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- 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
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