the Rainy River bridge was out now appeared quite obviously attributable—to
- a very excited foreigner, and a little black handbag whose contents were
- valued at the modest sum of one hundred thousand dollars.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I wonder,” said the Hawk almost plaintively to himself, “I wonder
- which of us will cash in on that!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk rose leisurely from his chair, as the train reached Selkirk. He
- permitted the Frenchman, the Selkirk physician and the reporter to descend
- to the platform in advance of him; but, as they hurried through the
- station and around to the entrance leading upstairs to the divisional
- offices, obviously with the superintendent's office as their objective,
- the Hawk, in the privileged character of an interested fellow traveller,
- fell into step with the reporter.
- </p>
- <p>
- The four entered the superintendent's office, and from an unobtrusive
- position just inside the door the Hawk listened to the conversation. He
- heard Lan-son, the superintendent, confirm the conductor's story, and
- express genuine regret at the Frenchman's plight, as he admitted it to be
- a practical certainty that the other would miss his connection in San
- Francisco. The Frenchman but grew the more excited. He suggested a special
- train from the western side of the bridge—they could get him across
- in a boat, he said. The superintendent explained that traffic in the
- mountains beyond was already demoralised. The Frenchman raved, begged,
- pleaded, implored—and suddenly the Hawk sucked in his breath softly.
- The Frenchman was backing his appeal for a special with the offer to pay
- any sum demanded, and had taken a well-filled pocketbook from his pocket.
- The Hawk's eyes aimlessly sought the toes of his boots. He had caught a
- glimpse of a fat wad of bills, a very fat wad, whose denominations were of
- a large and extremely interesting nature. The official shook his head. It
- was not a question of money; nor was the other's ability to pay in
- question. Later on, he, Lanson, would know better what the situation was;
- meanwhile he suggested that Doctor Meunier should go to the hotel and wait—that
- there was nothing else to do for the moment. The Selkirk physician here
- intervened, and, agreeing with the superintendent, offered to escort the
- Frenchman to the Corona Hotel.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, as one whose curiosity was satiated, but satiated at the expense
- of time he could ill afford, nodded briefly to the reporter who stood
- nearest to him, and quietly left the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- XII—BLINDMAN'S-BUFF
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>IVE minutes later,
- standing in another room—his own—the Hawk rapidly changed the
- light-grey suit he had been wearing for one of a darker material. From the
- pockets of the discarded suit he transferred to the pockets of the suit he
- had just put on, amongst other things, his automatic and his bunch of
- skeleton keys. He opened his trunk, removed the false tray, and smiled
- with a sort of grim complacency as his glance inventoried its unhallowed
- contents; and particularly he smiled, as, opening a little box, he allowed
- a stream of gleaming stones to trickle out into the palm of his hand—the
- twenty thousand dollars' worth of diamonds robbed from the Fast Mail three
- nights ago.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Some haul!” observed the Hawk softly. “And, with any luck, there'll be
- something else there worth the whole outfit put together before to-night
- is over.” He replaced the diamonds in the box, the box in the tray, and
- spoke again, but now his smile was hard and twisted; not an article there
- but he had scooped from under the noses of the gang. “Yes, I guess I'd go
- out like you'd snuff a candle if they ever get me, and I guess they're
- getting—querulous!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, however, had not opened the trunk purely for the opportunity it
- afforded of inspecting these few mementos, interesting as they might be.
- It was an excellent safeguard to change his clothes, but it would avail
- him very little if—well, any one, say—were still permitted to
- recognise—his face! From the top of the tray, where it lay upon the
- packages of banknotes that had once reposed in the paymaster's safe, the
- Hawk picked up a mask and slipped it into his pocket. He fitted the false
- tray back into the lid of the trunk, closed the trunk, locked it, put on a
- wide-brimmed, soft felt hat, locked the door of his room behind him,
- descended the narrow staircase, and stepped out on the street.
- </p>
- <p>
- His destination was the Corona Hotel, but there was no particular hurry.
- Undoubtedly from the moment the Frenchman had left the train some, or one,
- of the gang had fastened on the man's trail; but the companionship of the
- Selkirk physician guaranteed the Frenchman's immediate safety. His own
- plan, as far as it was matured, was very simple. He meant to “spot” if he
- could, should that particular member, or members, of the gang be unknown
- to him personally, the man, or men, selected by the Wire Devils to shadow
- the Frenchman—and then watch the <i>gang!</i> The Hawk had no
- intention whatever of making an attempt on the Frenchman's property with
- the gang watching him—that would have been little less than the act
- of a fool who was bent on suicide! Since, therefore, he had no choice in
- the matter, he was quite content to have the gang take the initiatory risk
- in relieving the Frenchman of the handbag! After that—the Hawk's old
- twisted smile was back on his lips as he walked along—after that it
- became his business to see that the bag did not get very far out of his
- sight!
- </p>
- <p>
- He reached and crossed the city park upon which the Corona Hotel fronted,
- entered the hotel, and, sauntering leisurely through the lobby, approached
- the desk. He glanced casually over the register; then, lighting a cigar,
- he selected a chair near the front windows where he could command a
- general view of the lobby, and sat down.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doctor Meunier's room was Number 106.
- </p>
- <p>
- Once the Hawk's eyes lazily surveyed the lobby; thereafter they appeared
- to be intent on what was passing in the street. He was in luck! The first
- trick, at least, had gone to him. Lolling in a chair near the elevator
- doors, and apparently drowsy from a heavy luncheon, was—the Bantam.
- The Hawk smoked on. Half an hour went by. The Bantam appeared to awaken
- with a start, smiled sheepishly about him, went over to the news stand,
- bought a paper—and returned to his seat. The Hawk finished his
- cigar, rose, strolled to the main entrance, and went out. The Bantam could
- be safely trusted to see that Doctor Meunier did not vanish into thin air!
- He would do the like for the Bantam! He crossed over into the park.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk chose a bench—strategically. Sheltered by a row of trees,
- he had the corner upon which the hotel was built diagonally before him,
- and could see both the side entrance on the cross street and the front
- entrance on the main thoroughfare.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's vigil, however, was not immediately rewarded. An hour passed—and
- yet another—and the greater portion of the afternoon. Five o'clock
- came. A newsboy passed, crying the <i>Evening Journal</i>. The Hawk bought
- one. A headline in heavy type on the front page instantly caught his eye:
- </p>
- <h3>
- ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS IN A LEAD CAPSULE
- </h3>
- <p>
- And beneath this, still in assertive type:
- </p>
- <p>
- Famous French Surgeon en route to Japan with Fortune in Radium Misses
- Connections Through Destruction of Railroad Bridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- Offers Company Large Sum of Money for Special Train to the Coast.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” observed the Hawk caustically, “and even if I hadn't known anything
- about it before, I'd have had a look-in thanks to this! Sting you,
- wouldn't it! The papers hand you a come-on—and then they wonder at
- crime!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The “story” itself ran a column and a half. The Hawk began to read—or,
- rather, to divide his attention between the story and the hotel entrances.
- The reporter had certainly set out with the intention of overlooking no
- detail that could be turned to account. His meeting and conversation with
- the Frenchman in the car were breezily set forth; the member of a
- “prominent family” in Japan artfully disguised, or, perhaps better,
- disclosed no less august a personage than the Emperor himself; the value
- of radium, both intrinsically and scientifically, was interestingly dealt
- with; and the surgeon's black handbag, with its priceless contents, was
- minutely described and featured.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk had reached this point, when suddenly the newspaper and the
- reporter's version of the story lost interest for him. Doctor Meunier,
- gripping his little black handbag tenaciously, had stepped out through the
- main entrance of the hotel, and was walking briskly down the street. A
- moment later, the Bantam sauntered through the doorway and started in the
- same direction, a hundred yards behind the Frenchman. The Hawk, with a
- grim smile, folded his paper, stuffed it into his pocket, rose from the
- bench, crossed the street, and fell into the procession—a hundred
- yards behind the Bantam.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was still light, though it was beginning to grow dusk—too light
- for any highway thuggery, and yet—the Hawk gradually closed the gap
- between himself and the Bantam to half the original distance.
- </p>
- <p>
- The chase led on for a half dozen blocks, then turned into one of the
- crowded streets of the shopping district, and proceeded in a downtown
- direction. And then, abruptly, the Hawk dropped further behind the Bantam
- again, and crossed to the opposite sidewalk. It was perhaps only fancy,
- but intuitively he felt that he, too, in turn, was being followed. His hat
- brim, hiding his face, was pulled a little farther forward over his eyes,
- as he hurried now until he was abreast of the Frenchman. Intuition or not,
- it was quite possible and even likely that one of the gang might “cover”
- the Bantam.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk scowled. He could not be sure; and he dared not put it to more
- than a casual test, for he could not afford to lose sight of the Bantam.
- He paused, took a slip of paper from his pocket, and, as though having
- consulted it for an address, appeared to scan the signs and numbers on the
- stores in his immediate vicinity. The Frenchman had passed by; the Bantam
- was directly opposite to him now across the street. The Hawk's keen eyes
- searched the stream of pedestrians behind the Bantam. And then suddenly he
- shrugged his shoulders, and returned the paper to his pocket—a man,
- in a light suit and brown derby hat, had stepped out of the crowd, and was
- leisurely lighting a cigarette in a doorway just across from where he, the
- Hawk, stood.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk went on, but keeping in the rear of the Bantam now on the
- opposite side of the street. He was still not sure; but, in any case,
- neither could the man in the brown derby be <i>sure</i> that he, the Hawk,
- was following the Bantam. So far then, granted that he <i>was</i> being
- followed, it was an even break!
- </p>
- <p>
- At the next crossing the Frenchman accosted a policeman, and, as though he
- had received directions, at once turned down the cross street. The Hawk,
- as he followed, smiled grimly. The cross street automatically verified the
- suspicions of the man in the brown derby—if the man in the brown
- derby had any suspicions to verify; but, at one and the same time, it also
- answered the Hawk's own question.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, in turn, made use of a doorway. He could afford to allow the
- Bantam, temporarily, the lead of an extra half block now, for there were
- fewer people on the cross street and he would still be able to keep the
- other in sight. A minute, two, elapsed—and then the Hawk picked up
- the Bantam's trail again. The man in the brown derby hat had passed by the
- corner and continued on along the main street.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet still the Hawk was not satisfied. And it was not until after he
- had repeated the same manouvre some four or five times, as the Frenchman,
- leading, turned into different streets, that he was finally convinced that
- neither the man in the brown derby hat, nor any one else, was interested
- in his movements.
- </p>
- <p>
- The chase, since leaving the main street, had wound its way through the
- less populous wholesale district—it ended at the railway station.
- The Frenchman passed along the front of the building, and disappeared
- through the doorway leading upstairs to the divisional offices, his object
- being, it now appeared obvious, to obtain another interview with the
- superintendent; the Bantam disappeared inside the main entranceway of the
- station, evidently to await the Frenchman's reappearance; and the Hawk, on
- the far side of the street, slipped into the lane that had served him many
- times as a thoroughfare between the station and his room over the saloon
- two blocks away.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was growing dark now. A half hour went by. Still the Hawk crouched in
- the shadow of the building that bordered the lane. The street lights went
- on. The six o'clock whistle blew from the shops over across the tracks.
- Either the Frenchman was a visitor not easy to get rid of, or Lanson was
- out and the other was awaiting the superintendent's return. But the Hawk's
- patience was infinite.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another fifteen minutes dragged away; then the office door opened, the
- Frenchman emerged, and started back uptown. The Bantam appeared from the
- main entranceway, and started after him. The chase was on again. The Hawk
- followed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Frenchman, seemingly sticking to rule of thumb and following the
- directions he had received on the way down, took exactly the same route on
- the way back. But now the neighborhood presented an entirely different
- aspect. The wholesale houses were closed; the streets deserted, dark, and
- poorly lighted.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk hugged the shadows of the buildings craftily on the opposite side
- of the street. Was it coming now? Certainly the gang would go far before
- finding a more ideal opportunity, and the Bantam, if he had realised that
- fact, could easily have sent, or telephoned, a message from the station.
- He, the Hawk, had not cared to take the risk of following the Bantam
- inside—the Bantam <i>might</i> remember having seen him in the hotel
- lobby.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then the Hawk's lips thinned. Yes—it was the old, old game! They
- were on the cross street, a little less than a block distant from the main
- street ahead. The Bantam began to close up on the Frenchman. The Hawk now,
- crouching low, slipped almost literally from doorway to doorway. Two men,
- apparently drunk and quarrelling, were coming down the block toward the
- Frenchman. The Bantam closed to within a few yards of his quarry. The
- brawl attained its height as the two men reached the Frenchman. One man
- struck the other. They clenched, and, smashing into the Frenchman knocked
- him down. His hat flew in one direction, the handbag in another. The
- brawlers curiously did not resume their quarrel, but lounged a few paces
- away—within call of the Bantam. The Hawk, squeezed in his doorway
- directly opposite the scene, kept his eyes on the Bantam. If the play had
- lacked originality before, it did not lack it now! The Bantam stooped,
- picked up the handbag, and, as he stooped again for the hat, slipped the
- handbag under his coat, and slipped another bag—evidently a
- carefully prepared duplicate—out from under his coat and into his
- hand. The Frenchman was rising dazedly to his feet. The Bantam stepped
- hurriedly forward, holding out hat and bag.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope you're not hurt, sir,” the Hawk heard him say—and then the
- two moved on together toward the corner.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk shook his shoulders in a queer, almost self-apologetic sort of
- way, as he followed again. And then he smiled as queerly. The Bantam had
- the bag now, and, if he, the Hawk, were permitted to hazard an opinion,
- the Wire Devils had very kindly picked the fruit again for him to eat!
- </p>
- <p>
- At the corner, the Bantam shook hands with the Frenchman, and, stepping
- out into the street, signalled an approaching car. Quick, alert on the
- instant, the Hawk, safe in the protection of the crowded sidewalk, moved
- swiftly along in the direction that the car would take, his eyes searching
- the street on both sides for a taxicab. The street car passed him, but
- stopped at the next corner, and he caught up with it again. And then, over
- his shoulder, he saw a taxi coming up behind him. He stepped from the
- curb, and stopped it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sorry, sir,” said the chauffeur. “I'm going after a fare.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You've got one now—and a good one,” said the Hawk quietly. He had
- opened the door—a ten-dollar bill lay in the chauffeur's hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but look here, sir,” said the chauffeur, a little dubiously, “I'll
- get into trouble for this, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk had stepped inside, and lowered the window between himself and
- the chauffeur.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Follow that car,” said the Hawk pleasantly. “And while we're on the
- crowded streets don't get so far behind it that you can't close up near
- enough to see who gets off every time it stops. And don't worry about your
- trouble—there's another ten coming on top of the regular fare.
- That's good enough, isn't it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess I'm not kicking!” admitted the chauffeur. The taxi started
- forward. He looked back over his shoulder at the Hawk. “What's the lay?
- Fly-cop?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Maybe!” said the Hawk. “Mind yourself! It's stopping again. Keep where I
- can see both sides of the car.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I get you!” said the chauffeur. “Leave it to me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Block after block was passed, the street car stopping frequently. The
- Hawk, in the body of the taxi, knelt behind the chauffeur's back, his eyes
- held steadily on the street car ahead. The Bantam did not alight. The
- street car began to run out into the suburbs. The taxicab, with lights out
- now, risking the city ordinance, dropped back to a more respectful
- distance in the rear. The district became less settled, the houses farther
- apart; the street lights were single incandescents now, and these few and
- far between. There was one passenger left in the car—the Bantam.
- </p>
- <p>
- The chauffeur spoke abruptly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We're pretty near the end of the line,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right,” the Hawk answered. “Stop when the car stops—keep about
- this distance, we're not likely to be noticed.” A moment later he stepped
- from the taxi. “Wait for me here!” he directed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Bantam, leaving the street car, had started off at a sharp pace past
- the end of the car line. It was little more than a country road now; only
- a house here and there. The Bantam, just discernible in the darkness, had
- a lead of perhaps a hundred yards, and the Hawk, moving stealthily, began
- to creep nearer, and still nearer, until the hundred yards were fifty—and
- then suddenly, with a low muttered exclamation, he threw himself flat on
- the ground. The Bantam, abreast of a house from which there showed a light
- in the side window, had turned in abruptly from the road. A glow of light
- spread out as the front door opened. The Hawk lay motionless. Then the
- Bantam entered, and the door was closed again. A little later, a form
- appeared at the side window, a hand reached up, and the shade was drawn.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nice respectable neighborhood, too!” observed the Hawk tersely. “Wonder
- if it's <i>the</i> lair, and if the Master Spider's in there now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was creeping forward now across a small lawn. He neared the side
- window; it was open, and the shade lacked a tiny, though inviting, space
- of reaching to the sill. A murmur of voices came from within. There was
- not a sound from the Hawk. And then, from beneath the window, which was
- low and not more than four feet from the ground, he raised himself up
- cautiously, and suddenly his dark eyes narrowed. It was not the Master
- Spider—it was the Butcher, whose treachery had nearly done for him
- that night in the paymaster's office, the man whom he had promised should
- one day <i>remember!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- He could hear now, and he could see. It was a sitting room such as one
- might find anywhere in a house whose occupants were in comfortable
- circumstances. It was cosily and tastefully furnished. It bore no sign of
- criminal affiliation; it was, as it were, a sort of alibi in itself. A
- telephone stood on the table beside a pile of magazines, the latter
- flanked by an ornamental reading lamp; deep leather lounging chairs added
- to the inviting and homelike appearance of the room—the incongruity
- was in the Butcher's thin, hatchet-like face, and in the coarse, vicious
- features of the short, stocky Bantam, as they faced each other across the
- table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where's the others, d'ye say?” demanded the Bantam.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Out,” said the Butcher. “The chief called 'em an hour ago. I don't know
- what's up. I guess you and I keep house here to-night; he said you were to
- stay. Mouser and Jack were to report to Kirschell, weren't they?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, that's what they said.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, all right!” The Butcher shrugged his shoulders. “That's none of our
- hunt. I suppose you got it, didn't you—or you wouldn't be here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sure, I got it!” answered the Bantam. “What d'ye think?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let's have a look,” said the Butcher eagerly. “The chief says we can cash
- in on it for fifty thousand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fifty thousand!” The Bantam growled, as he unbuttoned his coat, and,
- taking out the bag, laid it on the table. “I thought it was worth a
- hundred thousand!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So it is.” The Butcher was opening the bag. “But it's no cinch to turn it
- into money without a big split—savvy?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher opened the lead box, took out the lead cylinder, and balanced
- it speculatively in the palm of his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Bantam regarded it distrustfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It don't look like fifty cents to me!” he commented finally.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know,” said the Butcher facetiously; “but your eyesight's bum, Bantam!
- Have any trouble?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Bantam grinned.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not what you'd notice! After the Mouser and Jack smashed into him, the
- poor old boob didn't know what had happened till I was handing him his hat
- and the other bag. I guess he bumped his bean kind of hard on the
- sidewalk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher nodded approvingly. He was still twisting the lead cylinder
- around and around in his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say,” suggested the Bantam impatiently, after a moment, “when you've done
- chucking it under the chin, put it to bed somewhere, and if there's any
- grub in the house lead me to it. I'm hungry!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right!” agreed the Butcher. He replaced the lead cylinder in its box,
- and the box in the bag, crossed the room, opened a little cupboard in the
- wall opposite the window, laid the bag inside, and closed the cupboard
- door again. “Come on!” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- XIII—THE MAN WITH THE SCAR
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE two men left
- the room. The Hawk did not move. He was fingering in a curiously
- absent-minded sort of way the edges of the newspaper that still protruded
- from his pocket. It was very simple, very easy. The window was open, the
- cupboard was not locked, the room was empty, there were only the Bantam
- and the Butcher to look out for, and they were in another part of the
- house; he had only to lift aside the window shade, step in, steal across
- the room, and steal out again—with a hundred-thou-sand-dollar prize.
- It was very inviting. It seemed suddenly as though it were a pressing
- invitation to enter that room—<i>and never leave it alive!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- Flashing quick through the Hawk's brain now was a résumé of the afternoon,
- of each separate and individual occurrence since he had left the train.
- Had he, after all, been followed? If so—how? Had the Bantam been
- warned? He shook his head, as though impatient with himself. Even apart
- from that, what he had begun to suspect now would be thoroughly logical on
- the part of the gang. The newspaper supplied the key. He would
- unquestionably have seen the newspaper that afternoon, and he would, apart
- from being spared several aimless hours in the park, have done exactly as
- he had done, and just as unquestionably be where he was now at this
- precise moment even if he had not been with the Frenchman on the train.
- The newspaper placed him in possession of the same facts that the Wire
- Devils possessed. They must know that. They were therefore justified in
- assuming that he, quite as rabidly as themselves, would make an attempt to
- steal the bag. They knew, in that case, that he would have discovered that
- they were already at work; and they knew that, on a dozen occasions
- before, that had not prevented him from snatching the prize they had
- already counted within their grasp. Were they on their guard now—or
- a little more than on their guard! Were they offering him, on the chance
- or with the knowledge that he was here now, the opportunity to snatch
- another prize—and seeing to it that it was for the <i>last</i> time!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk edged back from the window; and, silent as a shadow now, began to
- circuit the house. And then suddenly his suspicion became a certainty. It
- was only a little thing—a slip—but it was enough. The Butcher
- had made a misplay! There was no light in any other window—and a man
- did not usually eat in the dark! It was fairly, even painfully, evident
- now that the Bantam and the Butcher were in, say, the adjoining room,
- waiting for him to enter through that window into their trap.
- </p>
- <p>
- But there was still the little black bag—and one hundred thousand
- dollars! The Hawk's smile was more ominous than pleasant. There were other
- ways apart from a window—and even two men, especially if they were
- caught napping, had been known to be quite amenable to the influence of
- the muzzle of an automatic!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk found the back door entrance, found it locked—and used a
- skeleton key. He was perhaps five minutes in opening the door; but in
- those five minutes there was no click of lock as the handle turned by
- infinitesimal fractions of an inch, no creak of hinge as the door little
- by little swung back and was closed again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The silence was almost uncanny. It was utter blackness. By feeling out
- with his hand he discovered he was in a passageway. He moved along,
- guiding himself by the sense of touch against the wall, his weight
- balanced and full upon one foot before he lifted the other for the next
- step.
- </p>
- <p>
- It seemed a passage of interminable length, that led on and on through
- blackness and silence. In reality he had come possibly thirty feet, and
- had passed one door. And then he began to catch the sound of voices
- whispering. The whisperings grew more distinct and became low, guarded
- tones, as he moved forward—and now he could distinguish words. He
- flattened back against the side of the passage. Opposite to him was an
- open door; and within the room, instead of blackness now, was a sort of
- murky gloom which was created by a ray of light that seeped in through a
- partially open door at the far side of the room. The Hawk's fingers
- slipped into his pocket—and slipped his mask over his face. He had
- his bearings now. The room from which the light came was the baited trap;
- the room immediately in front of him was the room from which the trap was
- to be sprung! His hand went to his pocket again, and came out with his
- automatic. It was their move now. If, when they finally grew impatient,
- they went back into the lighted room, or turned on the light in the room
- where they were now waiting, they sprang the trap upon themselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- Came the Bantam's low growl—and the twitching of the Hawk's jaw
- muscles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't like it, I tell you! Where is he? What's he waiting for? I know
- he followed me. You saw him yourself from the front room creeping across
- the lawn out there. 'Twouldn't take him all this time to get in through
- that window.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aw, shut up!” snarled the Butcher. “You'd give any one the creeps!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's all right,” whispered the Bantam hoarsely; “but I said from the
- start it was a fool game not to cover him close on the way back, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—and scare him off!” sneered the Butcher. “There ain't but one
- guy that'd pick up that trail—and that's the Hawk. He's butted in
- enough, but he's butted in for the last time to-night! The two of us are
- aplenty, aren't we? Sure—cover him close on the way back—and
- scare him off! D'ye think he's a fool!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I don't, curse him!” retorted the Bantam. “And if I'd had my way, I'd
- have croaked him in broad daylight with a bullet through his bean, and
- finished him for keeps the minute Jack spotted him following me! Instead
- of that, Jack never even gets a look at his mug.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're some bright guy!” grunted the Butcher. “We'd have had a hot chance
- making a dead man tell us where he'd planted those diamonds off the Fast
- Mail, not to speak of a few other little trifles the swine did us out of!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you think——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You bet, I do!” the Butcher cut in viciously. “He'll talk to-night to
- save his life—and then I'll toss you, Bantam, if you like, to see
- who bumps him off!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's fingers played in a curious, caressing motion over the stock of
- the automatic in his hand; the twist on his lips grew a little harder, a
- little more merciless.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was movement in the room now. One of the two, the Bantam
- undoubtedly, in growing uneasiness, was moving softly, erratically, up and
- down the room. It proved to be the Bantam.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well then, where the blazes is he!” he burst out nervously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aw, shut up!” snarled the Butcher savagely for the second time.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Bantam's shadow, as the man paced up and down, passed the doorway,
- repassed, and passed again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I tell you, I don't like it!” he flung out suddenly. “Something's wrong!
- If he's outside the house, he can't see, anyway. I'm going to take a
- chance, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a click, the light in the passageway went on—then a yell
- from the Bantam in the doorway—a lightning spring from the Hawk, as
- the other jerked a weapon upward—and the Bantam went down in a heap,
- as the Hawk's clubbed weapon caught him on the head. It was quick, like
- the winking of an eye. From back in the room, the Butcher sprang forward
- for the doorway—and fired—and missed—and the Hawk's left
- hand, as they came upon each other, darting out, closed with the strength
- of a steel vise on the Butcher's right wrist, and with a terrific wrench
- twisted the other's arm halfway around. It was lighter now in the room—light
- enough to see. The two forms swayed strangely—a little apart—the
- Butcher's body bent over, as though queerly deformed. Slowly,
- remorselessly, the Hawk turned the other's arm in its socket. Sweat sprang
- to the Butcher's forehead, his face writhed with pain—and, with a
- scream of agony, his revolver clattered to the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're breaking it—for God's sake, let go!” he moaned.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk kicked the revolver to the other side of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take the Bantam by the shoulders and drag him into that lighted room!”
- The Hawk's tones were flat, unpleasant. “I don't think I hit him hard
- enough to take the chance of leaving him there alone!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher obeyed—with the muzzle of the Hawk's automatic pressed
- persuasively against the small of his back. He left the Bantam in the
- middle of the sitting room floor, and himself accepted a chair—at
- the Hawk's invitation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You again—eh, Butcher?” The Hawk's voice had become a drawl. With
- his automatic covering the Butcher, he had backed to the cupboard, opened
- it, and was feeling inside with his left hand. “My grateful thanks, and
- you'll convey my compliments—the Hawk's, you know—to our
- friend—the chief.” He had slipped the little black bag under his
- arm, and now his hand was back in the cupboard again; he had felt a ball
- of heavy cord there. “Sorry I haven't a phony ten-spot with me—my
- card, you know—unpardonable breach of etiquette—really!” He
- smiled suddenly. The ball of cord was in his hand, as he advanced toward
- the Butcher's chair. He set the little black bag down on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher seemed to have lost all his characteristic ferocity; the sharp
- little ferret eyes rested anywhere but on the Hawk, and on his face was a
- sickly grin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stand up!” commanded the Hawk curtly—he was knotting the end of the
- cord into a noose. “Now—your hands behind your back—and
- together! Thank you!” He slipped the noose over the Butcher's hands, and
- began to wind the cord around the other's wrists.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher winced.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm sorry,” said the Hawk apologetically; “but it's all I have. The cord
- is rather thin, and I'm afraid it may cut into you—not strong enough
- to allow you any play, you know. And, by the way, Butcher, I heard the
- Bantam say that I was spotted on the way down—I presume he meant on
- the way down to the station. I'll be honest and admit I'm disappointed in
- myself. Would you mind explaining, Butcher—I was quite convinced
- there was no one behind me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There wasn't!” The Butcher risked a sneer. “Mabbe the French guy was
- heard telephoning to the station, and the Bantam passed on the word.
- Nobody had to follow behind. All there was to do, knowing where the
- Frenchy was going, was to dodge around the blocks ahead, and keep hidden
- down the different intersecting streets, and see if the same guy kept
- going by the corners after the Bantam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, Butcher,” murmured the Hawk gratefully. “That lets me out a
- little, doesn't it?” He wound the cord again and again around the
- Butcher's wrists, knotted it, shoved the other unceremoniously back into
- the chair, and tied the Butcher's legs.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk then gave his attention to the Bantam. The Bantam was just
- beginning to regain consciousness. The Hawk knelt down, rolled the man
- over on his side, and secured him in the same manner as he had the
- Butcher. But with the Bantam he went a little farther. He transferred the
- Bantam's handkerchief from the Bantam's pocket to the Bantam's mouth—and
- tied it there.
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned once more to the Butcher.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must apologise again,” he said softly. “I hate to do this”—he
- felt for, and obtained, the Butcher's handkerchief—“but the house is
- unfortunately close to the road, and you might inadvertently make yourself
- heard before I got decently away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher's reply was a shrug of the shoulders.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, about to cram the handkerchief into the other's mouth, paused.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Butcher,” said the Hawk, almost plaintively, “if you'll permit me to deal
- in mixed metaphors, you appear to have shed your spots—you're too
- awfully docile!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You got the goods,” muttered the Butcher sullenly. “What more do you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stopped suddenly. His eyes met the Hawk's. The telephone on the table
- was ringing.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk hesitated. Into the Butcher's eyes, narrowed now, there seemed to
- have come a mocking gleam. The telephone rang again. And then the Hawk
- reached out abruptly, and took the receiver from the hook.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hello!” he said gruffly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Four X. Who's that?” responded a voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was something familiar about the voice, but he could not on the
- instant place it. The Hawk's mind, even as he answered, was swiftly
- cataloguing every member of the gang known to him in an effort to identify
- it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Bantam,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right,” replied the voice. “Give me the Butcher.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hold the line,” answered the Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- He placed his hand over the transmitter. The voice was still eluding him.
- He turned, and eyed the Butcher.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Four X wants you, Butcher.” All the drawl, all the insouciance was gone
- now; his voice was hard with menace, cold as death. “And you're going to
- speak to him—but you're going to say what I tell you to say. But
- before you begin, I want you to remember the little account between us
- that's been hanging over since that night in the paymaster's office. If
- you make a break, if you try to frame me—<i>I'll settle that account
- here to-night</i>, while you sit in that chair. If you hesitate on a word,
- I'll fire—and not through my pocket, you yellow cur! Understand?
- Don't kid yourself on this, Butcher! If I nod my head, say 'yes'—and
- no more. Now!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher had sunk back in his chair. There was fear in his face; it was
- white, and he circled his lips with his tongue.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beneath the mask, the Hawk's lips were a straight line. He laid down his
- automatic on the table, placed the receiver to his own ear, and held the
- transmitter to the Butcher's lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go ahead!” ordered the Hawk. “Ask him what he wants.” His fingers, cupped
- and pressed over the transmitter, lifted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hello!” said the Butcher. “What is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That you, Butcher? Everything all right?” inquired the voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk nodded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the Butcher.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, open up a bit!” complained the voice. “Did you get him, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The voice was speaking on. The Hawk's lips had set a little tighter. He
- had recognised the voice now. His fingers were pressed over the
- transmitter again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell him you laid me out cold,” instructed the Hawk; “and that I haven't
- regained consciousness, yet. Now!” The voice had ceased speaking; the
- Hawk's fingers lifted again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We beaned him,” said the Butcher morosely.. “He's still asleep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good!” chuckled the voice. “I'll be up there by and by, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell him to stay where he is, that it will be—<i>safer</i>.” The
- Hawk clipped off his words.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher delivered the message, the snarl in his voice entirely to the
- Hawk's liking.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What?” questioned the voice. “I didn't get you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Repeat!” whispered the Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher repeated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O. K.,” came back the answer. “Yes, I guess you're right. So long,
- Butcher.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say 'good-night,'.rdquo; prompted the Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Night!” growled the Butcher.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk replaced the receiver on the hook, and the instrument on the
- table.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher's lips were livid.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk picked up his automatic and leaned forward, his eyes on a level
- with the Butcher's.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's that fellow's moniker, Butcher?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher hesitated.
- </p>
- <p>
- The automatic crept forward an inch.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Parson Joe.” The Butcher's voice choked with mingled rage and fear.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Parson Joe, eh?” repeated the Hawk ruminatingly. “Was he the chap who
- pulled that con game on the Riverdale Bank back in New York State about
- six years ago, and afterwards got cornered by the police in Ike
- Morrissey's gambling hell, and was caught because he nearly bled to death,
- with his wrist half off, trying to get through a broken window pane? He
- got four spaces. That him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you say so, it must have been!” There was a leer in the Butcher's
- voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Was it?</i>” The automatic touched the Butcher's breast.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the Butcher.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you!” smiled the Hawk. “Now——!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He gagged the Butcher with the handkerchief, tied it securely into place,
- stood up, picked up the little black bag, switched off the electric
- reading lamp, moved to the window, and drew aside the shade. “We'll let
- that account stand open for a little while longer, Butcher,” he said
- softly. “Just a little while longer—good-night!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He swung out of the window, dropped to the ground, ran across the lawn,
- and gained the road. His mask and automatic were back in his pockets. His
- fingers felt and patted the little black bag under his coat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Always play your luck,” whispered the Hawk confidentially to himself. “It
- seems to me I saw a little loose change in Doctor Meunier's pocket-book,
- and I don't think he's opened the duplicate bag yet and stirred up a fuss.
- It isn't much compared with a hundred thousand, or even fifty, to quote
- the Butcher, but 'every little bit added to what you've got——'”
- He fell to whistling the tune pleasantly under his breath, as he hurried
- along the road.
- </p>
- <p>
- A minute later he had regained the taxicab.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Drop me a block this side of the Corona—and give her all she's
- got!” he directed crisply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “D'ye get him?” demanded the chauffeur eagerly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My friend,” replied the Hawk gently, as he stepped into the taxi, “if
- you'll think it over, you'll come to the conclusion that you really don't
- want to know. Take it from me that the less you're wise about to-night the
- wiser you will be to-morrow. Now, cut her loose!”
- </p>
- <p>
- It had taken a good thirty minutes on the trip up; it took less than half
- of that, by a more direct route, for the return journey. At the corner, a
- block from the hotel, the Hawk crumpled two generous bank-notes into the
- chauffeur's hand, and bade the man good-night. He traversed the block,
- entered the hotel lobby, and, ignoring the elevators, leisurely and
- nonchalantly ascended the staircase to the first floor. From the landing
- he noted the room numbers opposite to him, and with these as a guide
- passed on along the corridor to where it turned at right angles at the
- corner of the building, and halted before room No. 106. A light showing
- above the transom indicated that the Frenchman was within. He had passed
- one or two people. No one had paid any attention to him. Why should they!
- He glanced up and down. The corridor, for the moment, was empty. He tried
- the door gently—it was locked. His right hand, in his side pocket,
- closed over his automatic. He pressed close to the door, knocked gently
- with his left hand—and with his left hand reached quickly into his
- pocket for his mask.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who's there?” the Frenchman called out.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Message for you, sir,” the Hawk answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- Footsteps crossed the room, the key turned in the lock—and, in a
- flash, the Hawk, slipping on his mask, had pushed the door open, closed it
- behind him, and the Frenchman was staring into the muzzle of the
- automatic.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Mon Dieu!</i>” gasped the Frenchman faintly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's right!” said the Hawk coolly, “Don't speak any louder than that,
- or——” He shrugged his shoulders significantly, as he locked
- the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Frenchman, white-faced, was evidently fighting for his nerve.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What—what is it?” he stammered. “What is it that you want?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was almost a reassuring smile that flickered on the Hawk's lips, and
- his voice did not belie it—it was purely conversational in its
- tones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was reading in the paper this afternoon about the famous Doctor
- Meunier. I'm a bit of a scientist myself, in an amateur way, and I'm
- particularly interested in radium when there's enough of it to——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! My radium! That is what you want!” cried out the Frenchman wildly.
- The duplicate bag lay on the bed. He ran for it, and snatched it up. “No!
- That you shall not have! You come to steal my radium, you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You jump at conclusions, doctor,” said the Hawk patiently. “Since it is
- already stolen, I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stolen!” The Frenchman stared—and then with feverish fingers opened
- the bag. He looked inside. The bag dropped to the floor, his hands went up
- in the air. “It is empty—empty!” he cried distractedly. “It is gone—gone!
- <i>Mon Dieu</i>, my radium is gone! What shall I do!” His hands were
- rumpling through his hair like one demented. “What shall I do—it is
- gone!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” suggested the Hawk suavely, “I thought perhaps you might like to
- buy it back again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Buy it back! Are you crazy? Am I crazy?” The man appeared to be beside
- himself; he flung out his arms in mad gesticulation. “With what would I
- buy it back? It is worth a hundred thousands dollars—a half million
- francs!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are excited, Doctor Meunier,” said the Hawk calmly. From where it
- bulged under his coat he drew out the black bag. “I said nothing about a
- hundred thousand dollars.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Frenchman reached out a shaking hand, pointing at the bag.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is you then, after all, who stole it—eh? The bags—they are
- identical! <i>Mon Dieu</i>, what does this mean? I am mad! I do not
- understand!”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a chair on each side of the small table near the bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sit down!” invited the Hawk, indicating one with the muzzle of his
- automatic. The Frenchman sat down with a helpless and abandoned gesture of
- despair. The Hawk took the other chair. He opened the bag, opened the lead
- box, and laid the lead capsule on the table. “Do you identify this?” he
- inquired pleasantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Frenchman reached for it eagerly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk drew it back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “One moment, please, Doctor Meunier!” he murmured. “You recognise it? You
- are satisfied that it is your tube of radium?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes—<i>mon Dieu!</i> But, yes!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And it is worth, you say, a hundred thousand dollars?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, yes, I tell you!” cried the Frenchman. “A hundred thousand—certainly,
- it is worth that!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite so!” said the Hawk placidly. “Therefore, Doctor Meunier, a
- comparatively small sum—eh?—you would be willing to pay that—a
- sum, I might add, that would be quite within your means.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite within my means?” repeated the Frenchman a little dazedly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the Hawk sweetly. “And to be specific, let us say—whatever
- is in your pocketbook.” The Frenchman drew back in his chair. His face
- blanched.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You—you mean to rob me!” he exclaimed hoarsely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not see it quite in that light.” The Hawk's voice was pained. “But
- we will not discuss the ethics involved—we probably should not
- agree. I did not steal your precious capsule from you, and I am returning
- it, not, I might say, without having incurred considerable personal risk
- in so doing. Perhaps we might better agree if we called it—a
- reward.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No!” said the Frenchman desperately.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's automatic tapped the table top with a hint of petulance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And—and what guarantee have I,” the Frenchman burst out, “that you
- will give me the tube after you have taken my money?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My word,” said the Hawk evenly. “And—I am waiting, Doctor Meunier!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Frenchman hesitated, then, with an oath, flung his pocketbook upon the
- table. The Hawk opened it, extracted the wad of bills that he had seen
- exhibited in the superintendent's office, smiled as he fingered them, and
- put them in his pocket. He pushed the lead capsule across the table—and
- suddenly, as the other reached for it, the Hawk was on his feet, his
- automatic flung forward, his left hand grasping the other's sleeve.
- </p>
- <p>
- They held that way for an instant, eying each other—the Hawk's left
- hand slowly pushing back the other's right-hand sleeve. And then the
- Hawk's eyes shifted—to a long, jagged, white scar on the bare
- forearm just above the wrist.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Shall I introduce myself—Parson Joe?” purred the Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- The other's face was a mottled red—it deepened to purple.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, blast you!” he said between his teeth. “I know you—but I didn't
- think you knew me. So you called the turn when the Bantam followed me—eh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk shook his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never saw you in my life before to-day,” he said grimly; “and, if it
- will do you any good to know it, I fell for that radium plant—until
- you telephoned the Butcher half an hour ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how did you know me, then?” The other flung the question fiercely.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again the Hawk shook his head. He had no desire that Parson Joe should
- know he had been on the Limited that morning—Parson Joe might
- possess an inconveniently retentive memory for faces, and he, the Hawk,
- did not always wear a mask.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Maybe I guessed it, Parson!” he said insolently. “I must have—it
- was the only thing that wasn't in the paper! What encyclopedia did you get
- that 'Becquerel burn' dope out of? And was the reporter lying, or how did
- you work it to get him on the train?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Parson Joe was leaning forward over the table, fingering the lead capsule.
- He suddenly crushed it with a blow of his fist, twisted it in two, and
- hurled the pieces across the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We got him up the line on a fake that didn't come off!” he snarled.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was an instant's silence, then the Hawk spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nice, amiable crowd, you are, Parson!” The Hawk's voice was silken. “I'm
- just beginning to appreciate you. Let's see! You had to pull a story that
- any newspaper would jump at and <i>feature</i>, didn't you? And you had to
- have a big enough bait to make sure I'd rise to it. And you had to account
- for the celebrated Doctor Meunier's layover in Selkirk; and, not expecting
- I'd pick up the trail quite so quickly, say, not until after the paper had
- been out a little longer and you had made another baiting trip or two to
- Lanson's office, you had to account for the famous gentleman's enforced
- stay through the night if necessary; and it gave a big swing to the story,
- and let you work your stunt for the special train that you knew you
- couldn't get; and you figured I'd be even more sure to see it in the paper
- if it was connected with some pleasant little episode of yours—and
- so, on several counts, you blew up the bridge.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man's teeth were clamped together.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes!” he choked. “And we'd blow a dozen more to get you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You flatter me!” said the Hawk dryly. “I'm afraid I've put you to quite a
- little trouble—for nothing!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Sullen, red, furious, Parson Joe's face twitched.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You win to-night”—the heavy-lensed spectacles were off, and the
- black eyes, the pupils gone, burned on the Hawk—“but you're going
- out! As sure as God gave you breath, we'll get you yet, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Butcher told me that, and so did the Cricket—some time ago,”
- said the Hawk wearily. “I'm—<i>keep your hands above the table</i>—I'm
- sure you mean well!” He was backing toward the door. “I won't bother to
- relieve you of your revolver; and I don't think you'll telephone down to
- the office. It might be awkward explaining to the police how Doctor
- Meunier lost his pocketbook—and got his medical degree! I shall,
- however, lock the door on the outside, as I shall require a minute or two
- to reach the street, and I cannot very well go through the hotel corridor
- with—this”—he jerked his hand toward his mask.
- </p>
- <p>
- The other's hands were above the table, obediently in plain view—but
- they were clenching and unclenching now, the knuckles white.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk reached behind him, took the key from the lock, listened, opened
- the door slightly, and, still facing into the room, still covering the
- other with his automatic, reached around the door and fitted the key into
- the outside of the lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When you get out,” said the Hawk, as though it were an afterthought, “I'm
- sure the Butcher will be glad to see you—I am afraid he is not as
- comfortable as he might be!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The black eyes, with a devil's fury in them, had never left the Hawk's.
- And now the other lifted one of his clenched hands above his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'd give five years—<i>five years</i> of my life—for a look
- at your face!” he whispered hoarsely.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk was backing through the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's not enough, Parson,” he said softly. “Make it another—pocketbook.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- XIV—THE CLUE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WO days had passed—two
- days, and a night. The Hawk's fingers drummed abstractedly without sound
- on the table top; his eyes, in a curiously introspective stare, were fixed
- on the closely drawn window shade across the room. From the ill-favoured
- saloon below his unpretentious lodgings, there came, muffled, a chorus of
- voices in inebriated and discordant song—an over-early evening
- celebration, for it was barely seven o'clock.
- </p>
- <p>
- The finger tips drummed on. At times, the strong, square chin was doggedly
- outthrust; at times, a frown gathered in heavy furrows on the Hawk's
- forehead. The net at last was beginning to tighten ominously—every
- sign pointed to it. He would be a blind fool indeed who could not read the
- warning, and a fool of fools who would not heed it!
- </p>
- <p>
- His eyes strayed from the window, and rested upon the trunk that stood
- between the table and the foot of the bed; and his fingers abruptly ceased
- their restless movements. Within that trunk, concealed in its false lid,
- was the loot, totalling many thousands of dollars, obtained through his
- knowledge of the Wire Devils' secret code, which had enabled him to-turn
- their elaborately prepared plans on more occasions than one to his own
- account. But it was no longer a question of outwitting them in order to
- add to that purloined store; it was a question of outwitting them in order
- that—in very plain English—he, the Hawk, might <i>live!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- Nor was it the Wire Devils alone who threatened disaster. There were other
- factors; and, even if these factors were less imminent, as it were, less
- in a measure to be feared, they were by no means to be ignored. The police
- were showing increasing activity. The police circular, which he had once
- torn down from the station wall, was now replaced by another, only with
- this difference that, where the reward for the Hawk's capture had then
- stood at five thousand dollars, it now stood at ten. Also, last night—quite
- inadvertently!—while crouched under the window of the turner's
- “cubbyhole” at the rear of the roundhouse, the chosen spot for Lanson's
- and MacVightie's confidential conferences, he had overheard a conversation
- between the division superintendent and the head of the railroad's
- detective force that was certainly not intended for his ears. According to
- MacVightie, a man by the name of Birks, the sharpest man in the United
- States Secret Service, had been detailed by the Washington authorities to
- the case. MacVightie had even taken a generous share of the credit for
- this move to himself. Thefts there might be until the country rang with
- them, murders might add their quota to the reign of terror, yet all this
- was outside the province of the Secret Service. It was, so MacVightie had
- said, through MacVightie's insistence that the systematised thefts and
- murders were inseparable with the counterfeit notes then flooding the
- country that had induced Washington to act. The Hawk and his gang,
- according to MacVightie again, were at the bottom of both one and the
- other—and counterfeiting <i>was</i>, very pertinently, within the
- province of the Secret Service!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk permitted a twisted smile to flicker across his lips. MacVightie,
- the police in general, and Birks of the Secret Service in particular,
- might be classed as complications, even decidedly <i>awkward</i>
- complications, but his immediate peril lay, not in that direction, but
- from those whose leadership MacVightie so blandly credited to—the
- Hawk!
- </p>
- <p>
- The smile twisted deeper—into one of grim irony. While MacVightie
- placarded the country with circulars offering rewards for the capture of
- the Hawk and his gang, the “gang” was moving heaven and earth to capture
- the Hawk for its own exclusive purposes—which purposes, in a word,
- were an intense desire to recover the proceeds of the robberies that he,
- the Hawk, had filched from under the gang's nose, and thereafter, with
- such finality as might be afforded by a blackjack, a knife thrust, or a
- revolver bullet, to expedite the Hawk's departure from this vale of tears!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's hand curled suddenly into a clenched fist, and his face grew
- set. He was facetious—and he had little enough warrant for
- facetiousness! They had already shown their teeth. They had shown the
- grim, ugly <i>deadliness</i> of their challenge in the thrust with which
- they had opened their attack upon him. He had parried the thrust, it was
- true—but there would be another—and another. There was
- something of remorseless promise, that would stop at nothing, in the
- extravagantly laid plans with which they had just attempted to lure him
- into the open and trap him. They had failed, it was true, and he had even
- scored against them again—but their cunning, their power, their
- resources, their malignity remained unimpaired. They would try again. It
- was like two adversaries in a dark room, each conscious of the other's
- presence, each striving to <i>place</i> the other, each conscious that the
- death of one was life for the other. That was the pith of the situation.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's teeth clamped together. It was quite certain that they would
- run him to earth—unless he were first at the same game! An
- organisation as widespread as the one against which he had elected to pit
- his wits and play a lone hand, an organisation clever enough to have
- seized and put to its own use the entire divisional telegraph system of a
- railroad, an organisation callous enough to have counted a score of
- murders but incidents in its schemes, and, above all, an organisation
- guided by an unknown brain that was a master of cunning and unhampered by
- scruples, was an antagonist as sinister as it was powerful. For days now,
- in the great majority of cases, he, the Hawk, had turned their plans to
- his own account, skimmed, as it were, the cream from their milk—and
- there could be but one answer. And they <i>had</i> answered—and in
- the opening attack they had just launched against him it was obvious
- enough that every resource at their command was to be thrown into the
- balance to settle scores with him. They might, and did, laugh at the
- police, but to have their prizes pocketed and carried off by a competitor
- admitted of but one solution—the annihilation of the competitor!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk rose abruptly from his seat, stepped over to the trunk, opened
- it, and in an instant had removed the secret tray from the curvature of
- the lid. He laid the tray down upon the table; and his fingers, brushing
- aside a certain magnificent diamond necklace whose thousand facets
- glittered in the light, delved swiftly in amongst pile after pile of
- banknotes, and secured a package of papers.
- </p>
- <p>
- He pushed the tray to one side, sat down again at the table, removed the
- elastic band from the package, and began to examine the papers. It was not
- the first time he had done this—he did it again now in a sort of
- desperation, and simply because it presented the one possibility at which
- he might grasp in the hope of obtaining a clue. There were many papers
- here, loose sheets, documents in envelopes, and, careful as he had been
- before, there <i>was</i> a chance that he had missed the one thing—in
- a sentence, in perhaps only a word, or a pencilled note-on the back of an
- envelope—that would save him from disaster now.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the night before last that Parson Joe, with his fake tube of
- radium, had headed the gang in the attempt upon his, the Hawk's, life. The
- twisted smile returned to the Hawk's lips, as he turned first one paper
- and then another over in his hands. He had been fool enough to imagine
- that, besides failure, they had left a well-marked and clearly defined
- trail behind them—in the shape of that very comfortably, very cosily
- furnished house just on the outskirts of the city, where the Butcher had
- proposed to play the rôle of spider to his, the Hawk's, rôle of fly! It
- had even seemed a childishly simple matter to pick up such a thread and
- follow it. A house was neither rented nor furnished out of thin air. But
- the next morning the house was closed and deserted. It had been sublet—furnished.
- The subtenant, whose name was of no consequence, since it was of course
- assumed, had vanished—that was all. As far as the gang was concerned
- the house had lost its usefulness, and, having lost its usefulness, had
- simply been evacuated, and, together with the furniture, left to its own
- resources!
- </p>
- <p>
- And it had been the same, on a previous occasion, with Isaac Kirschell's
- office. The morning after he, the Hawk, had appropriated the contents of
- Kirschell's cash box and had recognised Kirschell as one of the gang, the
- suite of rooms in the office building had been vacant.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk withdrew the last paper in the pile from its envelope, and read
- it with a sort of miserable realisation that its perusal, like the others,
- was foredoomed to futility. It was an alleged mortgage, spurious, of
- course, for these were Kirschell's papers that had been in the cash box,
- and, in the very nature of things, Kirschell's business had been only a
- blind to cover a sort of branch headquarters for the gang. He read it
- through, however, doggedly—and for his pains the printed words in
- their precise legal phraseology seemed to mock at him and chuckle with
- devilishly perverted humour.
- </p>
- <p>
- He tossed the document upon the table, and, his face strained, pushed back
- his chair, got up, and began to pace the length of the room with a tread
- that, in its quick, nervous litheness and its silence, was like the pacing
- of a panther in its cage.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nothing! And yet there must be something—somewhere! It was his move
- now, and there was little time to spare. It had become simply a question
- of which of the two, he or the gang, would win this game of
- blindman's-buff. It no longer sufficed that he should intercept those
- secret code messages in the former haphazard way, for, consistently as he
- had haunted the telegraph sounders, he was well enough aware that he must
- of necessity have missed many of the messages. He could afford to miss <i>none</i>
- of them now. Formerly, a message missed meant but a lost opportunity to
- thwart their plans, to add a little more to the contents of the trunk's
- false lid; now, since they had shown that they would stop at nothing to
- trap him, his life was dependent on having, with certainty, foreknowledge
- of their every plan. His defense lay in attack. He must trace those
- messages to their source, and trace them quickly before the Wire Devils
- should strike again, or leave the field to the Wire Devils—in other
- words, quit and run for it!
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quit!” It was the first sound the Hawk had made, and it was only a
- whisper—but the whisper was gritted out through set teeth. Quit! He
- laughed a little, low, with menace, without mirth. It was not an
- alternative—it was the sting of a curling whip-lash to spur him on.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well? What was he to do then? It was his move—and there was no time
- to spare. He approached the table again, and began to rearrange the papers
- into a pile, preparatory to replacing them in the tray. It was veritably a
- game of blindman's-buff! They knew him through personal contact, but only
- as a man who had always been masked; he knew many of them, and knew them
- personally—but only in the play-off of their schemes, when he had,
- as it were, snatched the plunder from their hands as he made his own
- escape, had he ever seen any of them. Well—the question came again,
- more insistent, more imperative, more vital—well, his life was in
- the balance, what was he to do? Go out again to-night and haunt a
- telegraph sounder, trust to——
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned suddenly, the spurious mortgage, and the long envelope that had
- contained it, in his hand. The document, for some reason or other, refused
- to fit into the envelope as neatly or as readily as it had previously
- done. He held the envelope up to the light—and the next instant,
- flinging the document down on the table, he had ripped the envelope apart,
- and from under the inner flap, where it had undoubtedly been forced by the
- document itself and afterwards, as he had handled the envelope, had
- obviously worked its way partially out again, he extracted a small, thin
- slip of yellow paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then for a moment the Hawk stood motionless, but into the dark eyes
- there leaped a triumphant flash. In his hand was the return portion of a
- railroad ticket that read:
- </p>
- <p>
- Conmore to Selkirk City.
- </p>
- <p>
- He whipped the ticket over to scrutinise the date stamp on the back—it
- was that of the day prior to his visit to Kirschell's office. And he
- laughed a little again, but there was no bitterness in the laugh now. The
- clue that he had sought, the clue that Lanson's men had in vain patrolled
- and scoured the division's right of way to obtain, was in his possession.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It fits—like a glove!” muttered the Hawk, with grim complacence.
- “Kirschell had the envelope in his pocket, of course, and in putting his
- return ticket in his pocket it slipped into the envelope without his
- knowing it, got crowded under the flap, and he thought he had lost it!”
- The Hawk turned sharply to the table. “Conmore—eh?” He was working
- with feverish haste now, replacing the papers in the tray, and fitting the
- tray back into the curvature of the trunk lid. “Number Thirty-Eight, if
- she's on time, is due at seven-thirty.” He pulled out his watch.
- “Seven-twenty! Conmore—eh?” The light was out, the door locked
- behind him. “That's twenty-miles east of here, and <i>between</i> here and
- Bald Creek.” He was out of the house now, and running along the lane that
- gave on the station street. “Yes,” said the Hawk again, and there was
- suppressed elation in his voice, “it fits! It fits—like a glove!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk reached the station, and purchased a ticket; but, as usual, the
- ticket did not indicate his destination—it read, not to Conmore, but
- to several stations farther along the line. The local pulled in on time.
- As it pulled out again, the Hawk, having appropriated the rear seat of the
- smoker, lighted, though he inclined little toward that particular form of
- tobacco, a cigar.
- </p>
- <p>
- His slouch hat was jerked a little forward over his eyes. He settled back
- in his seat. Like links in a chain, the keen, alert brain was welding the
- events of the days gone by into a concrete whole. The headquarters of the
- gang, the heart of the web from which the Wire Devils operated was,
- logically, as he had known, as MacVightie had known, <i>outside</i> the
- city, where the telegraph line could be tapped without observation and at
- will. MacVightie's initial and only attempt to “ground out” the “tap” had
- indicated that the wire was being tampered with <i>between</i> Selkirk and
- Bald Creek. Conmore was between Selkirk and Bald Creek. And what interest
- could Kirschell, a New York crook, have in a place like Conmore, that was
- little more than a hamlet? What, then, had prompted Kirschell's trip to
- Conmore and return? The Hawk smiled whimsically.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not proof absolute, but in his own mind it was proof quite
- sufficient. Kirschell's visit to Conmore had been a visit to the
- headquarters of the gang. Also, material proof apart, he sensed
- intuitively that he had struck the right trail. Those messages, keeping
- the unknown brain that schemed and plotted each move in instant touch with
- every unit of the widespread organisation, making it possible for them to
- strike at a moment's warning at any point over a hundred miles of country,
- emanated—from Conmore.
- </p>
- <p>
- The train stopped at a station, and went on again. The Hawk nursed his
- cigar sedulously, and stared out of the window. Twenty minutes went by.
- And then the train stopped again—at Conmore.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk did not move, save that his eyes rested casually on a passenger
- who was making a hurried and belated dash for the door. It was quite
- possible that the man was not one of the gang, and equally possible that
- the man was—he, the Hawk, did not recognise the other. But he would
- do the Wire Devils less than justice to credit them with lack of interest
- in passengers for Conmore—or in any occupant of any car who might
- have left his seat and found the platform attractive, say, just <i>before</i>
- Conmore was reached! If the man was a spy, then—well—the Hawk
- smiled at his now burned-to-the-butt cigar—the man would have little
- to report!
- </p>
- <p>
- The train jerked forward into motion again. The station was on the same
- side as the Hawk's seat—the Hawk did not look out of the window, but
- he was far from being oblivious to the fact that <i>no</i> platform lights
- had shown through the car windows on the opposite side of the aisle. The
- speed increased a little, but still the Hawk did not stir. The train
- rattled over the east-end siding switch of the Conmore yard. And then the
- Hawk rose languidly, tossed his cigar butt into the cuspidor, brushed a
- very noticeable quantity of cigar ash from his vest, paused for a drink at
- the water-cooler, and, as though, his smoke finished, he was seeking the
- clearer atmosphere of a rear car, opened the door, and stepped out on the
- platform.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk dropped to the right of way from the side of the train opposite
- to that of the station, landed as sure-footed as a cat, flung himself
- instantly flat down at the edge of the embankment, and lay still. The
- local racketed its way past—the red tail-lights winked, and vanished—and
- there fell a silence, a drowsy night silence, broken only by the chirp of
- insects and the far-distant mutter of the receding train. The Hawk raised
- his head, and looked about him. A few hundred yards away glinted the
- station semaphore and window lights; the siding switch light, nearer,
- showed green like a huge glowing emerald in the black; there was nothing
- else. There was no sign of habitation—nothing—the little
- hamlet lay hidden in a hollow a mile away on the station side of the
- track.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- XV—THE LADYBIRD
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk rose, and
- began to move forward. Conmore was certainly an idealistic spot—from
- the Wire Devils' standpoint! He frowned a little. There was no doubt in
- his mind but that in a general way he had solved the problem, that
- somewhere in this vicinity the right of way held the wire tappers' secret;
- but, as he was well aware, his difficulties were far from at an end, and
- that particular spot might be anywhere within several miles of Conmore,
- and it might, with equal reason, be east or west of the station. And then
- the Hawk shrugged his shoulders. The night was early yet, early enough to
- enable him to cover several miles of track on both sides of the station,
- if necessary, before daylight came. If he had luck with him, he was on the
- right side now; if not, then, by midnight, he would start in on the other.
- It required the exercise of a little philosophical patience, nothing more.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was black along the track—a black night, no moon, no stars. And
- it was silent. A half hour passed. Like a shadow, and as silent as one,
- the Hawk moved forward—from telegraph pole to telegraph pole. A pin
- point of light showed far down the right of way, grew larger, brighter,
- more luminous—and the Hawk-sought refuge, crouched beneath a
- culvert, as a big ten-wheeler and its string of coaches, trucks beating at
- the fishplates, quick like the tattoo of a snare drum, roared by over his
- head.
- </p>
- <p>
- Still another half hour passed. It was slow work. He was perhaps, at most,
- a mile and a half from the Conmore station. And then, suddenly, the Hawk
- dropped to his hands and knees and crawled down the embankment, and lay
- flat and motionless in the grass—faint, almost inaudible, a footstep
- had crunched on the gravel of the roadbed ahead of him. The Hawk's only
- movement now was the tightening of his fingers around the stock of his
- automatic, as, out of the blackness, a blacker shape loomed up, and a man
- sauntered by along the track.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's lips compressed into a grim smile. His caution had not been
- exaggerated! The Wire Devils' guard! Luck, at least initial luck, was with
- him, then! The “tap” was here <i>east</i> of the station, and at the next
- pole probably. But it was more than likely that there was another guard
- patrolling on the other side. They would certainly take no chances, either
- of surprise, or of being unable to dismantle their apparatus instantly at
- the first alarm—and it would almost necessarily require more than
- one man for that. He crept forward again, and again lay still. The man on
- the track returned—passed by—and, close to the telegraph pole
- now, two blurred shapes showed; and then, low, there came voices, and a
- laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- But now the Hawk was wriggling swiftly away from the track. There was no
- longer any need to examine the telegraph poles—the sense of touch
- guiding him, he was following an insulated wire, two wires, that lay along
- the ground, and, following these wires, he reached the barbed-wire fence
- that enclosed the right of way, worked his way through, and here paused.
- The wires had apparently disappeared abruptly into the ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- For perhaps a minute the Hawk lay still, save that his fingers worked and
- dug at loose earth; and then, his coat extended on either side of him, he
- raised himself an inch or two from the ground, and, beneath his body, his
- tiny flashlight glowed for a brief instant, and was restored to his
- pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk began to crawl forward again. He was on the edge of a ploughed
- field—a piece of farm land. It was all very simple, and it was very
- clear now. In the loose earth there was embedded a small, rough, wooden
- box. In this receptacle was a junction box, and from the junction box,
- through holes bored in the outer wooden casing, the wires continued on
- into a small, flexible conduit. The Hawk smiled grimly. Lanson, and
- Lanson's section men might search a thousand years and never solve the
- problem. The Wire Devils were not limited to any one single or particular
- telegraph pole. They were limited only in the radius of their operations
- by the length of the “tap” wires they used. They had only to tap the line,
- run their “tap” back, brush the loose earth away from the top of the
- wooden casing, open the latter, connect with the junction box, and their
- “tap” became an integral part of the railroad's telegraph system. It was
- very simple! When they were not operating—they reversed the process.
- They disconnected from the main line, coiled their “tap” wires up, hid
- them in the wooden casing, restored the loose earth over the latter's
- surface, and, save for one of those thousands of splices on the main line
- incident to years of service and differing in no way from any of its
- fellows, no sign or vestige of their work remained. It required, of
- course, a lineman's outfit and the necessary appliances for work at the
- top of the telegraph pole—but that the Wire Devils were adequately
- equipped in this respect was so obvious as to make any consideration of
- that detail absurd. For the rest, the little conduit laid in a ploughed
- furrow with the earth spread back over it completed in perfection and
- simplicity the unholy little scheme!
- </p>
- <p>
- On the Hawk crawled across the field. All this premised a house, a farm
- house probably, in the immediate vicinity. The ploughed field must, of
- course, never be disturbed, therefore the tenancy of the land
- axiomatically was for the moment vested in the Wire Devils, and——ah!
- The Hawk, far enough from the railroad now to be secure from observation,
- had risen from his hands and knees, and, in a crouched position, was
- moving forward more rapidly. A small, wooded tract of land was showing a
- little way in front of him; the house undoubtedly was there.
- </p>
- <p>
- He gained the trees, made his way through what appeared to be an open
- grove of pines, and, on the other side, at the edge of the clearing,
- halted, and listened intently. He could just make out a little group of
- buildings—the house itself, a barn, and one or two smaller
- structures, probably wagon and implement sheds. No light showed from
- anywhere, nor was there any sound. Cautiously, silently, the Hawk crossed
- the clearing, and began to circuit the house. It was a little strange! The
- place seemed absolutely deserted. Had he made a mistake? Naturally, he
- could not follow the direction of the buried conduit! Was there another
- house in the neighbourhood? He shook his head. There might be another
- house, many of them for that matter, but the ploughed field, from its
- location, surely belonged to this one. And yet—he halted once more,
- and, listening again intently, looked sharply about him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was around on the other side of the house now, and now his eyes were
- fixed on one of the lower windows. It was not the window of a lighted
- room, yet still a faint glow seemed to emanate most curiously from it. He
- crept toward it, crouched beneath it, listened again, then partially
- straightening up—the window sill was but breast high—peered
- in. Of the room itself he could see nothing—only the dull glow of
- light, extremely faint, that came, he now discovered, from an open door
- across the room. He tried the window; and then, finding the catch
- unfastened, with a deft pressure of his fingers upon the sash, he began to
- raise it slowly, silently.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now into the Hawk's dark eyes there leaped for the second time that
- night a triumphant flash. Yes, beyond doubt, beyond question, beyond
- cavil, here was the heart of the spider's web at last! Muffled, low,
- indistinct, barely audible, but equally unmistakable, there came the
- clicking of a telegraph instrument.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk drew his mask from his pocket, slipped it over his face, swung
- noiselessly over the window sill, and began to creep across the room
- toward the opened door and the glow of light. And, as the clicking of the
- sounder grew more distinct and there mingled with it now a murmur of
- voices, the Hawk's lips compressed into a thin, straight line. If he were
- caught, if a single inadvertent sound betrayed his presence; it needed no
- effort of the imagination to picture what would follow. Death, if it were
- sudden, would be a very merciful ending—but it would not be death,
- if the Wire Devils could prevent it, until they had exhausted every means,
- torture ingenious and devilish, for instance, to extort from him the
- whereabouts of the plunder taken from them, and which they knew to be in
- his possession. He knew much now, he knew their lair at last, and for a
- moment, as these thoughts flashed across his mind, he was prompted to
- retreat again while he had the chance. An inner voice called him a fool to
- persist; another bade him go on. But the latter voice was right. He knew
- much—but he did not know enough.
- </p>
- <p>
- If his life was in peril in the one sense, it was equally in peril in the
- other. He did not know <i>enough</i>. Who, for instance, was the master
- brain behind the organisation? Where and how, for instance, was the next
- trap they would set for him to be laid?
- </p>
- <p>
- Brief snatches of conversation now began to reach the Hawk, as he drew
- nearer to the door:
- </p>
- <p>
- “... Twenty-five thousand dollars... Traders' National Bank...
- superintendent's car... dummy package... counterfeit seals... that's all
- right, but MacVightie says the Secret Service is sending a man by the name
- of Birks out here....”
- </p>
- <p>
- And then a voice at which the Hawk involuntarily held his breath, and to
- which, at the door now, he listened in a sort of stunned incredulity, as
- though he were indeed the sport of his own ears. It was a very quiet
- voice, very soft, a velvet voice, a voice whose tones were cultured tones—and
- whose language was the language of a pirate of the Spanish Main.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Time enough to attend to this Birks personage—what I want is the
- Hawk!” came in limpid tones. “And if I were not tied down here in this
- damned and double-damned wheel chair, I would have twisted his throat for
- him long ago. I furnish brains—and I am cursed with a miserable,
- crawling mob of gnats upon whom they are wasted! That's it—gnats!
- Gnats—insects—moths—anything that, if shown the light,
- knows nothing but to singe its own wings!” The voice was not raised; it
- was like a mother's, like a woman's voice, talking plaintively to a
- spoiled child—but there was something absolutely deadly in its
- inflection.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Ladybird!” The Hawk's lips framed the words without sound, and in a
- sort of numbed hesitant way. “I—I thought he was dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The telegraph sounder kept on spluttering at intervals, but it was only
- stray stuff, routine railroad business, going over the wires. The Hawk,
- flat on the floor and at one side of the jamb now, stared through the
- doorway. It was the doorway leading to the cellar. The stairs, halfway
- down, turned abruptly at right angles. The Hawk was rewarded with a view
- of the stone foundation wall of the house, nothing more. But for the
- moment the Hawk was lost to his immediate surroundings. The Hawk's
- criminal acquaintanceship was wide, varied and intimate, and his mind was
- still not entirely recovered from the startled amazement which the
- recognition of that voice had brought him. He was quite fully conversant
- with the Ladybird's record—only he had thought the Ladybird dead!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Ladybird was not an ordinary criminal; instead of having spent twenty
- years in Sing Sing, as was very justly his due, the police had spent those
- twenty years in trying to put him there—and the Ladybird was still
- to know the restrictions of a cage! Clever, fearless, cunning, Napoleonic
- in the scope and breadth of his operations, the biggest scoops on the
- blotters of the New York police, and, higher up, on the Federal records,
- were laid to the Ladybird's door; but always, somewhere, the thread of
- evidence broke—sometimes not till the door itself was reached—but
- always it broke; the thread had never crossed the threshold. The man
- himself was highly educated, a man now well on toward fifty. In the
- underworld there were a thousand different stories of his early life—that
- he had been a professor of science in a great university; that he came of
- a rich family high up in the social scale; that he had been, in fact,
- everything that the spice of imagination could supply to enhance the
- glamour that surrounded him in the sordid empire of Crimeland, where so
- many were his followers and worshippers. But here, too, the thread was
- broken. None knew who he had been; none knew where he had come from. They
- knew him only as one who was invulnerable against the attacks and efforts
- of the police, as a peer of their own unholy realm, as one whose name was
- a name to conjure with—for in the name, the “moniker” they
- themselves had given the Ladybird on account of his effeminate voice and
- manner, derision was neither intended nor implied. There were limits and
- bounds to even the underworld's temerity, and none knew better than the
- underworld the sinister incongruity of those effeminate characteristics.
- Where another might bellow and roar his rage, and threaten, the Ladybird
- lisped his words—and <i>struck</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- But he, the Hawk, had thought the Ladybird dead! The man had been badly
- hurt a year ago in a railroad accident somewhere in the East, and the
- report had spread, and had been credited even in the inner circles of the
- underworld, that he was dead. The Hawk's lips twisted grimly. The Ladybird
- had seen to it evidently that the report was not denied! And so, instead,
- the man was a cripple now, weaving his plots, and scheming with that
- black, cunning brain of his from a wheel chair! Well, he——
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk reached quickly into his pocket for pencil and paper—there
- would be just light enough to enable him to see. The sounder was rattling
- a brisk, tattoo, but it was no longer stray stuff. The message, in quick,
- sure “sending,” was coming in the Wire Devils' secret code. Letter by
- letter the Hawk jotted it down:
- </p>
- <p>
- “pikxtfbmez byqetbqfsl kgqmbokufec srfijojeremb sthfgsbk bnfebvwq
- jduuvsfpq xwfsnlipb ouflmnfsbg jeborr ettjupuj ohllsppn.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The sounder ceased abruptly. There was silence. The Hawk replaced pencil
- and paper in his pocket. The minutes passed—the message was
- evidently being decoded. Then the Ladybird's voice:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well! Code a message to Number One, and tell him Number Seven has
- completed his work. Tell him again to take no chances by hurrying things;
- that he is to wait until they are asleep. And warn him again that under no
- circumstances is our hand to show in this to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A slight confusion followed from below—the scuf-, fling of feet, the
- murmur of voices mingling with curious, indefinable metallic sounds. And
- then suddenly the Ladybird's voice again:
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—never mind that message! Damn my cursed, useless legs!” A flow
- of unbridled oaths followed—the sacrilege the more horrible, the
- menace the more ghastly for the languid, conversational tones in which the
- blasphemy rolled so smoothly from the man's lips. “I'll trust to no
- message tonight! Curse my legs! If I could only get there myself! Failure!
- Failure! Failure! Gnats! But I will not have my plans ruined to-night by
- any fool! Here, you, Dixer! Where's Dixer?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm here,” a voice answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen, them!” murmured the Ladybird. “You haven't got any more brains
- than any of the rest of them, but you're so cautious you wouldn't take a
- chance on swapping a Mexican dollar for a gold eagle unless you had a
- bottle of acid in your pocket—for fear the eagle was bad! I want
- caution tonight, and I want orders obeyed to the letter, and that's all I
- want. You take the runabout and go down there. You've lots of time. Tell
- Number One you're in charge. I'll wire him to that effect. And now pay
- attention to me so you won't have ignorance for an excuse! It's time the
- police and the rags they call newspapers around here had a little
- something to divert their attention—from us. They're getting to be
- pests, and I want a lull in which to devote a little more attention to—the
- Hawk. It's about time they understood we are modest enough not to hog all
- the lime-light!” He laughed a little, a low, modulated, dulcet laugh, that
- rippled like a woman's—but in the ripple there was something that
- was akin to a shudder. “Twice in the last month, the Traders' National has
- made remittances to its banking correspondent at Elkhead for the mine
- country pay rolls and on account of general business. They did it very
- neatly, they fooled us completely—because the remittances were only
- piker amounts, and because it was only a question of letting them get fed
- up enough with their own cleverness to pull a good one! They're pulling a
- good one to-night!” The Ladybird's laugh rippled out again. “To outwit us,
- and paying us the compliment of not daring to trust to ordinary means of
- shipment, they've had a little arrangement in force with Lanson, the
- division superintendent. It was very simple. Lanson, in his car, making a
- trip over the division, could never interest us—certainly not! Why
- should it? Only they did not count on Number Eleven <i>inside</i> the
- bank. Very well! They wrapped their banknotes up in small packages, sealed
- them with the bank's seal, wrapped these small packages up again into an
- innocent looking parcel <i>without</i> a seal, and handed it over to a
- trusted young employé by the name of Meridan—Paul Meridan. On both
- the former occasions, Meridan left the bank at the usual closing hour,
- took the parcel with him, and went home; but, later on, in the evening, he
- slipped down to the railroad yard, boarded Lanson's private car, locked
- the parcel up in a small cupboard at the bottom of the bookcase with which
- the main compartment of the car is equipped, smoked a cigar with Lanson,
- turned in, the car was coupled to the night express, and in the morning
- Meridan delivered his package in Elkhead.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was the way it was done before, Dixer”—the Ladybird's voice,
- if anything, grew softer—“and that's the way it is being done this
- time—only there are <i>more</i> little sealed packages in the parcel
- to-night. And to-night Meridan will sneak out of his home again, and go
- down to the private car with the money as usual. <i>Your</i> way, yours
- and the Butcher's, and that of the rest of you, would be to lay a
- blackjack over Meridan's head on the way to the railroad yard, and snatch
- the parcel. It's not <i>my</i> way. It's too hot, as it is, around here
- now, and there's got to be a big enough noise made to attract attention to
- the other side of the fence and give us a breathing spell. <i>Paul Meridan
- stands for this to-night</i>. There's nothing new about one of those
- ubiquitous 'trusted employés' going wrong, but everybody sucks in their
- breaths just the same every time it happens, and the splash is always just
- as big. Understand? Number One has got a dummy package identical in
- appearance with Meridan's—each of the small packages is sealed with
- the bank's seal in dark-green wax, and the whole is wrapped up with the
- bank's special wrapping paper and tied precisely as is the one Meridan has
- in his possession. Number Eleven did his work well. There was, of course,
- no opportunity to effect the exchange in the bank itself, and the dummy
- parcel had to be made up outside, but there was no difficulty in carrying
- away enough wrapping paper and wax for the purpose—and, as far as
- the seal was concerned, it was you, Dixer, who engraved it a week ago,
- wasn't it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Dixer. “You took me off the new twenty-spot plate for that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Exactly!” lisped the Ladybird. “Well, though this exchange could not be
- effected in the bank, there was no great ingenuity required to get Meridan
- to handle, perhaps only to lift, say, a pile of the bank's wrapping paper
- from one position on a table or desk to another. If the under sheet
- happened to be slightly smeared, and so left a not too evident, but still
- well-defined finger print, it was, I am afraid, our friend Meridan's great
- misfortune! That was one of the sheets Number Eleven took away with him.
- Very good! Meridan delivers his package to his bank's correspondent in
- Elkhead to-morrow morning. When the seals are broken, the little packages
- are found to contain—piles of blotting paper, neatly and carefully
- cut to the size of banknotes! There could be no reason for suspecting
- Meridan, the trusted employé—no one would think of such a thing. He
- had simply been the victim of a clever substitution. He was entirely
- blameless. Naturally! That would be the way Meridan would reason, and that
- would be the way they would figure <i>he had reasoned</i> when they read
- the letter from 'a friend' that we are sending to-night, and which they
- will receive in the morning. Meridan <i>did</i> have an ample opportunity
- to effect the substitution himself. The letter simply suggests a close
- inspection of the wrappers for finger prints, and directs attention to
- Apartment B, on the ground floor of The Linden—a rather fashionable
- abode for a young and newly married bank clerk—where there might
- possibly be found certain articles such as, say, a counterfeit of the
- bank's seal, a quantity of the bank's special dark-green wax, and some <i>superfluous</i>
- sheets of the bank's particular wrapping paper!”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was utter silence from the cellar below for an instant, then there
- came a callous guffaw.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Some</i> plant, all right!” applauded a voice hoarsely. “And it was
- twenty-five thousand dollars, you said, wasn't it, chief?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again that rippling laugh, soft, low and silvery.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twenty-five thousand dollars is correct,” corroborated the Ladybird. “And
- now, Dixer, if you fail, you'll talk to me—you've seen all the
- cards. Number One has a duplicate key to the private car, and a duplicate
- key to the bookcase cupboard. Don't enter the car until you are sure
- Meridan, Lanson and the porter are asleep. I want <i>caution</i>—and
- I will settle with the man until he will wish he had never been born who
- lets our hand show in this tonight. The car won't be moved from the siding
- until the Eastern Express is made up at midnight, but don't touch the car
- while it is on the siding at all if it means taking any chances; in that
- case you and Number One can get berths in the Pullman, and, with the
- private car right behind you, you can then make the exchange sometime
- during the night. You'll find Number One and the rest of them in the old
- freight shed near the roundhouse, and, with the private car right behind
- you, you can then make the exchange sometime during the night. You'll find
- Number One and the rest of them in the old freight shed near the
- roundhouse, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk was wriggling silently back across the floor. There was no scheme
- on foot to-night that was aimed at him; there was, instead, twenty-five
- thousand dollars—<i>in cash</i>. He gained the window, and swung to
- the sill. Footsteps, hurried, sounded from the direction of the cellar
- stairs. The Hawk dropped to the ground, stole noiselessly around the rear
- of the house, and reached the shelter of the grove of trees. Here, he
- paused, slipped his mask into his pocket, and, for a moment, a look of
- puzzled hesitation was in his face; then, running again, but making a wide
- detour to avoid the guarded section of the track, he headed for a point
- that would intercept the right of way quite close to the Conmore station.
- And, as he ran, he jerked his watch and flashlight from his pockets. It
- was a quarter past nine. It was early yet, very early, and they certainly
- would not make any attempt on the car much before midnight, but, for all
- that, the Hawk, who was intimately conversant with the train schedules,
- shook his head impatiently, as he sped along—there were twenty miles
- between himself and Selkirk, and the quickest, as indeed the only way to
- get there, since, unlike Dixer, he was not possessed of a runabout, was
- slow at best. There were no westbound passenger trains scheduling Conmore
- for two hours or more, and he would scarcely have dared to risk boarding
- one at the station if there had been—there remained, then, not by
- choice, but by necessity, the way freight. The way freight “made” Conmore
- at about ten o'clock, and Selkirk at about eleven-thirty.
- </p>
- <p>
- It would serve admirably, of course, if——He shook his head
- again, and then laughed shortly. There were no “ifs”—he would be a
- passenger on the way freight.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- XVI—AN EVEN BREAK
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T took the Hawk
- some twenty-five minutes to reach the spot he had selected as his
- objective, a spot some fifty yards east of the Conmore siding switch, and
- here he lay down in the grass under the shelter of the embankment. It was
- very quiet, very still, very dark; there was nothing in sight save the
- winking station lights in the distance, and the siding switch light nearer
- at hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twenty-five thousand dollars!” said the Hawk very softly to himself. He
- rolled the words like some sweet morsel on his tongue. “Twenty-five
- thousand dollars—<i>in cash!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk spread out one side of his coat, and under its protection, in a
- diminutive but steady little glow of light, the tiny flashlight played its
- ray upon the sheet of paper across which he had scrawled the Wire Devils'
- code message.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Key letter—x. One-two-three—stroke at four,” muttered the
- Hawk—and in parallel columns set down the letters of the alphabet,
- one column transposed.
- </p>
- <p>
- It took the Hawk much longer to decode the message than it had taken those
- in the house to perform the same task. The Hawk was working under
- difficulties. A stone, none too flat, served to rest his paper upon, and
- he had only two hands with which to manipulate pencil, flashlight and
- coat. At the expiration of perhaps half an hour the result of his work
- looked like this:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0242.jpg" alt="0242 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0242.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- And then the Hawk looked up—the throb and mutter of a distant train
- was in the air. Pencil, paper and flashlight were restored to his pockets,
- and he drew further back from the right of way. Far down the track the way
- freight's headlight flashed into view. A minute passed, another, and still
- another. And now, where the Hawk had lain, the ground was ablaze with
- light—then black again; there was the roar of steam, a grind and
- clash and shatter ricochetting down the string of cars, the scream and
- shriek of brake-shoes, and then, a panting thing, as though the big mogul
- were drawing in deep breaths after great exertion, the way freight came to
- a standstill a few yards from the siding switch.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk crept forward, his eyes sweeping down the length of the train in
- a keen, tense gaze. There was a flat car—it showed in a curious open
- space, like a break in the black thread stretched along the track—but
- it was too far away, and too perilously close to the caboose. His eyes
- travelled back; and, being nearer to the train now he discerned a boxcar,
- empty, its door open, almost in front of him. He crawled forward until he
- was abreast of it, and until he lay close up against the rails, looked
- cautiously up and down the length of the train, sprang to his feet, and in
- an instant lay stretched out far back in the interior of the car.
- </p>
- <p>
- The train moved forward, stopped again at the station, and again moved
- forward. The Hawk reverted to his pencil, paper and flashlight. The code
- message now read:
- </p>
- <p>
- seal waxp aper plan tedb ehin dlar gefr amed pict ureo verm ante lmer idan
- ssit ting room
- </p>
- <p>
- It was now simply a matter of grouping the letters properly, and the Hawk
- wrote out the message at the bottom of the sheet:
- </p>
- <p>
- Seal, wax (and) paper planted behind large framed picture over mantel
- Meridan('.s sitting room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk stared at it grimly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Yea,” said the Hawk, “I guess that's right! I guess the job is wished on
- the young fellow to a finish; he wouldn't have a hope, and MacVightie
- would never look any further.” The Hawk was silent for a moment.
- “Twenty-five thousand dollars—in cash!” murmured the Hawk again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The way freight ran slowly, very slowly—and it had already been from
- ten to fifteen minutes late in reaching Conmore. At the next station the
- train crew seemed possessed of a perversity infernal for shifting,
- shunting and lifting cars. The Hawk, fuming with impatience, consulted his
- watch, as they finally pulled out into the clear again. It was twenty-five
- minutes of eleven.
- </p>
- <p>
- The train rattled, bumped and jerked its way along—and at the
- remaining intermediate stations there was more delay. And when,
- approaching Selkirk at last, the Hawk consulted his watch again as the
- train whistled, he was conscious that his impatience was tempered with a
- sort of sullen, philosophical expectation of defeat. His luck had been too
- abundant during the early part of the evening! It was now ten minutes of
- twelve. He leaned out of the doorway, peering ahead. They were just
- rolling into the Selkirk yard.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk swung himself out from the car, dropped to the ground, darted
- quickly to one side over several spur tracks, and stood still. The way
- freight, like a snail, dragged past him, opening, as it were, a panorama
- of the scene in the yard: the low switch lights, red, green, purple and
- white, like myriad and variegated fireflies hovering everywhere over the
- ground; the bobbing lantern of a yardman here and there; the dancing gleam
- of a headlight, as the little yard engine shot fussily away from a string
- of lighted coaches—the Eastern Express—which it had evidently
- just made up and backed down on the main line beside the station; while to
- his right, up the yard, on one of the spurs, perhaps a hundred yards away,
- its platform showing in the glow of the dome light, stood the
- superintendent's car; and to his left, not quite so far up the yard, and
- therefore nearer to him than the private car, the Hawk could make out the
- black, irregular outline of the old freight shed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The yard engine wheezed its way importantly up past the station, stopped,
- a switch light winked, changed colour, and the shunter began to puff its
- way back. The Hawk shrugged his shoulders resignedly. The game was up and
- he was too late, unless Dixer had been forced to defer his attempt until
- some time during the run that night, which was hardly likely. The yard
- engine was backing down now to take the superintendent's car up to the
- main line, preparatory to running it back and coupling it to the string of
- coaches beside the station platform. The Hawk smiled in the darkness
- without mirth, as he lost sight of the little switcher on the other side
- of the private car. Well, at least, he could gamble on the one chance that
- was left! There was only one thing to do—go over to the station and
- get a Pullman berth. If Dixer and the Butcher—the Butcher was
- “Number One”—were on the Pullman, the money was still in the private
- car, and——
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's eyes narrowed suddenly. A man, crouched and running swiftly,
- circled the end of the private car, and headed in the direction of the
- freight shed—and like a flash the Hawk whirled and leaped forward,
- running silently toward the same goal. The Hawk's brain, stimulated, keen,
- alert, worked with lightning speed, and suddenly a strange low laugh was
- on his lips. Their courses were convergent, his and that black running
- shape's, and the other had not noticed him, and there appeared to be
- something, a package, under the other's arm. The Hawk, as he ran, slipped
- his mask over his face. Was it the dummy package—or the twenty-five
- thousand in cash? Had the man succeeded, or had the yard engine, backing
- down to couple on, disturbed him in his attempt just at the psychological
- instant? Again that strange low laugh, in a panting breath, was on the
- Hawk's lips. It did not matter! There was a way now. He was not too late.
- If he got <i>both</i> of the packages he could not lose—and there
- was a way to accomplish that, a wild, dare-devil way, but a <i>sure</i>
- way!
- </p>
- <p>
- It was black, pitch black, in near the shed, and the Hawk, with the
- shorter distance to cover, reached the edge of the freight shed platform,
- and crouched down on the track. Came the faint crash and bump of the yard
- engine coupling to the private car; then the short, quick gasps of a
- runner out of breath, and a flying form bounded across the tracks, sprang
- to the platform, and dashed for the freight shed door—and the Hawk,
- his muscles, rigid, taut as steel, released suddenly, as a coiled spring
- is released, leaped and hurled himself upon the other.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a yell of dismay, of surprise and fury, that seemed to echo from
- one end of the yard to the other. The man went down in a heap from the
- impact. The package, from under his arm, rolled off along the platform—and
- the Hawk in a swoop was upon it. He snatched it up, and running like a
- deer now, headed for the yard engine and the private car.
- </p>
- <p>
- Came another yell from behind him. He heard the freight shed door flung
- violently open; and then, in grim emphasis of a sudden chorus of wild,
- infuriated shouts from Dixer's waiting companions, the vicious tongue
- flame of a revolver split the black, and the roar of the report
- reverberated through the yard like a cannon shot.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now from the yard itself, the roundhouse and the station came
- answering shouts. On the Hawk ran—he was alongside the private car
- now, which was already in motion—and now he was opposite the cab of
- the yard engine. The fireman, at the sudden pandemonium, head thrust out,
- was hanging in the gangway. The Hawk's automatic swung to a line with the
- other's head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get out!” gritted the Hawk coldly. “Both of you—you and your mate!
- Get out—<i>on the other side!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man, with a dazed oath, retreated, and the Hawk sprang through the
- gangway. The engineer, jumping from his seat, hesitated, and in the yellow
- light of the cab lamp looked for the fraction of a second into the muzzle
- of the Hawk's automatic, and into the hard, uncompromising black eyes
- behind the mask—and followed the fireman in a hasty exit through the
- opposite gangway.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk snatched at the throttle, pulled it wider—and, like a beast
- stung to sudden madness under the spur, the yard engine quivered, and in a
- storm of exhausts, coughing the red sparks skyward from the stack, the
- drivers racing, spitting fire as they sought to bite and hold the steel,
- plunged forward. Ahead the way was clear to the main line, but behind——The
- Hawk dropped his package on the floor of the cab, leaned suddenly far out
- through the gangway, and as suddenly fired, his automatic cutting a lane
- of flame through the darkness. He had fired at the ground, but his shot
- had been effective. The engineer or the fireman, he could not distinguish
- which, leaping to board the private car by the rear platform, leaped back
- instead, and with a series of wild gesticulations, in which arms and fists
- waved furiously, vanished in the darkness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The yard engine, as though playing snap-the-whip with the private car
- behind it, took the main line switch with a stagger and a lurch, and
- straightened away into the clear. There was speed now, and the speed was
- increasing with every second. The shouts, the yells, the cries, the
- pandemonium from the yard was blotted out in the pound of the drivers and
- the belch of the exhaust; and the station and switch lights were lost to
- sight as engine and car flew on, heading west into the foothills. The Hawk
- chuckled to himself. There would be wild confusion in the dispatcher's
- office, and wild confusion all along the line west of Selkirk, as
- regulars, extras and traffic of all sorts scurried for safety to the
- sidings—but there would be no interference with <i>him!</i> Where
- they would otherwise have ditched him, given him an open switch at the
- first station and sent him to destruction without compunction, he
- possessed, as it was, a most satisfactory hostage in the person of the
- division superintendent, whom they would hesitate about sending to
- eternity at the same time!
- </p>
- <p>
- Possibly a minute and a half, two at the outside, had passed since he had
- jumped through the gangway. He eased the throttle a little now, reducing
- the speed to a rate more nearly commensurate with safety; and, placing the
- package on the driver's seat, ripped off the outside wrapper. There was a
- queer, hard smile on the Hawk's lips, as his fingers tore at the covering
- of one of the small sealed packets within. Was it the dummy parcel—or
- the twenty-five thousand in cash? Had Dixer succeeded—or was the
- money still behind him there in the private car?
- </p>
- <p>
- The cab lamp above the dancing gauge needles seemed to throw its meagre
- yellow glow with strained inquisitiveness over the Hawk's shoulder—and
- then the Hawk laughed softly, and laughed again. In his hands were
- banknotes. He riffled the stack through his fingers. It was here, in his
- possession—<i>twenty-five thousand dollars in cash!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- And he laughed again, and glanced around him—through the cab glass
- at the white ribbons of steel glistening under the headlight's glare,
- around the murky cab that in its sway and jolt seemed to endow a legion of
- shadowy with movement, vitality and life, at the platform of the private
- car, which he could see by looking along the edge of the tender, and
- which, like its fellow at the rear, was bathed in the soft radiance of a
- dome light. Well, he might have known from the fact that the occupants of
- the car had not made any move as yet, at least from the forward end, that
- they had been in bed and asleep when the disturbance began; and he might,
- on that count, if he had stopped to think, have known that Dixer had
- succeeded even before he, the Hawk, had put it to the proof by opening the
- parcel.
- </p>
- <p>
- A lurch of the cab sent him against the seat, and scattered the sealed
- packages. He gathered them together again hurriedly. He had only to slow
- down the engine a little more, jump to the ground, let the engine and car
- go on, make his own way back through the fields, and he would be safe
- unless—that strange, queer smile, half grim, half whimsical, was
- flickering across his lips—unless he cared to risk his life for that
- dummy package back there in the car behind, that contained nothing more
- valuable than neatly trimmed pieces of blotting paper!
- </p>
- <p>
- The smile lost its whimsicality, and the grimness gathered until his lips
- drooped in sharp, hard lines at the corners of his mouth—and,
- abruptly, lifting up the seat, he swept the packages of banknotes into the
- engineer's box, leaped across the cab, and began to claw his way up over
- the coal, making for the back of the tender.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twenty-five thousand in cash for me, and twenty years in the 'pen' for
- the kid, doesn't look like an even break,” muttered the Hawk, as he clawed
- his way up. “Maybe I'm a fool—I guess maybe I am—but it
- doesn't look like an even break. You see,” said the Hawk, continuing to
- commune with himself, “they'll know, of course, that some one who wasn't
- Meridan tried to get the package, but with the package still there they'll
- think that the 'some one' made a bull of it, and to-morrow morning when
- they open the package and spot the finger prints, and get that bank seal
- in Meridan's home, they'll hold him for it cold, because what's happened
- around here to-night'll only look like somebody making a try for the goods
- without knowing they were already gone. The kid wouldn't have a hope—the
- Ladybird wasn't dealing any aces except to himself—the kid would go
- up for having <i>previously</i> stolen the goods on his own account. Yes,
- I guess he would—wax, seal and paper in his house to make dummy
- packages with—yes, I guess the kid would stand a hot chance!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk rose to his feet at the rear of the tender, preparing to
- negotiate a leap down over the ornamental brass platform railing of the
- private car—and instantly flung himself back flat on his face on the
- coal. The car door was flung open, and Lanson, the superintendent, in
- pajamas, a revolver in his hand, stepped out on the platform. He was
- closely followed by a young man—Meridan, the bank clerk, obviously—also
- in pajamas, but apparently unarmed; and, behind Meridan again, came the
- negro porter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson's voice, raised excitedly, carried to the Hawk:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Damn it, there's no one in the cab! What the devil sort of a game is
- this!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk edged up to the top of the coal again—and the next instant,
- with catlike agility, he launched himself forward. Lanson, clambering over
- the platform railing, with the very evident intention of making his way
- via the tender to the throttle, gasped audibly over the racket of the
- beating trucks, and in a sort of stunned surprise and irresolution
- remained poised inertly on the railing, as the Hawk, clinging now with one
- hand to the rear handrail of the switcher, his feet planted on the buffer
- beam, thrust the muzzle of his automatic into Lanson's face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Drop that gun!” invited the Hawk in a monotone.
- </p>
- <p>
- The weapon, from Lanson's hand, clattered down, struck the coupling, and
- dropped to the track.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk spoke again—with unpleasant curtness:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You—Sambo! Move back, and stand in the doorway! Yes—there!
- Now, you, young man, you stand in front of Sambo—your back to him!”
- And then, as Meridan too obeyed, though more slowly than the porter and
- with a sort of defiant reluctance, the Hawk addressed the superintendent:
- “Now, you—your name's Lanson, isn't it?” he snapped. “You, Lanson,
- back up against the young fellow. Yes—that's it! Sambo, put your
- hands on the young fellow's shoulders—and you, young fellow, do the
- same on Lanson's!” The Hawk swung over to the' car platform—and then
- the Hawk smiled uninvitingly. “It's the lock-step backwards,” he explained
- insolently. “You get the idea, don't you? If either of you two behind lift
- your hands, Lanson in front here pays for it. Now—back with you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- They shuffled backward into the observation compartment of the car,
- through this, and through a narrow side corridor, and emerged into the
- main compartment of the car. The Hawk, guiding their movements by the
- simple expedient of prodding the muzzle of his automatic none too gently
- into Lanson's body, here ranged the three along the side of the car; and,
- backing over to the opposite side himself, halted in front of the
- bookcase, and stood surveying his captives with his former insolent stare.
- The porter was patently reduced to a state of nervous terror; Meridan,
- young, clean-cut, was white to the lips, and his lips quivered, but his
- eyes, a hard, bitter light in them, never left the Hawk's face; Lanson,
- too, was white, but there was a stern composure in his face that was
- absent from the younger man's.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Lanson who spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I presume,” he said evenly, “that you are the abandoned scoundrel, known
- as the Hawk, whom one of these days we are going—<i>to hang</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk shrugged his shoulders.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I haven't a calling card with me, but we'll let it go at that,” he
- answered flippantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The car swayed and lurched suddenly; the trucks beat a louder tattoo as
- they clattered over a switch; lights, a row of them from without,
- scintillated through the car windows—and were gone. They were not
- running perilously fast, but fast enough to prohibit the possibility of
- any one, even an acrobatic brakeman from a stalled train, swinging aboard.
- The Hawk laughed low. Also, he had been quite right—they had just
- passed a station, and, thanks to the superintendent's presence, no attempt
- had been made to interfere with the train.
- </p>
- <p>
- From one of the Hawk's pockets—with his left hand—the Hawk
- produced a small steel jimmy. He knelt down, and, still covering the three
- men, inserted the jimmy in between the cupboard doors. There was a creak,
- the rip and split and tear of rending wood and lock, and the doors flew
- apart. The Hawk reached in, laughed again, as, with the dummy package
- under his arm, he stood up and began to back away toward the corridor
- leading to the forward end of the car—and the laugh died on his
- lips. In the winking of an eye Meridan had swung his hands from Lanson's
- shoulders, and was springing forward.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You'll never get it!” The boy's voice was a hoarse whisper. “Not while I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Keep away, you fool!” snarled the Hawk, and fired—at the floor. His
- brain seemed instantly in a riot of ironical mockery. He could not fire at
- the boy—it was the boy who had brought him here—and now the
- other was upon him—like a wild cat—snatching at the automatic.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was only another step backward to the opening of the corridor, and the
- Hawk gained it; but still the boy clung on, fighting furiously. He saw
- Lanson and the porter leap forward, but for the moment that mattered
- little—no more than one at a time could get at him in the confined
- and narrow space here. To hold the package rendered his left arm useless.
- He dropped the package to the floor, and kicked it deftly back behind him,
- as the boy, with both hands, wrenched and battled madly for possession of
- the automatic.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were swaying now, the two of them, bumping their shoulders and their
- arms and elbows against first one side of the corridor and then the other.
- There was the crash of splintering glass as they lunged into a window—another
- crash, louder, more ominous, and with it a tongue of flame, as the
- automatic went off in their hands—and something like a red-hot iron
- seared the Hawk's side, and a blur came before his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- He reeled, recovered himself, and, massing all his strength for the
- effort, as, with a cry of triumph, Meridan closed again, he tore himself
- free from the other's grasp. There was one way—he was still in
- possession of the automatic—only one way now.
- </p>
- <p>
- With a lightning swing he whipped the hutt of the weapon to the other's
- head, backed rapidly away as the boy slid a limp thing to the floor, and,
- picking up the package as he moved backward, holding the narrow corridor
- with his automatic, though Lanson was kneeling now at Meridan's side, he
- reached the observation compartment, whirled, ran for the door, opened it,
- and stepped out on the platform.
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood panting here, a little dizzy, a sort of nauseating weakness upon
- him, as he fumbled in his pocket. He was not as quick as usual in his
- work, not as expert now in the use of his skeleton keys, but, swiftly for
- all that, he locked the car door.
- </p>
- <p>
- The car and the engine seemed to sway and lurch and pitch and toss as they
- had never done before. Was the speed greater? What was it? He stumbled and
- nearly fell as he climbed to the tender. He fell, unable to maintain his
- footing in the shifting coal, as he reached the cab. There was something
- hot and wet that seemed to be working its way down his leg; his side was
- giving him intolerable pain.
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked at the package in his hands, looked at it queerly for a moment,
- and then his drawn lips parted in the old whimsical smile, as he lurched
- forward and opened the fire-box door. The red glow filled the cab and
- spread upward, tinging the sky with a rosy light—and the Hawk thrust
- the package into the fire, and, swaying unsteadily, watched it burst into
- flame.
- </p>
- <p>
- He glanced at the gauge now. The steam was dropping rapidly. He swept his
- hand across his eyes. He had two things to do, and it seemed as though his
- brain clogged in its decision as to which he should do first—he had
- to get more coal on the fire, or else the engine would run down, and he
- did not want it to run down, for it must keep on going a long way, a very
- long way if possible, after he left it; and he must stop the flow of blood
- from his wound somehow, or else——
- </p>
- <p>
- He put coal into the fire-box. It was painful, dizzy work, and he spilled
- a great deal of it, and the lumps rolled over the floor of the cab, and he
- stumbled over the lumps.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's teeth were biting into his bloodless lips, as he finally shut
- the fire-box door, and, staggering to the side of the cab, lifted up the
- engineer's seat again. Here, under the packages of banknotes, he found a
- bunch of waste and some cord; and then, reeling with the lurch of the cab,
- reeling with his own weakness that only an iron nerve held back from
- mastering him, he examined his wound, found it, though painful and
- bleeding profusely, to be only a bad flesh wound, and, making a thick pad
- of the waste, he laid it against his side, and bound it there by passing
- the cord tightly several times around his body. It was a crude bandage,
- but it should, at least, check the flow of blood—afterwards, if he
- had luck, there would be opportunity for a better one!
- </p>
- <p>
- His mind reverted, seemingly without volition of his, to the fight in the
- car, and he spoke aloud.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess,” said the Hawk, “I didn't hit him as hard as twenty years in the
- 'pen' would have hit him—I guess I didn't hit him that hard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He rested for a moment, sitting on the floor of the cab; then from the
- engineer's box he removed the sealed packages, the torn outside wrapper,
- and likewise an evening newspaper which he found there. He wrapped up the
- banknotes in the newspaper, tied the bundle securely with the remainder of
- his cord, replaced the seat, and, crouched low enough on the floor to be
- protected by the tender from, say, a shot fired through the observation
- window of the private car, kept his eyes fastened on the right of way
- ahead.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next station must be close at hand, and there was but one way in which
- he could get back to Selkirk—and he <i>must</i> get back. There was
- that letter—the Ladybird's letter—that would be received in
- Elkhead in the morning! His brain was clearer now. He must be on Extra No.
- 92, the eastbound fast freight's, running time, and she must be somewhere
- very near here, must have taken to the siding at the next station probably
- to avoid him, and to give clearance to what was, undoubtedly now, coming
- behind him—a detective's special, with MacVightie, naturally, in
- command.
- </p>
- <p>
- He straightened up painfully. Ahead, he had caught the glint of switch and
- station lights. The siding was on the left-hand side. He moved to the
- left-hand side of the cab, and lay on the cab floor by the gangway. That
- letter! It seemed to obsess him now. If, when the letter was read, the
- bank seal, the wax, and the wrapping paper were <i>found</i> hidden in the
- boy's home, the fact that some one—he, the Hawk—had stolen the
- package from the car in no way changed anything. The boy's apparent prior
- guilt was as glaring as ever. On the other hand, with the package gone,
- and if the seal and those other things were <i>not</i> found, the letter
- became simply the expression of some practical joker's perverted sense of
- humour, or the irresponsible work of some fool or crank. He frowned in a
- sort of dazed irritation. He had known that all along, hadn't he? He had
- known when he started after that dummy package in the first place that he
- would have to go <i>all</i> the way—so why was his mind dwelling now
- on useless repetitions!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk raised his head slightly—a deafening racket was in his
- ears. The freight was here—on the siding. He was roaring past it
- now. He could not hope for an open boxcar on the fast freight. His eyes
- were searching eagerly for a flat car—a flat car loaded with
- anything that would afford him shelter. Yes—there was one—two
- of them—loaded with steel girders.
- </p>
- <p>
- The roar subsided; he was past the station and into the clear again—and
- now the Hawk was at the throttle, easing the speed craftily. He did not
- dare to “shut off” entirely, for, behind there at the station, they would
- know, if the sound of the exhaust ceased, that he had stopped. He checked
- a little with the “air” now. And now, calculating the speed reduced enough
- to risk a jump, he opened the throttle to its former notch, took up his
- newspaper package, lowered himself to the bottom gangway step, and swung
- off.
- </p>
- <p>
- He rolled down the embankment. The switcher and private car went by, and,
- gradually gaining speed again, racketed on up the right of way. With a
- groan, the Hawk readjusted his displaced and makeshift bandage, and began
- to make his way back toward the station. If he had slowed enough to allow
- of a safe landing for himself, he had, of course, given Lanson the same
- opportunity—but he had no fear of that. Lanson might have jumped,
- but Meri-dan, whom he had left unconscious, <i>couldn't</i>, and Lanson
- would stick to Meridan. As for the porter—the Hawk shrugged his
- shoulders, as he looked about him—the porter had <i>not</i> jumped.
- </p>
- <p>
- He stumbled on. If he were right, if they had started a posse on a special
- in pursuit, he had plenty of time. The fast freight could not pull out
- until the special had gone by. It seemed a long way, an interminable way,
- an immeasurably greater distance than he had covered coming up on the
- switcher. And then, at last, the tail-lights of the stalled freight came
- into sight around a bend, and grew brighter. And then, too, there came
- from the eastward the rumble of an approaching train. He grew cautious
- now, and, creeping far out from the side of the track, passed the caboose,
- crept in again toward the line of cars, located the position of the flat
- cars, climbed aboard one of them, and crawled in under the shored-up
- girders.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk lay very quiet. He was weak again, and his head swam, and he was
- dizzy. An engine and car—MacVightie and his posse presumably—passed
- by on the main line; and then, presently, the freight, with a clatter and
- bang echoing from one to another down the length of cars, drew out of the
- station.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the Hawk moved again, it was as the train whistled and slowed for the
- Selkirk yard. Perhaps twenty minutes had passed—the fast freight,
- with no stops and already late, had made time. He put his mask in his
- pocket, wormed his way out from under the girders, and peered ahead and
- behind. They were just crawling into the upper end of the yard. He slid to
- the ground, found himself a little more steady on his feet, slipped across
- the spur tracks, dodged in between two buildings that flanked the side of
- the yard, and came out on the street.
- </p>
- <p>
- Under a street lamp the Hawk looked at his watch. It was one o'clock. He
- swayed a little again, but his lips set hard. There was not very much
- time. Somewhere up the line the switcher and the private car would come to
- a stop, and they would bring Meridan home—and once that happened,
- with its consequent stir in Meridan's apartment, it would be impossible to
- get in there, and the game, as far as the boy was concerned, would be up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the Hawk, as he forced himself along the street, “I guess
- maybe that's right—I guess maybe I'm a fool—but it wasn't an
- even break.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A street car at the next corner took him across town; and fifteen minutes
- more found him standing in the unlighted vestibule of the Linden
- Apartments. The tiny flashlight swept the ground floor apartment doors—and
- an instant later the door of Apartment B yielded noiselessly to the deft
- manipulation of a skeleton key.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk closed the door, and stole forward. It was a rather fashionable
- apartment, as the Ladybird had said, but it was also a very small one,
- small enough to warrant the presumption that the young couple did not keep
- a servant, and that there would probably be no one there except Meridan's
- wife. A door at his right, as he felt out in the darkness, he found to be
- open. He listened—for the sound of breathing. There was nothing. The
- flashlight winked—and the Hawk stepped forward into the room. It was
- the sitting room. The flashlight was sweeping about now in an inquisitive
- little ray. A door, closed, leading to an inner room, was on his right;
- facing him was a heavily portièred window, the portières drawn; and a
- little to the left of the window was the mantel.
- </p>
- <p>
- The flashlight's ray wavered suddenly, unsteadily—and the Hawk
- caught at the nearest thing to him, the table in the centre of the room,
- for support, a sense of disaster upon him, a realisation that, lashed on
- as it might be by force of will, there was a limit <i>to</i> physical
- endurance, and that the limit had well nigh been reached. His hand brushed
- across his eyes, and brushed across them again to clear his sight, as he
- tried to follow the flashlight's ray to where it played jerkily on a
- massively framed picture over the mantel. He bit his lips now, bit them
- until they bled—and moved forward—and laid his parcel of
- banknotes on the floor that he might have the use of both hands—and
- climbed upon a chair, and felt in behind the picture. Yes—it was
- there! His fingers closed on a roll of paper, twitched and shook a little
- as they pulled it out—and a small package from inside the roll fell
- with a slight thud to the mantel, and from the mantel bounded off to the
- floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk caught his breath, as he listened, and descended from the chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Clumsy fool!” he gritted fiercely, as he knelt on the floor. “I—I
- guess I'm pretty near the count to do a thing like that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The flashlight came into play again, and disclosed a metal seal and
- several pieces of dark-green wax peeping through the paper wrapper that
- had been split apart in the fall. He picked them up, and put them in his
- pocket; then, loosening his vest, he tucked the roll of wrapping paper
- inside his shirt. Well, it was done now; he had only to get back to his
- room, and there was surely strength enough left for that. Again his hand
- swept across his eyes, and pressed hard against his temples—and
- then, stooping swiftly, he clutched at his package of banknotes on the
- floor beside him, and stood up, rigid and tense.
- </p>
- <p>
- Out of the darkness, almost at his elbow, with a startling clamour that
- clashed and shattered through the silence, and seemed to set a thousand
- echoes reverberating through the room, came the ringing of the telephone.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some one in the inner room stirred. The Hawk drew back hurriedly into the
- window recess behind the portières. The telephone rang again. There came a
- step now, and now the room was flooded with light, and a woman, a dressing
- gown flung hastily over her shoulders, crossed from the inner doorway to
- the table, and picked up the instrument.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes?... Hello!... What is it?” she asked, a little sleepily. “Yes, this
- is Mrs. Meridan... <i>What?</i>... My husband!” Her voice rang out in
- sudden terror. “What did you say?” she cried frantically. “Yes, yes—the
- Hawk—my husband—unconscious... You are not telling me all the
- truth—you are trying to keep the worst from me—for God's sake
- tell me the truth!... Not dangerous?... You are sure—you are <i>sure?</i>...
- Yes, yes, I understand!... At the station in half an hour... I will be
- there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mechanically she hung the receiver on the hook, and clung for a moment to
- the table's edge, her face grey and bloodless; and then her lips moved,
- and one hand clenched until the tight-drawn skin across the knuckles was
- an ivory white.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I pray God they get this Hawk!” she whispered. “I pray God they do! And I
- pray God they <i>kill</i> him! The coward! The miserable, pitiful coward!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's fingers were digging at the window sill, because somehow his
- knees were refusing to support his weight. What was she saying? He did not
- quite understand. Well, it did not matter, she was gone now into that
- other room—only she had left the light on. It was very strange the
- way his hand on the window sill seemed to keep pulling his body around in
- circles!
- </p>
- <p>
- Time had lost concrete significance to the Hawk. She appeared again, fully
- dressed now, and, switching off the light, went out into the hall, and the
- front door closed behind her.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk parted the portières, and staggered across the room—and, a
- moment later, a dark form, a newspaper parcel clutched under its arm,
- emerged stealthily from the vestibule, and, reeling like a drunken man,
- disappeared in the darkness down the street.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- XVII—A HOLE IN THE WALL
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE wound was
- healed—partially, at least. If the Hawk had unduly shortened his
- period of convalescence, he was perhaps justified, and not wholly without
- excuse! He stood now in the black shadows, hugged close to the wall of the
- roundhouse. And now he moved stealthily forward, until, from a crouched
- position, he straightened up against the wall at the side of one of the
- few windows which were lighted. Lanson had strolled aimlessly across the
- tracks from the station some ten minutes before, and, five minutes later,
- MacVightie had followed Lanson—to their chosen spot for secret
- conferences, this little “cubbyhole” of a turner's office in the
- roundhouse, as the Hawk, from more than one experience in the past, had
- very good reason to know. They were in there now, and, as the Hawk was
- likewise exceedingly well aware, the events of the next few hours, and
- incidentally his own particular movements, depended very pertinently upon
- the movements of MacVightie and Lanson.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson's voice in quietly modulated tones reached the Hawk:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, both trains are on time to the minute; I've taken care of that. And
- so far there doesn't seem to be a hitch anywhere, and with your men
- boarding the trains west of here at different stations along the line, and
- mixing quietly with the passengers, I don't see how any one could be the
- wiser on that score. Yes, it looks as though everything were all right—eh,
- MacVightie?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know; I hope so,” MacVightie's deep growl came in reply. “Anyhow,
- we've carried out instructions from Washington, and it's up to the Secret
- Service crowd as to how it pans out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, it isn't!” declared Lanson, still quietly. “It isn't up to a soul on
- earth except those of us who have got the responsibility of this division
- on our shoulders! I believe the plan is a good one, but because it came
- from Washington doesn't let us out—not for a minute! What about
- Birks; has he shown up yet?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not yet,” MacVightie answered—and swore suddenly under his breath.
- “And I don't mind admitting that the crowd down there in Washington make
- me tired! It's over two weeks ago that I put it up to them. They said they
- would take the matter under consideration, and in any case would send one
- of their men, this Birks, out here to make an investigation. But nothing
- doing! Then, as you know, I wrote them again a week ago, when we knew this
- Alaskan gold shipment was coming through, and you know their reply; they
- outlined a plan for us, and stated definitely that Birks would be on deck
- to-night. Maybe he will—in time to tell us what we <i>should</i>
- have done!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Secret Service isn't a police force,” said Lanson tersely. “The only
- excuse they would have for acting at all would be if your pet theory were
- correct—that the Hawk and his gang, apart from their systematised
- murders and robberies, were also the ones who have been flooding the
- country with those counterfeit ten-dollar notes. You had no actual proof
- to offer, and Washington evidently hasn't felt quite so sure about it as
- you have. However, there's no use discussing that to-night. If Birks shows
- up, all right; if he doesn't—well, I don't see that he could make
- any difference one way or the other now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was silence for a moment, then Lanson spoke again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What worries me as much as anything,” he said slowly, “is the express
- company making a shipment of money at the same time—forty thousand
- dollars in the car's safe. Of course, it's logical enough with a half
- million to guard anyway, but it's an added incentive to those, devils,
- that's all. A half million In raw gold isn't any easy thing to pick up and
- walk off with, and there's more than an even chance that the Wire Devils
- might pass it up on that account; but with banknotes alone in so large an
- amount——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If they know about it!” interrupted MacVightie brusquely. “And it's not
- likely they do! You can't send a heavily guarded express car on from the
- coast and keep it mum that gold is going through, especially when the
- papers print pictures of the cases being swung out of the steamer's hold
- on arrival from Alaska—but the other's different. I'm not banking on
- them passing up the gold on any account, though they may, at that; but in
- any case they'll be welcome to open the safe now, won't they?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again there was an instant's silence; and the Hawk now, as though fearful
- of losing a word that might be spoken, strained forward closer still to
- the side of the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, that's right!” Lanson laughed now in a grimly humorous way. “It's in
- the biggest case of all! Yes, I guess it's all right, MacVightie; anyway,
- another hour or two will tell the story. The shift should have been made
- at Mornleigh without any trouble, and the Limited will come through here
- without a thing in the express car except the guards! If they hold her up
- anywhere on the division, that's all they'll find—the guards, and
- one of your posses. Yes, it ought to work.” Lanson's voice took on a
- curiously monotonous drone, as though he were checking over the details in
- his own mind, and unconsciously doing so audibly. “The Limited takes water
- at Mornleigh, and No. 18 always takes the siding there to let the Limited
- pass, so there's nothing in that to arouse suspicion. In the darkness,
- with the door of the Limited's express car only a foot or so away from the
- door of No. 18'. baggage car, and a picked crew to transfer the gold, I
- don't see how there could be any 'leak.' The Limited pulls in here with
- its guarded express car—everything looks just as those Wire Devils
- would expect it to look—and they know the gold left the coast on
- that train, and in that car. Yes, I think we win to-night. If they hold up
- the Limited they'll catch a Tartar, and without any risk on our part as
- far as the gold is concerned. How many men in the posse scattered through
- the cars on that train?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twenty,” said MacVightie tersely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good!” said Lanson approvingly. “That ought to be enough to round them up—if
- they nibble at the bait at all. And if they don't, if they let the Limited
- go through unmolested, it will be pretty nearly safe to assume, as I said
- before, that they figure gold in the bulk is too awkward a thing to
- handle, and too hard to get away with. But even there we are not taking
- any chances; they <i>might</i> have discovered that it had been
- transferred. How many men in the posse on No. 18?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The same number,” replied MacVightie—and then MacVightie's fist
- crashed down into the palm of his hand. “I hope they start something!” he
- exclaimed savagely. “I'd give a year's salary to get to grips with them,
- and if I ever do I'll clean 'em out! And I'll see that some of them, and
- particularly that damned Hawk, swing for it! I haven't forgotten the
- murder of old Mother Barrett's boy in the express car that night, or a
- dozen others, or——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's your end of it, MacVightie,” said Lanson grimly. “Mine's to see
- five hundred thousand dollars' worth of bullion and forty thousand in cash
- over this division and safely on its way East. If the plan——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, slipping silently out of the shadows, began to cross the
- railroad yard, heading for the station.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forty thousand dollars,” said the Hawk softly to himself—and
- chuckled suddenly. “Forty thousand dollars in a big packing case! The <i>biggest</i>
- case of the lot, he said, wasn't it?” The chuckle died away, and the
- Hawk's face grew hard. “I don't know!” muttered the Hawk. “It's no cinch!
- I guess there'll be something doing to-night!”
- </p>
- <p>
- A glance at the illuminated dial of the clock on the station tower showed
- it to be half past eight, as the Hawk stepped to the platform. He
- hesitated an instant in indecision, then went on into the general waiting
- room. There was ample time. The Limited was not due for another hour; and
- No. 18—in which alone he had now any concern—did not schedule
- Selkirk until forty minutes after the Limited. Nearly two hours!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, standing in the doorway of the waiting room, ostentatiously
- consulted a time-table which he drew from his pocket, frowned, glanced
- about him, and, finally, approaching the news-counter, which appeared for
- the moment to be minus an attendant, helped himself to a newspaper, tossed
- a copper on top of the pile, and appropriated the nearest seat. The Hawk
- opened his paper in front of him—and over the top of the paper
- inspected with some interest the view afforded by the open doorway of the
- news-counter, which was directly facing him and but a few feet away. The
- news-counter was a long, narrow affair, glass enclosed, with big sliding
- windows, making one corner of the waiting room, and at its further end
- boasted a little office of its own. The door of this private domain was
- closed, but it, too, was glass panelled, and the apparent absence of any
- attendant was explained. The Hawk permitted a curious smile to flicker
- across his lips behind his newspaper. Inside the little office a man,
- sprawled forward in a chair, his head resting on his arms, which were
- outflung across the desk in front of him, appeared to be sound asleep and
- magnificently oblivious to anything so grossly material as business.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk shifted his glance, this time for a more critical survey of the
- waiting room. He found himself, strangely enough, quite sheltered from
- observation. True, it was “between trains,” and there were very few people
- in the room—he had noted several women and an elderly man with a
- little boy, as he had come in—but these were now screened from his
- view by the large, boxed-in posts, or pillars, that, in the remodelling
- and enlargement of the station some years before, had sought to combine,
- evidently, ornamentation with stability.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's eyes, under cover of his newspaper, reverted to the man at the
- desk. The minutes passed—five, ten of them. The man's hours were
- long undoubtedly, and usually there were two in charge of the
- news-counter, which might perhaps account for the man's weariness, and the
- profound slumber that was possible even in such an uncomfortable position!
- The Hawk turned to the editorial page of his newspaper. There were almost
- two hours before No. 18 was due, and, though he had a little business of a
- purely personal and intimate nature to transact before then, there was
- time in abundance and to spare, and it might possibly be utilised as
- profitably here as anywhere else. In any case, there was usually an
- editorial diatribe, interesting principally for the virulent language in
- which it was couched, anent the Hawk and the Wire Devils, with whose
- leadership he, the Hawk, was universally credited. The Hawk smiled thinly.
- If leadership was vested in the lion's portion of the spoils, then
- MacVightie, and Lanson, and the newspapers, and the public generally were
- unquestionably right—but, since those spoils had been snatched from
- under the noses of the Wire Devils, thanks to his possession of their
- secret code, the Wire Devils and the Ladybird in particular, that peer of
- the underworld who, as he had discovered a few nights ago, was the moving
- spirit of the gang, held a very different and even more decided opinion on
- the subject!
- </p>
- <p>
- He folded the paper over, and sprawled himself out lazily on his seat—but
- if the editorial in question was on the sheet before him, he did not see
- it. The man at the desk raised his head, yawned, stretched himself, and,
- as though wearily resuming his work, reached into a small drawer that
- stood open in the upper section of the roll-top desk, took out a pad of
- paper, and began to write.
- </p>
- <p>
- Still another five minutes passed; and then the man tossed his pencil away
- from him, and reached out for the telephone at his elbow. But now he
- seemed to hesitate, then evidently changed his mind. He pushed back his
- chair, stood up, tore the sheet of paper on which he had been writing from
- the pad, replaced the pad in the drawer, closed the drawer, and, turning
- quickly, opened the office door. He came down the narrow space behind the
- news-counter itself, stepped out into the waiting room, glanced hurriedly
- about him, and, breaking suddenly into a run, disappeared through the
- waiting room door in the direction of the platform.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawks lassitude seemed suddenly to have vanished. In a flash he had
- covered the few feet of space that separated his seat from the doorway of
- the news-counter, and now, crouched low, hidden by the counter itself, he
- darted silently for the little office, gained it, wrenched open the drawer
- of the desk—and over the Hawk's set, tense features there flickered
- again that curious smile. Faint, muffled, but none the less distinctly,
- there came from the interior of the drawer, which, as he reached in his
- hand, he found was open through to the wall, the clicking of a telegraph
- sounder. But, while he listened, the Hawk was working with breathless
- haste. His fingers closed on the pad of paper, and tore off the topmost
- sheet. Without folding or crushing the paper, he laid it carefully inside
- his vest, buttoned his vest over it again, closed the drawer of the desk
- noiselessly—and in another instant was lolling again in his seat in
- the waiting room, apparently immersed once more in his newspaper.
- </p>
- <p>
- It had taken the Hawk a matter of less than a minute to go and come, but
- for all that his margin of safety had been small. The man returned almost
- instantly, and again entered the office. The Hawk, finding that for once
- the editorial which might have afforded him a genuine, if passing,
- interest, was absent, turned another page of the paper, spent a few
- minutes in the somewhat unprofitable perusal of what proved to be massed
- columns of “Help Wanted” and “Situations Vacant” advertisements, and,
- finally, throwing the paper down on the seat beside him, got up leisurely,
- and strolled out through the main entrance of the station to the street.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk crossed the road, and slipped into the lane that was almost
- opposite the station. This being accustomed ground to the Hawk, he made
- his way quickly along in the blackness, reached the first intersecting
- street, dove through the doorway of the dirty and squalid three-story
- building, the ground floor of which was occupied by a saloon, and,
- mounting the narrow staircase, entered the room that was directly over the
- saloon on the first landing. The Hawk locked the door behind him. If his
- temporary abode in Selkirk City could be so designated, the Hawk was at
- home.
- </p>
- <p>
- He switched on the electric light, drew a chair up to the cheap and
- somewhat dilapidated table that stood against the wall opposite the door,
- and from under his vest took out the sheet of paper he had purloined a few
- minutes before. He spread it out eagerly before him on the table, scanned
- it closely, and into his dark eyes there came a half mocking, half
- triumphant gleam.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought so!” murmured the Hawk. “He didn't dare telephone it. I thought
- the messages must be coming in pretty hot to-night—the other fellow
- must have gone up to the East End to shoot some mighty important reply
- back, or else he'd never have left his pal short-handed. It's no wonder I
- never tumbled to that lay until the Ladybird opened the bag! I didn't
- recognise those news-counter fellows, did I? Why should I? They're new
- ones just breaking into the game, or they'd never have pulled a fool stunt
- like this!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk bent over the paper. In places the impression left by the pencil
- was faint and, indeed, illegible, and had not come through from the upper
- sheet at all; but the Hawk patiently and painstakingly settled himself to
- his task. The first few lines were but a confused and, to all outward
- appearances, meaningless jumble of letters run together—one of the
- Wire Devils' code messages. And here, if this had been all, the Hawk would
- have been hopelessly astray; but lower down on the sheet the man had
- decoded the cipher, and here, where letters and words were too faintly
- impressed on the paper or were missing altogether, the Hawk was able to
- supply them by following the general sense of the message. He began by
- tracing over the impressions carefully with a sharp lead pencil, and at
- the expiration of a few minutes was staring, a grim smile on his lips, at
- the following:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gold transferred to No. 18 at Momleigh. Keep away from Limited. Probably
- big posse on No. 18. Every man will join Number One on Train 18 to-night.
- Those boarding No. 18 at Selkirk must on no account excite suspicion. All
- other details to stand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's remark, as he reached into his inside coat pocket and brought
- out several small slips of paper, which he laid on the table in front of
- him, was seemingly quite irrelevant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the Hawk. “I've been curious ever since yesterday to get a
- look at that desk—yes, I guess the Ladybird's no fool!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk arranged the slips of paper in what appeared to be a sort of
- chronological order, and studied them for a moment. Prefacing the message
- he had just obtained, these others, messages that he had intercepted at
- intervals during the preceding few days, made a complete and decidedly
- enlightening record. The first one, decoded, read:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Reported movement of half million in gold to be made from coast. Number
- Three will proceed to coast, verify, and secure details.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk nodded shortly. Number Three was the Bantam. He passed on to the
- next message:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gold coming through on Limited on Thursday night. Express car well
- guarded. Numbers One, Seven, Eight, Six and Four will board Limited at
- different stopping points west of Mornleigh; all others to hold themselves
- in readiness at Selkirk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again the Hawk nodded. This was Thursday night! Mornleigh was the
- Limited's last stop west of Selkirk. Number One was the Butcher, and the
- others were—he shrugged his shoulders. As he had once facetiously
- remarked, somebody must have left the door of Sing Sing open!
- </p>
- <p>
- There was still another message:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hold up train three miles East of Echo Rock. Detach express car, and run
- to Willow Creek bridge. Load gold on wagon, and disperse.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk consulted his watch. It was a quarter past nine. He took out his
- pipe, lighted it, put his feet up on the table, and gathering together the
- various slips of paper abstractedly began to tear them into shreds.
- </p>
- <p>
- Pieced together, the whole affair was quite simple. In a word, every move
- that had been made by Larson and MacVightie at the instigation of the
- Secret Service men, and, presumably, in particular by one Birks, was known
- to the Ladybird and the Wire Devils. Lanson and MacVightie had waited
- until the last moment before making the transfer at Mornleigh, the final
- stop before Selkirk, but the Bantam was already accompanying the gold east
- on the Limited, and, added to the Bantam by that: time, there would have
- been those others who were detailed to board the Limited at the various
- points still further west of Mornleigh.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was very simple. The Bantam had not been asleep at Mornleigh, and it
- was not the contents of the express car alone that had been transferred
- there—the Bantam and his companions had likewise transferred
- themselves to No. 18! Also, either because the Bantam had spotted some of
- MacVightie's men, or because logical deductions in the Ladybird's very
- shrewd brain had led to that conclusion, it was known that No. 18
- harboured a posse. It was evident, however, that this in no way dismayed
- the Ladybird; and it was equally evident that both Lan-son and MacVightie
- were very far astray, in their estimate of the nerve and resourcefulness
- of the brain behind the Wire Devils' organisation, to have, even
- considered it as a possibility that the physical difficulty in the way of
- handling a half million in raw gold would have caused the Ladybird to
- hesitate an instant in an effort to get his hands upon it. A half million—was
- a half million! That was the answer! The only change the Ladybird had seen
- fit to make was to mobilise, as it were, the entire, strength of the Wire
- Devils to offset MacVightie's posse. Apart from that, according to the
- final message, the prearranged plan was to stand.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not a plan that was markedly original, paralleling very closely, as
- it did, the Wire Devils' removal of the safe from the express car of the
- last Mail on a certain night not very long since, but this could hardly be
- held up against the Ladybird—there were limitations to originality,
- and originality was a secondary consideration as compared with feasibility
- and success. Echo Rock station was two stations east of Conmore, the Wire
- Devils' headquarters—just far enough distant to preclude the
- immediate search from spreading to the neighbourhood of Conmore, and yet
- not too far away to make the transport of the gold to the isolated old
- farmhouse impractical before daylight. The details of the holdup itself
- required little elucidation. In whatever manner they might elect to bring
- the train to a stop, all that was necessary, once that was accomplished,
- was to keep MacVightie's men from No. 18'. baggage car while the car
- itself, into which the Wire Devils would naturally retreat, moved off down
- the line to the Willow Creek bridge some two or three miles further on.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk took his pipe from his lips, polished the bowl by rubbing it
- along the side of his nose, and inspected the result critically. And then
- the Hawk smiled pleasantly to himself. In none of the messages had the
- Wire Devils given the slightest evidence of any knowledge of a fact that
- was very near to his, the Hawk's, heart. It was quite possible, even
- probable, that on one point, at least, Lanson and MacVightie were right—that
- the Wire Devils were ignorant of the presence of that forty thousand
- dollars in bills—but even supposing that they <i>did</i> know, they
- would scarcely give him, the Hawk, credit for being in possession of the
- knowledge as well. Therefore, bitter as was the feud between them, the
- Ladybird would be almost certain to ignore his, the Hawk's existence in so
- far as this night's work was concerned. The Hawk's smile broadened. It was
- quite true, single-handed he would have no excuse on earth for attempting
- the impossible feat of carrying away a half million in gold—but
- forty thousand dollars in banknotes was not as prohibitory in its weight!
- His problem, therefore, simplified itself into an intimate investigation
- of No. 18'. baggage car before Echo Rock was reached, and before either
- MacVightie's posse, or the Butcher and his ungentle crowd in the cars
- behind, should have started anything on their own account.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the Hawk confidentially to the toe of his boot, “yes, I guess
- I'll sit in for a hand in the game myself; yes, I guess it looks pretty
- good—if the luck holds.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk relapsed into silence, still studying the toe of his boot. His
- last remark seemed suddenly to have obsessed him, and he frowned. If the
- luck still held! It wasn't altogether luck—indeed, it was far from
- luck. The Ladybird, and, for that matter, a half dozen others of the Wire
- Devils whom he could name, were not to be lightly reckoned with. He had no
- delusions on that score! Since the day he had begun to trespass on the
- Wire Devils preserves, listening when and where he could, he had
- intercepted enough of their cipher messages as they came over the wires to
- enable him to pull from the fire and pocket for himself the chestnuts they
- had been so carefully roasting for themselves, to turn in fact the entire
- labour and effort of their organisation to his own account—and in
- their turn they had sought by every means within their power to trap him.
- And they had nearly caught him, very nearly caught him once, and he had
- realised that the haphazard method in which, not knowing their source, he
- had been able to obtain the cipher messages would no longer do. It was
- through those messages alone that he could hope to get a hint of, and
- thereby forestall, the <i>next</i> trap they might set for him. And then
- the way had seemed to clear a little when he had at last discovered that
- source in the old farmhouse near Conmore, and had discovered that the
- Ladybird, thought dead and mourned by the underworld as one of its
- greatest, from a wheel chair now, a maimed thing in all save brain, moved
- and guided what MacVightie had been pleased to call the most powerful and
- dangerous criminal organisation that had ever known existence. Only on the
- night that he, the Hawk, had made those discoveries he had been wounded!
- That was a week ago. For three days, not daring to let it be known that a
- <i>wounded</i> man was in the house, he had remained here in his room,
- nursing his hurt as best he could. It had only been a flesh wound, and
- those three days were all he had allowed himself to remain inactive; for
- in those three days, temporarily blindfolded as to any move against him
- that the Ladybird might make, he had lived like a hunted man, wary of
- every passing moment, of every sound without his door, his automatic never
- for an instant out of reach. After that, during the past four nights, he
- had resumed his vigil at the farmhouse again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk smiled grimly. No, he laboured under no delusions as to the
- craft, the cunning, and the power of those against whom he had elected to
- play a lone hand! The four nights just past had resulted in something more
- than the mere accumulation of those code messages he had just read, in
- something besides a more intimate acquaintanceship with the farmhouse and
- its surroundings, even including the underground passage, for instance,
- that led from the wagon shed to a trapdoor in the cellar—it had
- resulted, last night, in a still further insight into the ingenuity and
- the sort of remorseless mastery of detail through which the organisation
- attained its ends. The method by which they tapped the wires,
- commandeering the telegraph system of the railroad, the primary purpose of
- which was undoubtedly to supply them with the vital information that must
- of necessity pass over the wires and on which they based their own plans,
- this gold shipment to-night, for example, or the shipment of diamonds from
- New York of a few weeks back, was ingenious enough; but still more
- ingenious, when using their secret code and putting the wires to another
- purpose, that of enabling the Ladybird to direct his operations and send
- his orders as he had done to-night, was the method by which those messages
- were received. Every sounder on the line carried them, of course, and
- when, in isolated cases, the gang was working at smaller places along the
- line, they could readily enough, if expecting a message, as he, the Hawk,
- had often done, keep within sound of an instrument by the simple expedient
- of occupying a waiting room, or of lounging on the platform outside the
- operator's window; but the vast majority of the messages were for those of
- the gang who maintained a sort of branch headquarters in Selkirk, and such
- a method was neither practical nor possible, since the first essential in
- making the scheme of value was that, without the chance of a single
- message being missed, the messages should reach their destination at any
- hour of the day and night.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again the Hawk smiled grimly. It had puzzled him a good many times—but
- it puzzled him no longer! Last night the Ladybird, quite unconscious of a
- rapt audience, had, by a chance remark, disclosed the secret; and to-night
- he, the Hawk, had seen the plan in operation! The news-counter! It was
- simple enough; but it held a deadly significance in its proof of the fact
- that there were no obstacles too great, no details too minute to stand in
- the way between the Ladybird and the end he sought. The news-counter was
- directly beneath the operator's room upstairs. In the old days, before the
- station had been enlarged and modernised, it had been a somewhat
- diminutive affair, and where the news-counter now stood had been the
- superintendent's office. This had connected with the room above by means
- of an old-fashioned speaking tube. When the alterations had been made, the
- mouthpieces, both above and below, had been removed, the room above had
- been papered over, and the waiting room had been plastered; but, as the
- wall had been left intact, the speaking tube had remained embedded—in
- the wall. Yes, it was very simple! Say, a dint in the wall in the
- operator's room above, and a slight tear in the paper that, if it
- attracted any attention at all in surroundings where the call boys backed
- their chairs against the wall and kept their hair on end with nickel
- thrillers, would at least never excite suspicion! And below, with the desk
- in the little office of the news-counter backed up against it, who was to
- know that a hole had been punched in the wall, or, for that matter, in the
- back of the desk itself behind the convenient little drawer, so that one
- could sit there and listen to the sounder upstairs! Also, it was quite
- obvious now why, several months ago, the old lessee of the news-counter
- had been bought out by some newcomers!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's lips tightened. The game to its full extent was wide open now.
- The news-counter ran day and night, operated by four of the gang in pairs,
- one always on duty at the desk; while, should there, by any chance or at
- any time, be an unwelcome intruder in the office, the drawer had only to
- be shut and the sound was thereby eliminated. When a message “broke” over
- the wires above, the man on duty had only to decipher it and telephone it
- to what the Ladybird had referred to as the “boarding house”—the
- disguise, it appeared now, under which the gang maintained its
- headquarters in the city. That was all there was to it! To-night, it was
- true, the operation had been a little different; but the reason for that,
- as the Hawk had already decided in his own mind, was obvious enough. With
- MacVigh-tie, Lanson, and the authorities generally, on the alert, due to
- the gold shipment coming through, the man had not dared to take the risk
- of telephoning any such message as he had received, but had taken it
- outside to where one of the gang, undoubtedly, in view of the importance
- of the night's work, was on additional duty and in readiness to receive
- and transmit it on the instant, say, to the local headquarters. As for the
- absence of the second man at the news-counter, who ordinarily preserved
- the pretence of catering to the public, it was quite possible, and indeed
- likely, that he had gone on a similar errand with a previous message; or,
- if one of the rare occasions when it was necessary to telegraph a cipher
- message <i>from</i> Selkirk had arisen, he might have gone—according
- to the Ladybird again—to the little suburban station at the East End
- of the city, which was closed at night, but to which an entry and the
- subsequent use of the wire would present little difficulty, since
- MacVightie had finally given up as impossible the task of guarding all the
- numerous stations of that description on the division.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the Hawk suddenly, under his breath, “I guess they'd go a long
- way to get their hands on what I've got off their bat; and I guess, after
- that, I'd go out—like a pricked bubble!” He sucked meditatively at
- his brier for a moment; then a mirthless smile parted his lips, and he
- spoke again. “Forty thousand dollars,” whispered the Hawk. “Yes, I guess
- that's the play—and the last one! If I win out to-night, and I guess
- I will, this is where the curtain drops, and the Hawk makes his fade-away
- for parts unknown!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- XVIII—THE HAWK PACKS HIS VALISE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk looked at
- his watch again, removed his feet from the table, knocked the ashes from
- the bowl of his pipe, stood up, and crossed leisurely to the window. The
- window gave on the fire escape. He lifted aside the shade, and stood there
- for a moment staring out into the darkness, then drew the shade very
- carefully back into place again. From the window he crossed to the door,
- reassured himself that it was locked, and, as an extra precaution, draped
- his handkerchief on the door handle, completely screening the keyhole.
- </p>
- <p>
- He returned now to the other side of the room, and from under the bed
- pulled out a large, black valise. He laid this on the bed, and opened it.
- It was quite empty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Between the bed and the table stood his trunk. He unlocked the trunk, and
- threw back the lid.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's quite possible,” muttered the Hawk, as his fingers worked deftly and
- swiftly around the edges of the lid, “that I may not return. I've
- forgotten just how I stand on my rent, though, I fancy I've paid up for a
- week in advance! In any case, there's the trunk for old Seidelberger
- downstairs, and likewise its contents, with the exception, scarcely worth
- mentioning—of this!” There was a grim chuckle on the Hawk's lips, as
- the false tray came away in his hands. “Yes,” said the Hawk, as he laid
- the tray on the bed beside the valise, “I hardly think that I'll be back!
- I guess they're pretty peeved as it is, and after to-night I've a notion
- their sentiments aren't going to improve any!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood looking down at the tray, that bulged to repletion with the
- proceeds of a dozen robberies that were almost country-wide in fame, and
- which, more pertinent still as far as the Hawk was concerned, represented
- the loot that the Wire Devils had already counted their own—when he,
- the Hawk, instead, had helped himself to the prize at their expense!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk began to transfer the contents of the tray to the valise.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know how big the lot would size up, but it looks like a garden
- villa at Palm Beach—which is going some!” observed the Hawk softly.
- “Yes, just one more little play to-night, and I guess I retire!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He held the magnificent diamond necklace up to the light, causing its
- thousand facets to leap and gleam and scintillate in fiery flashes, then
- laid it in a curiously caressing sort of way in the bottom of the valise.
- The Hawk seemed peculiarly entranced with diamonds, as though in their
- touch and in their responsive life and fire he found a pure and unalloyed
- delight. From their little box he allowed the score or two of unset stones
- to trickle into the palm of his hand, and again he brought the light to
- flash and play upon them. And for a moment he held them there—then a
- sudden hardness set his jaws and lips, and impulsively he thrust the
- stones back into the box, and tossed the box into the valise.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Damn it!” said the Hawk through compressed lips. “They make me think of
- the kid—and old Mother Barrett.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He laughed harshly, and shrugged his shoulders as though literally to
- throw off the weight of an unpleasant memory—and reached again into
- the tray. He worked more quickly now. Into the valise he packed away in
- rapid succession a very large collection of valuables, amongst them the
- ten thousand dollars in banknotes that he had taken from the paymaster's
- safe, the contents of the cash box, amounting to some three thousand
- dollars, of which he had once relieved one Isaac Kirschell, and, still in
- its newspaper wrapper, the Trader's National Bank's twenty-five thousand
- dollars, likewise in banknotes, which had been his last venture, and which
- he had appropriated on the night he had been wounded.
- </p>
- <p>
- The tray was empty now, save for a black mask, a steel jimmy, and a neat
- little package of crisp, new, ten-dollar counterfeit notes. The two former
- articles the Hawk laid aside on the table; and the latter, after an
- instant's hesitation, was added to the horde in the valise. He closed and
- locked the valise. There remained now but the empty tray. He stared at
- this ruefully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hate to lose that trunk, upon my soul, I do!” he muttered. “But I can't
- afford to take any chances of spilling the beans by trying to get it out
- of here!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He took out his knife, and slashed away the canvas bottom of the tray,
- then broke the framework into a dozen pieces. The lid of the trunk itself
- was innocent of fastenings, or of any evidence that it had ever concealed
- a tray; and the tray itself, when the Hawk was through with it, was an
- unrecognisable debris of splintered wood and ribbons of torn canvas. He
- made a bundle of this, tying it together with a strip of the canvas.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk now emptied his pockets, and proceeded to change his clothes. If
- he were destined to sacrifice the greater part of his wardrobe, he at
- least need not linger long in indecision over the choice of what should be
- preserved! There was an exceedingly useful and ingeniously devised pocket
- concealed in the back lining of a certain one of his coats. The suit, of
- which this coat was an integral part, was a trifle worn and threadbare,
- not in quite as good repair as any of the rest of his clothing, and for
- that reason he had not worn it of late; but one could not at all times
- afford to be fastidious! What he left behind would be minutely searched
- and examined. The secret of that pocket, a little invention of his own,
- was worth preserving from the vulgar eye, even at the expense of
- sacrificing a better suit of clothes for the sake of it! He resurrected
- the suit in question from the bottom of the trunk, and put it on. And into
- the concealed pocket he tucked away his mask and his bunch of skeleton
- keys. A side coat pocket, more instantly accessible, served for his
- automatic—the other pockets for his various other belongings,
- including the steel jimmy.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk made a final and comprehensive survey of the room, then closed
- and locked the trunk, and again consulted his watch. It was five minutes
- after ten, and No. 18 scheduled Selkirk at ten-twenty. The Hawk nodded. It
- was time to go—just time. He took from his pocket his automatic,
- tested and examined its mechanism critically, and restored it to his
- pocket. He crossed the room, turned out the light, unlocked the door
- without opening it, and took his handkerchief from the keyhole. Without a
- sound now the Hawk moved back to the bed, picked up the valise, tucked the
- bundle of what had once been the tray under his arm, returned to the door,
- opened it silently, and stood peering out into the dark hallway—and
- the next instant, the Hawk, stealing like a shadow down the stairs, gained
- the street, and in another had swung around the corner into the lane.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was only the length of a block to the station, but here in the lane the
- Hawk found means of disposing of the irksome bundle under his arm by the
- simple expedient of dropping pieces of the wreckage in the various refuse
- barrels as he went along. Nor had the Hawk, evidently, any intention
- either of hampering his movements with the care of the valise, or of
- risking the valise's contents in the night's work that lay ahead of him.
- The Hawk was, perhaps, possessed of a certain ironical sense of humour.
- Since his possession of the loot which the valise contained was due in a
- more or less intimate degree to the railroad, it seemed eminently fitting
- that it should be restored to the railroad for safekeeping temporarily.
- The Hawk, as he entered the station, nonchalantly exchanged his valise for
- a parcel-room check, paid down the dime for the service to be rendered,
- and passed on into the general waiting room.
- </p>
- <p>
- He glanced at the news-counter on his way through to the platform. Its
- full complement of two attendants were present now; but, contrary to all
- precedent, it being an all-night stand, obvious preparations for closing
- it for the night were in progress—the two men were engaged in
- removing the magazines, newspapers, and various small wares from the
- outside ledge of the counter, and in pulling down the large sliding
- windows that enclosed the place. The Hawk's dark eyes flashed a gleam of
- grim appreciation. It was then literally a mobilisation of the Wire Devils
- to the last man to-night! A half million in gold—was a half million
- in gold!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk bought a mileage book in lieu of a ticket to any specific
- destination, both because his immediate destination was peculiarly his own
- private concern, and because in the very near future he expected to put a
- considerable quantity of mileage to excellent use. He strolled out to the
- platform, and along to the east end of the station.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here, quite unobtrusively, he awaited the arrival of No. 18. The platform
- was fairly well crowded—but not unusually so, or rather, perhaps,
- not noticeably so. A half dozen, or even a dozen, extra men circulating
- amongst the ordinary press of traffic would hardly be expected to make any
- appreciable difference. The Hawk, back under the shadows of the building,
- surveyed the lighted stretch of platform narrowly. They were there, the
- Wire Devils' reserve, he knew; but he recognised none of them. He smiled a
- little whimsically. His acquaintanceship with the gang so far had been
- with its more prominent members, as it were, and these, as likewise
- Mac-Vightie's posse, had already boarded the train far west of Selkirk—that
- each might not excite the other's suspicion! Nor was MacVightie himself in
- evidence. Not that this surprised the Hawk! He was interested, that was
- all. It was simply a question of whether MacVightie had elected to stay
- with the gold, or had gone on with the first posse on the Limited on the
- assumption that the Limited was the more likely to be attacked. It made
- little difference, of course, as far as he, the Hawk, was concerned,
- whether it was MacVightie or some one else who was in command of the posse—his
- own plans would in no way be affected on that account.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a stir along the platform. Up the yard, past the twinkling
- switch lights on the spurs, the glare of a headlight flashed into sight
- around the bend. Came the roar and rumble of a heavy train, and a moment
- later No. 18, its big mogul panting like a thing of life from a breathless
- run, its long string of coaches behind it, rolled into the station.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk did not stir. By coincidence, perhaps, the baggage car had come
- to a stop directly opposite the position he had chosen. The rearmost
- sliding door of the car was slammed back, and the baggageman, a powerfully
- built, muscular fellow of perhaps thirty, appeared in the doorway. The
- Hawk, from his place of vantage, eyed the other appraisingly, and then his
- glance travelled on into the interior of the car—what he could see
- of it. What he saw was a mass of trunks, some of which the man now
- unloaded on the waiting trucks, and in turn piled others, as they were
- heaved up to him from the platform, into the formers' places. The Hawk
- nodded his head shortly. True, the forward door of the car had not been,
- opened, but MacVigh-tie had done his work well. There was no hint of
- concealment, the baggage car of No. 18 was as frankly innocent in
- appearance on its run tonight as it had ever been.
- </p>
- <p>
- The train was starting into motion again when the Hawk finally moved. He
- crossed the platform, and swung himself on the forward steps of the
- smoker, that was immediately behind the baggage car. His slouch hat pulled
- a little over his eyes, he opened the door, stepped into the car,
- sauntered down the aisle, and out of the rear door to the vestibuled
- platform of the first-class day coach behind. But here, the Hawk paused a
- moment, and his face, impassive before, was stamped now with a twisted
- smile. His reconnaissance of the train so far had proved fruitful. The
- four men in the forward double seat of the smoker, a lap board across
- their knees, and apparently engrossed in their card game, were the
- Butcher, Whitie Jim, the Cricket and the Bantam! And further down the
- aisle, unwittingly rubbing shoulders quite probably with some of
- MacVightie's men, Parson Joe occupied a seat, and the keen, pale, thin
- face of Kirschell peered out from another.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, they're all here,” decided the Hawk, his voice drowned in the rattle
- of the train. “Counting those who got on at Selkirk, they're all here to
- the last man—except the Ladybird and his wheel chair!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk moved forward, reached out for the handle of the day coach door—and
- sucked in his breath, as he drew sharply back again. Through the glass
- panel he had caught sight of two men he had not expected to see. Sitting
- together on the right-hand side about a quarter of the way down the aisle
- were MacVightie and Lanson. The Hawk frowned. He had waited until the
- train was in motion, and he had not seen them get on; and <i>they</i>, as
- witness that little conference in the roundhouse of a while back, had not
- been amongst those who had boarded the train west of Selkirk. And then the
- frown gave place to a sort of self-commiserating expression. Where were
- his wits to-night! It was simple enough! They had boarded the car from the
- yard side of the train, and not from the platform, of course!
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, that put an end to any further reconnaissance through the train! In
- one sense it was not altogether true that it made no difference whether
- MacVightie was aboard or not. He and MacVightie were not altogether
- strangers. They had met once in his, the Hawk's, room, and on that
- occasion, the night, to be precise, he had cleaned out the paymaster's
- safe of that ten thousand dollars, MacVightie had been in a decidedly
- suspicious frame of mind. MacVightie, it was quite certain, had not
- forgotten that night; nor, it was quite equally safe to assume, had
- MacVightie forgotten his, the Hawk's face—and at that exact moment
- the Hawk had no desire that MacVightie should recognise him again!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk turned, re-entered the smoker, found the always unpopular
- crosswise seat behind the door vacant, and appropriated it. His eyes
- straying forward over the car located two more acquaintances in the person
- of Crusty Kline and French Pete, and came back to fix musingly on the worn
- nickel faucet of the water-cooler. No. 18'. first stop was at Barne's
- Junction, fifteen miles out from Selkirk, and some five miles this side of
- Conmore; the next stop was Lorraine, and Lorraine was on the <i>other</i>
- side—in fact a good many miles on the other side—of Echo Rock
- and the Willow Creek bridge. The deduction was obvious; and the Hawk's
- destination, in so far as his occupancy of a seat in the smoker was
- concerned, was therefore quite plainly—the Junction.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Three miles east of Echo Rock,” repeated the Hawk to himself. “No, I
- don't think so! This is where the Ladybird has another guess! Maybe I
- couldn't get away with a half million—but maybe I'm not the only
- one! There's one or two guys in this car that haven't got the high-sign to
- my lodge! It seems to me I promised the Butcher something the night he
- tried to shoot me through his pocket, and it seems as though I promised
- Parson Joe something too—yes, it seems to me I did!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- XIX—BIRDS OF A FEATHER
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T took twenty
- minutes for the run to the Junction. And at the Junction, as far as the
- Hawk could tell, since, yielding to what had become a sort of habit with
- him, he descended to the ground on the opposite side from the station, he
- was the only passenger for that stop. It was dark here; strangely silent,
- and strangely lonely. Barne's Junction owed its existence neither to a
- town site, nor to commercial importance—it existed simply as a
- junction, and for purely railroad operating purposes only. It was, in
- fact, the other extreme as compared to Selkirk with its lighted and busy
- platform, its extensive yard, and its ubiquitous and, perhaps, too
- inquisitive yardmen!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk dropped on all fours and began to creep along the side of the
- smoker toward the forward end of the train, his eyes strained warily
- through the darkness against the possibility of one or other of the engine
- crew descending from the cab. He passed the smoker and kept on along the
- length of the baggage car, still crawling, moving without a sound. When he
- rose from his knees finally, he was crouched down in between the tender
- and the forward end of the baggage car; and a moment later, as the train
- jerked forward into motion, he was crouched again—this time on the
- end beam of the baggage car which, in lieu of platform, served as a sort
- of wide threshold for the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- The train was beginning to gain momentum now, and against the jolt and
- swing of the increasing speed the Hawk steadied himself by clinging with
- one hand to the iron handrail at the side of the door—with the other
- hand he tried the door cautiously, and found it locked.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the pocket in the back lining of his coat he produced his mask,
- fingered it speculatively for an instant, then slipped it over his face.
- True, this was to be his last venture in the Wire Devils' preserves, but
- he had always worn a mask, and—there came a twisted grin—they
- perhaps would not recognise him <i>without</i> it. And it was quite
- necessary that they should recognise the Hawk—if he was to keep that
- promise to the Butcher! It might be a farewell, as far as he was
- concerned, but he intended that it should be a memorable one, and that no
- doubt should be permitted to linger in their minds as to the identity of
- the parting guest they had so lavishly, if ungraciously, entertained!
- </p>
- <p>
- From the same pocket came his skeleton keys. The Hawk now felt tentatively
- with his finger over the keyhole, nodded his head briskly, and from the
- bunch of keys, still by the sense of touch, selected one without
- hesitation. The Hawk, however, for the moment, made no effort to open the
- door. The rush of the wind was in his face now; like some black,
- monstrous, uncanny wall confronting him, the tender clashed and clattered,
- and swayed in dizzy lurches before his eyes; while heavenward the sky was
- tinged with a deep red glow, and the cab was ablaze with light from the
- wide-flung fire-box door, and the top of the baggage car door, and the
- individual particles of coal on the top of the tender's heap stood out in
- sharp relief against the background of the night.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then the darkness fell again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's hand shot forward to the keyhole, lingered there an instant, as
- he crouched again swaying with the lurch of the train, then the skeleton
- keys were returned to the pocket in the back lining of his coat—and
- the Hawk was in action. In a flash he had opened and closed the door
- behind him, and, with his back against it, his automatic flung
- significantly forward in his hand, he stood staring down the length of the
- car.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a hoarse, startled yell, that was lost in the roar of the flying
- train, and the baggageman, from his chair at one side of the car and in
- front of a shelf-like desk topped with a rack of pigeonholes, leaped to
- his feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sit down!” invited the Hawk coldly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man hesitated, but the next instant dropped back into his chair, as
- the Hawk moved suddenly forward to his side.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you want?” he demanded sullenly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This—to begin with!” The Hawk's voice was an insolent drawl now, as
- his deft fingers, like a streak of lightning, were into the other's pocket
- and out again with the man's revolver. “How long since they've been arming
- the baggagemen on this road? You needn't answer—I'm only talking to
- myself. Those are the cases up there by the forward door, aren't they? And
- the big one's got the green boys—eh?” He was backing away from the
- man now. “Don't move, my bucko—understand? That chair you're sitting
- in is the only health resort in this car!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man's hands clenched, as his eyes narrowed on the Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You damned thief!” he rasped out. “I—I'd like to——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite so!” said the Hawk softly. “I know how you feel about it, and if it
- helps any to get it off your chest, go to it! Nobody'll hear you but me,
- and I'll try and make the best of it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Piled along the side of the car from the doorway were a number of solidly
- made, heavy-looking cases that obviously contained the gold shipment. In
- front of these, between them and where the baggageman sat, and acting too
- perhaps as a screen when the rear sliding door was open, as, for instance,
- it had been at Selkirk, was a large, innocent-appearing,
- flimsily-constructed packing case. The Hawk, beside this now, moved it
- slightly. It was very light, so light as to warrant the presumption that
- it might even be empty.
- </p>
- <p>
- The baggageman had relapsed into a scowling silence, his eyes still on the
- Hawk. The Hawk took his steel jimmy from his pocket, shifted his automatic
- to his left hand, and inserted the jimmy under the cover of the case.
- There was a rip and tear of rending wood; the operation was twice repeated—and
- the Hawk threw the shattered cover on the floor. He glanced inside. At the
- bottom of the case lay a large paper package, strongly tied, and heavily
- sealed with red wax.
- </p>
- <p>
- Under his mask, the Hawk's lips parted in a smile, as, his eyes on the
- baggageman again, he noted that the other was watching his every movement
- now with a sort of intense expectancy. The Hawk, however, made no effort
- to reach down into the four-foot depth of the packing case; he canted the
- box over, and picked up the package from the floor of the car. With the
- point of his jimmy he tore a rent in the paper wrapper—and his smile
- broadened.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I apologise,” said the Hawk, with an engaging nod to the sullen figure in
- the chair. “They're not green boys—they're yellow backs!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You damned thief!” said the man, in a choked voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- The roar and sway of the train seemed suddenly to increase, as the wheel
- trucks, jolting and beating at a siding switch, set up a sort of infernal
- tattoo. They were passing the first station after the Junction—Conmore.
- </p>
- <p>
- The smile left the Hawk's face. A little further along, and <i>they</i>
- would stop the train. There came a sort of dare-devil set to the Hawk's
- clamped jaws.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was taking chances, but he had already weighed those chances well. The
- Wire Devils, the Butcher and his crowd, would be on the alert; but equally
- so would be MacVightie—and the posse that must far outnumber the
- gang. And there was that promise to the Butcher! With their plans awry,
- and taken by surprise, instead of profiting by surprise themselves, their
- chances, rather than of securing a half million in gold, were most
- excellent of securing quite as generous a reward, though of another nature—at
- the hands of MacVightie!
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm going to get off here,” said the Hawk coolly to the figure in the
- chair. “And the only way to get off without cracking my bean is to let
- that guy there in the engine know that he's infringing the speed laws! You
- remember what I told you—the only healthy place in this car for you
- is where you're sitting now. Something may crack loose around here—keep
- out of the wet!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk reached above his head for the bell cord, and pulled it sharply.
- The engine crew, too, were evidently on the alert! The shrill blast of the
- whistle answered the signal instantly. There was a sudden jerk that almost
- threw the Hawk from his feet, the pound and slam of buffer plates, and the
- vicious shriek of the “air.” The Hawk recovered himself, and, cool and
- quick in every movement now, thrust his jimmy into his pocket to free his
- hands, flung the package of banknotes up the aisle made by trunks and
- boxes behind him, and began to retreat toward the forward door, pulling
- the empty case along as a shield between himself and the other end of the
- car.
- </p>
- <p>
- The rear door of the car smashed inward. The Hawk caught a blurred glimpse
- of faces and forms surging through the doorway, and streaming across the
- platform from the smoker behind—and, in the lead, the Butcher's
- crafty face, with its little black, restless, ferret eyes fixed down the
- trunk-made aisle of the car on <i>him!</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>The Hawk!</i>”—it came in a scream of abandoned fury from the
- Butcher—then a headlong rush—a flash, the roar of the report,
- as the Butcher fired—another, as the Hawk's automatic answered—and
- the <i>spat</i> of a bullet splitting the panel of the forward door.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk, stooped low behind the packing case now, still edged backward
- toward the door, still dragging the case after him. A smile that was
- deadly grim and far removed from mirth curved his lips downward in hard,
- merciless lines. He had, at least, attained his object! There was no doubt
- concerning their recognition of him as the Hawk! Well, he had weighed the
- chances. They would be on him now, but only one at a time; there was not
- room for more, with the packing case blocking the way—and it would
- be the Butcher first. After that—well, after that, he counted on
- MacVightie creating a diversion from the rear, and——
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher had flung himself against the packing case. It toppled to one
- side, and the Hawk, like a crouched tiger, sprang and closed, making of
- the Butcher's body, as a substitute for the packing case now, a shield
- from the onrush behind. There was a furious oath from the Butcher; a
- lurch, a stagger, as the train jerked and jerked again—and both men,
- gripped and locked together, went to the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- For an instant they rolled over and over, the Butcher snarling like a mad
- beast, wrenching and twisting for an opening at the Hawk's throat—and
- then suddenly the car was in an inferno. A voice, MacVightie's, rang out
- sternly from the rear door. It was echoed by a yell from one of the Hawk's
- companions, then a shot, another, a fusillade of them—and then a
- voice above the uproar:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's MacVightie, an' de bulls!”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a scurrying of feet, a stampede for cover behind trunks and
- boxes by the Butcher's men—and the Butcher's grip was tense upon the
- Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cut it out!” he whispered hoarsely. “My God, we're trapped—the lot
- of us! Make a break for the door—get me? Crawl—that's the only
- chance!” Blue eddies of smoke hung in queer, wavering, hesitant suspension
- up and down the length of the car; the air was full of the acrid smell of
- powder. The firing broke out again. The Hawk released his hold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right!” he panted. “I'm with you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher was right, it was the only chance—and a chance that was
- theirs alone, for, as they lay on the floor, the packing case hid them,
- and it was barely two yards to the door. The train was almost at a
- standstill now. MacVightie's men had gained an entrance and a position for
- themselves behind the trunks at the lower end, firing as they crept
- forward, while back on the smoker's platform, through the baggage car's
- open door, others commanded the sweep down the center of the car.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk snatched at the package of banknotes, snuggled it under his coat,
- and, with the Butcher beside him, began to wriggle toward the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- MacVightie's voice rang out again from the rear of the car:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marston, take ten men, and surround the car! And——” His voice
- rose suddenly in a bull-like roar. “The forward door, there—two of
- them! Watch which way they jump—not a man of them gets away
- to-night! <i>Quick!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk had wrenched the door open, and, with the Butcher behind him,
- flung himself out, and leaped to the ground. With the Hawk leading,
- running like hares, the two men dashed down the embankment, and hurled
- themselves over the barbed-wire fence that enclosed the right of way.
- Shouts, the crackle of shots, echoed from behind them—the short,
- vicious tongue-flames of the revolvers, a myriad of them, it seemed,
- stabbed yellow through the blackness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk glanced back over his shoulder. He could just make out perhaps a
- half dozen dark forms in pursuit—and perhaps fifty yards away. The
- darkness and the distance made the shooting at best uncertain. It was only
- a chance shot that would get either the Butcher or himself, and ahead,
- unless he was mistaken, for the train must have come to a stop at just
- about that distance from Conmore, must be the wooded tract of land that
- surrounded the old farmhouse. Yes—there it was! The old dare-devil
- set clamped his jaws again. Yes, and so was the Ladybird—there!
- Well, it was obvious enough that there was no other cover! He glanced at
- the Butcher's face that he could just discern in the darkness. The Butcher
- might decide against it, but the Butcher evidently had not recognised his
- surroundings. The man's lips were working, and he was cursing in abandon
- as he ran.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk spoke in short, gasping breaths: “There's some trees over there—to
- the right—a little—make for them—cover!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher swerved automatically in the direction indicated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Curse you!” he wheezed out. “This is all your infernal, nosey work! What
- did you want to butt in for to-night—you fool—you couldn't
- have got that gold, anyway!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You close your face!” snapped back the Hawk. “I'm running my own show!
- There was a little cash—forty thousand bucks along with that gold,
- that maybe you didn't know about. That's what I was after—see? And
- that's what I got—see?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes”—the Butcher's voice broke in infuriated passion—“yes,
- and you got them all pinched, every last one of them—blast you! I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You save your breath, and put it into running,” retorted the Hawk
- savagely, “or else maybe you'll get pinched yourself! It's their lookout!
- I don't owe any of you any candy, do I!”
- </p>
- <p>
- MacVightie himself was evidently one of those in pursuit behind, for again
- the Hawk recognised the other's voice:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Spread out there to the right! And try and shoot a little straighter—before
- they get into that belt of trees!”
- </p>
- <p>
- A renewed outburst of firing came in response—and the Hawk measured
- grimly the few yards that still separated him from the trees, as a bullet,
- drumming the air venomously, seemed to miss his cheek by but the fraction
- of an inch. MacVightie's presence was evidence that the detective was so
- well satisfied that the gang penned up in the car could not escape, that
- he obviously counted his temporary absence from the scene well warranted
- if thereby the clean-up were made complete in the capture of——-The
- Hawk's mental soliloquy came to an abrupt end. There was a low cry from
- the Butcher, and the man, as they ran shoulder to shoulder, lurched
- against him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's wrong?” flung out the Hawk sharply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They got me!” gasped the Butcher—and lurched again. “They got me—in
- the leg.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk glanced backward again. They were still those fifty yards behind,
- those dark, flitting, oncoming forms, those vicious yellow stabs of flame
- in the blackness—it had been a dead heat so far, here to the fringe
- of the trees.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher stumbled. The Hawk swung his free arm around the other's
- waist, and plunged in amongst the trees. It was slower work now,
- desperately slow. He clutched at the package of banknotes beneath his
- coat, and with his other hand tightened his grip upon the Butcher. The man
- was evidently badly hit, and was beginning to sag limply. Came the
- thrashing and branches, and the rush of feet behind them. The fifty yards
- was ten now—the Hawk, with his burden, struggled on—and then
- there came a cry again from the Butcher—they had gained the edge of
- the clearing, and the old farmhouse and its outbuildings loomed up before
- them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's—it's——” the Butcher's voice choked weakly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—I know where we are—my God, <i>quick!</i> They'll search
- the house! I got to warn him now—quick!” The man, as though under a
- stimulant, with new strength, had sprung forward alone into the clear,
- making for the farmhouse door. It was only a few yards, but halfway there
- he stumbled again—and again the Hawk pulled him to his feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- A yell went up behind them. MacVightie and his men, too, were now in the
- clearing, and the ten yards' lead was cut to five, to three—and then
- the door before them was flung suddenly open, and a voice challenged
- hoarsely from within:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who's there? What's——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Butcher pitched across the threshold, dragging the Hawk down with him
- in his fall.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The door, Jim—quick—slam it!” screamed the Butcher. “We're
- done—the cellar!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk had leaped to his feet. The room was dark, unlighted, but from
- across it came, as there had come that other night, the faint glow from
- the open door of the cellarway. The Butcher had staggered up again, and
- was making in that direction—and then the Hawk, too, was across the
- room—but the next instant, turning to meet the rush from without, as
- the front door, evidently before the man whom the Butcher had addressed as
- Jim could fasten it, burst inward and crashed against the wall, he was
- borne backward, and, losing his balance, half pitched, half rolled down
- the cellar stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- The fall must have stunned him for a moment. He realised that as he
- struggled to his feet—to find himself staring into the muzzle of
- MacVightie's revolver, and to find that the bulging package of banknotes
- was gone from under his coat, as, too, were his automatic, his jimmy and
- the baggageman's revolver that had been in the side pockets of his coat.
- He raised his hand dazedly toward his eyes—and MacVightie, reaching
- out, knocked his hand away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll do that for you—we were just getting around to it!” said
- MacVightie roughly—and jerked the Hawk's mask from his face. And
- then MacVightie leaned sharply forward. “O-ho!” he exclaimed grimly. “So
- it's <i>you</i>—is it? I guess you put it over me the night that ten
- thousand was lifted at the station—but I've got you now!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk made no answer. He was staring, still in an apparently dazed way,
- about him. The cellar was a veritable maze of work benches and elaborate
- equipment—for counterfeiting work. A printing press stood over in
- one corner; on the benches, plates and engravers' tools of all
- descriptions were scattered about; and, near the wall by the stairway, he
- made out a telegraph set. But the Hawk's glance did not linger on any of
- these things—it fastened on a bent and twisted form that craned its
- neck forward from a rubber-tired wheel chair; on a livid face, out of
- which the coal-black eyes, narrowed to slits, smouldered in deadly menace,
- and from whose thin lips, that scarcely moved, there poured forth now a
- torrent of hideous blasphemy in that soft, silken voice that had earned
- the Ladybird his name; on the hand, crooked into a claw, that, pushing
- away the man who stood guard over him, reached out toward where the
- Butcher lay upon the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You ape, you gnat, you brainless pig! And you led them here—here—<i>here!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn't know where I was until I was right on the house,” mumbled the
- Butcher miserably.
- </p>
- <h3>
- “I——”
- </h3>
- <p>
- “Shut up—both of you!” ordered MacVightie gruffly. “What do you say,
- Lanson? Is this the Hawk?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk had not seen the superintendent, and he turned now quickly.
- Lanson's steel-grey eyes were boring into him coldly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Lanson evenly, “I think I could swear he was the man who held
- us up in the private car the other night—but it's easily proved. If
- he is the Hawk, he has got a wound in his right side. I saw him clap his
- hand there when the pistol went off in his fight with Meridan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, we'll soon see!” snapped MacVightie.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk licked his lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You needn't look,” he said morosely. “It's there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So you admit it, do you?” MacVightie's smile was unpleasant. “Well, then,
- since you seem to be so thick with that pack of curs back there in the
- train, perhaps you'll admit to a hand in this little counterfeiting plant
- as well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; I won't!” said the Hawk shortly. “I never had anything to do with
- this! I don't admit anything of the kind! Ask him!”—the Hawk jerked
- his hand toward the Ladybird.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, all right!” MacVightie smiled unpleasantly again. “Let it go at that
- for now, if you like it that way. It doesn't much matter. You're birds of
- a feather, anyway, and there's enough on all of you to go around!” He
- reached behind him, and picked up the package of banknotes from where he
- had evidently laid it on the nearest bench. “How did you know this was on
- the train, and how did you know where it was in the car—and tell the
- truth about it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I heard you and Mr. Lanson talking about it tonight,” said the Hawk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the roundhouse. I was outside the window. And”—the Hawk's voice
- thinned in a sudden snarl—“you go to the devil with your questions!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Ladybird was craned forward again in the wheel chair listening
- intently, he sank back now and scowled murderously at the Hawk. MacVightie
- shrugged his shoulders, handed the package to one of his three men who
- were with him in the cellar, and drew a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get that cash down to the train, and put it back with the gold where it
- will be under guard, MacGregor!” he ordered brusquely. “And you two carry
- this fellow”—he rattled his handcuffs in the Butcher's direction—“down
- there, too. Tell Marston to let you have three or four more men. The chap
- that Williams has got upstairs there will have to be carried, too, I
- guess; and our friend here, in the invalid buggy, with the thanksgiving
- expression on his face, will have to have somebody to push him along over
- the ruts. Yes, and I'll want a couple to put in the night here—tell
- Marston to make it four. And now, beat it! You run ahead, MacGregor, and
- get back as soon as you can—we don't want to tie up the traffic all
- night!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The two men picked up the Butcher, and, preceded by their companion with
- the package of banknotes, went up the stairs. MacVightie caught the Hawk's
- arm roughly, snapped one link of the steel cuffs over the Hawk's right
- wrist, and yanked the Hawk ungently over to a position beside the wheel
- chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- He snapped the other link over the Ladybird's left wrist, and smiled
- menacingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess there's dead weight enough there to anchor you for a few minutes
- while I take a look around here!” he said curtly—and turned to
- Lan-son.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk was licking at his lips again. Upstairs, the tramp of feet was
- dying away: There would be no one there now but the other member of the
- gang who, it seemed, had been hurt when the house was rushed, and the one
- man who was guarding the prisoner. The Ladybird's cultured voice at the
- Hawk's side poured out an uninterrupted stream of abandoned oaths that
- were like a shudder in the nonchalant, conversational tones in which they
- fell from the twitching lips. MacVightie and Lanson were moving here and
- there about the place. Snatches of their conversation reached the Hawk:
- </p>
- <p>
- ...Well, I reckon I called the turn, all right, when I said it was the
- same crowd that was turning out the phony stuff, eh?... Yes, the telegraph
- set.
- </p>
- <p>
- ... Can't trace the wires until daylight, of course.
- </p>
- <p>
- ... Sure, a clean-up....”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Hawk's eyes travelled furtively around the cellar. They rested
- hungrily on a spot in front of him, where, in the centre of the floor, but
- partially hidden by one of the workbenches, was the bolted trapdoor of the
- underground passage that led out to the wagon shed. He circled his lips
- with his tongue again, and furtively again, his glance travelled on—to
- the door at the head of the cellar stairs that had a massive bolt, and
- that, evidently swinging back of its own accord after the men had passed
- through, now hung just ajar—to a long, narrow window, most
- tantalising of all because it was wide open, that was shoulder high, just
- above the stonework of the cellar and evidently on a level with the ground
- outside.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then suddenly the Hawk's lids drooped—to hide a quick flash and
- gleam that lighted the dark eyes. MacVightie had stooped, and throwing
- back the bolt, had lifted up the trapdoor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hello!” he ejaculated. “What's this? Here, Lanson! It looks like a
- passage of some sort.” He was leaning down into the opening. “Yes, so help
- me, that's what it is!” He lowered himself hurriedly through the trapdoor,
- and his voice came back muffled into the cellar. “Come down here a minute,
- Lanson; they certainly had things worked out to a fine point!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lanson's back, as, following MacVightie, he lowered himself through the
- opening, was turned to the Hawk—and in a flash the Hawk's free hand
- had swept behind him under his coat to the concealed pocket in the back
- lining, and his eyes were thrust within an inch of the Ladybird's as he
- lowered his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You understand?”—the Hawk's lips did not move, he was breathing his
- words, while a skeleton key worked swiftly at the handcuff on his wrist—“you
- understand? It's you or me! You make a sound to queer me, and I'll get you—<i>first!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- The livid face was contorted, working with impotent fury, but, perhaps for
- the first time that it had ever been there, there was fear In the
- Ladybird's burning eyes. The Hawk's hand was free now. Lanson's shoulders
- were just disappearing through the opening, and with a lightning spring
- the Hawk reached the trapdoor, swung it down, bolted it, and, running
- without a sound, gained the head of the cellar stairs, pulled the door
- gently shut, slid the bolt silently into place—and the next moment
- the Hawk, returning, darted to the window, swung himself up to the ledge,
- and vanished.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- XX—“CONFIDENTIAL” CORRESPONDENCE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WO days later
- MacVightie received a letter that had been posted the day before from a
- city quite a number of miles nearer the East than Selkirk was. In the
- left-hand, lower corner of the envelope, heavily underscored, was the
- word: “Confidential.” What MacVightie read, when he opened the letter, was
- this:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear Mr. MacVightie:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I feel that you are entitled to an explanation—I will not call it
- an apology, for I am sure you will recognise with me the unavoidable
- nature of the circumstances existing at the time—of my somewhat
- informal leave-taking of you two evenings ago; and I am afraid that my
- actions on that occasion have not enhanced your opinion of—the Hawk.
- I shall try and redeem myself. You have, I make no doubt, already searched
- that room where I first had the pleasure of making your acquaintance—and
- have found nothing. Let me begin, then, by saying that the diamond
- necklace belonging to His Excellency the Governor's wife, a certain
- well-known shipment of unset stones, and cash in varying amounts derived
- from sources with which you are acquainted, are in a black valise which
- you will find in the parcel room of the Selkirk station—and for
- which I enclose herewith the parcel-room check.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I imagine that you are sceptical. I wonder, then, if it would also
- occasion you surprise to know that Birks of the Secret Service was, after
- all, 'on deck' the night that the Wire Devils fell into your hospitable
- hands? Yes, it is quite true—I am Birks. The newspaper biographies
- of the Hawk, the apparent authenticity of his prison record and release
- from Sing Sing was but 'inspired' fiction supplied from 'authoritative'
- sources. The East was being swamped with one of the cleverest counterfeit
- notes that the Federal authorities, popularly called the Secret Service,
- had ever had to deal with; and it was evident at once that the gang at
- work possessed an organisation against which ordinary methods would be of
- no avail. Facts in the possession of the Federal authorities indicated
- that the headquarters of the gang was in the West, and, indeed, as you
- later concluded yourself, that the so-called Wire Devils, who were just
- beginning to operate over the wires around Selkirk, were the men we
- wanted. That, because of my knowledge of telegraphy, I was detailed to the
- case, and how, almost at the outset, I was fortunate enough to secure the
- key to their cipher, need not be gone into here. Knowing their code, then,
- it would have been a simple enough matter to have run one or two of them
- to earth at almost any time, but that was not enough; it was necessary
- that the entire organisation, and especially its head, should be caught.
- The rôle of the Hawk furnished the solution to the problem. It enabled me
- to frustrate their plans, while at the same time I was working on the
- case, and it enabled me to do this without arousing their suspicions that
- the Secret Service was on the track of their counterfeiting plant. 'Birds
- of a feather,' you called us, Mr. Mac-Vightie; and 'birds of a feather' I
- am going to ask you to allow us, in the public's eyes, and particularly in
- the eyes of those you now have behind the bars, to remain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure you will readily acquiesce in this. You will instantly see that
- my usefulness would be destroyed if the Hawk became known and recognised
- as Birks of the Secret Service by every crook in the country, as would
- result if he now figured in the case in his proper person. And this leads
- to a word of explanation in reference to the final act in our little drama
- of two nights ago. I had discovered the headquarters of the gang, and I
- had found that cleverest of unhung crooks, the Ladybird, to be in command.
- The plan outlined to you from Washington was at my suggestion, and was
- simply a trap to collect them <i>all</i> into one net; a trap, I might
- add, which they walked into, as they believed, with their eyes wide open,
- for they were well aware of every move <i>you</i> had made. The purpose of
- the money in banknotes accompanying the gold shipment was to supply the
- Hawk with a <i>reason</i> for his appearance on the scene. It was not
- altogether a question of coincidence that the train was stopped just
- outside Con-more; nor that the chase led you to the farmhouse and the
- Ladybird. The rest you know. It was necessary that I should be captured
- and arrested in their presence, be caught in fact with the 'goods,' and
- also that my escape should in their eyes appear equally genuine, if I was
- to preserve the Hawk's identity. As for this last point, things turned out
- a little differently than I had planned, for I had expected to be taken to
- jail with the common herd, and there had intended to arrange some sort of
- an escape to keep up appearances. As it turned out, however, I am sure you
- will agree with me that there are worse things at times than a trapdoor in
- a cellar floor!
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think that is all—save for one little detail. I would suggest
- that you account for the recovery of the 'swag' and the black valise
- through the fact that, dissatisfied with your first search of that room
- over our friend Seidel-berger's saloon, you searched it again more
- minutely, found a parcel-room check ingeniously hidden, say, behind the
- wall bracket of the electric-light fixture—and by so doing permit me
- to remain,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ever and most sincerely yours,
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Hawk.”
- </p>
- <h3>
- THE END
- </h3>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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