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diff --git a/old/52084-0.txt b/old/52084-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e5f74cb..0000000 --- a/old/52084-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8669 +0,0 @@ - The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wire Devils, by Frank L. Packard - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - -Title: The Wire Devils - -Author: Frank L. Packard - -Release Date: May 16, 2016 [EBook #52084] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIRE DEVILS *** - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously provided by the -Internet Archive - - - - - -THE WIRE DEVILS - -By Frank L. Packard - -Author of “Greater Love Hath No Man,” “The Adventure of Jimmie -Dale,” Etc. - -A. L. Burt Company Publishers New York - -1918 - - - - -CONTENTS - -THE WIRE DEVILS - -I—THE SECRET CODE - -II—THE TEN-DOLLAR COUNTERFEIT NOTE - -III-THE PAYMASTER'S SAFE - -IV—AT BALD CREEK STATION - -V—IN WHICH A CASH BOX DISAPPEARS - -VI—SOME OF THE LITTLE SPIDERS - -VII—WANTED—THE HAWK—DEAD OR ALIVE - -VIII—THREADS IN THE WEB - -IX—THE LOOTING OF THE FAST MAIL - -X—THE THIRD PARTY - -XI—THE LEAD CAPSULE - -XII—BLINDMAN'S-BUFF - -XIII—THE MAN WITH THE SCAR - -XIV—THE CLUE - -XV—THE LADYBIRD - -XVI—AN EVEN BREAK - -XVII—A HOLE IN THE WALL - -XVIII—THE HAWK PACKS HIS VALISE - -XIX—BIRDS OF A FEATHER - -XX—“CONFIDENTIAL” CORRESPONDENCE - - - - -THE WIRE DEVILS - - - - -I—THE SECRET CODE - -TWO switch lights twinkled; one at the east, and one at the west end of -the siding. For the rest all was blackness. Half way between the -switch lights, snuggled close against the single-tracked main line, -the station, little more than a shanty and too insignificant to boast a -night operator, loomed up shadowy and indistinct. Away to the westward, -like jagged points sticking up into the night and standing out in relief -against the skyline, the Rockies reared their peaks. And the spell of -the brooding mountains seemed to lie over all the desolate, butte-broken -surrounding country—for all was utter silence. - -And then there came a sound, low at first, like a strange muttering from -somewhere to the westward. - -It died away, grew louder, was hushed again—and broke into a sustained -roar. Came then the quick, short gasps of the exhaust—it was a -freight, and a heavy one. And suddenly, from up the track, circling -an intervening butte, an electric headlight cut streaming through the -black. It touched the little station in a queerly inquisitive way in the -sweep of its arc, lingered an instant over the platform, then swung to -the right of way, and held there, the metals glistening like polished -silver ribbons under the flood of light. - -Straining, panting at its load, reddening the sky as the fire-box door -was flung open, the big tenwheeler stormed by, coughing the sparks -heavenward from its stack. The roar in the still night grew deafening, -as boxcar, flat and gondola, lurching, swaying, clanking, groaning, -an endless string, tugging at one another, grinding their flanges, -screaming as they took up the axle play, staggered with a din infernal -past the lonely and unlighted station. - -The roar sank into a gradually diminishing murmur. The tail-lights -winked like mischievous little red eyes in the distance—and vanished. - -All was stillness and that brooding silence again. - -And then a man's form, like a black shadow in the darkness, rose from -the trackside, and crept to the platform, and along the platform to the -station door. - -The man bent forward, and the round, white ray of a pocket flashlight -played upon the lock. He examined the lock for an instant appraisingly, -then drew a bunch of skeleton keys from his pocket, and, selecting one -of the number without hesitation, unlocked the door, stepped inside, and -closed the door behind him. - -The flashlight swept in a circle around the interior of the little -station. There were but two rooms—the small waiting room which he had -entered, and in which he now stood; and, partitioned off from this, the -door open, a still smaller inner room, the agent's office. He moved at -once into the latter, and his flashlight, swiftly now, searched around -the walls and held upon the clock. It was six minutes to ten. - -“Pretty close work!” muttered the man. “Six minutes to wait.” - -The ray travelled now over the operator's table, and from the table -to the switchboard. He reached out, “cut in” the office circuit, -listened for an instant as the sounder began to chatter—then the ray -swept over the table again. Under a newspaper, that the day man had -apparently flung down at haphazard on leaving the office, he found a pad -of telegraph blanks, from which, evidently wary of the consequences -of using a pad with its resultant tell-tale impressions on the under -sheets, he tore off a sheet and laid it down ready to hand before him. - -This done, he nodded complacently, sat down in the operator's chair, -tilted the chair back, put his feet up on the table, and coolly picked -up the newspaper. It was the evening edition of the Selkirk City -Journal, that had presumably been tossed off at the station by a -charitable train crew of some late afternoon train out from the city. -He held the paper in one hand, the flashlight in the other, scanned the -page, which happened to be an inner one, cursorily, turned it over, -and suddenly leaned forward a little in his seat. He was staring at -the headline at the top right-hand corner of the front page. NOTORIOUS -CRIMINAL RELEASED FROM SING SING POLICE ARE WARNED THAT MAN MAY BE IN -THIS VICINITY HARRY MAUL, ALIAS THE HAWK, KNOWN TO BE IN THE WEST - -The telegraph sounder chattered volubly for an instant, as though to -challenge and silence the raucous ticking of the clock, and ended in a -splutter of wrath, as it were, at the futility of its attempt. The clock -ticked on. There was no other sound. And then the man spoke aloud. - -“That's me,” he said. “The Hawk.” The paper rattled in his -hand. There was a twisted smile on his lips in the darkness. “I guess -I'm pretty well known.” - -The Hawk's eyes fixed on the text, and he began to read: - -“It is reported that Harry Maul, better known to the police as -the Hawk, safe-breaker, forger and thief, one of the cleverest -'gentleman' crooks in the country, who is at large again after a -five-years' penitentiary term, is somewhere in the West. - -“The crime wave that has recently been sweeping over Selkirk City -and its vicinity, and particularly the daring and, in too many cases, -successful outrages with which the railroad officials and detectives -have been called upon to cope of late, may, as a very plausible theory, -have lured the Hawk here as to a promising field in which to resume his -criminal operations. Certain it is that, while we have been the victims -of a band of mysterious desperadoes for some time past, the last week -or so has seen a very marked increase in the number of crimes that have -been committed—a significant coincidence with the Hawk's release -from Sing Sing. - -“A twenty-thousand-dollar diamond necklace was stolen from a private -car two nights ago; there was an express car robbery on Monday of this -week; and a sleeping car was thoroughly and systematically looted the -night before. True, it is mere conjecture to connect the Hawk with these -in any way, since the gang that has been operating in this neighbourhood -has proved itself quite capable of all and more than this without any -outside and highly specialised assistance, and it would appear is in no -whit inferior in resource and devilish ingenuity to the best, or worst, -that Sing Sing has to offer in the shape of this so-called Hawk; but, -out of conjecture, one question naturally suggests itself. - -“Granting the presence of the Hawk, is he here as a rival of the -criminals of whose existence we are already only too well aware, or -is he one of them through old-time associations before Sing Sing put a -temporary check upon his activities?” - -There was more—a virulent outpouring of wrath at the intolerable -extent to which the community, its life and property, was being -endangered, and a promise of summary vengeance upon the criminals if -caught. - -“Quite so!” murmured the Hawk, lowering his feet slowly to the -floor. “I guess it wouldn't be healthy to get caught around these -parts. I have a feeling that it would be the nearest telegraph pole -instead of a trial!” - -He tossed the newspaper back on the table. The sounder, spasmodic in its -chatter, for the moment was still. All was silence, profound, absolute. -Then the clock struck, loud, resonant, smashing through the silence, -startling. And at the same instant the sounder broke into a quick -tattoo. The Hawk snatched a pencil from his pocket, and jerked his body -forward—then relaxed again. - -“Stray stuff,” he muttered. “Got in ahead of him. We'll get it -in a minute now.” - -Pencil poised in his hand, the flashlight playing on the blank sheet -of paper before him, the Hawk waited. The sounder ceased—and almost -instantly broke again, rattling sharply through the room. The Hawk -nodded, as his pencil began to travel across the paper. - -“'mtlky'—stroke at five. Two-three-one tonight,” he said -aloud. - -Without pause, without hesitation, without the slightest indication of -spacing to break its continuity, the sounder rattled on—and finally, -as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped. - -On the sheet of paper the Hawk had written this: - -mtlkyeqodktrpcvkqlmtp kpwrtrgtftuqcyqtnt tsghv ukopgfkxtiku kqprelcn -rcatocuvgdatf gumttlvgpvjf qwucpmtfkp uckjihg vqptkijvrsa wvpxodtt -dgtqprg qplqosd - -He reached out for the pad, tore off another sheet, and in two parallel -columns set down the letters of the alphabet, one column transposed. -There was a faint smile on his lips, as he turned again to the cipher -and began to write in another line of letters under the original -message. - -“I wonder what Poe and his predominant 'e' would do with this!” -he chuckled. “'Combi'—stroke two. Key letter—stroke three.” -He frowned the next instant. “What's this! Ah—stroke three, -instead of one.” He completed the transposition, stared at the several -lines which were now scattered with vertically crossed-out letters, -whistled low under his breath, and a grim look settled on his face. - -The message now read: - -—-combi—natio—-ninup-perdr—eftsi—dediv—sion—al -paymasterdesk—fousan dinsaj—feton-ight-autnum—-beron-eonjob - -Mechanically, he separated words and sentences, and, eliminating the -superfluous letters, wrote out the translation at the bottom of the -sheet: - -“Combination in upper drawer left side divisional paymaster ('.) -desk. Ten thousand in safe to-night. Put Number One on job.” - -The Hawk stood up, “plugged out” the station circuit, and, gathering -up the two sheets of paper he had used, put them in his pocket; then, -leaving the door of the operator's room open behind him, as he had -found it, he stepped out from the station to the platform, and, with his -skeleton key, relocked the station door. He stood for a moment -staring up and down the track. The switchlights blinked back at him -confidentially. He listened. The eastbound freight, from which he -had jumped some twenty minutes before, would cross Extra No. 83, the -westbound way freight, at Elkton, seven miles away, but there was no -sound of the latter as yet. - -He turned then, and, jumping from the platform to the track, swung into -a dog-trot along the roadbed. The Hawk smiled contentedly to himself. -It was all timed to a nicety! A mile or so to the west, the right of way -rose in a stiff grade that the way freight would be able to negotiate at -no better speed than the pace at which a man could crawl. He could make -the distance readily, board her there, and the way freight would get -him to Selkirk—and the divisional paymaster's office!—by about -midnight. - -He ran on, the swing and ease of a trained athlete in his stride. And, -as he ran, he took the sheets of paper from his pocket, and, tearing -them into small fragments, scattered the pieces at intervals here and -there. - -He reached the foot of the grade, and paused to look back along the -track, as suddenly from behind him came the hoarse scream of an engine -whistle. That was the way freight now, whistling perfunctorily for the -deserted station! He had made the grade in plenty of time, though the -nearer to the top he could get the better, for the freight, requiring -all the initial impetus it could attain, would hit the foot of the grade -wide open. - -The Hawk broke into a run again, glancing constantly back over his -shoulder as he sped on up the grade. And then, when he was well on -toward the summit, opening the night like a blazing disk as it rounded a -curve, he caught the gleam of the headlight. It grew larger and -larger, until, beginning to fling a luminous pathway up the track -that, gradually lengthening, crept nearer and nearer to him, he -swerved suddenly, plunged down the embankment, and, well away from the -trackside, dropped flat upon the ground. - -The engine, slowed, was grunting heavily on the incline as it strained -by the spot where he lay; there was the glimmer of the front-end -brakeman's lamp from the top of one of the forward cars—and, with a -quick, appraising glance to measure the length of the train, the Hawk, -on hands and knees, crawled forward, and up the embankment, and, in the -shadow of the rolling cars themselves, stood up. There would be sharp -eyes watching from the cupola of the caboose. He laughed a little. And -not only the train crew there, perhaps! The railroad detectives, at -their wits' ends, had acquired the habit of late of turning up in the -most unexpected places! - -A boxcar rolled by him, another, and still another—but the Hawk's -eyes were fixed a little further along toward the rear on an open space, -where, in the darkness, a flat car gave the appearance of a break in the -train. The flat car came abreast of him. He caught the iron foot-rung, -jumped, and, with a powerful, muscular swing, flung himself aboard. - -The car was loaded with some kind of carriage, or wagon, -tarpaulin-covered. The Hawk crawled in under the tarpaulin, and lay down -upon his back, pillowing his head on a piece of timber that blocked the -carriage wheels. - -The train topped the grade, gained speed, and roared on through the -night. Occasionally, during what was close to a two-hours' run, it -stopped at intermediate stations, and the Hawk peered furtively out from -under the tarpaulin to locate the surroundings, with which he appeared -to be intimately familiar; and once, nearing the end of the run, as -the faint-suffused glow from the city's lights in the distance showed -under the shadows of the towering peaks, he spoke aloud, “Ten thousand -dollars,” remarked the Hawk pleasantly. “Nice picking for a few -hours' work—ten thousand dollars!” - - - - -II—THE TEN-DOLLAR COUNTERFEIT NOTE - -THE Hawk crawled out from under the tarpaulin and dropped to the ground, -as the freight, slowing down, began to patter in over the spur switches -of the Selkirk yard. He darted, bent low, across several spurs to escape -the possibility of observation from the freight's caboose; then began -to make his way toward the roundhouse ahead of him. He would have -to pass around behind the roundhouse in order to get up opposite the -station and the divisional offices. The Hawk glanced sharply about -him as he moved along. He dodged here and there like some queer, -irresponsible phantom flitting amongst the low, myriad red, green and -purple lights that dotted the yard; and he carefully avoided those other -lights, the white lights of the yardsmen, now bobbing as the men ran up -and down, now swinging from the footboard of a passing switcher, that -seemed to be unusually ubiquitous—for the Hawk was secretive, and for -certain good and valid reasons was possessed of an earnest desire that -no stranger should be reported prowling around the railroad yard that -night. - -He reached the roundhouse, stepped close up against the wall to take -advantage of the security afforded by the shadows, and began to circle -the building. The Hawk was treading silently now. Halfway around the -building he halted abruptly, his head cocked suddenly in a listening -attitude toward a small, open and lighted window on a level with his -shoulders, and in order to pass which he had just been on the point of -stooping down. - -“I think,” said the Hawk softly to himself, “I think this sounds -as though it interested me.” - -He crept cautiously forward, and from the edge of the window glanced -inside. It was the turner's “cubbyhole,” or office. The door was -closed, and two men were standing there, talking earnestly. The -Hawk's face, dimly outlined now in the window light, smooth-shaven, -square-jawed, the eyes and forehead hidden by the brim of the slouch -hat that was pulled forward almost to the bridge of his nose, set with -a curious and significant smile. It was not a bad place for a private -conference! He had thought he had recognised the voice—and he had not -been mistaken. The big, heavy-built, thin-lipped, pugnacious-faced man -was MacVightie, the head of the railroad's detective force; the other, -a smaller man, with alert grey eyes, his forehead furrowed anxiously, -whose clenched hand rested on the table, was Lanson, the division -superintendent. - -“I don't know, damn it, MacVightie!” Lanson was saying savagely. -“I don't know what to think, or believe—I only know that a Pullman -hold-up one night, a twenty-thousand-dollar necklace stolen the next, -an express car looted, and several other little pleasant episodes all -jammed one on top of the other, means hell to pay out here and nothing -to pay it with, unless we can do something almighty quick!” - -“Any more of those messages?” inquired MacVightie—there was an -ominous abstraction in his tones. - -“Yes—to-night.” - -“Make anything of it?” - -“No,” said Lanson; “and I think it's about time to put a kink -in that little business, whether they mean anything or not. This -cat-and-mouse game we've been playing isn't——” - -“We'll get back to that in a minute,” interrupted MacVightie -quietly. “Here's a little something else that may possibly fit into -the combination.” He reached into his pocket, took out his pocketbook, -opened it, and handed the division superintendent a crisp new ten-dollar -note. - -The Hawk's lips thinned instantly, and he swore sharply under his -breath. - -“What's this?” asked Lanson, in surprise. “Phony!” said -MacVightie laconically. “Counterfeit!” Lanson turned the note over -in his hands, staring at first one side and then the other. “Are you -sure? I'd take it any time.” - -“You'd have lots of company with you”—there was a sudden rasp -in the detective's voice. “Pretty good one, isn't it? The East is -being flooded with them. Two of them showed up in the banks here in the -city yesterday, and one to-day.” - -Lanson frowned perplexedly. - -“I don't get you, MacVightie,” he said. - -“Suppose they were being struck off around here,” suggested -MacVightie curtly. “I don't say they are, but suppose it were -so. They'd likely be shoved out as far away from this locality as -possible, wouldn't they—back East, say. They're so good that a -jag of them got by before they began to be detected—and now suppose we -assume that they're beginning to sift back around the country.” - -“Well?” - -“Well”—MacVightie caught the superintendent up quickly—“I -didn't say I could prove it; but, coupled with the fact that I happen -to know that the police have traced the work back to somewhere west of -Chicago, I've got a hunch that the gang that is operating around here -and the crowd that is turning out the phony money is the same outfit. -The Lord knows”—he smiled bitterly—“they're clever enough! And -to go back to those messages now. If there was anything in them at -all, anything more than some irresponsible idiot tampering with a key -somewhere, we were face to face, not with a mere gang of train robbers, -but with an organised criminal league as dangerous and powerful as has -ever existed in this country—and that's what made me hesitate. We -couldn't afford to take any chances, to start out after a mare's -nest, and we had to make as nearly sure of our ground as possible before -we played a card. We went on the principle that if it was only somebody -playing the goat, he'd get tired of it before long if no one paid -any attention to him; if it meant anything more than that, he'd keep -on.” MacVightie's pugnacious face screwed up into a savage grimace. -“Well, maybe this counterfeiting idea has had something to do with -deciding me, but, anyway, I'm satisfied now. He has kept on. And I'm -satisfied now that those messages are a cipher code that the gang is -using, and that our cat-and-mouse play, as you call it, instead of being -abortive, is exactly what's going to land our men for us. That's -one thing I came to tell you to-night—that I'm ready now to take the -gloves off on this wire game.” - -Lanson smashed his fist down on the table top. “Good!” he exclaimed -grimly. “I'd like to make things hot for somebody, and it'll at -least be easy enough to catch whoever is using the wire.” MacVightie -shook his head. - -“Oh, no; it won't!” he said evenly. “I didn't mean to give you -that impression, and don't you make the mistake of under-estimating -the brains we're up against, Lanson. I'm no expert on telegraphy, -that's your end of it, but I know they wouldn't sit in on any game -where they didn't hold trumps up their sleeves. Get me? Now let's -see what it looks like. As I understand it, these messages, no matter -from what point on the division they are sent, would be heard on every -sounder on the line—that's right, isn't it?” - -“Yes—sure! Of course!” agreed Lanson. - -“And it might be an operator working with them as an inside man; -or, with the necessary outfit, the wire could be tapped at any point, -couldn't it?” - -“Yes,” said Lanson; “but the minute he starts in, we could begin -to 'ground' him out.” - -“Go on!” invited MacVightie. “I'm listening.” - -“We could tell whether he was working east or west of any given -point,” explained the superintendent; “and, with the operators -instructed beforehand, practically narrow him down to, say, between two -stations.” - -The Hawk, as he, too, listened, permitted an amused smile to flicker -across his lips. - -“Um!” said MacVightie. “And would he be aware that this -'grounding' process was going on?” - -“Yes—naturally,” admitted Lanson. “We can't prevent that.” - -MacVightie shook his head again. - -“That doesn't sound good to me,” he said slowly. “All he'd -have to do would be to beat it then—and the next time start in fifty -miles away, and you'd have to begin all over again. And, besides, -who's receiving the messages? You can't put any tabs on that. Every -sounder from Selkirk City to Rainy River registers them, and all -a man's got to do is listen. You see, Lanson, it's not so -easy—eh?” - -Lanson frowned. - -“Well, what do you suggest?” he asked uncomfortably. “We can stop -it.” - -“But we don't want to stop it!” returned MacVightie. “We could -have done that from the first. What we want is our man now. And it -strikes me that the first thing to do is to find out whether one of our -own operators is in on this or not. Unless the line is tapped somewhere, -it's a cinch that a station key is being used, isn't it? Send some -linemen that you can trust over the division. If they find anything at -all, they'll find the spot where the messages are coming from, won't -they? If they find nothing, we'll know we've got to look nearer -home—amongst our own men.” - -Lanson, in his turn, shook his head. - -“Not necessarily,” he objected. “We've a number of small -stations where there's no night operator. They might have got into one -of those. The messages all come through at night.” - -“Well, I'll call the turn there!” responded Mac-Vightie, with a -short laugh. “See that I get a list of those stations in the morning, -and I'll detail men to take care of that end of it.” - -The Hawk drew back a little, shifting his strained position—the amused -smile was no longer on his lips. - -“And as for that 'ground' business,” went on Mac-Vightie, “go -slow with it till you get your linemen's report. Don't do any more -than try it out with some operator you can absolutely depend upon, say, -about halfway down the line. You say you would be able to tell whether -the messages were coming from east or west of that point; that'll -cut the division in half for us as far as our search is concerned, and -that's worth taking a chance on. But don't overdo it, Lanson. We -don't want to throw any scare into him—yet.” - -“All right,” agreed Lanson. “I'll start things moving to-night. -Martin, at Bald Creek, will be the best man, I guess. I'll send a -letter down to him on No. 8.” - -“And warn him to make no reports by wire,” cautioned MacVightie. - -“All right—yes, naturally,” agreed the superintendent again. -Then, after a short pause, anxiously: “Anything turned up at all, -MacVightie? Any clue to that necklace? The governor's wife is making a -holler that's reached from here to the road's directors down in Wall -Street.” - -“Damn it,” growled MacVightie. “I'm well enough aware of -it—but the necklace isn't any more important than any one of the -other affairs, is it? No; there's nothing—not a blamed thing!” - -“Well, what about this Sing Sing convict, the Hawk, that the papers -are featuring to-night?” Lanson asked. “Anything in that?” - -“I don't know—maybe,” McVightie answered viciously. “He's -only one more, anyway. This gang was operating before he was -released—and it's likely enough, if they're old pals of his, that -he's come out here to give them a hand. The New York police say -he went to Chicago immediately after his release, two weeks ago. The -Chicago police reported him there, and then he disappeared; then Denver -spotted him a few days later—and that's the last that's been -seen of him. You can make what you like of that. He's certainly been -hitting a pretty straight trail west. He wasn't stopped, of course, -because he isn't 'wanted' at present; he's only a man with a -bad record, and labelled dangerous. We were warned to look out for him, -that's all.” - -“Got his description?” inquired Lanson. - -“Yes”—MacVightie's laugh was a short bark. “Medium height, -broad-shouldered, muscular, black hair, black eyes, straight nose, -good-looking, and gentlemanly in appearance and manner, dresses well, -age twenty-four to twenty-six, no distinctive marks or disfigurement.” - -“There's probably not more than twenty-five thousand men in Selkirk -City who would answer to every detail of that!” Lanson commented -sarcastically. - -“Exactly!” admitted MacVightie. “And that's——” - -The Hawk was creeping forward again in the shadows of the roundhouse. - -“Yes, I guess it interested me,” muttered the Hawk; “I guess it -did. I guess I'm playing in luck to-night.” - - - - -III-THE PAYMASTER'S SAFE - -FROM the roundhouse it was only a few yards to the rear of the long, -low-lying freight sheds and, unobserved, the Hawk gained this new -shelter. He stole quickly along to the further end of the sheds; and -there, crouched down again in the shadows, halted to make a critical -survey of his surroundings. . - -Just in front of him, divided only by a sort of driveway for the -convenience of the teamsters, was the end wall of the station, and, in -the end wall—the window of the divisional paymaster's office. The -Hawk glanced to his left. The street upon which the station fronted, an -ill-savoured section of the city, was dark, dimly lighted, and deserted; -the only sign of life being the lighted windows of a saloon on -the corner of a narrow lane that bisected the block of somewhat -disreputable, tumble-down wooden structures that faced the station. To -his right, on the other side of the freight shed, the railroad yard -had narrowed down to the station tracks and a single spur alongside the -shed. There was no one in sight in either direction. - -The Hawk's eyes strayed back to the paymaster's window. The station, -like its surrounding neighbours, was an old wooden building; and, being -low and only two-storied, the second-story window offered inviting -possibilities. From the sill of the lower window, a man who was at all -agile had the upper window at his mercy. Against this mode of attack, -however, was the risk of being seen by any one who might pass along -the street, or by any one who might chance upon the end of the station -platform. - -“What's the use!” decided the Hawk, with an abrupt shrug of his -shoulders. “Play safe. There's a better way.” - -The Hawk crept across the driveway, reached the street side of the -station, peered cautiously around the corner of the building, and, -satisfied that he was unobserved, edged down along the building for -a short distance, paused in a doorway, glanced quickly about him -again—and then the door opened and closed, and he was standing in a -murky passageway, that was lighted only by a single incandescent far -back by a stair well. - -He stood motionless, listening. From above, through the stillness, came -the faint drumming of a telegraph key. There should be no one upstairs -now but the dispatcher, whose room was at the opposite end of the -building from the paymaster's office—and, possibly, with the -dispatcher, a call boy or two. And the hallway above, he could see, was -dark. - -Moving stealthily forward, as noiseless as a cat in his tread, the Hawk -took a mask from his pocket, slipped it over his face, and began to -mount the stairs. He gained the landing—and halted again. It was pitch -black here, since even the door of the dispatcher's room, where there -would be a light, was closed. - -And then once more the Hawk moved forward—and an instant later, the -paymaster's door at the extreme end of the corridor, under the deft -persuasion of his skeleton keys, had closed behind him. - -It was not quite so dark here. The lights from the platform and the yard -filtered in through the window in a filmy sort of way; but it was too -dark to distinguish objects in anything more than grotesque, shapeless -outlines. - -The Hawk produced his flashlight, and turned it upon the lock he had -just picked. It was a spring lock, opened readily from the inside by the -mere turning of the doorhandle. He tried it carefully, assuring himself -that it could not be opened from the corridor without a key—and then -his light swept around the room. It played in its circuit upon the -paymaster's flat-topped desk against the wall, and upon a large safe -in the corner, near the window, whose polished nickel dial sent back -an answering flash under the darting ray; but the Hawk, for the moment, -appeared to be interested in neither desk nor safe. The flashlight was -holding in a kind of dogged inquisitiveness upon another door close to -the window, and directly opposite the safe. - -He stepped without a sound across the room, and, reaching this door, -snapped off his flashlight. He tried the door cautiously, found it -unlocked, and very softly opened it the space of an inch. He listened -attentively. There was no sound. He pushed the door open, switched on -his flashlight again, and stepped through the doorway. It appeared to be -a clerks' office—for the paymaster's staff, presumably. The Hawk -seemed to possess a peculiar penchant for doors. The only thing in the -room that apparently held any interest for him now was the door that -opened, like the paymaster's, upon the corridor. He slipped quickly -across the room, and, as before, examined the lock. Like the other, it -was a spring lock; and, like the other, he tested it to make sure it was -locked on the outside. - -“Ten thousand dollars,” confided the Hawk to the lock, “isn't to -be picked up every night; and we can't afford to take any chances, you -know.” - -He began to retrace his steps toward the paymaster's office, but now, -obviously, with more attention to the details of his surroundings, for -his flashlight kept dancing quick, jerky flashes in all directions about -him. - -“Ah!” The exclamation, low-breathed, came suddenly. “I thought -there ought to be something like this around here!” - -From, beside a desk, he stooped and picked up an empty pay satchel; -then, returning at once to the other office, but leaving the connecting -door just ajar, he dropped the pay bag in front of the safe, and went -silently over to the desk—a mouse running across the floor would have -made more commotion than the Hawk had made since his entry into the -station. - -“... Upper drawer, left side,” he muttered, “Locked, of -course—ah!” A tiny key, selected from its fellow outlaws, was -inserted in the lock—and the Hawk pulled out the drawer, and began to -rummage through its contents. - -From the back of the drawer, after perhaps a minute's search, he -picked up a card, and with a nod of satisfaction began to study it. - -“'Left—two right; eighty-seven, one quarter—left; three... -'” The Hawk's eyes travelled swiftly over the combination. He -read it over again, “Thank you!” murmured the Hawk whimsically—and -dropped the card back in the drawer, and locked the drawer. - -A moment more, and the white beam of the flashlight was playing on the -face of the safe, and the silence of the room was broken by the faint, -musical, metallic whirring of the dial. Bent forward, a crouching form -in the darkness, the Hawk worked swiftly, a sure, deft accuracy in every -movement of his fingers. With a low thud, as he turned the handle, the -heavy bolt shot back in its grooves, and the ponderous door swung open. -And now the flashlight's ray flooded the interior of the safe, and the -Hawk laughed low—before him, lying on the bottom of the safe, neatly -banded as they had come from the bank, were a dozen or fifteen little -packages of banknotes. - -The Hawk dropped on his knees, and reached for the pay bag. Ten thousand -dollars was not so bulky, after all—if the denominations of the -notes were large enough. He riffled one package through his -fingers—twenties! Gold, yellow-back twenties! - -There was a sort of beatific smile on the Hawk's lips. He dropped the -package into the bag. - -Tens, and twenties, and fives—the light, in a curiously caressing way, -was lingering on the little fortune as it lay there on the bottom of the -safe. There was only a pile or two of ones, and the rest was—what was -that! - -The smile vanished from the Hawk's lips, and, in a rigid, tense, -strained attitude, he hung there, motionless. What was that—that dull, -rasping, sound! It was like some one clawing at the wall outside. The -window! - -With a single motion, as though stirred to life by some galvanic shock, -the Hawk's hand shot out and swept the packages of banknotes into the -bag. He snapped off his flashlight. The room was in darkness. - -That sound again! And now a creak! The window was being opened. -Something black was bulking there on the sill outside—and something -queerly white, a man's face, was pressed against the pane, peering in. - -The Hawk glanced sharply around him. Inch by inch he was pushing the -safe door shut. He could not reach the door leading to the clerks' -office, for he would have to pass by the window, and—he shrank back -quickly, the safe door closed but still unlocked, and crouched low in -the corner against the wall. The window slid up to the top, and with a -soft pad, like some animal alighting on the floor, the man had sprung -into the room. - -The Hawk's fingers crept into his pocket and out again, tight-closed -now upon an automatic pistol. The other's flashlight winked, went out, -then shot across the room, locating the desk—and once more all was -darkness. - -There was not a sound now, save the short, hurried breathing of the -other, panting from the exertion of his climb. Then the man's step -squeaked faintly crossing the room—and the Hawk, a few inches at a -time, began to edge along the wall away from the neighbourhood of the -safe. - -Then the man's flashlight gleamed again, lighting up the top of the -desk. There was a sharp, ripping sound, as of the tearing of wood under -pressure, and the upper drawer, forced open by a steel jimmy, was pulled -out. - -“Birds of a feather!” said the Hawk grimly to himself. “Number -One, of the Wire Devils! I didn't beat him to it by as much margin as -I thought I would!” - -The Hawk shifted his automatic to the hand that was clutching the pay -bag, and, with the other hand, began to feel in wide sweeps over the -wall above his head. The electric-light switch, he had noticed in that -first quick glance when he had entered the room, a glance that had -seemed to notice nothing, and yet in which nothing had escaped the -sharp, trained eyes, was somewhere about here. - -“Dangerous—for both of us—if it's seen outside,” communed the -Hawk with himself again. “But when he finds the safe unlocked, and the -goods gone, there'll be trouble. If he gets a flashlight on me, he's -got me where he wants me. Ah—here it is!” The Hawk's fingers -touched the switch. He lowered the pay bag cautiously to the floor -between his feet, his automatic free in his hand again. - -There was a rustling of papers in the drawer; then the man's hand, -holding a card, was outlined as though thrown upon a screen, as, with -his other hand, he focused his flashlight upon it. Then the flashlight -swung an arc over the opposite wall, and pointed a pathway to the safe, -as the man turned abruptly and stepped back across the room. - -The Hawk, one hand raised to the switch on the wall, his automatic -outflung a little in the other, tense, like an animal in leash, watched -the other's movements. - -The dark-outlined form was in shadowy relief against the light, that -played now upon the glistening knob and dial of the safe. The man gave -a preliminary, tentative twist at the handle. Came a quick, dismayed, -hissing sound, like the sharp intake of 'breath. The safe door was -wrenched open with a jerk. There was a low, angry cry now. The man -sprang back, and as though involuntarily, in a sort of uncertain, -panic-struck search, his flashlight shot along the wall—and fell full -upon the Hawk. - -The Hawk's finger pressed the switch. The room was ablaze with -light. With a startled, furious oath, the man's hand was sweeping -significantly toward his pocket. - -“No, you don't!” snarled the Hawk, covering the other. “No, you -don't! Cut that out!” His eyes, behind the mask, narrowed suddenly. -“Hello!” he sneered. “It's 'Butcher' Rose—I might have -known from the way you opened that drawer!” - -It was a moment before the man answered. - -“Blast you!” he whispered finally. “You gave me a bit of a start, -you did! I thought at first you were a 'bull'.” His eyes fastened -on the pay bag at the Hawk's feet. The top gaped open, disclosing the -banknotes inside. The man raised his eyes to the Hawk's, and a cunning -look came over his thin, hatchet-like face. “Caught with the goods -this time, eh?” he jerked out. - -The Hawk smiled unpleasantly. - -“Yes,” he said. “The nest's empty. What is it they used to tell -us in the nursery?—it's the early bird that grabs the worm. How long -you been out in these parts, Butcher?” - -“Look here,” said the Butcher ingratiatingly, ignoring the question, -“I guess it's a case of split—eh?” - -“You've got a nerve!” ejaculated the Hawk coolly. - -“Well, put that light out, then, and we'll talk it over,” -suggested the Butcher. “If it's seen from outside, we'll both get -caught.” - -“I'd rather take a chance on that, than a chance on you,” replied -the Hawk curtly. “There's nothing to talk over. I've got the coin, -and you've got a frost—all you've got to do now is beat it.” - -Sharp, little, black, ferret eyes the Butcher had, and they roamed -around the room now in an apparently aimless fashion—only to come back -and fix hungrily on the bag of banknotes again. A sullen look came into -his face, and the jaw muscles twitched ominously. - -“So you're the Hawk they're talking about, eh?” he said, trying -to speak smoothly. “Well, there's no use of us quarrelling. If you -know me, we must be old pals. Take off that mask, and let's have a -look at you. There ain't any reason why we can't be pals again.” - -“Nix!” said the Hawk softly. “Nothing doing, Butcher! It suits me -pretty well the way it is. I've made it a rule all my life to play a -lone hand, and the more I see of the raw work that guys like you try to -get away with, the more I pat myself on the back. Savvy? Why, say, -even a drag-worker on Canal Street wouldn't show his face to a -self-respecting crook for a month, he'd be so ashamed, if he took a -crowbar to a desk drawer the way you did, you poor boob!” - -The Butcher's face flushed, and he scowled. - -“You're looking for trouble, ain't you!” he said hoarsely. -“Well, mabbe you'll get it—and mabbe you'll get more than -you're looking for. How'd you get wise to this game to-night?” - -“It's the way I make my living—getting wise. How'd you -suppose?” queried the Hawk insolently. - -The Butcher was chewing at his lips angrily; his eyes, closed to slits, -searched the Hawk's masked face. - -“This is the second time!” he said, between his teeth. “You -pinched that necklace, and——” - -“O-ho!” exclaimed the Hawk, with a grin. “So you were after that, -too, were you?” - -The Butcher's flush deepened. - -“That's none of your damned business!” he gritted. “And if I -thought——” He bit his lips quickly. - -“Go on!” invited the Hawk sweetly. “Don't mind me. If you -thought—what?” - -“You've had the luck with you,” mumbled the Butcher, half to -himself. “It can't be anything else, there's no chance of a leak. -But I'm going to tell you something—your luck's going to get a -hole kicked in it. I'll tell you something more. There's a few of us -that have picked out this little stamping ground for ourselves, and we -ain't fond of trespassers. Get that? It ain't going to be healthy -for you to linger around here over more than one train!” - -“Are the rest of 'em all like you?” inquired the Hawk maliciously. - -“You'll find out quicker than you'll want to, perhaps!” the -Butcher retorted furiously. - -“All right!” said the Hawk. “And now I'll tell you a little -something. I don't know who are in this gang of yours, but you might -take them a little message from me. If they're finding it crowded out -here, they'd better move on to somewhere where competition isn't so -likely to put them out of business through lack of brains, because -I'm kind of figuring on hanging around until it gets time to open -my château down at Palm Beach and stick my feet up on the sofa for a -well-earned rest. Do you stumble to that? And”—the Hawk was drawling -now—“I might say, Butcher, that I don't like you. My fingers are -crossed on that trespassing gag. It don't go! I don't scare for -any half-baked outfit of near-crooks! I stick here as long as there's -anything worth sticking for.” - -The Butcher's eyes seemed to be fascinated by the pay bag—they were -on it again. He choked a little, swallowing hard; and, attempting a -change of front, forced a smile. - -“Well, don't get sore!” he said, in a whining tone. “Mabbe I was -only trying to chuck a bluff, and got called. But, say, how'd you like -to break in here to-night like I did, and find another fellow'd got -all the swag? Say, it's damned rough, ain't it? Say, it's fierce! -And, look here, I'm in on it now, anyhow. I know who took it. I'm -going to keep my mouth shut, ain't I? You ain't going to leave me -out in the cold, are you? All I ask is a split.” - -“It's not much!” said the Hawk, in a velvet voice. “It hardly -seems enough. You're too modest, Butcher. Why don't you ask for the -whole of it? You might as well—you'd stand just as much chance of -getting it!” - -The smile faded from the Butcher's lips, and his face became contorted -with rage again. He raised his fist and shook it at the Hawk. He cursed -in abandon, his lips livid, beside himself with passion. - -“You'll get yours for this!” He choked, in his fury, over his -words. “You think you're slick! I'll show you what you're up -against inside of twenty-four hours! You'll crawl for this, d'ye -hear, blast you—you'll crawl!—you'll——” - -The Hawk's automatic, dangling nonchalantly in his hand, swung -suddenly upward to a level with the other's eyes. - -“That's enough, you cheap skate!”—there was a cold, menacing -ring in the Hawk's voice now. “I've heard enough from you. You and -your hot-air crowd of moth-eaten lags! If you, or any of you, run foul -of me again, you won't get off so easy! Tell 'em that! Tell 'em -the Hawk said so! And you beat it! And beat it—now!” He caught up -the pay bag, and advanced a step. - -The Butcher retreated sullenly. - -“Get out of that window!” ordered the Hawk evenly. “And take a -last tip from me. If you try to plant me, if you let a peep out of you -while I'm making my own getaway, I'll get you for it, Butcher, if -it's the last thing I ever do. Go on, now! Step quicker!” - -Still sullenly, mumbling, his mouth working, the Butcher retreated -backward toward the window. The Hawk, his lips like a thin straight line -just showing under the mask, followed grimly, step by step. And then, -suddenly, both men halted, and their eyes met and held each other's in -a long tense gaze. - -From outside in the corridor came the sound of voices and footsteps. The -footsteps drew nearer; the voices grew louder. The Hawk shot a glance -toward the door. He drew in his breath sharply. No, there was -no fanlight, the light would not show in the hall. That was the -superintendent's voice. That letter Lanson was going to send down on -No. 8! The other, probably, was MacVightie. Yes; it was MacVightie—he -caught the detective's gruff tones now. The door on the opposite side -of the corridor from the paymaster's room opened. - -The Butcher licked his lips. - -“Me for the window, and for it quick!” he muttered under his breath. - -He turned, and, his back to the Hawk now, tiptoed to the window, turned -again sideways, as though to throw one leg over the sill—and his right -hand, hidden, suddenly lifted the side of his coat. - -It came quick, quick as the winking of an eye. Racketing through room -and building, like the detonation of a cannon in the silence, came the -roar of a revolver shot, as the Butcher fired through his coat pocket. -Mechanically, the Hawk staggered backward; and then, the quick, keen -brain working like lightning, he reeled, dropped the pay bag, and -clutched wildly at his side. He was not hit. The Butcher had missed. So -that was the man's game! Clever enough! They'd break in here at the -sound of the shot, and find him dead or wounded on the floor! - -The Butcher, a devil's triumph in his face now, came leaping back from -the window, and, stooping, snatched at the pay bag. - -“I'd put another in you to make sure,” whispered the Butcher -fiercely; “only they'll get you anyway, you——” - -The Hawk straightened, his arm streaked outward from his side, his -pistol butt crashed on the Butcher's skull, and he was upon the other -like a flash, his free hand at the Butcher's throat. - -From the room opposite came startled cries; across the corridor came the -rush of feet—then the doorhandle was tried, the door shaken violently. - -The Butcher was struggling but feebly, making only a pitiful effort to -loosen the Hawk's clutch upon his throat, hanging almost limply in the -Hawk's arms, half dazed by the blow upon his head. White to the lips -with passion, the Hawk whipped his hand into the other's pocket, -whipped out the other's revolver, and flung the man away from him. -And then, as the Butcher reeled and lurched backward to the window, and, -clawing frantically at the sill, attempted to work his way out, the Hawk -ran silently back, picked up the pay bag, and, jumping to the window -again, caught the Butcher roughly by the collar of the coat. - -The Butcher, white, haggard-faced with fear, moaned. - -“For God's sake!” he pleaded piteously. “Let me go! Let me go! -For God's sake, let me go—they'll get me!” - -There was a terrific crash upon the door, as of some heavy body hurled -against it. The Hawk laughed mirthlessly. - -“If I let you go, you'd break your neck!”—the Hawk's words -were coming through clenched teeth. “Don't worry, Butcher! They'll -not get you. I don't want them to get you. I want to get you myself -for this. Some day, Butcher, some day I'll do the getting!” He -pushed the Butcher's feet over the sill. “Feel with your toes for -the window casing beneath! Quick!” He leaned out, gripping at the -Butcher's collar, lowering the man—his lips were close against the -Butcher's ear. “Some day—for this—you yellow cur—you and me, -Butcher—remember—some day!” - -A crash again upon the door! The Butcher's feet were on the lower -sill; but here the man lost his hold, and toppled to the ground. The -Hawk glanced backward into the room. The door was yielding now. He -looked out of the window again. The Butcher had regained his feet, and -was swaying against the wall, holding to it, making his way slowly, -weakly toward the corner. - -The Hawk threw one leg over the sill. With a rip and tear, the door -smashed inward, sagging from its lower hinge. Came a hoarse yell. -MacVightie was plunging through the doorway. - -Instantly the Hawk, hugging the pay bag, drew back his leg, and dove -into the clerk's room through the door which he had left ajar. There -would have been no use in letting the Butcher go at all if he led the -chase through the window—the man was barely crawling away. Across the -room, light enough now from the open doorway behind him to point the -way, raced the Hawk. He reached the corridor door, as MacVightie lunged -through the connecting door in pursuit. - -MacVightie's voice rose in a bellow of warning: - -“Look out there, Lanson! The next door—quick!” - -But the Hawk was the quicker. He tore the door open, and dashed through, -just eluding the superintendent and another man—the dispatcher -probably, attracted by the row—as they sprang forward from the -paymaster's door. - -Running like a deer, the Hawk made for the stairway. It was lighter now -in the hall. The dispatcher's door along at the farther end was open. -At the head of the stairs, a call boy, wide-eyed, gaped, openmouthed. -The Hawk brushed the boy aside incontinently, and, taking the stairs -three and four at a time, leaped downward, MacVightie's bull-like -roar echoing behind him, the top stairs creaking under the detective's -rush. - -The street door opened outward, and as the Hawk reached it, and, -wrenching at the knob, pushed it open, there was a flash, the report of -a revolver shot—and, with a venomous spat, the bullet buried itself in -the door jamb, not an inch from his head, it seemed, for the wind of the -bullet was on his cheek. - -Cries sounded now from the railroad yard; but the street in front of -him, deserted, was still undisturbed. He was across it in a twinkling, -and, passing the saloon that was now closed, darted into the lane. - -He flung a glance over his shoulder—and his lips set hard. MacVightie, -big man though he was, was no mean antagonist in a race. The detective, -quicker in initiative, quicker on his feet, had outdistanced both Lanson -and the dispatcher, and was already halfway across the street. - -Again MacVightie fired. - -On the Hawk ran. If he could reach the next corner—providing there was -no one about the street—there was a way, a risky way, but still a -way, his best chance of escape. The cheap combination lodging house and -saloon, that was just around the corner, was where he had a room. -Yes, it was his one chance! He must get to cover somewhere without an -instant's delay. With MacVightie firing now, emptying his revolver up -the lane, with the yells and shouts growing constantly in volume from -farther back toward the station, it was only a question of minutes -before the whole neighbourhood would be aroused. - -Again he glanced behind him. It was very dark in the lane. He was -grimly conscious that it was the blackness, and not MacVightie's poor -marksmanship, that had saved him so far. That flash of the other's -revolver was perhaps fifty yards away. He had gained a little, then! If -there was any one around the corner, the plan of reaching his room would -not serve him, and he would still have to run for it. Well, he would see -in an instant—it was only two yards more—a yard—now! - -Without slackening his pace, at top speed he swung from the lane—and, -with a gasp of relief at sight of an empty street, slipped into a -doorway just beyond the now dark entrance to a saloon that occupied most -of the ground floor of a dirty and squalid three-story building. - -The door gave on a narrow flight of stairs, and up these the Hawk sprang -swiftly and with scarcely a sound. And now, as he ran, he pulled his -mask from his face and thrust it into the pay bag; a pocket-book from -his inside coat pocket followed the mask, and, with the pocketbook, the -flashlight, and the two pistols, his own and the Butcher's. He opened -a door at the head of the landing, and stepped into a room, leaving the -door partly open. - -He was not safe yet—far from it! He did not under-estimate MacVightie. -It would be obvious to MacVightie that he was not far enough ahead to -have disappeared in any but one way—into some building within a very -few yards of the lane! And the presumption, at least, would be that this -was the one. - -The Hawk worked now with almost incredible speed. He switched on the -light, ran to the window that opened on the rear of the building, felt -with one hand along the sill outside, lifted the pay bag out of the -window, let go of it, and turned instantly back into the room. He -hung up his hat on a wall peg, and tearing off his jacket, flung it -haphazardly upon the bed. There was a small table against the wall near -the foot of the bed. The Hawk opened a drawer, snatched up a pack of -cards, and sat down at the table. - -The street door opened and closed. A quick, heavy tread sounded on the -stairs. - -In his shirt sleeves, his back to the door, the Hawk was coolly playing -solitaire. - -“I guess I'd better be smoking,” murmured the Hawk. “Maybe I'm -breathing a little hard.” - -He picked up a pipe from the table, lighted a match—and, half the deck -of cards in one hand, the lighted match in the other, swung around in -his chair with a startled jerk. - -The door slammed back against the wall. MacVightie had unceremoniously -kicked it wide open. MacVightie was standing on the threshold. - -The Hawk, in a sort of surprised gasp, sucked the flame of the match -down into the bowl of his pipe, and stared at MacVightie through a -curtain of tobacco smoke. The detective's eyes travelled sharply from -the Hawk around the room, came back to the Hawk, narrowed, and, stepping -into the room, he shut the door with equal lack of ceremony behind him. - -“Say, you got a gall!” ejaculated the Hawk. - -“You bet your life I have!” flung out MacVightie. “Now then, my -bucko, what are you doing, here?” - -“Say,” said the Hawk, as though obsessed with but a single idea, -“say, you got a gall! You got a gall, busting into a fellow's room -and asking him what he's doing there! Say, maybe you might answer the -same question yourself—eh? What are you doing here?” - -“Your room, is it?” snapped MacVightie. - -“Sure it's my room!” replied the Hawk, a little tartly. - -“How long you been here?” - -“'Bout a week”—the Hawk was growing ungracious. - -“Boarding here?” - -“Yes.” - -“Where'd you come from?” MacVightie was clipping off his words. -“What do you do for a living?” - -“Say,” said the Hawk politely, “you go to hell!” - -MacVightie stepped forward toward the Hawk, with an ominous scowl; and, -throwing back the lapel of his coat, tapped grimly with his forefinger -on a shield that decorated his vest. - -The Hawk whistled low. - -“O-ho!” said the Hawk, with sudden cordiality. “Well, why didn't -you say so before?” - -“I'm saying it now!” snarled MacVightie. “Well, where do you -come from?” - -“Chicago,” said the Hawk. - -“What's your business?”—MacVightie's eyes were roving sharply -again around the room. - -“Barkeep—when I can get a job,” answered the Hawk; and then, -insinuatingly: “And, say, I'm looking for one now, and if you can -put me on to anything I'd——” - -“I guess you've got to show me!” growled Mac-Vightie, -uncompromisingly. - -“Look here,” ventured the Hawk, “what's up?” - -“I'm waiting!” prompted MacVightie significantly. - -“Oh, all right!” The Hawk flared up a little. “If you love your -grouch, keep on hugging it tight!” He jerked his hand toward the coat -that was lying on the bed. “I must have lost the letter the pastor of -my church gave me, but there's a couple there from the guys back in -Chicago that I worked for, and there's my union card with them. Help -yourself!” - -MacVightie picked up the coat brusquely, shoved his hand into the inside -pocket, brought out several letters, and began to read them. - -The Hawk shuffled the half deck of cards in his hand monotonously. - -There was a puzzled frown on MacVightie's face, as he finally tossed -the letters down on the bed. - -“Satisfied?” inquired the Hawk pleasantly. - -MacVightie's frown deepened. - -“Yes, as far as that goes,” he said tersely; and then, evenly, his -eyes boring into the Hawk: “About five minutes ago a man ran into this -house from the street. What's become of him?” - -The Hawk started in amazement—and slowly shook his head. - -“I guess you've got the wrong dope, ain't you?” he suggested -earnestly. - -“Don't try that game!” cautioned MacVightie grimly. “And don't -lie! He had to come up these stairs, your door was partly open, and he -couldn't have passed without you knowing it.” - -“That's what I'm saying,” agreed the Hawk, even more earnestly. -“That's why I'm saying you must have got the wrong dope. Of -course, he couldn't have got by without me hearing him! That's a -cinch! And, I'm telling you straight, he didn't.” - -“Didn't he?” MacVightie's smile was thin. “Then he came in -here—into this room.” - -“In here?” echoed the Hawk weakly. His gaze wandered helplessly -around the room. “Well, all you've got to do is look.” - -“I'm going to!” announced MacVightie curtly—and with a sudden -jerk he yanked the single bed out from the wall. He peered behind and -beneath it; then, stepping over to a cretonne curtain in the corner that -served as wardrobe, he pulled it roughly aside. - -There were no other places of possible concealment. MacVightie chewed at -his under lip, and eyed the Hawk speculatively. - -The Hawk's eyes were still travelling bewilderedly about the room, as -though he still expected to find something. - -“Are you dead sure he came into this house,” he inquired heavily, as -though the problem were entirely beyond him. - -MacVightie hesitated. - -“Well—no,” he acknowledged, after a moment. “I guess you're -straight all right, and I'll admit I didn't see him come in; but -I'd have pretty near taken an oath on it.” - -“Then I guess he must have ducked somewhere else,” submitted the -Hawk sapiently. “There wasn't no one went by that door—I'm -giving it to you on the level.” - -MacVightie's reluctant smile was a wry grimace. - -“Yes, I reckon it's my mistake.” His voice lost its snarl, and his -fingers groped down into his vest pocket. “Here, have a cigar,” he -invited placatingly. - -“Why, say—thanks”—the Hawk beamed radiantly. “Say, I——” - -“All right, young fellow”—with a wave of his hand, MacVightie -moved to the door. “All right, young fellow. No harm done, eh? -Good-night!” - -The door closed. The footsteps without grew fainter, and died away. - -The Hawk, staring at the door, apostrophised the doorknob. - -“Well, say, what do you know about that!” he said numbly. “I -wonder what's up?” - -He rose from his chair after a moment as though moved by a sort of -subconscious impulse, mechanically pushed his bed back against the wall, -and returned to his chair. - -He dug out his pipe abstractedly, filled it, and lighted it. He gathered -up the cards, shuffled them, and began to lay them out again on the -table—and paused, and drummed with his fingers on the table top. - -“They're after some guy that's ducked his nut somewhere around -here,” he decided aloud. “I wonder what's up?” - -The Hawk spread out his remaining cards—and swept them away from him -into an indiscriminate heap. - -“Aw, to blazes with cards!” he ejaculated impatiently. - -He put his feet up on the table, and sucked steadily at his pipe. - -“It's a cinch he never went by that door,” the Hawk assured the -toe of his boot. “I guess he handed that 'bull' one, all right, -all right.” - -The minutes passed. The Hawk, engrossed, continued to suck on his pipe. -Then from far down the stairs there came a faint creak, and an instant -later the outer door closed softly. - -The Hawk's feet came down from the table, and the Hawk -smiled—grimly. - -“Tut, tut!” chided the Hawk. “That treadmill diminuendo on the top -step and the keyhole stunt is pretty raw, Mr. MacVightie—pretty raw! -You forgot the front door, Mr. MacVightie—I don't seem to remember -having heard it open or close until just now!” - -The back of the Hawk's chair, as he pushed it well away from the -table and stood up, curiously enough now intercepted itself between -the keyhole and the interior of the room. He stepped to the door, and -slipped the bolt quietly into place; then, going to the window, he -reached out, and, from where it hung upon a nail driven into the sill, -picked up the pay bag. - -“That's a pretty old gag, too,” observed the Hawk almost -apologetically. “I was lucky to get by with it.” - -The Hawk's attention was now directed to his trunk, that was between -the table and the foot of the bed. He lifted the lid back against the -wall, and removed an ingeniously fashioned false top, in the shape of -a tray, that fitted innocently into the curvature of the lid. The Hawk -stared at a magnificent diamond necklace that glittered and gleamed on -the bottom of the tray, as its thousand facets caught the light—and -grinned. - -“If you'd only known, eh—Mr. MacVightie!” he murmured. - -From the pay bag the Hawk took out the packages of banknotes, the -flashlight, the mask, the two pistols, and packed them neatly away in -the tray. The only article left in the bag was his pocketbook. He opened -this, disclosing a number of crisp, new ten-dollar bills. He held one of -them up to the light for a moment, studying it admiringly. - -“I guess these won't be much more good around here, according to -that little conversation between MacVightie and the superintendent,” -he muttered—and, with a shrug of his shoulders, tossed the entire -number into the tray. - -He fitted the false top back into the lid, and closed the trunk. There -remained the empty pay bag. He frowned at it for an instant; then, -picking it up, he tucked it under the mattress of his bed. - -“I'll get rid of that in the morning”—he nodded his head, as he -turned down the bed covers. - -The Hawk began to undress, and at intervals voiced snatches of his -thoughts aloud. - -“Pretty close shave,” said the Hawk, “pretty close.... Ten -thousand dollars is some haul.... All right as long as they don't find -out I've got the key to their cipher.... And so Butcher Rose is one -of the gang, eh?... Number One—Butcher Rose.... Guess he got away -all right—from MacVightie.... He nearly did me.... Pretty close -shave....” - -The Hawk turned out the light, and got into bed. - -“I guess I played in luck to-night,” said the Hawk softly, and for -the second time that night. “Yes, I guess I did.” - - - - -IV—AT BALD CREEK STATION - -IT was twenty-four hours later. A half mile away, along a road that -showed like a grey thread in the night, twinkled a few lights from the -little cluster of houses that made the town of Bald Creek. At the rear -of the station itself, in the shadow of the walls, it was inky black. - -There was stillness! Then the chattering of a telegraph -instrument—and, coincident with this, low, scarcely audible, a sound -like the gnawing of a rat. - -The chattering of the instrument ceased; and, coincident again, the low, -gnawing sound ceased—and, crouched against a rear window, the Hawk -chuckled a little grimly to himself. Within, and diagonally across from -the window, an otherwise dark interior was traversed by a dull ray -of light that filtered in through the open connecting door of the -operator's room beyond. Inside there were Lan-son, the division -superintendent, and Martin, the trusted Bald Creek operator; while at -any minute now, MacVightie would be up on No. 12. They were preparing -to spring their trap for the Wire Devils to-night! The Hawk was quite -well-informed on this point, for the very simple reason that the Hawk -himself had not been entirely idle during those twenty-four hours that -were just past! - -Again the sounder broke into a splutter; but this time the gnawing sound -was not resumed—the window fastenings were loosened now. - -Came then the distant rumble of an approaching train; the rumble -deepening into a roar; the roar disintegrating itself into its component -sounds, the wheel trucks beating at the rail joints, the bark of the -exhaust; then the scream of the brakeshoes biting at the wheel tires; -the hiss of steam—and in the mimic pandemonium, the Hawk raised the -window, and crawled in over the sill. - -And again the Hawk chuckled to himself. Up and down the line to-night, -at all stations where there were no night operators, the road's -detectives, stood guard over the telegraph instruments. It had been -MacVightie's plan, originated the night before. It was very clever of -MacVightie—if somewhat abortive! Also, quite irrelevant of course, and -quite apart from that little matter of ten thousand dollars which he, -the Hawk, had taken from the paymaster's safe last night, MacVightie -to-night was likely to be in no very pleasant mood! - -The engine without, blowing from a full head of steam, drowned out all -other sounds. The Hawk picked his way across the room to a position near -the connecting door, and composedly seated himself upon the floor behind -a number of piled-up boxes and parcels. With a grin of acknowledgment to -the escaping steam, he coolly moved two of the parcels a few inches to -right and left, thus providing himself with an excellent view into -the operator's room. From one pocket he took an exceedingly small -flashlight, and from another a notebook, and from his hip pocket his -automatic pistol. This latter he transferred to his right-hand coat -pocket. Bunching the bottom of his coat over his hand, he flashed on the -tiny ray, found a convenient ledge formed by one of the boxes, and upon -this laid down his notebook. The first page, as he opened the book, -contained a neatly drawn sketch of the interior of Bald Creek station. -He turned this over, leaving the book open at a blank page, and switched -off his light. - -The door from the platform opened and closed, as the train pulled out -again, a man stepped into the operator's room—and in the darkness -the Hawk smiled appreciatively. It was MacVightie, and Mac-Vightie's -thin lips were drawn tighter than usual, and the brim of the slouch hat, -though pulled far forward, did not hide the scowl upon MacVightie's -countenance. - -“Well, you're here all right, Lanson, eh?” he flung out brusquely. -“Nothing yet, by any chance, of course?” - -Lanson, from a chair at the operator's elbow, nodded a greeting. - -“Not yet,” he said. - -MacVightie was glancing sharply around him. - -“Martin,” he ordered abruptly, “close those two ticket wickets!” - -The operator rose obediently, and pulled down the little windows that -opened, one on each side of the office, on the men's and women's -waiting rooms. - -“What's that door there?” demanded MacVightie, pointing toward the -rear room. - -“Just a place I had partitioned off for stores and small express -stuff,” Martin answered. “There's no back entrance.” - -“All right, then,” said MacVightie. He pulled up a chair for himself -on the other side of the operator, as Martin returned to his seat. -“You know what you're here for, Martin—what you've to do? Mr. -Lanson has told you?” - -“Yes,” Martin replied. “I'm to test out for east or west, if -there's any of that monkeying on the wire to-night.” - -“Show me how it's done,” directed MacVightie tersely. . - -The operator reached over to the switchboard and picked up a key-plug. - -“I've only got to plug this in—here—or here. Those are my ground -wires east and west. The main batteries are west of us at Selkirk, you -know. If I ground out everything east, for instance, and he's working -to the east of us the sounder'll stop because I've cut him off from -the main batteries, and we'll hear nothing unless I adjust the relay -down to get the weak circuit from the local batteries. If he's working -west of us the sounder will be much stronger because the main batteries -at Selkirk, with the eastern half of the division cut out, will be -working on a shorter circuit.” - -“'T see.” MacVightie frowned. “And he'd know it—so Mr. -Lanson told me last night.” - -“Yes; he'd know it,” said Martin. “The same as we would.” - -“Well, you can do it pretty quick, can't you?” suggested -MacVightie. “Sort of accidentally like! We don't want to throw a -scare into him. You'd know almost instantly whether he was east or -west, wouldn't you? That's all that's necessary—to-night! Then -let him go ahead again. We'll have found out what we want to know.” -He turned to Lanson, his voice rasping suddenly. “Did you see the -Journal on the 'Crime Wave' this afternoon?” - -Lanson's alert, grey eyes took on an angry glint. “No; I didn't -see it, but I suppose it's the old story. I wish they'd cut it out! -It hurts the road, and it doesn't get them anywhere.” - -“Perhaps not,” said MacVightie, with a thin smile; “but it -gets me! Yes, it's about the same—all except the last of it. Big -headlines: 'Ten thousand dollars stolen from paymaster's safe last -night—What is being done to stop this reign of assassination, theft, -outrage, crime?—Has the clue afforded by the Hawk's release from -Sing Sing been thoroughly investigated?' And then a list of the crimes -committed in the last ten days—two murders, one in the compartment -of that sleeping car; the theft of the diamond necklace; the express -robbery; and so on through the list, ending up with last night. Then a -nasty shot at the local police; and, finally, prefacing the remark with -the statement that the crimes were all connected with the railroad, -a thinly veiled hint that I am either a boy on a man's job, or -else asleep, in either of which cases I ought to be—well, you -understand?” MacVightie's fist came down with a crash on the -operator's table. - -Lanson, with a worried look, nodded his head. - -“Damn it!” said MacVightie. “I——” He stopped abruptly, and -laid his hand on the operator's sleeve. “Look here, Martin,” he -said evenly, “you're the one man that Mr. Lanson has picked out of -the division, you're the one man outside of Mr. Lanson and myself who -has any inkling that these secret messages coming over our wires have -anything to do with these crimes—you understand that, don't you? -This is pretty serious business. The newspaper didn't exaggerate any. -We're up against a gang of crooks, cleverly organised, who will -stop at nothing. Murder appears to be a pastime with them! Do you get -me—Martin?” - -For a long second the two men looked each other steadily in the eyes. - -“Yes,” said Martin simply. - -“All right!” said MacVightie. “I just want you to realise the -necessity of keeping anything you may hear, or anything that may happen -here to-night, under your hat.” He turned to Lanson again, the scowl -heavy upon his face once more. “I was going to say that I know who the -man is that slipped through my fingers last night.” - -“You—what!” Lanson leaned sharply forward in his chair. “But he -got away! You said he——” - -“It was the Hawk”—MacVightie bit off the words. - -“The Hawk?” - -“The Hawk!” - -“But how do you know?” demanded Lanson incredulously. “You said -yourself that he had left no clue to his identity. How do you know?” -MacVightie reached into his pocket, took out his pocketbook, and from -the pocketbook passed a new, crisp ten-dollar banknote to Lanson. - -“What's this?” inquired Lanson. “The counterfeit ten-dollar bill -you showed me last night?” - -“No—another one,” MacVightie answered curtly. “Look on the other -side.” - -Lanson turned the banknote over, stared at it, and whistled suddenly -under his breath. - -“'With the compliments of the Hawk!'.rdquo; he read aloud. He -stared now at MacVightie. “Perhaps it's a fake, inspired by that -newspaper article yesterday evening,” he suggested. - -“It's no fake,” declared MacVightie grimly. “The Hawk wrote that -there all right—it was inside the pay bag in which the ten thousand -was carried away from the paymaster's office last night.” - -“You mean—you recovered the bag?” cried Lanson eagerly. “Where? -When?” - -The Hawk, watching MacVightie's face, grinned wickedly. MacVightie's -jaws were clamped belligerently, and upon MacVightie's cheeks was an -angry flush. - -“Oh, yes, I 'recovered' it!” MacVightie snapped. “He's -got his nerve with him! The bag was found reposing in full view on the -baggage counter at Selkirk this afternoon—addressed to me. Nobody -knows how it got there. But”—MacVightie's fist came down again -upon the operator's table—“this time he's overplayed his hand. -We knew he had been released from Sing Sing, and that he had come West, -but it was only surmise that he was actually around here—now we know. -In the second place, it's pretty good evidence that he's in with -the gang that's flooded the country with those counterfeit tens, and -you'll remember I told you last night I had a hunch it was the same -gang that was operating out here—well, two and two make four!” - -“You think he's——?” Lanson swept his hand suggestively toward -the telegraph instruments. - -“Yes—and the leader of 'em, now he's out here on the ground!” -returned MacVightie gruffly. - -The Hawk had taken a pencil from his pocket, and was scribbling -aimlessly at the top of the page in his notebook. - -“Sure!” confided the Hawk to himself. “I thought maybe you'd -dope it out like that.” - -There was silence for a moment in the office, save for the intermittent -clicking of the sounder, to which the Hawk now gave his attention. His -pencil still made aimless markings on the top of the page—it was only -routine business going over the wire. Then Lanson moved uncomfortably in -his chair, and the chair legs squeaked on the bare floor. - -MacVightie spoke again: - -“Well,” he said bluntly, “you've got all of my end of it, except -that I've placed men in hiding at every station on the line where -there are no night operators. What about you? Started your outside line -inspection?” - -“Yes,” Lanson answered. “I've had three men out with section -crews working from different points. But it's slow business making -an inspection that's careful enough to be of any use, and even then -it's a pretty tall order to call the turn on anything when there's -already so many legitimate splices and repairs on the wires.” - -“Well—any results?” asked MacVightie. - -Lanson shook his head. - -“We found what we thought was a new splice in one place, but it turned -out to have been made by one of our own men two weeks ago, only he had -forgotten to report it.” - -MacVightie's eyes narrowed. - -“One of our own men—eh?” he repeated curtly. “Who was it?” - -“Nothing doing there!” Lanson shook his head again, emphatically -this time. “It was Calhoun.” - -“Calhoun—eh?” observed MacVightie softly. - -Lanson bridled slightly. - -“What's the matter with Calhoun?” he inquired testily. “Got -anything against him?” - -“Never heard of him before,” said MacVightie, with a short laugh. -“But I'll take pains to make his acquaintance.” - -“Then you might as well spare yourself the trouble,” advised Lanson. -“I can tell you before-hand that he carries a good record on this -division, and that he's one of the best linemen we've got.” - -“I daresay,” admitted MacVightie coolly. “But amongst other things -we're looking for good linemen to-night—who forget to make reports. -You needn't get touchy, Lanson, because one of your men's names -comes up. You can make up your mind to it there's an inside end to -this, and——” - -The tiny ray of the Hawk's flashlight shot suddenly upon the -notebook's open page, as the sounder broke into a sharp tattoo. - -“;wtaz'—stroke at four,” he muttered, as he began to -write. “Three—one—two. They've changed the code -to-night—'qxpetlk——'” - -There was a sharp exclamation from the other room. - -“Listen! There he is now!” Martin cried. Chairs were pushed -back—the three men were on their feet. - -“What's he sending?” questioned MacVightie instantly. - -The Hawk scowled at the disturbance, as, over their voices, he -concentrated his attention upon the sounder. He wrote steadily on: - -“... huwkmuh hdtlqgvh... - -“Same as usual,” Martin replied. “Just a jumble of letters.” - -“Well then, get ready to throw that ground, or whatever you call it, -into him!” ordered MacVightie tensely. - -“I'm ready,” said Martin. - -“All right then—now!” - -The Hawk nodded to himself, as his pencil unflaggingly noted down letter -after letter. The sounder was very perceptibly stronger. - -“West!” Martin cried out. “You noticed the difference in -strength, didn't you? He's somewhere between here and Selkirk. -That's——” - -The sounder had suddenly ceased. - -“But he's stopped,” said MacVightie; “and you said if he -stopped——” - -“That's nothing to do with it!” Martin interposed hurriedly. -“The wire isn't grounded now.” - -“He's taken to cover, I guess,” said Lanson. “I was afraid he -would scare, no matter how——” He broke off abruptly. “Wait! -What's that!” - -The sounder was clicking again; but the sharp, quick tattoo was gone, -and in its place, as though indeed it drawled, the sending came in -leisurely, deliberate fashion. - -The Hawk's pencil resumed its labours—and then, with a queer smile, -the Hawk scratched out what he had just written. It was no longer -code—it was in exceedingly plain English. - -Martin was reading directly from the sounder: - - -“'Try—that—game—just—once—more—and—the—division—goes—up— -in—the—air—and—a—train—or—two—maybe—to—a— -place—that—Mister—MacVightie—will—some—day—honour—with— -his—presence. That's—quite—plain—isn't—it? -If—you—think—this—is—a—bluff—call—it. -Now—keep—off—the—wire—or—have—it—cut. -Suit—yourselves.'.rdquo; - -“Well, of all the infernal nerve!” exploded MacVightie furiously. - -“And the worst of it,” said Lanson shortly, “is that he's got us -where he wants us!” - -Once more the sounder broke into the old quick tattoo. The Hawk was -writing steadily again. There was silence now between the three in the -office. - -A minute, two, three went by—the sounder ceased—the Hawk closed his -notebook. Then in its leisurely drawl the sounder broke again; and again -Martin read aloud: - -“'Pleasant—evening—isn't—it? -Ask—MacVightie—if—he—has—seen—anything—of—the—Hawk. -Good-night.'.rdquo; - -But this time there was only a menacing smile on MacVightie's lips. - -“He's west of here, you say?” he shot at Martin. “Yes,” said -Martin briefly. - -“And that splice of Calhoun's, Lanson? Where was that?” - -Lanson, drumming with his fingers on the edge of the operator's table, -looked up with a frown. - -“Nothing but coincidence,” he said tersely. “Yes, it was west of -here—pretty near Selkirk.” He moved toward the door. “There's -nothing more we can do here to-night. I'm going back on No. 17. -Let's get out on the platform until she shows up.” - -The Hawk very carefully replaced his notebook, his flashlight and his -pencil in his pockets, and, as MacVightie and the superintendent went -out of the door, he retreated softly back to the rear window. The window -being up, he quite as noiselessly slipped out over the sill. He debated -a moment about the window, and decided that if any significance were -attached to the fact that it was found open, MacVightie, for instance, -was fully entitled to make the most of the significance! Then, the -rattle of a wagon sounding from the direction of the road, the Hawk -moved along to the end of the station, and waited. - -The wagon, in the light of its own smoky oil lamps, proved to be the -town hotel bus. There were evidently other passengers for Selkirk -besides himself and the two officials, as several people alighted from -the bus. In view of this fact the Hawk calmly lighted a cigarette, -though the glow of the match exposed his face only to the blank wall of -the station, and walked around to the front platform. - -He located MacVightie and Lanson; and, thereafter, at a safe distance, -did not lose sight of them. MacVightie's memory for faces would hardly -be over-rated if credited with being able to bridge a matter of some -twenty-four hours, particularly as MacVightie had evidenced unusual -interest in the occupant of the room on the first landing over a -certain ill-favoured saloon the night before! The Hawk, therefore, was -unostentatiously attentive to MacVightie's movements; so much so that, -when No. 17 pulled in and MacVightie and Lanson boarded the chair car at -the rear of the train, the Hawk, when No. 17 pulled out, quite logically -boarded the smoking car at the forward end. - -The Hawk chose the most uncomfortable seat in the car—the rear -seat with stiff, upright, unyielding back, that was built against -the wash-room—and, settling himself down, produced his notebook and -pencil. The water-cooler could be quite confidentially trusted not to -peer over his shoulder! - -On the second page of the notebook—the first having been devoted to -the sketch of Bald Creek Station—-the Hawk, as he had taken it from -the sounder, had written this: - -“wtaz qxpetlkhu wkmuh hdtlq gvhmmpy hqltvd df rmnluvpo nfkhomovfdh -gvkerkmmawrq fljkwte dvsoedtdqqh mgfdoifk rxqkuvwruh gsruwmtdoo -ommtlqhvksol foghvklst rvrzqmqxpe mkhurqjkh hvdbfvkdzc mnvohrtpqg -hutzklwkj hkdqm mo g v pdlqlfxoq uhgpifthglxg pkhlmfj kwhttwb hv d p q -g kdrllu eomosdfnhta shqkjvlyhtg mwdlomruhgegf orwmpqk hvwtzrwk mmrxvddg -iqggrqo odusnvrx wmfkriu hkvhuymt hixqljtg wrqpxpeh houwkdmd gwsxws -vdexmuooh wtjqlqklmp” - -The Hawk tore out a page from the back of the notebook, and set down the -letters of the alphabet in a column. Opposite these he painstakingly set -down another column of letters. After that the Hawk worked slowly. It -was not quite so simple as it looked—not merely the substitution of -letters in a different order of rotation. Nor, apparently, from the -Hawk's observations as he muttered to himself, were all messages to -be deciphered alike—the code appeared to possess within itself an -elasticity for variation. - -“At four... key letter changed... stroke!” muttered the Hawk. -“N-u-m-b... pass three... e-r-t-h... stroke one....” - -The Hawk's notebook, closed, was reposing idly on the window ledge and -the Hawk was lighting another cigarette, as the conductor came down the -aisle. The Hawk presented the return stub of a ticket to Selkirk. -The conductor punched it, and passed on—and the Hawk picked up his -notebook again. - -Again he was interrupted—and again. The water-cooler, after all, was -not proving an unmixed blessing. It seemed as though every man in the -car were possessed of an inordinate thirst. They were well on toward -Selkirk when the Hawk finally completed the deciphering of the message. - -It now ran: - - - -0074 - -He arranged the scattered letters into words, and the words into -sentences: - -“Number Three and Seven Isaac Kir-schell('.s cash box to-night as -planned. Calhoun to report all line splices his own. Number One says -Hawk slender white hands, manicured, medium height, eyes and hair black, -expensive tailored clothes. Two thousand dollars out of reserve fund to -Number that puts a bullet in him.” - -The Hawk inspected his hands, and smiled whimsically. Number One was -the Butcher. He had not given the Butcher credit for being so observant! -Presently he stared out of the window. - -“Wonder how much of a haul I can make tonight?” he murmured. -“Regular El Dorado—having 'em work it all up and handing it to you -on a gold platter. Pretty soft! Hope they won't get discouraged and -quit picking the chestnuts out of the fire for me—while there's any -chestnuts left!” - -And then the Hawk frowned suddenly. The chestnuts appeared to be only -partially picked for him to-night. What was the game—as planned? -There must have been a previous message that had got by him. His frown -deepened. There was no way of remedying that. To hope to intercept them -all was to expect too much. There was no way whereby he could spend -twenty-four hours out of twenty-four in touch with a sounder. He -shrugged his shoulders philosophically after a moment. Perhaps it was -just as well. They credited him with playing a lone hand, believing -that his and their depredations were clashing with one another simply -by virtue of the fact that their mutual pursuits were of a competitive -criminal nature, that was all. If it happened with too much regularity, -they might begin to suspect that he had the key to their cipher, and -then—the Hawk did not care to contemplate that eventuality. There -would be no more chestnuts! - -The Hawk read the first part of the message over again. Who was Isaac -Kirschell? The name seemed to be familiar. The Hawk studied the toe of a -neatly-fitting and carefully polished shoe thoughtfully. When he looked -up again, he nodded. He remembered now. He had lunched the day before -in a restaurant that occupied a portion of the ground floor of an office -building, the corridor of which ran through from street to street. In -going out, he had passed along the corridor and had seen the name on the -door panels of two of the offices. - -He resumed the study of his boot toe. It was not a very vital matter. -A moment spent in consulting the city directory would have supplied the -information in any case. He nodded again. MacVightie was unquestionably -right. Some one on the inside, some railroader, and probably more than -one, was in on the game with the Wire Devils—and it was perhaps as -well for this Calhoun that MacVightie, already suspicious, was not -likewise possessed of the key to the cipher! Also, Lanson had been -right. It was no easy task to locate a new splice on a wire that was -already scarred with countless repairs. Still, if Lanson's men went at -it systematically and narrowed down the radius of operations, it was -not impossible that they might stumble upon a clue—if Calhoun did not -placidly inform them that it was but another of his own making! But even -then, granted that the wire was found to have been tapped in a certain -place one night, that was no reason why it should not, as Mr. MacVightie -had already suggested, be tapped fifty miles away the next! The Hawk -grinned. Mr. Lanson and his associates, backed even by Mr. MacVightie, -were confronted with a problem of considerable difficulty! - -“I wonder,” communed the Hawk with himself, “who's the spider -that spun the web; and I wonder how many little spiders he's got -running around on it?” - -He perused the message once more; but this time he appeared to be -concerned mainly with the latter portion. He read it over several times: -“Two thousand dollars to the Number that puts a bullet in him.” - -“Nobody seems to like me,” complained the Hawk softly. -“MacVightie. doesn't; and the Butcher's crowd seem peeved. Two -thousand dollars for my hide! I guess if I stick around here long enough -maybe it'll get exciting—for somebody!” - -The Hawk tore up the message, the sheet on which he had deciphered it, -the sketch of Bald Creek station, tore all three into small fragments, -opened the window a little, and let the pieces flutter out into -the night. He closed the window, returned the notebook, innocent of -everything now but its blank pages, to his pocket—and, pulling his -slouch hat down over his eyes, appeared to doze. - - - - -V—IN WHICH A CASH BOX DISAPPEARS - -TWENTY minutes later, as No. 17 pulled into Selkirk, the Hawk, his -erstwhile drowsiness little in evidence, dropped to the platform while -the train was still in motion, and before MacVightie and Lanson in -the rear car, it might be fairly assumed, had thought of leaving their -seats. The Hawk was interested in MacVightie for the balance of the -night only to the extent of keeping out of MacVightie's sight—his -attention was centered now on the office of one Isaac Kirschell, and the -possibilities that lay in the said Isaac Kirschell's cash box. - -He glanced at the illuminated dial of the tower clock. It was eighteen -minutes after ten. - -“That's the worst of getting the dope a long way down the line,” -he muttered, as he hurried through the station and out to the street. -“But I had to get a look at MacVightie's cards to-night.” He -struck off toward the downtown business section of the city at a brisk -pace. “It ought to be all right though tonight—more than enough time -to get in ahead of them—they're not likely to pull any break in that -locality until well after midnight. Wonder what Kirschell's got in his -cash box that's so valuable? I suppose they know, or they wouldn't -be after it! They don't hunt small game, but”—the Hawk sighed -lugubriously—“there's no chance of any such luck as last night -again. Ten thousand dollars in cash! Some haul! Yes, I guess maybe -they're peeved!” - -The Hawk, arrived at his destination, surveyed the office building from -the opposite side of the street. The restaurant on the ground floor was -dark, but a lighted window here and there on the floors above indicated -that some of the tenants were working late. It was therefore fairly safe -to presume that the entrance door, though closed, was unlocked. The Hawk -crossed the street unconcernedly, and tried the door. It opened under -his hand—' but noiselessly, and to the extent only of a bare inch, -in view of the possibility of a janitor being somewhere about. Detecting -no sound from within, however, the Hawk pushed the door a little further -open, and was confronted with a dimly lighted vestibule, and a long, -still more dimly lighted corridor beyond. There was no one in sight. -He slipped inside—and, quick and silent now in his movements, darted -across the vestibule and into the corridor. - -Halfway along the corridor, he halted before a door, on whose glass -panel he could just make out the words “Isaac Kirschell,” and, -beneath the name, in smaller letters, the intimation that the entrance -was next door. The Hawk's decision was taken in the time it required -to produce from his pocket a key-ring equipped with an extensive -assortment of skeleton keys. If by any chance he should be disturbed and -had entered by the designated office door, his escape would be cut -off; if, on the other hand, he entered by this unused door, and left it -unlocked behind him, he would still be quite comfortably the master of -the situation in almost any emergency. - -The door seemed to offer unusual difficulties. Even when unlocked, it -stuck. The Hawk worked at it by the sense of touch alone, his eyes busy -with sharp glances up and down the corridor. Finally, succeeding -in opening it a little way, it was only to find it blocked by some -obstruction within. He scowled. A desk, probably, close against it! The -door was certainly never used. He would have to enter by the other -one, after all, and—no! He had reached his arm inside. It was only a -coat-stand, or something of the sort He lifted it aside, stepped in, and -closed the door behind him. - -The Hawk's flashlight—not the diminutive little affair that -had served him for his notebook—began to circle his surroundings -inquisitively. He was in a small, plainly furnished private office. -There was a desk, two chairs, and a filing cabinet. Also there were two -doors. The Hawk opened the one at his left, and peered out. It gave -on what was presumably the general office; and at the upper end was a -partition with the name, “Mr. Kirschell,” upon the door. He looked -at the panel of the door he had just opened. It bore no name. - -“This belongs to Kirschell's secretary probably,” he decided. -“The other door from here opens, of course, into Kirschell's private -office. Wonder what Mr. Isaac Kirschell's business is?” - -He closed the door leading into the outer office, and moved across -the room to the second door that already stood wide open, and almost -directly faced what he had taken for granted was the secretary's desk. -He stepped over the threshold. Mr. Kirschell's sanctum was somewhat -more elaborately furnished. Apart from a rather expensive flat-topped -desk in the centre of the room, there was a massive safe, new and of -modern design, a heavy rug upon the floor, and several very comfortable -leather-up holstered chairs. A washstand, the metal taps highly -polished, and a mahogany towel rack occupied the far corner. The Hawk -inspected the safe with the eye of a connoisseur, scowled unhappily by -way of expressing his opinion of it, and turned to the desk. He opened -a drawer, and picked up a sheet of business stationery. The letterhead -read: ISAAC KIRSCHELL LOANS, MORTGAGES & GENERAL EXCHANGE - -“Ho, ho!” observed the Hawk. “Sort of a glorified pawnbroker, eh? -I——” - -The sheet of paper was shot back into the drawer, the flashlight was -out—and on the instant the Hawk was back in the other office, and -crouched on the floor behind the desk. Some one had halted outside in -the corridor before the main office door, and now a key was turned in -the lock. The door was opened and closed, footsteps crossed the general -office, paused for a moment outside Mr. Kirschell's door, then the -lights in Mr. Kirschell's room went on, a man entered, tossed his hat -on a chair, and sat down at the desk. It was obviously Mr. Kirschell -himself. - -Through the wide opening between the ends of the desk that sheltered -him, the Hawk, flat on the floor, took stock of the other. The man was -rather small in stature, with a thin, palish face, sharp, restless, very -small black eyes, and he was extremely well dressed—the Hawk noted the -dainty little boutonnière in the lapel of the man's coat, and smiled -queerly. From Mr. Kirschell's face he glanced at the face of Mr. -Kirschell's safe, then back at Mr. Kirschell again—and fingered his -automatic in the pocket of his coat. - -The Hawk, however, made no further movement—Mr. Kirschell's actions -suggested that it would be unwise. The man, though apparently occupied -with some mail which he had taken from his pocket, kept glancing -impatiently at his watch. It was quite evident that he was expecting -some one every moment. The Hawk frowned perplexedly. The message that -night, even when deciphered, left much, too much, to the imagination! It -was quite possible that Mr. Kirschell was to be relieved of his cash box -with more address and finesse than by the bald expedient of ruining Mr. -Kirschell's safe! This appointment, for instance, might—and then the -Hawk smiled queerly again. - -The corridor door had opened and closed for the second time. A heavy -step traversed the outer office, and a man, hat in hand, in cheap store -clothes, stood before Mr. Krischell's desk. - -“Mentioned in dispatches!” said the Hawk very softly to himself. -“I guess that's Calhoun. So that's the game—eh?” - -“You're late, Mr. Calhoun!” Kirschell greeted the other sharply. -“Five minutes late! I have put myself to considerable inconvenience to -give you this appointment.” - -Calhoun's hair was tossed, there was a smudge across his cheek, and -his hands were grimy, as though he had just come from work. He was a big -man, powerfully shouldered. His grey eyes were not friendly as they met -Kirschell's. - -“I couldn't help it,” he said shortly. “I've been up the line -all day. I told you I couldn't get here until about this time.” - -“Well, all right, all right!” said Kirschell impatiently. “But, -now that you are here, are you prepared to settle?” - -“I can give you a small payment on account, that's the best I can -do,” Calhoun answered. - -Kirschell tilted back in his swivel chair, and frowned as he tapped the -edge of his desk with a paper cutter. - -“How much?” he demanded coldly. - -“Forty dollars”—Calhoun's hand went tentatively toward his -pocket. - -“Forty dollars!” There was derision in Kirschell's voice, an -uninviting smile on Kirschell's lips. “That's hardly more than the -interest!” - -“Yes,” said Calhoun, snarling suddenly, “at the thieving rates -you, and the bloodsuckers like you, charge.” - -Kirschell's uninviting smile deepened. - -“Considering the security, the rate is very moderate,” he said -evenly. “Now, see here, Calhoun, I told you plainly enough this -thing had to be settled to-day. You don't want to run away with the -impression that I'm a second Marakof, to be staved off all the time. -I bought your note from the pawnbroker's estate because the executors -didn't like the look of it, and weren't any too sure they could -collect it. Well, I can! I'm new out here, but I'm not new at my -business. Excuses with me don't take the place of cash. I hold your -note for five hundred dollars, which is past due, to say nothing of six -months' interest besides—and you come here to-night and offer me -forty dollars!” - -“I would have paid Marakof,” said Calhoun, in a low voice; “and -I'll pay you as fast as I can. You know what I'm up against—I -told you when you first got after me, as soon as you got that note. My -brother got into trouble back East. What would you have done? That -five hundred kept him out of the 'pen.' He's only a kid. Damn it, -don't play the shark! Marakof renewed the note—why can't you?” - -“Because I don't do business that way,” said Kir-schell curtly. - -Calhoun's voice grew hard. - -“How much did you pay for that note, anyway?” - -Kirschell shrugged his shoulders. - -“I didn't say I wasn't taking any risk with you,” he replied -tersely. “That's the profit on my risk. And as far as you are -concerned—it's none of your business!” - -Calhoun shrugged his shoulders in turn, and, taking a small roll of -bills from his pocket, smoothed them out between his fingers. - -“I got a wife, and I got kids,” said Calhoun slowly. “And I'm -doing the best I can. Do you want this forty, or not?” - -“It depends,” said Kirschell, tapping again with his paper cutter. -“How about the rest?” - -“I'll pay you what I can every month,” Calhoun answered. - -“How much?”—bluntly. - -“What I can!” returned Calhoun defiantly. - -The two men eyed each other for a moment—and then Kirschell tossed the -paper cutter down on the desk. - -“Well, all right!” he decided ungraciously. “I'll take a chance -for a month—and see how you live up to it. Hand it over, and I'll -give you a receipt.” - -Calhoun shook his head. - -“I don't trust the man who don't trust me,” he said gruffly. -“I don't want that kind of a receipt. You'll indorse the payment -on the back of the note, Mr. Kirschell, if you want this forty.” - -“What?” inquired Kirschell, staring. - -“You heard what I said,” said Calhoun coolly. “I'm in the hands -of a shark, and I know it. That's plain talk, isn't it?” - -“But,” Kirschell flared up angrily, “I——” - -Calhoun calmly returned the money to his pocket. - -“Suit yourself!” he suggested indifferently. “I ain't asking for -anything more than I have a right to.” - -“Very well, my man!” said Kirschell icily. “If our dealings are to -be on this basis, I hope you will remember that the basis is of your own -choosing.” He swung around in his chair, and, rising, walked over to -the safe. - -And then, for the first time, the Hawk moved. He edged silently back -along the floor until far enough away from the doorway to be fully -protected by the darkness of the room, and stood up. Kirschell was -swinging the heavy door of the safe open. The cash box was to be -produced! Lying down, the Hawk could not hope to see its contents if it -were opened on the desk; standing up, he might be able to form a very -good idea of how tempting its contents would prove to be. - -Kirschell took a black-enamelled steel box from the safe, and returned -to the desk. He opened this with a key, threw back the cover—and -the Hawk stuck his tongue in his cheek. A few papers lay on the -top—otherwise it was crammed to overflowing with banknotes. Kirschell -selected one of the papers, and picked up a pen in frigid silence. - -But the Hawk was no longer watching the scene. His head was cocked to -one side, in a curious, bird-like, listening attitude. He could have -sworn he had heard the outer office door being stealthily opened. And -now Calhoun was speaking—rapidly, his voice raised noticeably in a -louder tone than any he had previously employed. - -“I ain't looking for trouble, Mr. Kirschell,” he stated -Hurriedly, as though relenting, “and I don't want you to think I am, -but——” - -There was a sharp cry from Kirschell. The room was in darkness. Came -a quick step running in from the outer office, no longer stealthy -now—the crash of a toppling chair—a gasping moan in Kirschell's -voice—the thud of a falling body—a tense whisper: “All right, -I've got it!”—then the steps running back across the outer -office—the closing of the corridor door—and silence. - -The Hawk, grim-lipped, had backed up against the wall of the room. - -Calhoun's voice rose hoarsely: - -“Good God, what's happened! Where's the electric-light switch?” - -Kirschell answered him faintly: - -“At—at the side of the door—just—outside the partition.” - -The lights went on again, and the Hawk leaned intently forward. Calhoun -was standing now in the doorway between the outer and the private -office, his eyes fixed on Kirschell. The swivel chair had been -overturned; and Kirschell, a great crimson stream running down his cheek -from above his temple, was struggling to his knees, clutching at the -edge of the desk for support. The cash box was gone. - -Kirschell's eyes swept the top of the desk haggardly, as though hoping -against hope. He gained his feet, lurching unsteadily. A crimson drop -splashed to the desk. - -“My chair!” he cried out weakly. “Help me!” - -Calhoun stepped forward mechanically, and picked up the chair. Kirschell -dropped into it. - -“You're hurt!” Calhoun said huskily. “You're badly hurt!” - -“Yes,” Kirschell answered; “but it—can wait. The police -first—there was—three thousand dollars—in my cash box.” With -an effort he reached out across the desk for the telephone, pulled it -toward him—and, on the point of lifting the receiver from the hook, -slowly drew back his hand. A strange look settled on his face, a sort of -dawning, though puzzled comprehension; and then, swaying in his chair, -his lips thinned. He drew his hand still further back until it hovered -over the handle of the desk's middle drawer. His eyes, on Calhoun, -were narrowing. - -“You devil!” he rasped out suddenly. “This is your work! I was a -fool that I did not see it at first!” - -Calhoun's face went white. - -“What do you mean?” he said thickly. - -“What I say!” Kirschell's voice was ominously clear now, though he -sat none too steadily in his chair. - -“Then you lie!” said Calhoun fiercely. “You lie—and if you -weren't hurt, I'd——” - -“No, you wouldn't!”—Kirschell had whipped the drawer open, -and, snatching out a revolver, was covering Calhoun. He laughed a -little—bitterly. “I'm not so bad that I can't take care of -myself. It was pretty clever, I'll give you credit for that. You -almost fooled me.” - -“Damn you!” snarled Calhoun. “Do you mean to say I've got your -cash box?” - -“Oh, no,” said Kirschell. “I can see you haven't. I don't even -know which of you two struck me. But I do know that you and the man who -has my cash box worked up this plant together.” - -Calhoun stepped forward threateningly—only to retreat again before the -lifted muzzle of the revolver. - -“You're a fool!” he snarled. “You've nothing on me!” - -“That's for the police to decide,” returned Kirschell evenly. -“It would have been a pleasant way of disposing of that note, -wouldn't it—if you hadn't under-rated me! And your pal for his -share, I daresay, was to take his chance on whatever there might be in -the cash box! Why did you say you couldn't come until night, when I -gave you until to-day as the last day in which to settle? Why did you -insist on my indorsing the payment on the note, which necessitated my -opening the safe and taking out the cash box in which you knew the note -was kept, for you saw me put it there a week ago, when you first came -here? And just after I was knocked down I heard your accomplice whisper: -'All right, I've got it.” - -“It's possible the police might form the same opinion I have as to -whom those words were addressed!” Calhoun's face had grown whiter. - -“It's a lie!” he said scarcely above a whisper. “It's a lie! I -had nothing to do with it!” - -“I want my three thousand dollars!” Kirschell's lips were set. He -held a red-stained handkerchief to his cheek. “If I call the police -now they'll get you—but it's your accomplice that's got my -money. And it's my money that I want! I'll give you half an hour to -go to him, and bring the money back here—and leave the police out of -it. If you're not here in that time, I put it up to the police. Half -an hour is time enough for you to find your pal; and it's not time -enough for you to attempt to leave the city—and get very far!” -Kirschell laid his watch on the desk. “You'd better go—I mean half -an hour from now.” - -Calhoun hung hesitant for a moment, staring at the muzzle of -Kirschell's revolver. He made as though to say something—and -instead, abruptly, with a short, jarring laugh, turned on his heel, and -passed out of the room. - -The Hawk was already edging his way along the wall toward the corridor -door. - -“Three thousand dollars!”—the Hawk rolled the words like so many -dainty morsels on his tongue, as he communed with himself. “I guess -it's my play to stick to Mr. Calhoun!” - - - - -VI—SOME OF THE LITTLE SPIDERS - -THE Hawk reached the door, as Calhoun stepped into the corridor from -the general office and passed by outside, evidently making for the main -entrance of the building. He opened the door cautiously the width of -a crack—and held it in that position. A man's voice, low, guarded, -from the corridor, but from the opposite direction to that taken by -Calhoun, reached him. - -“Here! Calhoun! Here!” - -Calhoun halted. There was silence for an instant, then Calhoun retraced -his steps and passed by the door again. There were a few hurried words -in a whisper, which the Hawk could not catch; and then the footsteps of -both men retreated along the corridor. - -The Hawk opened the door wider, and peered out. The two men were well -down the corridor now; and now, as they passed the single incandescent -that lighted that end of the hall, Calhoun's companion reached up and -turned it out. - -“Why, say—-thanks!” murmured the Hawk, and stepped out into the -corridor himself. - -It was now quite dark at that end, and the men had disappeared. The Hawk -moved silently and swiftly along, keeping close to the wall. Presently -he caught the sound of their voices again, and nodded to himself. He -remembered that in going out this way yesterday he had noticed that the -corridor, for some architectural reason, made a sharp, right-angled jut -just before it gave on the side-street entrance. He stepped now across -to the other side of the corridor, and stole forward to a position where -he could look diagonally past the projecting angle of the jut. The two -men, standing there, showed plainly in the light from a street arc that -shone into the entranceway through the large plate-glass square over the -door. The Hawk, quite secure from observation, nestled back against the -wall—and an ominous smile settled on the Hawk's lips. The face of -Calhoun's companion was covered with a mask. - -“There's nothing to be leery about here,” the man was saying. -“There's no one goes out or comes in this way at night. Well, it's -a nice mess, eh? So the old Shylock called the turn on you, did he?” - -There seemed to be a helpless note in Calhoun's voice. He passed his -hand heavily across his eyes. - -“What's the meaning of this?” he cried out. “What do you know -about what happened in there?” - -“Nothing much,” said the other coolly. “Except that I'm the guy -that pinched the swag, and hit Kirschell that welt on the head.” - -“You!” Calhoun involuntarily stepped back. “Yes, sure—me!” The -man shrugged his shoulders. “Me and a pal who was outside. He's -away now putting the cash box where it won't come to any harm—savvy? -He'll be back pretty soon.” - -The Hawk's lips moved. - -“Number Three and Number Seven,” whispered the Hawk gently. - -“I—I don't understand,” said Calhoun dazedly. “Then why are -you telling me this. And why are you staying here? And how did you know -that Kirschell accused me of being in it?” - -“That's another one that's easy,” announced the man evenly. -“Because it was part of the game to make him think so.” - -Calhoun seemed to stiffen up. - -“What! You mean, you——” - -“You're getting it!” said the other shortly. “But you'd better -wait until you get it all before you start spitting your teeth out! -Mabbe you've heard of a little interference with the telegraph wires, -and a few small jobs pulled off around here where some innocent parties -accidentally got croaked? Ah—you have, eh! Well, that's where you -come in, Calhoun. We want you—and when we want anything, we get it! -See? We knew about that note, and we've been expecting the railroad -crowd to wake up some time, and we had you picked out to place our bets -on against them. They woke up to-day and began to nose over the line. -It ain't likely to do them much good, but there's a chance—and we -ain't taking chances. We don't want much from you, Calhoun, just a -little thing, and it'll bring you more money than you ever saw in your -life before and without you running any risk. All you've got to do -is stand for anything in the shape of a splice or tap on the line that -they're suspicious of—you can say it's a repair job of your own, -see?” - -An angry flush was tinging Calhoun's cheeks. - -“Is that all?” he burst out passionately. “Well, I'll see you -damned first!” - -“Will you?” returned the other calmly. “All right, my bucko! -It's your funeral. Take your choice. That—or twenty years in -the penitentiary. You're in cold on this. Think it over a bit. For -instance, how did you come to make the break of wanting Kirschell to -indorse the payment on the back of the note, which made him open his -safe?” - -“How do you know I did?” Calhoun flashed back sharply. - -“Mabbe I'm only guessing at it,” said the man nonchalantly; “and -mabbe I was back in the outside room when you did. But, say, you don't -happen to remember, do you, a little talk you had with a stranger up the -line to-day? And how the conversation got around to loan sharks, and how -he told about a trick they had of giving receipts that were phony, and -how he beat one of them to it by making the shark indorse on the paper -itself? Kind of sunk in, and you bit—eh, Calhoun? We don't do things -by halves. We happen to need you. And what do you think I made the break -of whispering so Kirschell would hear me for?” - -The color was ebbing from Calhoun's face. - -“It's not proof!” The defiant ring in his voice was forced. -“I——” - -“It's enough to make Kirschell believe it, and that's all we -wanted for a starter. We'll take care of the rest!” stated the man -grimly. “What did he say to you?” - -Calhoun answered mechanically: - -“He said if I didn't return in half an hour with the cash box, -he'd notify the police.” - -“Oh, ho!” The man's lips widened in a grin under the edge of his -mask. “So he's going to wait here, eh? Well, so much the better! -It'll save us a trip to his house. Now, see here, Calhoun, let this -sink in!” He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a slip of paper. -“Here's your note. It was on the desk where Kirschell was writing on -it, and I pinched it when I pinched the cash box. We didn't figure -we were going to make the haul we did to-night—we were after you. But -there's some money in that cash box, as you saw for yourself. Here's -the idea: Kirschell's read a thing or two about what's going on -around here—enough to make him know that there ain't much our -gang'll stop at. If you say you're with us, me and my pal 'll -go in there and throw the fear of God into him. Do you get it? He'll -think himself lucky to get off by keeping his mouth shut about to-night -when he finds out who he's up against. Also you get the note back, and -a share of the cash—and more to come later on.” - -“No!” Calhoun cried out. “No! I'm no thief!” - -“All right!” agreed the other indifferently. - -“That's one side of it. Here's the other: Kirschell certainly -believes you took it. He's a shark all right, and he thinks more of -his money than he does of anything else, or he wouldn't have given you -the chance he did. But when you don't show back there with the coin, -he'll take the only other hope he's got of getting his money and -turn on the police tap—see? What are you going to do then? Make a -break for it, or let 'em get you? Well, it doesn't matter which. -This note and a chunk of the cash gets mailed to-night—and the police -get tipped off to watch your mail in the morning. Kind of reasonable, -isn't it? Your pal, not being able to find you, and not tumbling to -the fact that the police have got you until too late, comes across with -your share like an honest little man! I think you said something about -proof, Calhoun? And I think I told you before that we didn't do things -by halves. How about that on top of Kirschell's story—do you think -it would cinch a jury, or do you think they'd believe any little fairy -story you might tell them, say, about meeting me? Does it look any more -like twenty years than it did?” - -There was a sudden agony in Calhoun's face. - -“My God!” he whispered. “You—you wouldn't do that?” - -The man made no answer. He still held the note-in his hand—but in the -other now he carelessly dangled a revolver. - -“You wouldn't! You wouldn't!” Calhoun's voice was broken now. -“I've a wife and children, and—my God, what am I to do!” - -“That half-hour Kirschell gave you is slipping along,” suggested the -other uncompromisingly. “Here's the note, and there's easy money -waiting for you.” - -Calhoun turned on the other like a man demented. - -“Do you think I'd touch that cash! Or touch that note—I owe it! I -may not have been able to pay it—but I owe it!” - -“Oh, well, suit yourself as to that, too!” said the man cynically. -“It's the other thing we want. What's the wife and the kids -you're talking about going to do if you go up for twenty years?” - -Calhoun, with a miserable cry, buried his face in his hands. - -There was silence—a minute dragged by. - -“Well?” prompted the man curtly. - -Calhoun dropped his hands, met the other's eyes for an instant—and -turned his head away. - -“Ah, I thought you would!” said the man calmly. “My pal ought to -be back by now, and as soon as he comes we'll go in there and hand -Kirschell his little jolt, and——” He stopped. There was a light -rapping on the entrance door. “Here he is now! We'll——” - -The Hawk was retreating back along the corridor. Again he opened the -door of what he had designated to himself as the secretary's office, -and for the second time that night stepped silently into the room, -closing the door behind him. The sound of running water came from -Kirschell's private office, but there was no other sound—the Hawk -made none as he once more gained his place of vantage behind the desk. -Kirschell was bending over the washbowl, his back turned, bathing his -temple and face, and now, straightening up, he bound a towel tightly -around his head. - -The Hawk watched the proceedings impassively, his head, in that -bird-like, listening attitude, cocked on one shoulder toward the outer -door. Steps were coming along the corridor. But this time Kirschell, -too, heard them—for he turned, and, as the corridor door opened, -started toward his desk. He reached it and sat down, as Calhoun entered -the room. - -“Ah, ha!” snapped Kirschell triumphantly. “So you've thought -better of it, have you? I imagined you would! Well, where's -the——” The words seemed to freeze on his lips; there was a sudden -terror in his face. “What—what does this mean?” he faltered. - -Two masked men, the one who had been with Calhoun in the corridor, and a -taller, more heavily built man, had stepped in behind Calhoun, and were -advancing toward the desk. - -The short man pointed a revolver at Kirschell's head. - -“Calhoun says he keeps a gun in the middle drawer of the desk,” he -grunted to his companion. “Get it!” - -The other, leaning over, pulled the drawer open, and, appropriating -Kirschell's revolver, stuck it in his pocket. - -Kirschell's tongue circled his lips. He looked wildly from one to the -other. - -“We just dropped in to make a confession, Mr. Kirschell,” said the -short man, with an ugly jeer. “We don't like to see an innocent man -suffer—understand? I'm the one that lifted your cash box, you measly -shark—me and my pal there. I heard you trying to stick it on Calhoun. -We ain't asking any favours for ourselves, and when we get through -with you, you can tell the police it was us, and that we're part -of the crowd that's been making things lively around these -parts—you've been reading the papers, ain't you?—but you open -your mouth about Calhoun, you put him in bad when he had nothing to do -with it, and inside of twenty-four hours you'll be found in a dark -alley somewhere with a bullet through you! Get me? You know who you're -up against now, and you've got fair warning!” - -Kirschell was huddled in his chair. His little black eyes were no longer -restless—they were fixed in a sort of terrified fascination on the -speaker. - -“Yes.” He licked his lips again. “Yes, I—I understand,” he -mumbled. - -From his pocket the Hawk took a mask, which he slipped over his face; -and from his pocket he took his automatic. - -“I don't think he believes you,” sneered the second masked man, -with a wicked grin. “Perhaps mabbe we'd better twist his windpipe -a little, just to show him in a friendly way that there ain't any -mistake about it—eh?” - -“No, no!” Kirschel's voice was full of fear. “No, no! I -believe—I——” His words ended in a choked scream. - -The man's hands had shot swiftly out, and closed on Kirschell's -throat. He was shaking, twisting, and turning Kirschell's head from -side to side. His companion laughed brutally. Came a series of guttural -moans from Kirschell—and Kirschel's body began to slip limply down -in his chair. - -Calhoun had gone white to the lips. - -“Stop it! My God, stop it!” he burst out frantically. “You -promised me you wouldn't do him any harm.” - -“You mind your own business!” snarled the man with the revolver. -“We know how to handle his breed. Give him enough to hold him for a -while Jim! We——” - -“Drop that revolver! Drop it!” The Hawk was standing in the doorway. - -There was a startled oath from the leader of the two men as he whirled -around, a gasp as he faced the Hawk's automatic—and his weapon -clattered to the floor. The other, in a stunned way, still hung over -Kirschell, but his hands had relaxed their hold on Kirschel's throat. - -“Thank you!” drawled the Hawk. “I must say I agree with Mr. -Calhoun. It's not a pleasant sight to watch a man being throttled.” -His voice rang suddenly cold. “You, there!” His automatic indicated -the man beside Kirschell. “Stand back at the end of the desk, and put -up your hands!” - -Calhoun had not moved. He was staring numbly at the Hawk. Kirschell, -making guttural sounds, was clawing at his throat. - -“Mr. Calhoun,” requested the Hawk coolly, “as I happen to know -that you have little reason to love either of these two gentlemen, -will you be good enough to pick up that revolver and hand it to me?” -Calhoun stooped mechanically, and extended it to the Hawk. - -“And now our friend over there with his hands up, Mr. Calhoun,” -purred the Hawk. “You will find two in his pockets—his own, and -Mr. Kirschell's. Mr. Kirschell, I am sure, is already fairly well -convinced that you are in no way connected with the robbery of his cash -box, and I am equally sure that in no way could you better dispel any -lingering doubts he might still entertain than by helping to draw these -gentlemen's teeth.” - -Calhoun laughed a little grimly now. - -“I don't know who you are,” he said, his lips set, as he started -toward the man; “but I guess you're right. I'd like to see them -get what's coming to them.” - -“Quite so!” said the Hawk pleasantly. He accepted the two remaining -revolvers from Calhoun; and from his pocket produced his skeleton keys. -He handed them to Calhoun, designating one of the keys on the ring. -“One more request, Mr. Calhoun,” he said. “I entered by the door -that opens on the corridor from this other office here. Will you please -lock it; and, on your way back, also lock this connecting door through -which I have just come in—the key of the latter, I noticed, is in the -lock.” - -Calhoun nodded, took the keys, and stepped quickly from the room. -Kirschell, evidently not seriously hurt from the handling he had -received, though still choking a little and clearing his throat with -short coughs, was regarding the Hawk with a questioning stare. The eyes -of the other two men were on the Hawk's revolver. The shorter of the -two suddenly raised a clenched fist. - -“The Hawk!” he flashed out furiously. “You cursed snitch! You'll -wish you were dead before we're through with you!” - -“So the Butcher told me last night.” The Hawk smiled plaintively. -“Move a little closer together, you two—yes, like that, at the far -end of the desk beside each other. Thank you! You are much easier to -cover that way.” - -Calhoun returned, locking the connecting door behind him, and handed the -door key, together with the key-ring, back to the Hawk. - -The Hawk moved forward to the desk. He was alert, quick, ominous now. -The drawl, the pleasantry was gone. - -“Out there in the hall,” he said coldly, “I heard Mr. Calhoun -refuse to take back his note—from a thief. You”—his revolver -muzzle jerked toward the short man—“hand it out!” - -The man reached viciously into his pocket, and tossed the note on the -desk. - -The Hawk pushed it toward Kirschell. - -“Mr. Kirschell,” he said quietly, “you no doubt had good reasons -for it, but you have none the less falsely accused Mr. Calhoun. -Furthermore, Mr. Calhoun has been instrumental in laying these two who -have confessed by the heels. Under the circumstances, if you are the man -I think you are, you will tear that up.” - -Kirschell lingered the note for an instant. He looked from Calhoun to -the Hawk, and back at Calhoun again. - -“Yes,” he said abruptly—and tore it into several pieces. “I -suppose I could hardly do less. You are quite right! And, Mr. Calhoun, -I—I apologise to you.” - -A flush spread over Calhoun's face. He swallowed hard, and his lips -quivered slightly. - -“Mr. Kirschell,” he stammered, “I—I——” - -“That's all right!” interposed the Hawk whimsically. “Don't -start any mutual admiration society. I dislike embarrassing situations; -and besides, Mr. Calhoun”—his eyes travelled from one to the other -of the two masked men—“I think you had better go now.” - -“Go?” repeated Calhoun, somewhat bewilderedly. - -“Yes,” supplemented the Hawk. “As far as you are concerned, -you are clear and out of this now. Stay out of it, and say -nothing—that's the best thing you can do.” - -“Well, that suits me,” said Calhoun with a wry smile, “if Mr. -Kirschell——” - -“Exactly! I see!” approved the Hawk. “It does you credit. But Mr. -Kirschell and I are quite capable of settling with these two; and you -can thank Mr. Kirschell further to-morrow if you like—when I'm not -here! Now—if you please!” - -Calhoun turned, and walked to the door. His footsteps echoed back from -the general office. Then the corridor door closed behind him. - -The Hawk addressed the two masked men. - -“Last night,” remarked the Hawk gently, “it was the Butcher, and -to-night it is—pardon me”—he was close in front of the two now, -and, with a jerk, snatched the masks from their faces—“Whitie Jim, -and the Bantam! Well, I might have known from the Butcher! You're all -out of the same kind of cocoons! The poor old simp at the head of your -gang is sure stuck with a moth-eaten lot! He's sure collected a bunch -of left-overs! Why, say, back there in New York, where a real crook -couldn't keep the grin off his face every time he met you, even the -police had you passed up as harmless cripples!” - -“You go to blazes!” growled the Bantam, with an oath. “You'll -sing through the other side of your mouth for this yet!” - -“You are not nice to me, Bantam,” said the Hawk, in a pained voice. -“You don't appreciate what I'm doing for you. It was a piker game -you tried to hand Calhoun; but, even at that, I wouldn't have queered -it if it would have helped you work out a few more little deals, so that -I could skim the cream off them. But it wouldn't! I don't see what -you gain by interfering with the telegraph lines, but I'll let you -in on something. I've been keeping an eye on MacVightie because -MacVightie's been keeping an eye on me, and I overheard him talking to -the superintendent to-night. MacVightie's got an idea that Calhoun's -fooling with the wires now. See where you would have been? If Calhoun -had ever got started on the real thing, some of you would have been -nipped—and, say, there's nothing like that going to happen if I can -help it! You and your crowd are too valuable to me to take any chances -of your getting in wrong anywhere. I'm not wringing the neck of the -goose that lays my golden eggs! Tell that to the guy that's supposed -to have the brains of your outfit, will you? And you might add that I -don't want any thanks. I'm getting well paid.” - -“You'll get paid, curse you!” The Bantam's voice was hoarse with -fury. “You butted in once too often last night. The Butcher warned -you. There ain't any more warnings. You've got the drop on us here -to-night, but——” - -“It's getting late,” said the Hawk wearily. “And I'm sure -Mr. Kirschell agrees with me that it is about time to produce that cash -box—do you not, Mr. Kirschell?” - -Kirschell made no reply. - -The Hawk smiled—unhappily. - -“I don't think you put it back in the safe—I see that the door is -still wide open. A drawer in the desk, then, perhaps? Ah—would you!” -There was a sudden deadly coldness in the Hawk's voice. The Bantam had -edged around the corner of the desk. “If any of you move another inch, -I'll drop you as quick as I'd drop a mad dog! Now then—if -the Cricket will oblige? I'll give him until I count three. -One—two——” - -“Damn you!—Kirschell's face was livid and contorted. He wrenched a -lower drawer open, and flung the cash box on the desk. - -“The Butcher, Whitie Jim, the Bantam, and the Cricket,” murmured the -Hawk. “It's good to see old New York faces out here, even if you -do size up like bush-leaguers trying to bust into high society. You -can take that towel off, if you like, Cricket, it doesn't become you -particularly—and, as you've washed off the heart-rending effect of -that little bag of liquid stain you smashed over your temple, I'm -sure you'll look less like a comic opera star! No? Well, please -yourself!” The Hawk was coolly transferring the contents of the cash -box to his pockets with his left hand. “These papers,” mused the -Hawk deliberately aloud, “appear to be some securities you lifted -on that Pullman car raid. Rather neat idea, this, establishing -this office—sort of a clearing house, I take it, for the gang's -drag-net—'loans, mortgages and general exchange!' I take back part -of what I said—this shows a first faint glimmer of brains. Well, keep -the office going, your interests are mine! You'll notice that I was -considerate enough to get Calhoun out of the way before the show-down. -You were very generous, magnanimous even, Cricket—I admire you! -Calhoun'll swear Mr. Kirschell is the squarest man on earth—and -don't forget that's another little debt of gratitude you owe the -Hawk. Three thousand dollars!” The Hawk's pockets were bulging. -“Must have been what you separated some one from when I wasn't -looking! Glad you weren't stingy with your bait for Calhoun! I heard -to-day that Mr. Kirschell kept a good deal of cash in his safe, but I -had no idea that Mr. Kirschell was the Cricket—not till I came here -this evening to take a look at Mr. Kirschell's safe. I must say it has -been a surprise—a very pleasant surprise.” - -The cash box was empty. The Hawk backed away from the desk. - -None of the three men spoke—they were eying him like caged and -infuriated beasts. - -The Hawk reached the doorway. - -“You will observe,” smiled the Hawk engagingly, “that this is now -the only exit, and that as I walk backward across the outer office any -one who steps into this doorway will be directly in the line of fire.” -He bowed facetiously, backed through the doorway and across the general -office, and, still facing the inner room, opened the corridor door and -stepped out. - -And then the Hawk spoke again. - -“I bid you good evening, gentlemen!” said the Hawk softly. “You -will pardon me if I put you to the inconvenience of locking this -door—on the outside.” - - - - -VII—WANTED—THE HAWK—DEAD OR ALIVE - -MACVIGHTIE had become troublesome. For two days MacVightie had very -seriously annoyed the Hawk. It was for that reason that the Hawk now -crept stealthily up the dark, narrow stairs, and, on the landing, -listened in strained attention before the door of his own room. - -Reassured finally, he opened the door inch by inch, noiselessly. The -bolt, in grooves that were carefully oiled, made no sound in slipping -into place, as the Hawk entered and closed the door behind him. So far, -so good! He was quick, alert, but still silent, as, in the darkness, -he crossed swiftly to the window, and crouched down against the wall. -A minute, two, went by. The fire-escape, passing at an angle a short -distance below the window sill, and at first nebulous in the blackness, -gradually took on distinct and tangible shape. Still the Hawk held there -motionless, searching it with his eyes—and then, abruptly, satisfied -that it sheltered no lurking shadow, he straightened up, thrust his -automatic back into his pocket, pulled down the shade, and, turning back -into the room, switched on the light. - -MacVightie, it appeared, still had lingering suspicions of this room -over the somewhat disreputable saloon below, and still had lingering -suspicions of its occupant. All that afternoon the Hawk was quite well -aware that he had been shadowed—but the result had been rather in his -favour than in Mac-Vightie's. From the moment he had discovered that -he was being followed, he had devoted his time to making applications -for a job—for MacVightie's benefit—that being the reason he had -given MacVightie for his presence in Selkirk. Later on, when it had -grown dark, having business of his own, he had left MacVightie's -satellite standing on a street corner somewhat puzzled just which way to -turn! That, however, had no bearing on the watch that had been, or might -be at the present moment, set upon this room. - -The Hawk, in apparent abstraction, was flipping a coin up in the air -and catching it. There was a slight frown on the Hawk's face. -MacVightie's suspicions were still lingering for the simple reason -that MacVightie, utterly at sea, was clutching at the only straw in -sight, unless—the coin slipped through the Hawk's fingers and fell -beside his trunk. He stooped to pick it up—yes, not only had the room -been searched, but the trunk had been opened! The single strand of hair, -almost indiscernible against the brass and quite innocently caught in -the lock, was broken. Well, he had not finished that mental sentence. -Unless—what? - -He tucked the coin into his pocket, and, standing up, yawned and -stretched himself. With the toe of his boot he lazily pushed a chair -out from the wall. The chair fell over. The Hawk picked it up, and quite -casually set it down—near the door. He took off his coat, and flung it -over the back of the chair. - -The Hawk's face was greyer now, as it set in rigid lines, but there -was no tremor in the hand that inserted the key in the lock of the -trunk. He flung back the lid—and his eyes, for an instant, searched -the room again sharply. The window shade was securely drawn; the coat -over the back of the chair completely screened the keyhole of the door. -He laughed a little then—mirthlessly. Well, the trunk had been opened! -Had MacVightie found all—or nothing? - -His fingers were working swiftly, deftly now around the inside edges of -the lid. He was either caught here, cornered, at bay—or MacVightie, -once for all, would be satisfied, and, as far as MacVightie was -concerned, the coast would hereafter be clear. The Hawk's dark eyes -narrowed, the square under jaw crept out and set doggedly. It had been a -close call, perilously close, that other night when he had taken the -ten thousand dollars from the paymaster's safe, and MacVightie -had followed him here to this room. He had pulled the wool over -MacVightie's eyes for the moment—but MacVightie had returned to the -old trail again. Well, the cards were on the table now, and it was a -gamble that was grim enough! Either he was quit of MacVightie, could -even count on MacVightie as a sort of sponsor for his innocence; -or—“Ah!” The ingeniously fashioned false tray in the curvature of -the lid had come away in the Hawk's hands. He was safe! MacVightie -had missed it! In the tray, untouched, where he had left them, lay the -packages of banknotes from the paymaster's safe; in the tray still -glittered the magnificent diamond necklace, whose theft from the wife of -His Excellency the Governor of the State had already furnished more than -one of the big dailies back in the East with attractive copy for their -Sunday editions; and there, undisturbed, were the contents of Isaac -Kirschell's cash box, a trifling matter of some three thousand -dollars; and there too, snugly tucked away in one corner, was the -bundle of crisp, new, counterfeit ten-dollar bills. The Hawk grinned -maliciously, as his eyes rested on the counterfeit notes. The one he -had sent, inscribed with his compliments, to MacVightie, when he had -returned the otherwise empty paymaster's bag to the detective, had not -pleased MacVightie! - -Quite at his ease now, the Hawk fitted the false top back into the lid, -closed the trunk, locked it, drew a chair up to the table, and sat down. -With MacVightie removed as a possible factor of interruption, there was -another, and very pressing little matter to which he was now at liberty -to give his attention. He produced a folded sheet of paper from his -inside vest pocket, spread it out on the table before him, and inspected -it with a sort of cynical curiosity. In each corner were tack holes. He -had removed it less than half an hour ago—not through any misguided -dislike to publicity, but simply because he had urgently required a -piece of paper—from a conspicuous position on the wall of the railroad -station. It was a police circular. The Hawk had not before had an -opportunity to absorb more than the large type captions—he filled -his pipe calmly now, as he read it in its entirety: $5,000 REWARD—FOR -EX-SING SING CONVICT - -Five Thousand Dollars Reward Will Be Paid For Information Leading to the -Arrest and Conviction of THE HAWK, Alias HARRY MAUL. - -Here followed a description tallying with the one given by MacVightie -to Lanson, the division superintendent, and which Lanson had caustically -remarked would not fit more than twenty-five thousand men in Selkirk -City; followed after that a résumé of the crimes recently committed -on the railroad, amongst them the theft of the diamond necklace and the -robbery of the paymaster's safe; and, at the end, in bold-faced type -again: $2,000 REWARD - -Two Thousand Dollars Reward Will Also be Paid For Information Leading -to the Arrest and Conviction of Each and Every One of THE HAWK'S -Confederates. - -The Hawk smiled broadly, as he held the flame of a match to his pipe -bowl. The last paragraph was exquisitely ironical. Those whom MacVightie -so blithely called the “Hawk's confederates” were vying with each -other at that exact moment, and for the exact amount of two thousand -dollars offered by the Master Spider of the gang, for the privilege of -putting an even more conclusive end—in the shape of a knife thrust, a -bullet, or a blackjack—to the Hawk! - -“And,” said the Hawk softly, as he turned the circular over, -“I guess they'd make it a whole lot more if they knew that I -had—this!” - -The back of the circular was covered with line after line of what, -seemingly, was but a meaningless jumble of scribbled letters—nor, in -this case, were the letters any too well formed. The Hawk had -laboured under difficulties when the telegraph sounder had “broke” -unexpectedly with the message. He had been listening—as he was always -listening when within sound of a telegraph instrument—but he had never -known a message from the Wire Devils to come through at so early an hour -in the evening before. He had shaken MacVightie's man off the trail -and had gone down to the depot, intending to go up the line to the first -small station, where, with little chance of being discovered, he could -spend the night within earshot of the operator's instrument—in the -hope that his vigil would not, as it sometimes did, prove futile. He had -been standing under the dispatcher's open window waiting for a train, -when the police circular tacked on the station wall had caught his eye. -The large type was readily decipherable, but the platform lights were -poor, and he had stepped closer to read the remainder—and instead, -glancing quickly about him to see that he was not observed, he had -snatched the circular from the wall, and, whipping a pencil from his -pocket, had scrawled on the reverse side, as best he could, the message -that was rattling in over the dispatcher's sounder from the room -above. He had taken chances—but he had played in luck. No one had -noticed him, and—well, he was here now with the message; and, since it -must sooner or later have been put to the proof in any case, he was back -here, too, to find that he was quit of MacVightie. - -“Yes,” confided the Hawk to himself, as he reached for a blank sheet -of paper in the drawer of the table, “I guess I played in luck—both -ways. Wonder if there's another ripe little melon here going to be -shoved my way on a gold platter by the Butcher and his crowd?” - -The Hawk studied the cipher for a moment. - -“lqrtvy... key letter... stroke at six...two-three-one,” he -murmured. - -He drew the fresh sheet of paper toward him, and began to work busily. -Occasionally he paused, staring dubiously at a letter—he had taken the -message under far from ideal conditions, and a mistake here and there, -if not fatal, was annoying and confusing. Finally, however, the Hawk -leaned back in his chair, and whistled low under his breath. The -message, deciphered and arranged into words and sentences, ran: - -Final orders. Number One, Three, and Six hold up Fast Mail three miles -east of Burke's Siding to-night. Cut wires on approach. Express -car next to engine. Uncouple and proceed. Diamond shipment in safe. -Messenger drugged. No interference with remainder of train. Deliver safe -five-mile crossing to Number Four and Seven. Number One, Three, and -Six take engine and car further along the line. Return separately to -Selkirk. - -Again the Hawk whistled low under his breath—and for the second time -reached into his inside vest pocket. He took out a letter that was -addressed, care of general delivery, to Mr. J. P. Carrister. The Hawk -puffed pleasantly at his pipe as he read it: - -“Dear Friend: The folks are all well, and hope you are the same. I -haven't had time to write much lately. I like my new job fine. Say, I -felt like a Fifth Avenue dook for about umpty seconds to-day. One of the -fellows in the office let me hold a package of diamonds in my hand just -to see what it felt like. Gee! Say, you could almost shove it in your -vest pocket, and it was invoiced through customs at twenty thousand -plunks. They were unset stones, and came in from Amsterdam. It made me -feel queer. - -“I wouldn't like to be the fellow that has to keep his eye on it any -of the way from here to San Francisco, where it's going to-morrow by -express. If you see any bright lights flashing around your burg that -you can't account for about 11:15 next Wednesday night, you'll know -it's the diamonds going through in the express-car safe. I'm getting -to be some joker, eh? We all went down to Coney last Sunday. It's been -fierce and hot here. Say, don't be a clam, write us a line. Well, I -guess there ain't any more news. Yours truly, Bud.” - -The Hawk, instead of folding up the letter and returning it to his -pocket, began meditatively to tear it into minute shreds, and with it -the police circular and the sheet of paper on which he had worked out -the cipher message. The Fast Mail scheduled Selkirk at 11:15—and this -was Wednesday night! - -“Twenty thousand dollars,” said the Hawk gently under his breath. -“Thanks, Bud, old boy! You were there with the goods all right, but -it wasn't a one-man job, and I didn't think there was going to be -anything doing.” The Hawk grinned at the ceiling. “And just as I was -about passing up the last check, here they go and fix it for me to scoop -the whole pot! Three miles east of Burke's Siding, eh?” - -The Hawk relapsed into silence for a moment; then he spoke again. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk, “I guess that ought to work. She won't -make the three miles from the siding under five or six minutes. She's -due at Burke's at ten-ten. I can make it on the local out of here at -eight-thirty. Twenty thousand dollars—in unset stones! Just as good as -cash—and a lot easier to carry!” - -The Hawk looked at his watch. It was five minutes of eight. He rose -leisurely from his chair, stooped for a precautionary inspection of the -trunk lock, put on his coat, and, moving toward the door, switched off -the light. - -“If I get away with this,” observed the Hawk, as he went down -the stairs and let himself out through the street door, “it'll be -good-night for keeps if any of the gang ever pick up my trail—and -they won't quit until they do! And then there's MacVightie and the -police. I guess there'll be some little side-stepping to do—what? -Oh, well”—he shrugged his shoulders—“I guess I'll get a bite -of supper, anyway—there's no telling when I'll have a chance to -eat again!” - - - - -VIII—THREADS IN THE WEB - -IT was not far to the station—down through the lane from the Palace -Saloon—and close to the station, he remembered, there was a little -short-order house that was generally patronised by the railroad men. Old -Mother Barrett's short-order house, they called it. She was the wife -of an engineer who had been killed, he had heard, and she had a boy -working somewhere on the railroad. Not that he was interested in these -details; in fact, as he walked along, the Hawk was not interested in -old Mother Barrett in a personal sense at all—but, as he reached the -short-order house and entered, his eyes, as though magnetically drawn -in that direction, fixed instantly on the little old woman behind the -counter. - -The Hawk was suddenly very much interested in old Mother Barrett. It was -not that she made a somewhat pathetic figure, that she drooped a little -at the shoulders, that her face under her grey hair looked tired, -or that, though scrupulously neat, her clothes were a little -threadbare—it was none of these things—it was old Mother Barrett's -hands that for the moment concerned the Hawk. She was in the act of -adjusting her spectacles and picking up a very new and crisp ten-dollar -bill, that a customer from the stool in front of her had evidently -tendered in payment for his meal. The Hawk shot a quick glance up and -down the room. There were several other customers at the long counter, -but the stool beside the owner of the ten-dollar bill was vacant—and -the Hawk unostentatiously straddled it. - -He glanced casually at the man at his elbow; allowed his eyes to stray -to the kindly, motherly old face with its grey Irish eyes, that was -puckered now in a sort of hesitant indecision—and glanced a little -more than casually at the banknote she kept turning over and over in her -hands. No, he had not been mistaken. It was one of those counterfeits -which, according to MacVightie, had flooded the East and were now making -their appearance in Selkirk, and it was a duplicate of those in the -false tray of his trunk. His eyes perhaps were sharper than old Mother -Barrett's—in any case, his identification was the quicker, for his -gaze had wandered to the coffee urn, and he was drumming idly on the -counter with his finger tips before the little old woman finally spoke. - -“I—I'm afraid I can't take this,” she said slowly, handing the -banknote back across the counter. - -“What's the matter with it?” demanded the man gruffly. - -“Why—it's—it's counterfeit,” she said a little anxiously, as -though she were fearful of giving offence. - -The Hawk's eyes, with mild and quite impersonal interest, were on the -man's face now. The man had picked up the bill, and was pretending to -examine it critically. - -“Counterfeit!” echoed the man shortly. “Say, what are you -giving us! It's as good as wheat! Give me my change, and let me get -out—I'm in a hurry!” He pushed the bill toward her again. - -She did not pick it up from the counter this time. - -“I'm sorry.” She seemed genuinely disturbed, and the sweet old -face was full of sympathy. “I'm sure you did not know that it was -not good, and ten dollars is a great deal to lose, isn't it? It's -too bad. Do you remember where you got it?” - -“Look here, you're dippy!” snapped the man. “I tell you it's -not counterfeit. Anyway, it's all I've got. If you want your pay, -take it!” - -“You owe me thirty-five cents, but I can't take it out of this.” -She shook her head in a troubled way. “This is a counterfeit.” - -“You seem to be pretty well posted—on counterfeits!” sneered the -man offensively. “How do you know it's a counterfeit—eh?” - -“Because I've seen one like this before,” she said simply. “My -son showed me one the last time he was in from his run, and he warned me -to be careful about taking any.” - -“Oh, your son—eh?” sneered the man again. “Some son! Wised you -up, did he? Carries it around with him—eh? And who does he shove it -off on?” - -There was a queer little sound from the old lady—like a quick, hurt -catch of her breath. The Hawk's eyes travelled swiftly to her face. -She had turned a little pale, and her lips were trembling—but she was -drawn up very proudly, and the thin shoulders were squared back. - -“I love my boy,” she said in a low voice, and tears came suddenly -into her eyes, “I love him with all my heart, but I should a thousand -times rather see him dead than know him for a thief. And a man who -attempts to pass these things knowingly is a—thief. I have been very -respectful to you, sir, and I do not deserve what you have said. I -assumed that you had been swindled yourself, and that you were perfectly -honest in offering the bill to me, but now from your——” - -“What's the trouble, Mother Barrett?”—a big railroader farther -up the counter had laid down his knife and fork, and swung round on his -stool. - -With a hurried glance in that direction, the man hastily thrust the -counterfeit note into his pocket, laid down thirty-five cents on the -counter—and, with a dive across the room, disappeared through the -door. - -The Hawk stared thoughtfully after him. - -“I couldn't butt in on that, and hand him one,” said the Hawk to -himself almost apologetically. “Not with twenty thousand in sight! I -couldn't afford to get into a row, and maybe miss the local, and spill -the beans, could I?” - -He looked around again to find the little old woman wiping her -spectacles, and smiling at him a little wistfully. - -“I'm sorry that you had to listen to any unpleasantness,” she -said. “My little place isn't very pretentious, but I would not like -to have you, a stranger, think that sort of thing was customary here. -What can I get you, sir?” - -It was no wonder that the railroaders evidently swore by old Mother -Barrett, and that one of them had been quick to shift her trouble to his -own shoulders! - -“I guess he was a bad one, all right!” growled the Hawk. - -She shook her head regretfully. There was no resentment left—it was as -though, indeed, the man was a charge upon her own conscience. - -“He meant to be dishonest, I am afraid,” she admitted reluctantly; -“but I am sure he cannot be thoroughly bad, for he wasn't very -old—just a young man.” - -She was a very simple, trusting little old lady—as well as a sweet -little old lady. Why should her illusions be dispelled? The Hawk nodded -gravely. - -“Perhaps,” suggested the Hawk, “perhaps he hasn't had any one to -keep him straight. Perhaps he hasn't got what keeps a good many chaps -straight—a good mother.” - -The mist was quick in her eyes again. He had not meant to bring -that—he had meant only to show her a genuine admiration and respect. - -“Perhaps not,” she answered slowly. “But if he has, I hope she -will never know.” She shook her head again; and then: “But you have -not told me yet what you would like, sir?” - -The Hawk gave his order. He ate mechanically. Back in his mind he was -reviewing a rather extensive acquaintanceship with certain gentry whose -morals were not wholly above reproach. Failing, however, to identify the -individual with the counterfeit note as one of this select number, he -finally dismissed the man somewhat contemptuously from his mind. - -“Just a piker crook, I guess,” decided the Hawk. “I'd like to -have found out though how many more of those he's got, and who the -fool was that let an amateur skate like that loose with any of the -goods!” - -He finished his meal, paid his bill, smiled a goodnight to old Mother -Barrett, walked out of the short-order house, and made his way over to -the station. Five minutes later, having purchased a magazine, the Hawk, -with a ticket in his pocket for a station a number of miles beyond -Burke's Siding, curled himself up with his pipe on a seat in the -smoker of the local. - -The train started, and the Hawk apparently became immersed in his -magazine. The Hawk, however, though he turned a page from time to time, -was concerned with matters very far removed from the printed words -before him. The game to-night was more hazardous, more difficult, and -for a vastly greater stake than any in which he had before pitted his -wits or played his lone hand against the combined brains of the Butcher, -his fellows, and their unknown leader, who collectively were referred to -by the papers as—the Wire Devils. - -The Hawk tamped down the ash in the bowl of his pipe with a wary -forefinger. He, the Hawk, according to MacVightie, was the leader -of this ingenious criminal league! It was very complimentary of -MacVightie—very! Between MacVightie and the Wire Devils themselves, he -was a personage much sought after! MacVightie, however, was not without -grounds for his assertion and belief—the Hawk grinned pleasantly—he, -the Hawk, had certainly, and for some time back, helped himself to the -leader's share of the spoils, and helped himself very generously! - -The grin died away. He had beaten them so far, appropriated from under -their very noses the loot they had so carefully planned to obtain, and -he had mocked and taunted them contemptuously in the doing of it; but -the cold fact remained that luck sometimes was known to turn, and -that the pitcher that went too often to the well ran the risk of -getting—smashed! If they ever caught him, his life would not be worth -an instant's purchase. He knew some of them, and he knew them well for -what they were, and he laboured under no delusions on that score! The -Butcher, for example, who was the Number One of the message, had already -nearly done for him once; and the Butcher had nothing on Number Three, -who was the Bantam, or on Number Seven, who was Whitie Jim—or, it -was safe to presume, on any of the others that he had not yet -identified—this Number Four and Number Six, for instance, who were -mentioned in the cipher message to-night. And how many more were there? -He did not know—except that there was the Master Spider of them all. - -The Hawk had ceased now even to turn cursorily the pages of the -magazine. He was staring out of the window. - -“I wonder,” muttered the Hawk grimly, “when I'll run up against -him? And who he is? And where the head office is?” - -He nodded his head after a moment. MacVightie had called the turn. The -Wire Devils formed as powerful and dangerous a criminal organisation as -had probably ever existed anywhere. And not for very long would they put -all their resources at work to pull off some coup, only to find that he, -the Hawk, had made use of their preparations to snatch the prize away -from them; they were much more likely to put all their resources at -work—with the Hawk as their sole objective! - -The Hawk's lips tightened. He might under-estimate, but he could not -exaggerate, his danger! The man in the seat behind him might be one of -them for all he knew. Somewhere, hidden away in his web, at the end of -a telegraph wire, was the Master Spider directing the operations; and -there must be very many of them—the little spiders—spread all over -the division. Where there was a telegraph sounder that sounder carried -the messages, the plans, the secret orders of the brain behind the -organisation; and the very audaciousness with which they made themselves -free of the railroad's telegraph system to communicate with each -other was in itself a guarantee of success. If one of their messages was -interfered with, they threatened to cut the wires; and that meant, if -luckily it meant no more, that train operating was at an end until -the break could be located and repaired. Were they tapping the wire -somewhere? What chance was there to find out where? There were hundreds -of old splices on the wires. Or, if found, what would prevent them -tapping the wire on the next occasion many miles away? Also the sources -of information that they tapped must be far-flung. How, for instance, -unless they too had a “Bud” back there in New York, did they know of -this diamond shipment coming through to-night? - -The Hawk's lips grew still a little tighter. His safety so far had -depended on the fact that he possessed the key to their cipher messages, -which not only enabled him to reap where they had sown, but warned -him of any move they might make against him. But it was becoming -increasingly difficult to intercept those messages. He had MacVightie -to thank for that. Where before he had only to crawl into some little -way-station where there was no night operator, MacVightie now had every -one of those stations securely guarded. Yes, it had become exceedingly -more difficult! If only he could find out where those messages emanated -from, or the system in force for receiving them! - -The Hawk slid further down in his seat, tossed the magazine to one -side, pulled his hat over his eyes, and appeared to sleep. All that was -neither here nor there—to-night. He had the message to-night—but he -had not yet got that twenty thousand dollars in unset stones! He would -perhaps do well, now that he had the leisure, to give the details of -that matter a little more critical attention than they had received -when he had made up his mind that his best chance lay in the three miles -between Burke's Siding and the point where the Butcher and his men -planned to hold up the train. According to the message, the implication -was that there would be nobody in the express car at that time except -a drugged messenger. And now, somehow, he did not quite like the -appearance of that. It seemed a little queer. What was the object of -drugging the man if they did not take immediate advantage of it? He -pondered the problem for a long time. No, after all, it was logical -enough—since they meant to remove the safe bodily. There evidently was -not a specialised cracksman amongst them who had lifted his profession -to the plane of art, no “knob-twirler” such as—well, such as -himself! The Hawk opened his eyes sleepily to inspect the tips of his -carefully manicured fingers. Otherwise, with no one to interfere but -a drugged messenger, they could have opened the safe, looted it, and, -since the Fast Mail carried only through express matter, have slipped -away from the car at the first stop, with no one being the wiser until, -somewhere up the line, the messenger returned to life and gave the -alarm. - -Yes, it was very craftily worked out. The Master Spider was far from a -fool! They would have to “soup” the safe, and blow it open. If they -attempted that while the train was en route they ran the risk of being -heard, and trapped like rats in the car; and if they were heard, even -if they managed to stop the train and make their escape, they invited -instant and definite pursuit on the spot. The reason for drugging the -express messenger became quite evident now. If the man were already -helpless when they held up the train, they, at one and the same time, -assured their access to an otherwise guarded car without danger to -themselves, and without danger of being balked at the last moment of -their reward—which the messenger, with a small package like that, -might easily have been able to accomplish if he were a game man. He -could have opened the safe, say, the instant the first alarm came as -they tried to force the car door, taken out the package, and secreted -it somewhere. It needed only the nerve after that to defy them, and they -had evidently given him credit for it whether he possessed it or not. - -Yes, decidedly, the Master Spider was no fool in the spinning of his -web! As it was, the safe, which would only be a small affair anyhow, -would disappear bodily; and between the point where the train was held -up and the point where they finally left the engine and express car -there would be a distance of at least ten miles, even allowing that they -approached no nearer than within two miles of Bradley, the first station -west of Burke's Siding. With the wires cut and the coaches of the Fast -Mail stalled three miles out of Burke's, considerable time must elapse -before any one could make a move against them; and even when the pursuit -finally started, MacVightie, for instance, would be confronted with -that somewhat illusive stretch of ten miles in which to decide where -the pursuit should begin. Ten miles was some little distance! MacVightie -would be quite at liberty to make his guess, and there was the chance, -with the trifling odds of some few odd thousand to one against it, that -he might guess right—unless he guessed that the safe had been removed -at the point where the engine and car were finally left, in which case -MacVightie would guess wrong. - -If the Hawk was asleep, he was perhaps dreaming—for the Hawk -smiled. The chances were just about those few odd thousand to one -that MacVightie would guess exactly that way—wrong. Yes, it was an -exceedingly neat little web that the Master Spider had spun. If he, the -Hawk, were permitted to make a guess, he would guess that the safe would -never be found! - -His mind reverted to the cipher message. The safe was to be delivered at -“five-mile crossing.” Where that was the Hawk did not know—except -that it must necessarily be somewhere between the point where the train -was held up and Bradley. However, that was a detail with which he need -hardly concern himself. Long before this “five-mile crossing” -was reached, his vest pocket, if he played in luck, would be very -comfortably lined! He would enter the express car as the Fast Mail -pulled out of Burke's Siding, trust to certain long and intimate -experience to open the safe—and get off the train as it slowed down -at the Butcher's very thoughtful request! For the rest, the -details—circumstances must govern there. In the main, that would be -his plan. - -The Hawk “slept” on. Station after station was passed. His mind now -dealt in little snatches of thought. There was MacVightie and the police -circular; and the search of his room that day; and speculation as to -how they had managed to drug the express messenger; and the man with the -counterfeit ten-dollar bill in old Mother Barrett's short-order house; -and the little old woman herself, with her shabby clothes and her tired, -gentle face—and finally the Hawk stirred, glanced at his watch, and, -as the train whistled, picked up his magazine and sauntered down the car -aisle to the door. - -They were approaching Burke's Siding. The Hawk opened the door, went -out on the platform, and descended to the lowest step. The train slowed. -A water-tank loomed up, receded—and the Hawk dropped to the ground. -A minute later, as the tail-lights winked by and came to a stop at the -station a short distance down the track, he had made his way back, to -the water-tank, crossed to the opposite side of the track, and stretched -himself out on the grass in the hollow at the foot of the embankment. -The Fast Mail's sole excuse for a stop at Burke's Siding was the -water-tank—which would bring the express car to a halt directly in -front of the spot where he now lay. - -The local pulled out, and racketed away into the night. The tail-lights -vanished. Silence fell. There was only the chirping of the insects -now, and the strange, queer, indefinable medley of little night-sounds. -Burke's Siding was a lonely place. There was a faint yellow gleam from -the station windows, and there was the twinkle of the switch lights—no -other sign of life. It was pitch black—so black that the Hawk could -just barely distinguish the outline of the water-tank across the track. - -“It's a nice night,” observed the Hawk pleasantly to himself. “A -very nice night! It's strange how some people prefer a moon!” - - - - -IX—THE LOOTING OF THE FAST MAIL - -THE minutes went by, ten, fifteen, twenty of them—a half hour—and -then, from far down the track, hoarse through the night, came the -scream of a whistle. From his pocket the Hawk took out his diminutive -flashlight, thin as a pencil. It might have been the winking of a -firefly, as he played it on the dial of his watch. - -“On the dot!” murmured the Hawk. “Some train—the Fast Mail! I -guess, though, she'll be a little late, at that, to-night—when -she pulls into Selkirk!” A roar and rumble was in the night again, -increasing steadily in volume. Down the right of way, in the distance, a -flash of light stabbed through the black. It grew brighter and brighter. -The Hawk, wary of the spread of the powerful electric headlight, edged -further away from the trackside. And now the rails gleamed like polished -silver—and the water-tank stood up out of the darkness, a thing of -monstrous size. There was the hiss of steam, the rasp and grind of the -setting brakes, the glinting rays from the windows of a long string -of coaches that trailed back to the station platform, and a big -ten-wheeler, like some human thirsty thing, was panting beside the -water-tank. - -The engineer, with his torch, swung from the gangway for an oil around. -There was the creak of the descending spout, the rush of water, and, -silhouetted against the water-tank, the Hawk could make out the -fireman standing on the back of the tender. And now, poking with his -long-spouted oil can, weirdly swallowed up in the darkness at intervals -as he thrust the torch far in under the big machine, the engineer moved -slowly along the side of the engine, and finally disappeared around the -end of the pilot. - -The Hawk stole forward closer to the track again, his eyes on the -fireman, who, now that the engineers torch was on the other side, was -more sharply outlined than before. Came then the swish and gush of water -as it overflowed, the spout banged back against the water-tank, and the -fireman scrambled back over the tender into the cab. It was the -moment the Hawk had been waiting for. Swiftly, but still crawling as a -safeguard against being seen by any of the train crew in the rear, he -moved up the embankment, and in an instant had swung himself up between -the tender and the forward door of the express car. There was no -platform here, of course, but the end beam of the car, making a sort of -wide threshold, gave him ample room on which to stand. - -The roar of escaping steam drowned out all other sounds; the back of the -tender hid him from any chance of observation from the cab. He tried the -door cautiously. It was locked, of course—there were twenty thousand -dollars' worth of stones in the safe inside! The Hawk felt carefully -over the lock with his fingers, classifying it in the darkness, as it -were, by the sense of touch, and produced from his packet his bunch of -skeleton keys. He inserted one of the keys, worked with it for a -moment, then shook his head, and selected another. This time he felt -the lock-bolt slide back. The train was jerking into motion now. He -exchanged his keys for his automatic, turned the knob softly, opened the -door an inch, and listened. Even the Wire Devils were not infallible, -and if by any chance the messenger— - -The Hawk whistled low and contentedly under his breath. He had caught a -glimpse of the interior of the car—and now he slipped quickly through -the door, closing the door behind him. - -A quarter length down the car, in the aisle made by the express packages -which were piled high on either side, the messenger, a young man of -perhaps twenty-two, was huddled, apparently unconscious, in his chair. -In a flash the Hawk was down the car, and bending sharply over the -other. The man sat in a helpless, sagging attitude; he was breathing -heavily, and his head, hanging forward and a little to one side, swayed -limply with the motion of the car. There was no question as to the -messenger's condition—he was drugged, and well drugged. From the -man, the Hawk's eyes travelled to a sort of desk, or ledge, built out -from the side of the car, and topped by a pigeonholed rack stuffed with -express forms and official-looking manila envelopes. On the desk was a -small leather satchel containing some lunch, and a bottle of what was -evidently cold tea, now but barely a quarter full; and, as though to -supply further evidence that the man had succumbed in the midst of his -meal, a little to one side lay a meat sandwich, half eaten. - -The Hawk nodded quietly to himself, as again his eyes shifted—this -time to a small safe, about three feet square, that stood beneath the -desk. It was quite easy to understand now. The Wire Devils had only to -ascertain the fact that it was the messenger's habit to eat his lunch -at a certain time, choose the point of attack on the line to correspond -therewith, and see that a sufficient quantity of knockout drops was -introduced into the cold tea—not a very weighty undertaking for the -Wire Devils! - -Well, it was a bit rough on the boy—the Hawk was kneeling now in front -of the safe—but he, the Hawk, was greatly indebted to the Wire Devils! -Twenty thousand dollars was a snug little sum—quite a snug little sum! - -The figure in the chair, with swaying head, breathed stertorously; there -was the pound, quick in its tempo, of the trucks beating at the rail -joints; the give-and-take of the car in protesting little creaks; and, -over all, a muffled roar as the Fast Mail tore through the night—but -the Hawk heard none of this. His ear was pressed close against the face -of the safe listening for the tumblers' fall, as his fingers twirled -the dial knob. - -After a little while the Hawk spoke aloud. - -“Left, twenty-eight, one quarter... two right, fourteen... two left, -eighteen, one-half,” he said. - -He straightened up, swung the handle of the safe—and a dismayed, -anxious look flashed across his face. There was not much time, very -little time—-and he had missed it! How far along those three miles -from Burke's Siding to where the Butcher was waiting had the train -already come? - -He tried again, coolly, methodically—and again he missed. - -“I guess I'm out of practice to fall down on a tin box like -this!” he muttered grimly. “But the first two are right, that's -sure—it's the last turn that's wrong somewhere. Give me another -minute or two”—he was twirling the dial knob with deft, quick -fingers once more—“that's all I ask, and——” - -A sudden jolt flung him forward against the safe. Came the scream of the -whistle, the screech of the tight-set brakes, the bump, and jerk, and -pound, and grind of the flying train coming to an emergency stop. The -limp form of the messenger, sliding down, was almost doubled over the -arm of the chair. - -In an instant the Hawk had recovered his balance, and, his face set like -iron, his jaws clamped hard, he snatched at the knob, and with desperate -haste now made another attempt. There were a few seconds left, a few -seconds before the train would come finally to a standstill and—no, -they were gone now, those seconds—and he had missed again! - -His automatic was in his hand as he stood up. It was no longer a -question of twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset diamonds—it was -a question of his life. There was a bitter smile on his lips, as he ran -for the forward door. It looked as though the pitcher had at last gone -once too often to the well! The train had stopped now. He reached the -door, and opened it guardedly a little way. A great red flare from -somewhere ahead lighted up the night. He heard and recognised the -Butcher's voice, menacing, raucous, punctuated with vicious oaths: - -“Get out of that cab, and get out damned quick! Down you come—jump -now! Now, boys, run 'em back, and keep firing down the length of the -train as you go; and if these guys don't run faster than you do, let -'em have it in the back! Beat it now—beat it like hell! I'll pull -out the minute you're uncoupled. You two grab the rear end as she -moves, there's room enough for you, and you can bust in the door, -and——” - -A fusilade of shots rang out. Flashes cut the black. The Butcher's two -companions, evidently driving the engineer and fireman before them, were -coming on the run along the trackside from the cab. The Hawk retreated -back a step, and closed the car door. He heard the men rush past -outside. The fusilade seemed to redouble in intensity; and now, added to -it, were shouts and yells from the rear of the train itself, and—if he -were not mistaken—answering shots. - -His hand on the doorknob, he stood waiting tensely. With the Butcher on -guard out there in front, it would have been equivalent to suicide -to have opened the door again until he knew the other was back in the -cab—against the background of the lighted interior he would have made -a most excellent mark for the Butcher! - -His eyes swept past the huddled form of the young messenger in the -chair, and fixed speculatively on the safe. He nodded suddenly, grimly. -Twenty thousand dollars! Well, he wasn't beaten yet—not till he -threw down his own hand of his own accord—not till he lost sight of -the safe for keeps! - -Over the shouts and revolver shots came the sharp, vicious hiss of the -air-hose, as it was uncoupled; and then, with a violent jerk, the car -started forward, as the Butcher evidently whipped the throttle open. -And, coincidently, there was a smash upon the rear door—and the Hawk -opened the forward door and slipped out again. - -A din infernal was in his ears. Like a maddened thing under the -Butcher's unscientific spur, the big ten-wheeler was coughing the -sparks heavenward in a volleying stream, while the huge drivers raced -like pinwheels in another shower of sparks as the tires sought to bite -and hold. And now the rear door of the car crashed inward; the shots -came fast as a gatling, and shouts, screams and yells added their quota -to the uproar. - -The Hawk, crouched by the door, moved suddenly to one side, as he caught -the dull, ominous spat of a bullet against one of the panels. The train -crew and those of the passengers who were armed were, very obviously, -keeping up a running fight from the stalled section of the train, and -pumping their bul-lets through the broken rear door and up the aisle of -the express car as long as they could hold the range; and, from within, -he could distinguish the duller, muffled reports of the Butcher's -confederates firing in return, preventing any attempt being made to rush -the rear of the car. - -And then the sounds began to recede and die away. The men inside the car -ceased firing, and he could hear them now moving the safe out from the -side of the car. It seemed as though a very long interval of time had -been consumed in the hold-up; but in reality he knew it had been little -more than a matter of seconds—the time it had taken the two men to run -the length of the car, uncouple it, and leap on the rear end. The fight -afterwards could hardly count, for once the express car began to pull -away the thing was done. - -They were moving fast now, and with every instant the speed was -increasing. The Hawk clutched at the handrail, and lowered himself to -the iron foot-rung which, on the express car, served in lieu of steps. -Here, having chosen the opposite side to that of the Butcher at the -throttle in the cab, he ran no risk of being observed. This “five-mile -crossing,” wherever it was, promised to concern him a great deal more -than he had anticipated! He leaned out, and clung there, staring ahead. - -The big ten-wheeler was swaying and staggering like a drunken thing; the -rush of the wind whipped at his face; a deafening roar sang in his -ears. The Fast Mail usually ran fast; but the Butcher was running like a -dare-devil, and the bark of the exhaust had quickened now into a single -full-toned note deep as thunder. - -With a sort of grim placidity, the Hawk clung to the lurching rail. Far -ahead along the right of way, a shaft of light riven through walls of -blackness, played the headlight. Shadowy objects, trees that loomed up -for an instant and were gone, showed on the edge of the wavering ray. -They tore through a rock cut, and, in the confined space and in the -fraction of a second it took to traverse it, the roar was metamorphosed -into an explosion. And then suddenly, as though by magic, the headlight -shot off at a tangent, and the glistening lines of steel, that were -always converging but never meeting, were gone, and the ray fell full -upon a densely wooded tract where leaves and foliage became a soft and -wonderful shade of green under the artificial light. The Hawk braced -himself—and just in time. The ten-wheeler, unchecked, swung the curve -with a mighty lurch, off drivers fairly lifted from the rails. She -seemed to hang there hesitantly for a breathless instant, then with a -crunch, staggering, settled back and struck into her stride again. - -The thunder of the exhaust ceased abruptly, and the speed began to -slacken. The Butcher had slammed the throttle shut. At the end of the -headlight's ray, that was straight along the track again, a red light -flashed up suddenly three times and vanished. The Hawk leaned farther -out, tense now, straining his eyes ahead. It was evidently Number Four -and Number Seven signalling from “five-mile crossing.” - -The Butcher began to check with the “air.” And now, in the -headlight's glare, the distance shortened, the Hawk could discern a -large wagon, drawn by two horses, that appeared to be backed up close to -the right-hand side of the track. Two forms seemed to be tugging at the -horses, which equally seemed to be plunging restively—and then, being -on the wrong side of the car, the angle of vision narrowed and he could -see no more. - -The Hawk turned now—his eyes on the door of the car. There was a -possibility, a little more than a possibility, that the men inside, -knowing that they had reached their destination, would come out this -way. No—he had only to keep hidden from the men out there with the -wagon until the car stopped—the men within were sliding back the side -door. He swung himself still farther out on the foot-rung; then, curving -back with the aid of the handrail, flattened himself against the side of -the car. - -They were close up to the wagon now, and he could hear voices cursing -furiously at the horses, as the frightened animals stamped and pawed. -And then the car bumped and jerked to a standstill, and the Butcher was -bawling from the cab: - -“Take the horses out, you blamed fools, and tie 'em back there on -the road a bit till we're gone! We'd have a sweet time loading the -wagon with them doing the tango every second! Take 'em out! We'll -back the wagon up against the car.” - -The Hawk lowered himself silently to the ground—to find that the car -had come to a stop directly over a road crossing. The men in the car had -joined their voices with the Butcher's, and in the confusion now the -Hawk slipped quickly along the side of the car, stole around the rear -end, and from that point of vantage stood watching the Butcher and his -men at work. - -He could see quite plainly, thanks to the light from the car's -wide-open side door that flooded the scene. The horses had been -unharnessed, and were being led away along the road. One of the men in -the car jumped to the ground, as the Butcher called out, and together -they backed the wagon close up against the car doorway; and then, -presently, the men who had accompanied the horses, one carrying a -lantern, came running back. The Hawk's eyes, from a general and -comprehensive survey of the scene, fixed on the man who until now had -not left the car, but who had now sprung down into the wagon and -was running a short plank, to be used as a skid evidently, up to the -threshold of the car door, which was a little above the level of the -wagon. The light shone full in the man's face. - -“Number Six—Crusty Kline!” confided the Hawk softly to himself. -“I'm glad to know that. The last time I chummed with Crusty was back -in little old Sing Sing. Guess he got out for good behaviour—thought -he was elected for five spaces yet!” - -Crusty spoke now, as he jumped back into the car. - -“Look here, Butcher, I'm telling you again, this guy in here's in -pretty bad shape.” - -“Never mind about that!” replied the Butcher roughly. “Get the -safe out! All hands now! We've got no time to monkey with him. He'll -come around all right, I guess—anyway, it's none of our lookout!” - -The men were bunched together now, three in the doorway of the car and -two in the wagon, the safe between them. The Hawk was studying one of -the two who stood in the wagon. One was Whitie Jim, as he already knew, -but the other had had his back half turned, and the Hawk had not been -able to see his face. The safe slid down the plank, and was levered and -pushed forward into the middle of the wagon. - -“French Pete!” said the Hawk suddenly and as softly as before, as -the man he had been watching straightened up and turned around. “Say, -I guess Sing Sing's gone out of business—or else somebody left the -door open!” - -But if the Hawk's words were indicative of a facetious mood, his -actions were not. There was a sort of dawning inspiration in the dark, -narrowed eyes; and the strong jaw, as it was outthrust, drew his lips -into a grim, hard smile. They were spreading a huge tarpaulin over the -wagon and safe—and abruptly the Hawk drew back, dropped to his hands -and knees, crawled along the trackside on the opposite side of the car -again until almost opposite the wagon, and there lay flat and motionless -at the side of the road. There was a chance yet, still a chance, a very -good chance—for that twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset stones. - -“All right, now!” It was the Butcher's voice. “Pull her away a -few feet into the clear!” The wagon creaked and rattled. “That's -enough! Now get a move on—everybody!” - -Steps crunched along the trackside—the Butcher and his two companions -obviously making for the cab—and a moment later came the cough of the -engine's exhaust, and the express car began to glide past the spot -where the Hawk lay. - -The Hawk raised himself cautiously on his elbows. Two dark forms and a -bobbing lantern were already speeding toward where the horses had been -left. The Hawk crawled forward, crossed the track—and paused. The -engine and express car were fast disappearing in the distance; the -lantern glimmered amongst the trees at the side of the road a good -hundred yards away. - -There was no shadow to fall across the back of the wagon. - -“I said it was a nice night, and that it was strange how some people -preferred a moon!” observed the Hawk cheerfully—and, lifting the -end of the tarpaulin, he swung noiselessly under it into the wagon, and -stretched himself out beside the safe. - - - - -X—THE THIRD PARTY - -The Hawk felt upward with his hand over the safe. It was faced, he -found, toward the rear of the wagon. This necessitated a change in his -own position. He listened tensely. They were coming back with the horses -now, but they were still quite a little way off. He shifted quickly -around until his head and shoulders were in front of the safe. - -“It was the last turn of the combination that I fell down on, though I -don't see how it happened!” muttered the Hawk. - -He felt above his head again, this time rubbing his fingers critically -over the tarpaulin—and then the diminutive little flashlight winked, -winked again as it played around him, and finally held steadily on the -nickel dial. There were no inadvertent openings, and, particularly, no -holes in the tarpaulin, and the texture of the tarpaulin was a guarantee -that the tiny rays of light would not show through. - -They were harnessing the horses into the wagon now. The Hawk, in a -somewhat cramped position, due to the wagon's narrow width, his legs -twisted at right angles to his body as he lay on his back, reached up -and began to twirl the dial knob slowly and with painstaking care. - -“Left, twenty-eight, one quarter,” murmured the Hawk; and, a moment -later: “Two right, four——” - -The Hawk swore earnestly under his breath. The jolt of the wagon, coming -unexpectedly as it started forward, had caused him to spin the knob too -far around. - -It was hot, stifling hot, under the heavy tarpaulin, that, slanting -downward from the little safe, lay almost against his face. A bead of -sweat had gathered on his forehead. He brushed it away, and began -again to work at the dial. It was more difficult now—the wagon bumped -infernally. And as he worked, he could hear the muffled clatter of the -horses' hoofs, and occasionally the voices of the two men on the seat. - -And then suddenly the Hawk's fingers travelled from the dial knob -to the handle. Had he got it this time, or—yes! The handle swung -easily—there was a low metallic thud—the bolt had slipped back to -the end of its grooves. The safe was unlocked! - -“Twenty thousand dollars!” said the Hawk very softly—and, without -the slightest sound, he edged his body backwards to afford space for the -swing of the opening door. “Twenty thousand doll——” - -The word died, half uttered, on the Hawk's lips. The flashlight was -illuminating the interior of the safe. On the bottom lay a single, -crisp, ten-dollar counterfeit note, over the face of which was scrawled -in ink—“With the Hawk's compliments!” Otherwise the safe was -empty. - -For a moment, like a man dazed, he stared at the counterfeit note. He -could not seem to believe his eyes, Empty—the safe was empty! The -diamonds were gone—gone! Gone—and these poor fools were driving an -empty safe to the Master Spider—and another poor fool, with dropped -jaw, was staring, gaping like an imbecile, into one! And then, a grip -upon himself again, he laughed low, grimly, unpleasantly. “With the -Hawk's compliments!” He had sent a bill like that once to MacVightie -inscribed—“With the Hawk's compliments!” This was very neat, -very clever of—somebody. Of somebody—who must have known what the -Wire Devils were up to to-night! There would be no doubt in the minds -of the Wire Devils, who would have heard of that little episode with -MacVightie, but that the Hawk had again forestalled them, and left -them a ten-dollar counterfeit bill in exchange for—twenty thousand -dollars' worth of unset diamonds! Only it was this somebody, and not -he, the Hawk, who was twenty thousand dollars the richer for it! - -He reached in, picked up the bill to put it in his, pocket—and -suddenly laid it back again, and closed and locked the safe. Why deprive -the Master Spider of a little joy; and, besides, it would carry a -message not perhaps so erroneous after all—for, in a flash, logically, -indisputably, apparently impossible though it appeared to be on the -surface, he knew who that somebody was. The shelving of the theft to the -Hawk's shoulders would have defeated its own object unless the -theft were committed and discovered on this particular division of -the railroad where the Hawk and, incidentally, his supposed gang of -desperadoes were known to be operating. The messenger certainly had not -been in a drugged condition when he went on duty, and, since it was only -reasonable to assume that he would have satisfied himself everything was -all right at that time, it was evident, as he had given no alarm, that -the contents of the safe had been intact when he took charge—whether -as a “through” man in New York, or at the eastern terminus of the -road, or at the last divisional point—it did not matter which. The -robbery, then, had been committed while the messenger was present in the -car—and it had been committed on this division. The safe had not -been forced, it showed not the slightest sign of violence—it had been -opened on the combination. Some one then, an expert safe-worker, in the -first stages of the messenger's drugged condition, had happened into -the car just ahead of him, the Hawk, and had done exactly what he, the -Hawk, had intended to do? - -“No,” said the Hawk. “No, I guess not.” He was wriggling -noiselessly backward, and his feet were hanging out now over the end -of the wagon. “No—coincidences like that don't happen—not -very often!” The Hawk's head and shoulders were still under the -tarpaulin, but his feet now could just feel the ground beneath them. -“I guess,” said the Hawk, as he suddenly withdrew his head, and, -crouching low, ran a few steps with the wagon, then dropped full length -in the road, “I guess it's—the third party.” - -The wagon disappeared in the darkness. The Hawk rose, and, turning, -broke into a run back along the road. - -He had been longer in the wagon than he had thought—it took him ten -minutes to regain the railroad tracks. - -Here, without pause, still running, he kept on along the right of -way—but there was a hard twist to his lips, and the clenching of -his fists was not wholly due to runner's “form.” How far had the -Butcher taken the car before deserting it? A mile? Two miles—three? -He could not run three miles under half an hour, and that would be fast -over railroad ties! How long would it be before the train crew of the -stalled Mail got back to Burke's Siding and managed somehow, in spite -of the cut wires, to give the alarm—or how long before the dispatcher -at Selkirk, with the Fast Mail reported “out” at Burke's Siding -and no “O. S.” from Bradley, would smell a rat? It would take time -after that, of course, before anything could be done; but, at best, the -margin left for him was desperately narrow. - -He ran on and on; his eyes, grown accustomed to the darkness, enabling -him to pick out the ties with a fair degree of accuracy. There was not -a sound save that of his own footsteps. He stopped for breath again and -again; and again and again ran on at top speed. It seemed as though he -had run not three miles, but six, when finally, far ahead, he caught a -glow of light. The Butcher and his confederates had evidently not taken -the trouble to close the side door of the car! - -Instinctively, the Hawk, in caution, slowed his pace—and the next -instant, smiling pityingly at himself for the act, ran on the faster. -The Butcher and the other two would long since have made their getaway! -There was only the messenger—and the messenger was drugged. That was -all that need concern him now—the messenger—to find some way to -rouse the man so that he could talk. - -The Hawk reached the car, ran along the side to the open door—and -stood suddenly still. And then, with a low, startled cry, he swung -himself up and through the doorway, and running forward, knelt beside -a huddled form on the floor. It was the messenger, sprawled on his face -now, motionless, and it was no longer a case of being drugged—the man -had been shot! There was a dark, ugly pool on the flooring, and a thin -red stream had trickled away in a zigzag course along one of the planks. -The Hawk's lips were tight. The Butcher's work! But why? Why? Yes! -Yes, he understood! The Butcher, too, in some way had discovered that -the messenger was—the third party! - -The boy—he was even more of a boy now in appearance, it seemed to the -Hawk, with his ashen face and colourless lips—the boy moaned a little, -and, as the Hawk lifted him up, opened his eyes. - -The Hawk produced a flask, and forced a few drops between the other's -lips. - -“Listen!” he said distinctly. “Try and understand what I am -saying. Did they get the diamonds from you after they shot you?” - -The boy's eyes widened with a quick, sudden fear. Perhaps the drug had -begun to wear off—perhaps it was the wound and the loss of blood that -had cleared his brain. - -“The diamonds?” he faltered. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk grimly. “The diamonds! You took them. Did you -tell those men where they were?” - -“It's—it's a lie!” The boy seemed to shiver convulsively. -Then, his voice scarcely audible: “No, it's—it's true. I—I -did. I—I guess I'm going out—ain't I? It's—it's true. But -I—I didn't tell. There weren't any men—I——” He had fainted -in the Hawk's arms. - -“My God!” whispered the Hawk solemnly. “It's true—the kid's -dying.” - -He held the flask to the other's lips again. It wasn't the Butcher, -then, who had shot the boy; and, besides, he saw now that the wound was -in a strangely curious place—in the back, below the shoulder blade; -the boy had been sitting in his shirt sleeves, and the back of his vest -was soaked with blood. And the Hawk remembered the fusillade of bullets -that had swept up the interior of the car, and the spat upon the forward -door panel as he had crouched there outside—and he understood. The -boy, sitting in a stupor in his chair facing the forward door, had been -directly in the line of fire, and a stray bullet had found its mark. - -“I—I don't know how you knew”—the boy had roused, and was -speaking again—“but—but I'm going out—and—and it's -true. Two days ago, a man gave me a hundred dollars to stand for—for -knockout drops on the run to-night. I—I couldn't get caught—I—I -was safe—whatever happened. I'd be found drugged—and—and no -blame coming to me—and——” He motioned weakly toward the flask in -the Hawk's hand. “Give me—give me some more of that!” - -He did not speak for a moment. - -“And, instead,” prompted the Hawk quietly, “you double-crossed the -game.” - -“I—I had a counterfeit ten-dollar bill,” the boy went on with an -effort. “I'd heard about the Hawk—and—and MacVightie. I knew -from what:—the fellow said—that the Hawk—wasn't one of them. -I—I got to thinking. All I had to do was empty the safe—and—and -write just what the Hawk did on the bill—and—and shove it in the -safe—and—and take the diamonds—and—and then drink the tea that -had the drops in it. I—I would be drugged, and they—they'd -think the Hawk did it while I was drugged before they—they got -here—and—and that's what I did.” - -The boy was silent again. It was still outside, very still—only the -chirpings of the insects and the night-sounds the Hawk had listened -to while he had lain below the embankment waiting for the train at -Burke's Siding. There was a set, strained look on the Hawk's face. -The kid was paying the long price—for twenty thousand dollars' worth -of unset diamonds! - -“To make it look like—like the real thing”—the boy's lips were -moving again—“I—I cleaned out everything in the safe—but—but -of course there mustn't any of that be found—and—and I tied the -stuff up—and—and weighted it, and dropped it—into—the—river -as we came over the bridge at Moosehead. And then I had to—to hide -the diamonds so they wouldn't be found on me, and yet so's -they—they'd come along with me—and—and not be left in the car. -I was afraid that when some of the train crew found me -drugged—they—they'd undress me—and—and put me to -bed—and—and so I didn't dare hide the diamonds in my clothes. -They're—they're—in——” He raised himself up suddenly, -clutched frantically at the Hawk's shoulders and his voice rang wildly -through the car. “Hold me tight—hold me tight—don't let me go -out yet—I—I got something more to say! Don't tell her! Don't -tell her! I'll tell you where the stones are, they're in the lining -of my lunch satchel—but don't—oh, for God's sake, don't tell -her—don't let her know that—that I'm a—thief! You don't have -to, do you? Say you don't! I'm—I'm going out—I—I've got -what's coming to me, and that's—enough—isn't it—without -her knowing too? It—it would kill her. She was a good mother—do you -hear!” - -He was stiffening back in the Hawk's arms. “And this ain't coming -to her. She was a good mother—do you hear—everybody called -her mother, but she's my mother—you know—old -Mother Barrett—short-order house—you -know—old—Mother—Barrett—good——” - -The boy never spoke again. - -The Hawk laid the still form gently back on the floor of the car, and -stood up. And there was a mist in the Hawk's eyes that blotted out his -immediate surroundings, and in the mist he seemed to see another scene, -and it was the picture of a gentle, kindly-faced old woman, who had -silver hair, and who wore clothes that were a little threadbare, and -whose grey Irish eyes behind the spectacles were filled with tears, and -he seemed to see the thin shoulders square proudly back, and he seemed -to hear her speak again: “I love my boy, I love him with all my heart, -but I should a thousand times rather see him dead than know him for a -thief.” - -Mechanically the Hawk moved over to the desk where the lunch satchel -still lay, and emptied out the remainder of the food. - -“No,” said the Hawk, “I guess she'll never know; and I guess -I'd have to take the stuff now, anyway, whether I wanted to or -not—if she's not to know.” He was examining the inside of the -satchel. It was an old and well-worn affair, and a torn piece of the -lining, stuck down with paste at the edges, would ordinarily have -attracted no attention. The Hawk loosened this, and felt inside. At the -bottom, carefully packed away, were strips of cotton wadding. He took -one out. Embedded in this were a number of diamonds, which, as he drew -the wadding apart, flashed brilliantly in the light of the oil lamps -above his head. He wrapped the stones up again, and put them in his -pocket—took out the remainder from the satchel, put these also in -his pocket, and replaced in the satchel the portion of the lunch he had -removed. It mattered little about the torn lining now! - -“He kind of put it up to me,” said the Hawk slowly. “Yes, and she -did too—without knowing it—old Mother Barrett. It's kind of queer -she should have said that—kind of queer.” The Hawk pulled the drawer -of the desk open, and nodded as he found and took out the messenger's -revolver. “Thought he'd have one, and that it would most likely be -here,” he muttered. - -He crossed the car, and listened intently at the open side door. There -was no sound—nothing, for instance, coming from Bradley yet. He closed -the door, and stood for an instant looking down at the boy's form on -the floor. - -“I guess I can fix it for you, kid—maybe,” he said simply. “I -guess I can.” - -In rapid succession he fired five of the seven shots from the revolver; -then, stooping, laid the weapon, as though it had dropped at last -from nerveless fingers, just beside the boy's outstretched hand. He -straightened up, stepped to the side door, and slid it open again. - -“It'll let the smoke out before anybody gets here,” said the Hawk. -“The Butcher isn't coming forward with any testimony, and with all -those shots fired at the time of the hold-up who's to know the boy -didn't fight till he went down and out? And now I guess I'll make -my own getaway!” He dropped to the trackside, and started forward at a -brisk pace. “I'll keep on a bit until I hear something coming,” -he decided. “Then I'll lay low while they're cleaning up the line, -and wait till I can hop a freight, east or west, that will get me out of -this particular locality. After that, there's nothing to it!” - -A hundred yards farther on the Hawk spoke again, and there was a twisted -smile on the Hawk's lips. - -“It'll break her heart anyway, I guess,” he said; “but it'll -help some maybe to be proud of him. Yes, I guess they'll tell her -that, all right—that he died a game kid.” - - - - -XI—THE LEAD CAPSULE - -THE Hawk yawned. He had been almost forty-eight hours without sleep. He -had slept all day after he had regained his room, following the night at -“Five-Mile Crossing,” but after that—— - -He frowned in a perturbed and puzzled way. Ensconced now in a wicker -lounging chair in the observation car of the Coast Limited, he was -apparently engrossed in the financial page of his newspaper, and -apparently quite oblivious of his fellow travellers, some four or five -of whom lounged and smoked in their own respective wicker chairs around -him. On a little pad of paper, which he held in his left hand, he might -even, without serious tax upon the imagination, have appeared to be -calculating the effect of the market's fluctuations upon personal, -and perhaps narrowly held, margins—for again he scowled unhappily. The -Hawk, however, at the moment, was engrossed solely with a few curiously -assorted letters of the alphabet, which were scrawled across the top of -the pad. They ran: - -pzudl kmlqpb. - -Beneath this his pencil had already been at work, and he had transformed -the line as follows: - -He was staring at this result now in a bewildered way. Then his pencil -picked out the remaining five unscored letters, and mechanically set -them down as a third line: - -“Rainy”—there was one word, just one word—“rainy.” What did -it mean? What was the significance of the word? No message in the Wire -Devils' cipher, once the message was decoded, but had been at once -clear and unmistakable in its meaning before. Had they resorted now to -code words as well, to a cipher within a cipher? Into the grimness of -the Hawk's smile there crept a hint of weariness, as he slipped the -pad into his pocket, allowed the newspaper to drop to his knees, and, -edging his chair around, gazed out of the window. - -For once his knowledge of their cipher was obviously useless to -him—and useless when a foreknowledge of their plans at that moment -meant scarcely less than a matter of life and death to him in a very -unpleasantly real and literal sense. Not a word had come from them; not -a message had gone over the wires on either of the two preceding nights; -not a sign of existence had they given since three nights ago when, with -an empty safe as the sole reward for their elaborately laid plans, he, -the Hawk, had enriched himself with the twenty thousand dollars' worth -of diamonds it had once contained. There had been something sinister, -something ominous in their silence, as compared with the almost insane -ravings of MacVightie, the police, and the press—yes, and the railroad -men as well, who were particularly incensed over the “murder” of -the young messenger found dead at his post in the express car with his -revolver partially emptied on the floor beside him. - -The Hawk drummed abstractedly with his finger tips upon the window pane. -MacVightie, the police, and the press made no doubt but that he, the -Hawk, was the leader of the desperadoes who were terrorising that -particular section of the country; on the other hand, the gang itself -had already had occasions enough and in plenty to be painfully aware -that he, the Hawk, played always a lone hand—and won! A smile, grim -and ironical, parted the firm, set lips. The police and the Wire Devils -had a common interest—the Hawk. He was the storm centre. - -The smile faded, the strong jaws clamped, and the dark eyes narrowed on -the flying landscape. It was not the police who concerned him, it was -not the impotent frothings of the press—it was the silence that the -Wire Devils had not broken since that night until they had broken it -this morning with the single word that, now that he had deciphered -it, still meant nothing to him. A dozen times, stealing their cipher -messages, he had turned all their carefully prepared plans to his own -account, and snatched away the prize, even as they were in the act -of reaching for it. But he was not a fool to close his eyes to the -inevitable result. He was pitted against the cleverest brains in the -criminal world; all the cunning that they knew would be ruthlessly -turned against him; and, already out to “get” him, a price already -guaranteed to the lucky member of the band out of the common funds, -the empty safe of three nights before, with its jeering ten-dollar -counterfeit bill flung in their faces, crowned, he feared, their -injuries at his hands, and marked the turning point where they would -leave no stone unturned to wreak their vengeance upon him. - -And he did not like this silence of theirs since that night. Were they -suspicious at last that he had the key to their cipher? He did not think -so, and yet he did not know—it was always a possibility. But in any -case, wary of any move they might make, he had, as far as it was humanly -possible, remained within sound of a telegraph instrument ever since. -Last night, for example, taking advantage of some repairs that were -being made on the station at Elk Head, fifty miles east of Selkirk, he -had lain hidden behind a mass of building material in the dismantled -waiting room within earshot of the telegraph sounder—and there had -been nothing. Forced to retire from there by the advent of the workmen, -he had eaten a very leisurely breakfast at the lunch counter—still -within earshot of the sounder. He had lingered around the station as -long as he had dared without running the risk of exciting suspicion, and -then he had taken the local east for Bald Creek—and taken the chance, -because he had no choice, that nothing would “break” over the wires -during the three-quarters of an hour that he was on the train. The -Limited scheduled Bald Creek, and that would give him an excuse for -remaining there, an innocent and prospective patron of the road, until -the Limited's arrival some two hours later. After that, if nothing -happened, he had intended to go back on the Limited to Selkirk—and get -some sleep. - -The Hawk yawned heavily again. Yes, after an almost uninterrupted vigil -of forty-eight hours one needed sleep. Well, he was on his way back to -Selkirk now—on the Limited. Only something had happened. Almost at the -moment that the Limited had pulled into Bald Creek, the Wire Devils had -broken their silence, and a cipher message had flashed over the wires. -He had waited for it, fought for it, schemed for it, gone without -sleep for two days and nights for it—and he had been rewarded. He had -intercepted the message, deciphered it, he had got it at last—he -had it now! It was the one word—“rainy.” And the word to him -meant—nothing! - -The Hawk's fingers ceased their drumming on the window pane, his head -inclined slightly to one side, and he listened. His fellow travellers -had evidently scraped up acquaintanceship. The conversation had become -general—and suddenly interesting. - -“... Yes, unquestionably! The amount I have with me is worth quite -easily a half million francs—a hundred thousand dollars. It is not -my personal property, I regret to say. Quantities sufficient to be of -material service are for the most part institutionally held.” - -The Hawk swung around in his chair, and with frank interest surveyed -the little group. He had scanned them once already, critically, -comprehensively—at the moment he had first entered the car. The man -who sat nearest to him was a doctor from Selkirk; and, it being the -ingrained policy of the Hawk to know a reporter as he would know a -plain-clothes man, he had recognised one of the others as a young -reporter on the staff of the Selkirk Evening Journal. The others again, -of whom there were three, were strangers to him. His eyes rested—with -frank interest—on the man who had just spoken. There had been just a -trace of accent in the other's perfect English, and it bore out the -man's appearance. The man was perhaps forty-five years of age, rather -swarthy in complexion, and, though slight in build, commanding in -presence. The black Vandyke beard, as well as the mustache, was -carefully trimmed; and his face had an air of the student about it, an -air that was enhanced by the extraordinarily heavy-lensed spectacles -which he wore. The excellent clothes were unmistakably of foreign cut. - -“Great Scott!” ejaculated the reporter. “Is that straight?” He -twisted his cigar excitedly from one corner of his mouth to the other. -“I say, I don't suppose there's a chance of getting a squint at -it, eh?” - -“A—squint?” The foreigner's face was politely puzzled. - -“I mean a chance to see it—to see what it looks like,” interpreted -the reporter, with a laugh. - -“Oh, yes, of course—a squint. I will remember that!” The foreigner -joined in the laugh. “One learns, monsieur, always, eh—if one keeps -one's ears open!” He reached down and picked up a small black bag -from the floor beside his chair. “No, I am afraid I cannot actually -show it to you, monsieur, owing to the nature of the container; but -perhaps even the manner in which it is carried may be of interest, and, -if so, I shall be delighted.” - -The others, the Hawk among them, leaned spontaneously forward in their -chairs. From the bag the man produced a lead box, some four inches -square. He opened this, and, from where it was nested in wadding, took -out what looked like a cylindrical-shaped piece of lead of the thickness -and length of one's little finger. He held it out in the palm of his -hand for their inspection. - -“Inside this sealed lead covering,” he explained, “is a glass -tube hermetically sealed. The lead, of course, absorbs the rays, which -otherwise would render the radium extremely dangerous to handle. You -perhaps remember the story—if not, it may possibly be of interest. -Radium, you know, was discovered in 1898 by Monsieur and Madame Curie; -but the action of radium on human tissues was unknown until 1901, when -Professor Becquerel of Paris, having incautiously carried a tube in his -waistcoat pocket, there appeared on the skin within two weeks the severe -inflammation which has become known as the famous 'Becquerel burn.' -Since that time, I may add, active investigation into the action of -radium has been carried on, resulting in the establishment in Paris in -1906 of the Laboratoire Biologique du Radium.” - -The doctor from Selkirk reached out, and, obtaining a smiling -permission, picked up the lead cylinder from the other's hand. The -reporter sucked noisily on the butt of his cigar. - -“And d'ye mean to say that's worth one hundred thousand -dollars?” he demanded helplessly. - -“Fully!” replied the foreigner gravely. “I should consider myself -very fortunate if I had the means and the opportunity of purchasing it -at that price. There are only a few grains there, it is true, and yet -even that is a very appreciable percentage of the world's entire -output for a single year. The Austrian Government, when it bought the -radium-producing pitchblende mines at Joachimsthal, you know, acquired -what is practically a world's monopoly of radium. And since the annual -production of ore from those mines is but about twenty-two thousand -pounds, and that from those twenty-two thousand pounds only something -like forty-six grains of radium are obtained, it is not difficult to -understand the enormous price which it commands.” - -The little lead cylinder passed from hand to hand. It came last to the -Hawk. He examined it with no more and no less interest than had been -displayed by the others, and returned it to its owner, who replaced it -in the black handbag. - -“Look here,” said the reporter impulsively, “I don't want to -nose into personal affairs; but, if it's a fair question, what are you -going to do with the stuff?” - -It was the doctor from Selkirk who spoke before the foreigner had time -to reply. - -“I was being tempted to ask the same question myself,” he said -quickly. “I am a physician—Doctor Moreling is my name—and from -what you have said I imagine that possibly you are a medical man -yourself?” - -“And you are quite right,” the other answered cordially. “I am -Doctor Meunier, and I come from Paris.” - -“What!” exclaimed the Selkirk physician excitedly. “Not Doctor -Meunier, the famous cancer specialist and surgeon of the Salpêtrière -Hospital!” - -The other shrugged his shoulders protestingly. - -“Well,” he smiled, a little embarrassed, “my name is certainly -Meunier, and it is true that I have the honour to be connected with the -institution you have mentioned.” - -The reporter had a notebook in his hand. - -“Gee!” he observed softly. “You don't mind, do you, -Doctor Meunier? This looks like luck to me. I'm on the Evening -Journal—Selkirk.” - -“Ah—a reporter!” The dark eyes seemed to twinkle humorously from -behind the heavy lenses. “I have met some—when I landed in New York. -They were very nice. I liked them very much. Certainly, young man, why -should you not say anything I have told you? You have my permission.” - -“Fine!” cried the reporter enthusiastically. “And now, Doctor -Meunier, if you'll just round out the story by telling us why the -celebrated Paris surgeon is travelling in America with a hundred -thousand dollars' worth of radium, I'll be glad I got panned on the -story I went after this morning and so had to take this train back.” - -“Panned?” inquired the other gravely. - -“Yes.” The reporter nodded. “It blew up, you know.” - -“Blew up! Ah!” The foreigner's face was at once concerned. “So! -You were in an accident, then?” - -“No, no,” laughed the reporter. “There wasn't anything in the -story. It didn't have any foundation.” - -“Again I learn,” observed the foreigner, with an amused drawl. -He studied the reporter for an instant quizzically. “And so I am to -supply the place of the panned story that blew up—is that it? Well, -very well! Why not? I see no reason against it, if it will be of service -to you. Very well, then. I have been summoned to Japan to attend a -case of cancer—radium treatment—and I am on my way there now.” He -smiled again. “I have noticed that American reporters are observant, -and it may occur to you that I might have reached my destination quicker -by way of Russia. As a matter of fact, however, I was in New York -attending a convention when I received the summons. I cabled for the -radium, and—well, young man, that pretty well completes the story.” - -“Yes—thanks!” said the reporter. He wrote rapidly. “Operation on -a Japanese?” - -“Why, yes, of course—on a Japanese.” - -“'Summoned,' you said. That listens as though it might be for one -of the Emperor's family,” prodded the reporter shrewdly. - -“I did not say so,” smiled the other imperturbably. - -“And even if it were so——” He shrugged his shoulders -significantly. - -“I get you!” grinned the reporter. “Well, there's no harm in -saying a 'High Personage' then, is there? That sounds good, and it -would have to be some one on the top of the heap to bring a man like you -all this way.” - -“Let us be discreet, young man, and say—well, let us say, a member -of prominent family,” suggested the other, still smiling. - -“All right,” agreed the reporter. “I won't put anything over -on you, I promise you. And now, doctor, tell us something more about -radium, how it acts and all that, and how an operation is performed with -it, and——” - -The Hawk had apparently lost interest. He settled back in his chair, and -picked up his previously discarded newspaper—yet occasionally his eyes -strayed over the top of his newspaper, and rested meditatively on the -little black handbag on the car floor beside the Frenchman's chair. -The doctor from Selkirk, the reporter, and the French specialist talked -on. The Limited reached the last stop before Selkirk. As the train -pulled out again, the Hawk, as it were, summed up his thoughts. - -“A hundred thousand dollars,” confided the Hawk softly to himself. -“Maybe it wouldn't be easy to sell, but it would make a very nice -haul—a very nice haul. It would tempt—almost anybody. Yes, bad stuff -to handle; the fences would be leery probably, because I guess every -last grain on this little old globe is catalogued as to ownership, and -they'd be afraid it would be an open-and-shut game that what they -were trying to shove would be spotted as the stolen stuff—not that it -couldn't be done though, at that! There's always somebody to take a -chance—on a hundred thousand dollars! And what about the institution -that owns it coming across big and no questions asked to get it back -again? Yes, I guess it would make a nice haul—a very nice haul. I -wonder——” - -The conductor had entered the car, had said something that the Hawk had -not caught—and now the French specialist was on his feet. - -“How long did you say?” he demanded excitedly. - -“I didn't say,” replied the conductor; “I only guessed—twelve -hours anyway, and if we're through under twenty-four it'll be -because some one has performed a miracle.” - -“Twelve hours—twenty-four!” echoed the Frenchman wildly. “But, -mon Dieu, I have not that to spare to catch my steamer for Japan in San -Francisco!” - -“But what's wrong, conductor?” asked the Selkirk doctor. “You -haven't told us that.” - -“The Rainy River bridge is out,” the conductor answered. - -The Rainy River bridge! The Hawk reached into his pocket, withdrew his -cigarette case, and made a critical choice of one of the six identical -cigarettes the case contained. - -“Out! How?” the doctor from Selkirk persisted. - -“No details,” said the conductor; “except that it was blown up -a little while ago and that they think it's the work of the Hawk's -gang. They just got word over the wire at the last stop.” - -“Jumping whiskers!” yelled the reporter. “Is that right, -conductor?” - -“Yes, I guess it's right, fast enough,” said the conductor -grimly. He turned to the Frenchman. “It's tough luck, sir, to miss -transpacific connections; but I guess that's the man you've got to -thank for it—the Hawk.” - -“The Hawk? What is that? Who is the Hawk?” The Frenchman had lost -his poise; he was gesticulating violently now. - -“I'll tell you,” said the reporter briskly. “He's the man -that's got your original reign of terror skinned a mile—believe me! -He's an ex-Sing Sing convict, and he's the head, brains and front -of a gang of criminals operating out here compared with whom, for pure, -first-water deviltry, any one of Satan's picked cohorts would look as -shy and retiring as a maiden lady of sixty who suddenly found herself -in a one-piece bathing suit—in public. That's the Hawk! Yes, -sir—believe me!” - -Doctor Meunier waved his hands, as though to ward off a swarm of buzzing -bees. - -“I do not understand!” he spluttered angrily. “I do not care to -understand! You do not speak English! I understand only of the delay!” -He caught at the conductor's sleeve. “You, monsieur—is there not -something that can be done?” - -“I don't know, sir,” said the conductor. “We'll be in Selkirk -now in a few minutes, and the best thing you can do is to see Mr. -Lanson, the superintendent.” - -The conductor retired. - -The Frenchman sat down in his chair, mopped his face with a -handkerchief, and stared from one to another of his fellow passengers. - -“Messieurs, it is necessary, it is imperative, that I catch the -steamer!” he cried frantically. “What am I to do?” - -“Lanson's a good head; he'll fix you up some way,” said the -reporter soothingly. “Don't you worry. I'm mighty sorry for you, -Doctor Meunier, upon my soul—but, say, this is some story—whale of a -climax!” - -The Frenchman glared for an instant; then, leaning forward, suddenly -shook his fist under the other's nose. - -“Young man, damn your story!” he snarled distractedly. - -The Hawk retired once more behind his newspaper. The reporter was -pacifying the excited Frenchman. The Hawk was not interested in that. -The message, that single word which had puzzled him, was transparently -clear now—and had been from the moment the conductor had spoken. The -surmise of the railroad officials, even if it were no more than surmise -on their part, was indubitably correct—barring the slight detail of -his own participation in the affair! The Wire Devils had blown up the -Rainy River bridge. This, as a detached fact, did not interest him -either—they were quite capable of blowing up a bridge, or anything -else. That was a detail. But they were quite incapable of doing it -without a very good and sufficient reason, and one that promised returns -of a very material nature to themselves. What was the game? Why the -Rainy River bridge? Why this morning? Why at this time? The Rainy River -bridge was but a few miles west of Selkirk, and—the Hawk's -eyes strayed over his newspaper again, and rested mildly upon the -Frenchman's little black handbag, that was quite slim, and not -over long, that was of such a size, in fact, that it might readily be -concealed under one's coat, for instance, without attracting undue -attention—and with the bridge out a passenger, say on the Coast -Limited this noon would experience an annoying, somewhat lengthened, -but unavoidable interruption in his journey. The passenger might even -be forced to spend the night in Selkirk, and very much might happen in -a night—in Selkirk! It was a little elaborate, it seemed as though it -might perhaps have been accomplished with a little less fuss—though -lack of finesse and exceeding cunning was, in his experience, an -unmerited reproach where that unknown brain that planned and plotted -the Wire Devils' acts was concerned; but, however that might be, the -reason that the Rainy River bridge was out now appeared quite obviously -attributable—to a very excited foreigner, and a little black handbag -whose contents were valued at the modest sum of one hundred thousand -dollars. - -“And I wonder,” said the Hawk almost plaintively to himself, “I -wonder which of us will cash in on that!” - -The Hawk rose leisurely from his chair, as the train reached Selkirk. -He permitted the Frenchman, the Selkirk physician and the reporter to -descend to the platform in advance of him; but, as they hurried -through the station and around to the entrance leading upstairs to the -divisional offices, obviously with the superintendent's office as -their objective, the Hawk, in the privileged character of an interested -fellow traveller, fell into step with the reporter. - -The four entered the superintendent's office, and from an unobtrusive -position just inside the door the Hawk listened to the conversation. He -heard Lan-son, the superintendent, confirm the conductor's story, and -express genuine regret at the Frenchman's plight, as he admitted it to -be a practical certainty that the other would miss his connection in -San Francisco. The Frenchman but grew the more excited. He suggested a -special train from the western side of the bridge—they could get him -across in a boat, he said. The superintendent explained that traffic -in the mountains beyond was already demoralised. The Frenchman raved, -begged, pleaded, implored—and suddenly the Hawk sucked in his breath -softly. The Frenchman was backing his appeal for a special with the -offer to pay any sum demanded, and had taken a well-filled pocketbook -from his pocket. The Hawk's eyes aimlessly sought the toes of his -boots. He had caught a glimpse of a fat wad of bills, a very fat wad, -whose denominations were of a large and extremely interesting nature. -The official shook his head. It was not a question of money; nor was the -other's ability to pay in question. Later on, he, Lanson, would -know better what the situation was; meanwhile he suggested that Doctor -Meunier should go to the hotel and wait—that there was nothing else to -do for the moment. The Selkirk physician here intervened, and, agreeing -with the superintendent, offered to escort the Frenchman to the Corona -Hotel. - -The Hawk, as one whose curiosity was satiated, but satiated at the -expense of time he could ill afford, nodded briefly to the reporter who -stood nearest to him, and quietly left the room. - - - - -XII—BLINDMAN'S-BUFF - -FIVE minutes later, standing in another room—his own—the Hawk -rapidly changed the light-grey suit he had been wearing for one of a -darker material. From the pockets of the discarded suit he transferred -to the pockets of the suit he had just put on, amongst other things, his -automatic and his bunch of skeleton keys. He opened his trunk, removed -the false tray, and smiled with a sort of grim complacency as his glance -inventoried its unhallowed contents; and particularly he smiled, as, -opening a little box, he allowed a stream of gleaming stones to trickle -out into the palm of his hand—the twenty thousand dollars' worth of -diamonds robbed from the Fast Mail three nights ago. - -“Some haul!” observed the Hawk softly. “And, with any luck, -there'll be something else there worth the whole outfit put together -before to-night is over.” He replaced the diamonds in the box, the box -in the tray, and spoke again, but now his smile was hard and twisted; -not an article there but he had scooped from under the noses of the -gang. “Yes, I guess I'd go out like you'd snuff a candle if they -ever get me, and I guess they're getting—querulous!” - -The Hawk, however, had not opened the trunk purely for the opportunity -it afforded of inspecting these few mementos, interesting as they might -be. It was an excellent safeguard to change his clothes, but it would -avail him very little if—well, any one, say—were still permitted to -recognise—his face! From the top of the tray, where it lay upon the -packages of banknotes that had once reposed in the paymaster's safe, -the Hawk picked up a mask and slipped it into his pocket. He fitted the -false tray back into the lid of the trunk, closed the trunk, locked it, -put on a wide-brimmed, soft felt hat, locked the door of his room behind -him, descended the narrow staircase, and stepped out on the street. - -His destination was the Corona Hotel, but there was no particular hurry. -Undoubtedly from the moment the Frenchman had left the train some, -or one, of the gang had fastened on the man's trail; but the -companionship of the Selkirk physician guaranteed the Frenchman's -immediate safety. His own plan, as far as it was matured, was very -simple. He meant to “spot” if he could, should that particular -member, or members, of the gang be unknown to him personally, the man, -or men, selected by the Wire Devils to shadow the Frenchman—and then -watch the gang! The Hawk had no intention whatever of making an attempt -on the Frenchman's property with the gang watching him—that would -have been little less than the act of a fool who was bent on suicide! -Since, therefore, he had no choice in the matter, he was quite content -to have the gang take the initiatory risk in relieving the Frenchman of -the handbag! After that—the Hawk's old twisted smile was back on his -lips as he walked along—after that it became his business to see that -the bag did not get very far out of his sight! - -He reached and crossed the city park upon which the Corona Hotel -fronted, entered the hotel, and, sauntering leisurely through the -lobby, approached the desk. He glanced casually over the register; then, -lighting a cigar, he selected a chair near the front windows where he -could command a general view of the lobby, and sat down. - -Doctor Meunier's room was Number 106. - -Once the Hawk's eyes lazily surveyed the lobby; thereafter they -appeared to be intent on what was passing in the street. He was in luck! -The first trick, at least, had gone to him. Lolling in a chair near the -elevator doors, and apparently drowsy from a heavy luncheon, was—the -Bantam. The Hawk smoked on. Half an hour went by. The Bantam appeared to -awaken with a start, smiled sheepishly about him, went over to the news -stand, bought a paper—and returned to his seat. The Hawk finished his -cigar, rose, strolled to the main entrance, and went out. The Bantam -could be safely trusted to see that Doctor Meunier did not vanish into -thin air! He would do the like for the Bantam! He crossed over into the -park. - -The Hawk chose a bench—strategically. Sheltered by a row of trees, he -had the corner upon which the hotel was built diagonally before him, -and could see both the side entrance on the cross street and the front -entrance on the main thoroughfare. - -The Hawk's vigil, however, was not immediately rewarded. An hour -passed—and yet another—and the greater portion of the afternoon. -Five o'clock came. A newsboy passed, crying the Evening Journal. The -Hawk bought one. A headline in heavy type on the front page instantly -caught his eye: ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS IN A LEAD CAPSULE - -And beneath this, still in assertive type: - -Famous French Surgeon en route to Japan with Fortune in Radium Misses -Connections Through Destruction of Railroad Bridge. - -Offers Company Large Sum of Money for Special Train to the Coast. - -“Yes,” observed the Hawk caustically, “and even if I hadn't -known anything about it before, I'd have had a look-in thanks to this! -Sting you, wouldn't it! The papers hand you a come-on—and then they -wonder at crime!” - -The “story” itself ran a column and a half. The Hawk began to -read—or, rather, to divide his attention between the story and the -hotel entrances. The reporter had certainly set out with the intention -of overlooking no detail that could be turned to account. His meeting -and conversation with the Frenchman in the car were breezily set forth; -the member of a “prominent family” in Japan artfully disguised, or, -perhaps better, disclosed no less august a personage than the Emperor -himself; the value of radium, both intrinsically and scientifically, was -interestingly dealt with; and the surgeon's black handbag, with its -priceless contents, was minutely described and featured. - -The Hawk had reached this point, when suddenly the newspaper and the -reporter's version of the story lost interest for him. Doctor Meunier, -gripping his little black handbag tenaciously, had stepped out through -the main entrance of the hotel, and was walking briskly down the street. -A moment later, the Bantam sauntered through the doorway and started in -the same direction, a hundred yards behind the Frenchman. The Hawk, with -a grim smile, folded his paper, stuffed it into his pocket, rose from -the bench, crossed the street, and fell into the procession—a hundred -yards behind the Bantam. - -It was still light, though it was beginning to grow dusk—too light -for any highway thuggery, and yet—the Hawk gradually closed the gap -between himself and the Bantam to half the original distance. - -The chase led on for a half dozen blocks, then turned into one of the -crowded streets of the shopping district, and proceeded in a downtown -direction. And then, abruptly, the Hawk dropped further behind the -Bantam again, and crossed to the opposite sidewalk. It was perhaps -only fancy, but intuitively he felt that he, too, in turn, was being -followed. His hat brim, hiding his face, was pulled a little farther -forward over his eyes, as he hurried now until he was abreast of the -Frenchman. Intuition or not, it was quite possible and even likely that -one of the gang might “cover” the Bantam. - -The Hawk scowled. He could not be sure; and he dared not put it to more -than a casual test, for he could not afford to lose sight of the Bantam. -He paused, took a slip of paper from his pocket, and, as though having -consulted it for an address, appeared to scan the signs and numbers on -the stores in his immediate vicinity. The Frenchman had passed by; the -Bantam was directly opposite to him now across the street. The Hawk's -keen eyes searched the stream of pedestrians behind the Bantam. And -then suddenly he shrugged his shoulders, and returned the paper to his -pocket—a man, in a light suit and brown derby hat, had stepped out -of the crowd, and was leisurely lighting a cigarette in a doorway just -across from where he, the Hawk, stood. - -The Hawk went on, but keeping in the rear of the Bantam now on the -opposite side of the street. He was still not sure; but, in any case, -neither could the man in the brown derby be sure that he, the Hawk, was -following the Bantam. So far then, granted that he was being followed, -it was an even break! - -At the next crossing the Frenchman accosted a policeman, and, as though -he had received directions, at once turned down the cross street. The -Hawk, as he followed, smiled grimly. The cross street automatically -verified the suspicions of the man in the brown derby—if the man in -the brown derby had any suspicions to verify; but, at one and the same -time, it also answered the Hawk's own question. - -The Hawk, in turn, made use of a doorway. He could afford to allow the -Bantam, temporarily, the lead of an extra half block now, for there were -fewer people on the cross street and he would still be able to keep the -other in sight. A minute, two, elapsed—and then the Hawk picked up the -Bantam's trail again. The man in the brown derby hat had passed by the -corner and continued on along the main street. - -And yet still the Hawk was not satisfied. And it was not until after -he had repeated the same manouvre some four or five times, as the -Frenchman, leading, turned into different streets, that he was finally -convinced that neither the man in the brown derby hat, nor any one else, -was interested in his movements. - -The chase, since leaving the main street, had wound its way through the -less populous wholesale district—it ended at the railway station. -The Frenchman passed along the front of the building, and disappeared -through the doorway leading upstairs to the divisional offices, his -object being, it now appeared obvious, to obtain another interview with -the superintendent; the Bantam disappeared inside the main entranceway -of the station, evidently to await the Frenchman's reappearance; and -the Hawk, on the far side of the street, slipped into the lane that had -served him many times as a thoroughfare between the station and his room -over the saloon two blocks away. - -It was growing dark now. A half hour went by. Still the Hawk crouched -in the shadow of the building that bordered the lane. The street lights -went on. The six o'clock whistle blew from the shops over across the -tracks. Either the Frenchman was a visitor not easy to get rid of, or -Lanson was out and the other was awaiting the superintendent's return. -But the Hawk's patience was infinite. - -Another fifteen minutes dragged away; then the office door opened, the -Frenchman emerged, and started back uptown. The Bantam appeared from -the main entranceway, and started after him. The chase was on again. The -Hawk followed. - -The Frenchman, seemingly sticking to rule of thumb and following the -directions he had received on the way down, took exactly the same -route on the way back. But now the neighborhood presented an entirely -different aspect. The wholesale houses were closed; the streets -deserted, dark, and poorly lighted. - -The Hawk hugged the shadows of the buildings craftily on the opposite -side of the street. Was it coming now? Certainly the gang would go -far before finding a more ideal opportunity, and the Bantam, if he had -realised that fact, could easily have sent, or telephoned, a message -from the station. He, the Hawk, had not cared to take the risk of -following the Bantam inside—the Bantam might remember having seen him -in the hotel lobby. - -And then the Hawk's lips thinned. Yes—it was the old, old game! They -were on the cross street, a little less than a block distant from the -main street ahead. The Bantam began to close up on the Frenchman. -The Hawk now, crouching low, slipped almost literally from doorway to -doorway. Two men, apparently drunk and quarrelling, were coming down the -block toward the Frenchman. The Bantam closed to within a few yards of -his quarry. The brawl attained its height as the two men reached the -Frenchman. One man struck the other. They clenched, and, smashing into -the Frenchman knocked him down. His hat flew in one direction, the -handbag in another. The brawlers curiously did not resume their quarrel, -but lounged a few paces away—within call of the Bantam. The Hawk, -squeezed in his doorway directly opposite the scene, kept his eyes on -the Bantam. If the play had lacked originality before, it did not lack -it now! The Bantam stooped, picked up the handbag, and, as he stooped -again for the hat, slipped the handbag under his coat, and slipped -another bag—evidently a carefully prepared duplicate—out from under -his coat and into his hand. The Frenchman was rising dazedly to his -feet. The Bantam stepped hurriedly forward, holding out hat and bag. - -“I hope you're not hurt, sir,” the Hawk heard him say—and then -the two moved on together toward the corner. - -The Hawk shook his shoulders in a queer, almost self-apologetic sort of -way, as he followed again. And then he smiled as queerly. The Bantam had -the bag now, and, if he, the Hawk, were permitted to hazard an opinion, -the Wire Devils had very kindly picked the fruit again for him to eat! - -At the corner, the Bantam shook hands with the Frenchman, and, stepping -out into the street, signalled an approaching car. Quick, alert on the -instant, the Hawk, safe in the protection of the crowded sidewalk, -moved swiftly along in the direction that the car would take, his eyes -searching the street on both sides for a taxicab. The street car passed -him, but stopped at the next corner, and he caught up with it again. And -then, over his shoulder, he saw a taxi coming up behind him. He stepped -from the curb, and stopped it. - -“Sorry, sir,” said the chauffeur. “I'm going after a fare.” - -“You've got one now—and a good one,” said the Hawk quietly. He -had opened the door—a ten-dollar bill lay in the chauffeur's hand. - -“Yes, but look here, sir,” said the chauffeur, a little dubiously, -“I'll get into trouble for this, and——” - -The Hawk had stepped inside, and lowered the window between himself and -the chauffeur. - -“Follow that car,” said the Hawk pleasantly. “And while we're on -the crowded streets don't get so far behind it that you can't close -up near enough to see who gets off every time it stops. And don't -worry about your trouble—there's another ten coming on top of the -regular fare. That's good enough, isn't it?” - -“I guess I'm not kicking!” admitted the chauffeur. The taxi -started forward. He looked back over his shoulder at the Hawk. -“What's the lay? Fly-cop?” - -“Maybe!” said the Hawk. “Mind yourself! It's stopping again. -Keep where I can see both sides of the car.” - -“I get you!” said the chauffeur. “Leave it to me!” - -Block after block was passed, the street car stopping frequently. The -Hawk, in the body of the taxi, knelt behind the chauffeur's back, his -eyes held steadily on the street car ahead. The Bantam did not alight. -The street car began to run out into the suburbs. The taxicab, with -lights out now, risking the city ordinance, dropped back to a more -respectful distance in the rear. The district became less settled, the -houses farther apart; the street lights were single incandescents now, -and these few and far between. There was one passenger left in the -car—the Bantam. - -The chauffeur spoke abruptly. - -“We're pretty near the end of the line,” he said. - -“All right,” the Hawk answered. “Stop when the car stops—keep -about this distance, we're not likely to be noticed.” A moment later -he stepped from the taxi. “Wait for me here!” he directed. - -The Bantam, leaving the street car, had started off at a sharp pace past -the end of the car line. It was little more than a country road now; -only a house here and there. The Bantam, just discernible in the -darkness, had a lead of perhaps a hundred yards, and the Hawk, moving -stealthily, began to creep nearer, and still nearer, until the hundred -yards were fifty—and then suddenly, with a low muttered exclamation, -he threw himself flat on the ground. The Bantam, abreast of a house from -which there showed a light in the side window, had turned in abruptly -from the road. A glow of light spread out as the front door opened. The -Hawk lay motionless. Then the Bantam entered, and the door was closed -again. A little later, a form appeared at the side window, a hand -reached up, and the shade was drawn. - -“Nice respectable neighborhood, too!” observed the Hawk tersely. -“Wonder if it's the lair, and if the Master Spider's in there -now?” - -He was creeping forward now across a small lawn. He neared the side -window; it was open, and the shade lacked a tiny, though inviting, space -of reaching to the sill. A murmur of voices came from within. There was -not a sound from the Hawk. And then, from beneath the window, which was -low and not more than four feet from the ground, he raised himself up -cautiously, and suddenly his dark eyes narrowed. It was not the Master -Spider—it was the Butcher, whose treachery had nearly done for him -that night in the paymaster's office, the man whom he had promised -should one day remember! - -He could hear now, and he could see. It was a sitting room such as -one might find anywhere in a house whose occupants were in comfortable -circumstances. It was cosily and tastefully furnished. It bore no sign -of criminal affiliation; it was, as it were, a sort of alibi in itself. -A telephone stood on the table beside a pile of magazines, the latter -flanked by an ornamental reading lamp; deep leather lounging chairs -added to the inviting and homelike appearance of the room—the -incongruity was in the Butcher's thin, hatchet-like face, and in the -coarse, vicious features of the short, stocky Bantam, as they faced each -other across the table. - -“Where's the others, d'ye say?” demanded the Bantam. - -“Out,” said the Butcher. “The chief called 'em an hour ago. I -don't know what's up. I guess you and I keep house here to-night; -he said you were to stay. Mouser and Jack were to report to Kirschell, -weren't they?” - -“Yes, that's what they said.” - -“Well, all right!” The Butcher shrugged his shoulders. “That's -none of our hunt. I suppose you got it, didn't you—or you wouldn't -be here?” - -“Sure, I got it!” answered the Bantam. “What d'ye think?” - -“Let's have a look,” said the Butcher eagerly. “The chief says -we can cash in on it for fifty thousand.” - -“Fifty thousand!” The Bantam growled, as he unbuttoned his coat, -and, taking out the bag, laid it on the table. “I thought it was worth -a hundred thousand!” - -“So it is.” The Butcher was opening the bag. “But it's no cinch -to turn it into money without a big split—savvy?” - -The Butcher opened the lead box, took out the lead cylinder, and -balanced it speculatively in the palm of his hand. - -The Bantam regarded it distrustfully. - -“It don't look like fifty cents to me!” he commented finally. - -“I know,” said the Butcher facetiously; “but your eyesight's -bum, Bantam! Have any trouble?” - -The Bantam grinned. - -“Not what you'd notice! After the Mouser and Jack smashed into him, -the poor old boob didn't know what had happened till I was handing him -his hat and the other bag. I guess he bumped his bean kind of hard on -the sidewalk.” - -The Butcher nodded approvingly. He was still twisting the lead cylinder -around and around in his hand. - -“Say,” suggested the Bantam impatiently, after a moment, “when -you've done chucking it under the chin, put it to bed somewhere, and -if there's any grub in the house lead me to it. I'm hungry!” - -“All right!” agreed the Butcher. He replaced the lead cylinder -in its box, and the box in the bag, crossed the room, opened a little -cupboard in the wall opposite the window, laid the bag inside, and -closed the cupboard door again. “Come on!” he said. - - - - -XIII—THE MAN WITH THE SCAR - -THE two men left the room. The Hawk did not move. He was fingering in -a curiously absent-minded sort of way the edges of the newspaper that -still protruded from his pocket. It was very simple, very easy. The -window was open, the cupboard was not locked, the room was empty, there -were only the Bantam and the Butcher to look out for, and they were in -another part of the house; he had only to lift aside the window -shade, step in, steal across the room, and steal out again—with a -hundred-thou-sand-dollar prize. It was very inviting. It seemed suddenly -as though it were a pressing invitation to enter that room—and never -leave it alive! - -Flashing quick through the Hawk's brain now was a résumé of the -afternoon, of each separate and individual occurrence since he had left -the train. Had he, after all, been followed? If so—how? Had the Bantam -been warned? He shook his head, as though impatient with himself. Even -apart from that, what he had begun to suspect now would be thoroughly -logical on the part of the gang. The newspaper supplied the key. He -would unquestionably have seen the newspaper that afternoon, and he -would, apart from being spared several aimless hours in the park, have -done exactly as he had done, and just as unquestionably be where he was -now at this precise moment even if he had not been with the Frenchman on -the train. The newspaper placed him in possession of the same facts -that the Wire Devils possessed. They must know that. They were therefore -justified in assuming that he, quite as rabidly as themselves, would -make an attempt to steal the bag. They knew, in that case, that he would -have discovered that they were already at work; and they knew that, on -a dozen occasions before, that had not prevented him from snatching the -prize they had already counted within their grasp. Were they on their -guard now—or a little more than on their guard! Were they offering -him, on the chance or with the knowledge that he was here now, the -opportunity to snatch another prize—and seeing to it that it was for -the last time! - -The Hawk edged back from the window; and, silent as a shadow now, -began to circuit the house. And then suddenly his suspicion became a -certainty. It was only a little thing—a slip—but it was enough. The -Butcher had made a misplay! There was no light in any other window—and -a man did not usually eat in the dark! It was fairly, even painfully, -evident now that the Bantam and the Butcher were in, say, the adjoining -room, waiting for him to enter through that window into their trap. - -But there was still the little black bag—and one hundred thousand -dollars! The Hawk's smile was more ominous than pleasant. There were -other ways apart from a window—and even two men, especially if -they were caught napping, had been known to be quite amenable to the -influence of the muzzle of an automatic! - -The Hawk found the back door entrance, found it locked—and used a -skeleton key. He was perhaps five minutes in opening the door; but in -those five minutes there was no click of lock as the handle turned by -infinitesimal fractions of an inch, no creak of hinge as the door little -by little swung back and was closed again. - -The silence was almost uncanny. It was utter blackness. By feeling out -with his hand he discovered he was in a passageway. He moved along, -guiding himself by the sense of touch against the wall, his weight -balanced and full upon one foot before he lifted the other for the next -step. - -It seemed a passage of interminable length, that led on and on through -blackness and silence. In reality he had come possibly thirty feet, -and had passed one door. And then he began to catch the sound of voices -whispering. The whisperings grew more distinct and became low, guarded -tones, as he moved forward—and now he could distinguish words. He -flattened back against the side of the passage. Opposite to him was an -open door; and within the room, instead of blackness now, was a sort of -murky gloom which was created by a ray of light that seeped in through -a partially open door at the far side of the room. The Hawk's fingers -slipped into his pocket—and slipped his mask over his face. He had his -bearings now. The room from which the light came was the baited trap; -the room immediately in front of him was the room from which the trap -was to be sprung! His hand went to his pocket again, and came out -with his automatic. It was their move now. If, when they finally grew -impatient, they went back into the lighted room, or turned on the light -in the room where they were now waiting, they sprang the trap upon -themselves. - -Came the Bantam's low growl—and the twitching of the Hawk's jaw -muscles. - -“I don't like it, I tell you! Where is he? What's he waiting for? -I know he followed me. You saw him yourself from the front room creeping -across the lawn out there. 'Twouldn't take him all this time to get -in through that window.” - -“Aw, shut up!” snarled the Butcher. “You'd give any one the -creeps!” - -“That's all right,” whispered the Bantam hoarsely; “but I said -from the start it was a fool game not to cover him close on the way -back, and——” - -“Yes—and scare him off!” sneered the Butcher. “There ain't -but one guy that'd pick up that trail—and that's the Hawk. He's -butted in enough, but he's butted in for the last time to-night! The -two of us are aplenty, aren't we? Sure—cover him close on the way -back—and scare him off! D'ye think he's a fool!” - -“No, I don't, curse him!” retorted the Bantam. “And if I'd had -my way, I'd have croaked him in broad daylight with a bullet through -his bean, and finished him for keeps the minute Jack spotted him -following me! Instead of that, Jack never even gets a look at his -mug.” - -“You're some bright guy!” grunted the Butcher. “We'd have -had a hot chance making a dead man tell us where he'd planted those -diamonds off the Fast Mail, not to speak of a few other little trifles -the swine did us out of!” - -“And you think——” - -“You bet, I do!” the Butcher cut in viciously. “He'll talk -to-night to save his life—and then I'll toss you, Bantam, if you -like, to see who bumps him off!” - -The Hawk's fingers played in a curious, caressing motion over the -stock of the automatic in his hand; the twist on his lips grew a little -harder, a little more merciless. - -There was movement in the room now. One of the two, the Bantam -undoubtedly, in growing uneasiness, was moving softly, erratically, up -and down the room. It proved to be the Bantam. - -“Well then, where the blazes is he!” he burst out nervously. - -“Aw, shut up!” snarled the Butcher savagely for the second time. - -The Bantam's shadow, as the man paced up and down, passed the doorway, -repassed, and passed again. - -“I tell you, I don't like it!” he flung out suddenly. -“Something's wrong! If he's outside the house, he can't see, -anyway. I'm going to take a chance, and——” - -There was a click, the light in the passageway went on—then a yell -from the Bantam in the doorway—a lightning spring from the Hawk, as -the other jerked a weapon upward—and the Bantam went down in a heap, -as the Hawk's clubbed weapon caught him on the head. It was quick, -like the winking of an eye. From back in the room, the Butcher sprang -forward for the doorway—and fired—and missed—and the Hawk's -left hand, as they came upon each other, darting out, closed with the -strength of a steel vise on the Butcher's right wrist, and with a -terrific wrench twisted the other's arm halfway around. It was -lighter now in the room—light enough to see. The two forms swayed -strangely—a little apart—the Butcher's body bent over, as though -queerly deformed. Slowly, remorselessly, the Hawk turned the other's -arm in its socket. Sweat sprang to the Butcher's forehead, his face -writhed with pain—and, with a scream of agony, his revolver clattered -to the floor. - -“You're breaking it—for God's sake, let go!” he moaned. - -The Hawk kicked the revolver to the other side of the room. - -“Take the Bantam by the shoulders and drag him into that lighted -room!” The Hawk's tones were flat, unpleasant. “I don't think I -hit him hard enough to take the chance of leaving him there alone!” - -The Butcher obeyed—with the muzzle of the Hawk's automatic pressed -persuasively against the small of his back. He left the Bantam in the -middle of the sitting room floor, and himself accepted a chair—at the -Hawk's invitation. - -“You again—eh, Butcher?” The Hawk's voice had become a drawl. -With his automatic covering the Butcher, he had backed to the cupboard, -opened it, and was feeling inside with his left hand. “My grateful -thanks, and you'll convey my compliments—the Hawk's, you know—to -our friend—the chief.” He had slipped the little black bag under his -arm, and now his hand was back in the cupboard again; he had felt a ball -of heavy cord there. “Sorry I haven't a phony ten-spot with me—my -card, you know—unpardonable breach of etiquette—really!” He smiled -suddenly. The ball of cord was in his hand, as he advanced toward the -Butcher's chair. He set the little black bag down on the table. - -The Butcher seemed to have lost all his characteristic ferocity; the -sharp little ferret eyes rested anywhere but on the Hawk, and on his -face was a sickly grin. - -“Stand up!” commanded the Hawk curtly—he was knotting the end -of the cord into a noose. “Now—your hands behind your back—and -together! Thank you!” He slipped the noose over the Butcher's hands, -and began to wind the cord around the other's wrists. - -The Butcher winced. - -“I'm sorry,” said the Hawk apologetically; “but it's all -I have. The cord is rather thin, and I'm afraid it may cut into -you—not strong enough to allow you any play, you know. And, by the -way, Butcher, I heard the Bantam say that I was spotted on the way -down—I presume he meant on the way down to the station. I'll -be honest and admit I'm disappointed in myself. Would you mind -explaining, Butcher—I was quite convinced there was no one behind -me.” - -“There wasn't!” The Butcher risked a sneer. “Mabbe the French -guy was heard telephoning to the station, and the Bantam passed on the -word. Nobody had to follow behind. All there was to do, knowing where -the Frenchy was going, was to dodge around the blocks ahead, and keep -hidden down the different intersecting streets, and see if the same guy -kept going by the corners after the Bantam.” - -“Thank you, Butcher,” murmured the Hawk gratefully. “That lets me -out a little, doesn't it?” He wound the cord again and again around -the Butcher's wrists, knotted it, shoved the other unceremoniously -back into the chair, and tied the Butcher's legs. - -The Hawk then gave his attention to the Bantam. The Bantam was just -beginning to regain consciousness. The Hawk knelt down, rolled the -man over on his side, and secured him in the same manner as he had the -Butcher. But with the Bantam he went a little farther. He transferred -the Bantam's handkerchief from the Bantam's pocket to the Bantam's -mouth—and tied it there. - -He turned once more to the Butcher. - -“I must apologise again,” he said softly. “I hate to -do this”—he felt for, and obtained, the Butcher's -handkerchief—“but the house is unfortunately close to the road, -and you might inadvertently make yourself heard before I got decently -away.” - -The Butcher's reply was a shrug of the shoulders. - -The Hawk, about to cram the handkerchief into the other's mouth, -paused. - -“Butcher,” said the Hawk, almost plaintively, “if you'll -permit me to deal in mixed metaphors, you appear to have shed your -spots—you're too awfully docile!” - -“You got the goods,” muttered the Butcher sullenly. “What more do -you——” - -He stopped suddenly. His eyes met the Hawk's. The telephone on the -table was ringing. - -The Hawk hesitated. Into the Butcher's eyes, narrowed now, there -seemed to have come a mocking gleam. The telephone rang again. And then -the Hawk reached out abruptly, and took the receiver from the hook. - -“Hello!” he said gruffly. - -“Four X. Who's that?” responded a voice. - -There was something familiar about the voice, but he could not on the -instant place it. The Hawk's mind, even as he answered, was swiftly -cataloguing every member of the gang known to him in an effort to -identify it. - -“The Bantam,” he said. - -“All right,” replied the voice. “Give me the Butcher.” - -“Hold the line,” answered the Hawk. - -He placed his hand over the transmitter. The voice was still eluding -him. He turned, and eyed the Butcher. - -“Four X wants you, Butcher.” All the drawl, all the insouciance was -gone now; his voice was hard with menace, cold as death. “And you're -going to speak to him—but you're going to say what I tell you to -say. But before you begin, I want you to remember the little account -between us that's been hanging over since that night in the -paymaster's office. If you make a break, if you try to frame -me—I'll settle that account here to-night, while you sit in that -chair. If you hesitate on a word, I'll fire—and not through my -pocket, you yellow cur! Understand? Don't kid yourself on this, -Butcher! If I nod my head, say 'yes'—and no more. Now!” - -The Butcher had sunk back in his chair. There was fear in his face; it -was white, and he circled his lips with his tongue. - -Beneath the mask, the Hawk's lips were a straight line. He laid down -his automatic on the table, placed the receiver to his own ear, and held -the transmitter to the Butcher's lips. - -“Go ahead!” ordered the Hawk. “Ask him what he wants.” His -fingers, cupped and pressed over the transmitter, lifted. - -“Hello!” said the Butcher. “What is it?” - -“That you, Butcher? Everything all right?” inquired the voice. - -The Hawk nodded. - -“Yes,” said the Butcher. - -“Well, open up a bit!” complained the voice. “Did you get him, -and——” - -The voice was speaking on. The Hawk's lips had set a little tighter. -He had recognised the voice now. His fingers were pressed over the -transmitter again. - -“Tell him you laid me out cold,” instructed the Hawk; “and that -I haven't regained consciousness, yet. Now!” The voice had ceased -speaking; the Hawk's fingers lifted again. - -“We beaned him,” said the Butcher morosely.. “He's still -asleep.” - -“Good!” chuckled the voice. “I'll be up there by and by, -and——” - -“Tell him to stay where he is, that it will be—safer.” The Hawk -clipped off his words. - -The Butcher delivered the message, the snarl in his voice entirely to -the Hawk's liking. - -“What?” questioned the voice. “I didn't get you.” - -“Repeat!” whispered the Hawk. - -The Butcher repeated. - -“O. K.,” came back the answer. “Yes, I guess you're right. So -long, Butcher.” - -“Say 'good-night,'.rdquo; prompted the Hawk. - -“'Night!” growled the Butcher. - -The Hawk replaced the receiver on the hook, and the instrument on the -table. - -The Butcher's lips were livid. - -The Hawk picked up his automatic and leaned forward, his eyes on a level -with the Butcher's. - -“What's that fellow's moniker, Butcher?” - -The Butcher hesitated. - -The automatic crept forward an inch. - -“Parson Joe.” The Butcher's voice choked with mingled rage and -fear. - -“Parson Joe, eh?” repeated the Hawk ruminatingly. “Was he the chap -who pulled that con game on the Riverdale Bank back in New York State -about six years ago, and afterwards got cornered by the police in Ike -Morrissey's gambling hell, and was caught because he nearly bled to -death, with his wrist half off, trying to get through a broken window -pane? He got four spaces. That him?” - -“If you say so, it must have been!” There was a leer in the -Butcher's voice. - -“Was it?” The automatic touched the Butcher's breast. - -“Yes,” said the Butcher. - -“Thank you!” smiled the Hawk. “Now——!” - -He gagged the Butcher with the handkerchief, tied it securely into -place, stood up, picked up the little black bag, switched off the -electric reading lamp, moved to the window, and drew aside the shade. -“We'll let that account stand open for a little while -longer, Butcher,” he said softly. “Just a little while -longer—good-night!” - -He swung out of the window, dropped to the ground, ran across the lawn, -and gained the road. His mask and automatic were back in his pockets. -His fingers felt and patted the little black bag under his coat. - -“Always play your luck,” whispered the Hawk confidentially to -himself. “It seems to me I saw a little loose change in Doctor -Meunier's pocket-book, and I don't think he's opened the duplicate -bag yet and stirred up a fuss. It isn't much compared with a hundred -thousand, or even fifty, to quote the Butcher, but 'every little bit -added to what you've got——'” He fell to whistling the tune -pleasantly under his breath, as he hurried along the road. - -A minute later he had regained the taxicab. - -“Drop me a block this side of the Corona—and give her all she's -got!” he directed crisply. - -“D'ye get him?” demanded the chauffeur eagerly. - -“My friend,” replied the Hawk gently, as he stepped into the taxi, -“if you'll think it over, you'll come to the conclusion that you -really don't want to know. Take it from me that the less you're wise -about to-night the wiser you will be to-morrow. Now, cut her loose!” - -It had taken a good thirty minutes on the trip up; it took less than -half of that, by a more direct route, for the return journey. At -the corner, a block from the hotel, the Hawk crumpled two generous -bank-notes into the chauffeur's hand, and bade the man good-night. -He traversed the block, entered the hotel lobby, and, ignoring the -elevators, leisurely and nonchalantly ascended the staircase to the -first floor. From the landing he noted the room numbers opposite to -him, and with these as a guide passed on along the corridor to where it -turned at right angles at the corner of the building, and halted before -room No. 106. A light showing above the transom indicated that the -Frenchman was within. He had passed one or two people. No one had paid -any attention to him. Why should they! He glanced up and down. The -corridor, for the moment, was empty. He tried the door gently—it was -locked. His right hand, in his side pocket, closed over his automatic. -He pressed close to the door, knocked gently with his left hand—and -with his left hand reached quickly into his pocket for his mask. - -“Who's there?” the Frenchman called out. - -“Message for you, sir,” the Hawk answered. - -Footsteps crossed the room, the key turned in the lock—and, in a -flash, the Hawk, slipping on his mask, had pushed the door open, closed -it behind him, and the Frenchman was staring into the muzzle of the -automatic. - -“Mon Dieu!” gasped the Frenchman faintly. - -“That's right!” said the Hawk coolly, “Don't speak any louder -than that, or——” He shrugged his shoulders significantly, as he -locked the door. - -The Frenchman, white-faced, was evidently fighting for his nerve. - -“What—what is it?” he stammered. “What is it that you want?” - -It was almost a reassuring smile that flickered on the Hawk's lips, -and his voice did not belie it—it was purely conversational in its -tones. - -“I was reading in the paper this afternoon about the famous Doctor -Meunier. I'm a bit of a scientist myself, in an amateur way, and -I'm particularly interested in radium when there's enough of it -to——” - -“Ah! My radium! That is what you want!” cried out the Frenchman -wildly. The duplicate bag lay on the bed. He ran for it, and snatched -it up. “No! That you shall not have! You come to steal my radium, -you——” - -“You jump at conclusions, doctor,” said the Hawk patiently. “Since -it is already stolen, I——” - -“Stolen!” The Frenchman stared—and then with feverish fingers -opened the bag. He looked inside. The bag dropped to the floor, -his hands went up in the air. “It is empty—empty!” he cried -distractedly. “It is gone—gone! Mon Dieu, my radium is gone! -What shall I do!” His hands were rumpling through his hair like one -demented. “What shall I do—it is gone!” - -“Well,” suggested the Hawk suavely, “I thought perhaps you might -like to buy it back again.” - -“Buy it back! Are you crazy? Am I crazy?” The man appeared to be -beside himself; he flung out his arms in mad gesticulation. “With what -would I buy it back? It is worth a hundred thousands dollars—a half -million francs!” - -“You are excited, Doctor Meunier,” said the Hawk calmly. From where -it bulged under his coat he drew out the black bag. “I said nothing -about a hundred thousand dollars.” - -The Frenchman reached out a shaking hand, pointing at the bag. - -“It is you then, after all, who stole it—eh? The bags—they -are identical! Mon Dieu, what does this mean? I am mad! I do not -understand!” - -There was a chair on each side of the small table near the bed. - -“Sit down!” invited the Hawk, indicating one with the muzzle of his -automatic. The Frenchman sat down with a helpless and abandoned gesture -of despair. The Hawk took the other chair. He opened the bag, opened -the lead box, and laid the lead capsule on the table. “Do you identify -this?” he inquired pleasantly. - -The Frenchman reached for it eagerly. - -The Hawk drew it back. - -“One moment, please, Doctor Meunier!” he murmured. “You recognise -it? You are satisfied that it is your tube of radium?” - -“Yes, yes—mon Dieu! But, yes!” - -“And it is worth, you say, a hundred thousand dollars?” - -“But, yes, I tell you!” cried the Frenchman. “A hundred -thousand—certainly, it is worth that!” - -“Quite so!” said the Hawk placidly. “Therefore, Doctor Meunier, -a comparatively small sum—eh?—you would be willing to pay that—a -sum, I might add, that would be quite within your means.” - -“Quite within my means?” repeated the Frenchman a little dazedly. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk sweetly. “And to be specific, let us -say—whatever is in your pocketbook.” The Frenchman drew back in his -chair. His face blanched. - -“You—you mean to rob me!” he exclaimed hoarsely. - -“I do not see it quite in that light.” The Hawk's voice was -pained. “But we will not discuss the ethics involved—we probably -should not agree. I did not steal your precious capsule from you, and I -am returning it, not, I might say, without having incurred considerable -personal risk in so doing. Perhaps we might better agree if we called -it—a reward.” - -“No!” said the Frenchman desperately. - -The Hawk's automatic tapped the table top with a hint of petulance. - -“And—and what guarantee have I,” the Frenchman burst out, “that -you will give me the tube after you have taken my money?” - -“My word,” said the Hawk evenly. “And—I am waiting, Doctor -Meunier!” - -The Frenchman hesitated, then, with an oath, flung his pocketbook upon -the table. The Hawk opened it, extracted the wad of bills that he had -seen exhibited in the superintendent's office, smiled as he fingered -them, and put them in his pocket. He pushed the lead capsule across the -table—and suddenly, as the other reached for it, the Hawk was on his -feet, his automatic flung forward, his left hand grasping the other's -sleeve. - -They held that way for an instant, eying each other—the Hawk's left -hand slowly pushing back the other's right-hand sleeve. And then -the Hawk's eyes shifted—to a long, jagged, white scar on the bare -forearm just above the wrist. - -“Shall I introduce myself—Parson Joe?” purred the Hawk. - -The other's face was a mottled red—it deepened to purple. - -“No, blast you!” he said between his teeth. “I know you—but -I didn't think you knew me. So you called the turn when the Bantam -followed me—eh?” - -The Hawk shook his head. - -“I never saw you in my life before to-day,” he said grimly; -“and, if it will do you any good to know it, I fell for that radium -plant—until you telephoned the Butcher half an hour ago.” - -“And how did you know me, then?” The other flung the question -fiercely. - -Again the Hawk shook his head. He had no desire that Parson Joe should -know he had been on the Limited that morning—Parson Joe might possess -an inconveniently retentive memory for faces, and he, the Hawk, did not -always wear a mask. - -“Maybe I guessed it, Parson!” he said insolently. “I must -have—it was the only thing that wasn't in the paper! What -encyclopedia did you get that 'Becquerel burn' dope out of? And was -the reporter lying, or how did you work it to get him on the train?” - -Parson Joe was leaning forward over the table, fingering the lead -capsule. He suddenly crushed it with a blow of his fist, twisted it in -two, and hurled the pieces across the floor. - -“We got him up the line on a fake that didn't come off!” he -snarled. - -There was an instant's silence, then the Hawk spoke. - -“Nice, amiable crowd, you are, Parson!” The Hawk's voice was -silken. “I'm just beginning to appreciate you. Let's see! You had -to pull a story that any newspaper would jump at and feature, didn't -you? And you had to have a big enough bait to make sure I'd rise to -it. And you had to account for the celebrated Doctor Meunier's layover -in Selkirk; and, not expecting I'd pick up the trail quite so quickly, -say, not until after the paper had been out a little longer and you -had made another baiting trip or two to Lanson's office, you had to -account for the famous gentleman's enforced stay through the night if -necessary; and it gave a big swing to the story, and let you work your -stunt for the special train that you knew you couldn't get; and -you figured I'd be even more sure to see it in the paper if it was -connected with some pleasant little episode of yours—and so, on -several counts, you blew up the bridge.” - -The man's teeth were clamped together. - -“Yes!” he choked. “And we'd blow a dozen more to get you!” - -“You flatter me!” said the Hawk dryly. “I'm afraid I've put -you to quite a little trouble—for nothing!” - -Sullen, red, furious, Parson Joe's face twitched. - -“You win to-night”—the heavy-lensed spectacles were off, and the -black eyes, the pupils gone, burned on the Hawk—“but you're going -out! As sure as God gave you breath, we'll get you yet, and——” - -“The Butcher told me that, and so did the Cricket—some time -ago,” said the Hawk wearily. “I'm—keep your hands above the -table—I'm sure you mean well!” He was backing toward the door. -“I won't bother to relieve you of your revolver; and I don't think -you'll telephone down to the office. It might be awkward explaining to -the police how Doctor Meunier lost his pocketbook—and got his medical -degree! I shall, however, lock the door on the outside, as I shall -require a minute or two to reach the street, and I cannot very well go -through the hotel corridor with—this”—he jerked his hand toward -his mask. - -The other's hands were above the table, obediently in plain view—but -they were clenching and unclenching now, the knuckles white. - -The Hawk reached behind him, took the key from the lock, listened, -opened the door slightly, and, still facing into the room, still -covering the other with his automatic, reached around the door and -fitted the key into the outside of the lock. - -“When you get out,” said the Hawk, as though it were an -afterthought, “I'm sure the Butcher will be glad to see you—I am -afraid he is not as comfortable as he might be!” - -The black eyes, with a devil's fury in them, had never left the -Hawk's. And now the other lifted one of his clenched hands above his -head. - -“I'd give five years—five years of my life—for a look at your -face!” he whispered hoarsely. - -The Hawk was backing through the door. - -“It's not enough, Parson,” he said softly. “Make it -another—pocketbook.” - - - - -XIV—THE CLUE - -TWO days had passed—two days, and a night. The Hawk's fingers -drummed abstractedly without sound on the table top; his eyes, in a -curiously introspective stare, were fixed on the closely drawn -window shade across the room. From the ill-favoured saloon below his -unpretentious lodgings, there came, muffled, a chorus of voices in -inebriated and discordant song—an over-early evening celebration, for -it was barely seven o'clock. - -The finger tips drummed on. At times, the strong, square chin was -doggedly outthrust; at times, a frown gathered in heavy furrows on -the Hawk's forehead. The net at last was beginning to tighten -ominously—every sign pointed to it. He would be a blind fool indeed -who could not read the warning, and a fool of fools who would not heed -it! - -His eyes strayed from the window, and rested upon the trunk that stood -between the table and the foot of the bed; and his fingers abruptly -ceased their restless movements. Within that trunk, concealed in its -false lid, was the loot, totalling many thousands of dollars, obtained -through his knowledge of the Wire Devils' secret code, which had -enabled him to-turn their elaborately prepared plans on more occasions -than one to his own account. But it was no longer a question of -outwitting them in order to add to that purloined store; it was a -question of outwitting them in order that—in very plain English—he, -the Hawk, might live! - -Nor was it the Wire Devils alone who threatened disaster. There were -other factors; and, even if these factors were less imminent, as it -were, less in a measure to be feared, they were by no means to be -ignored. The police were showing increasing activity. The police -circular, which he had once torn down from the station wall, was now -replaced by another, only with this difference that, where the reward -for the Hawk's capture had then stood at five thousand dollars, it now -stood at ten. Also, last night—quite inadvertently!—while crouched -under the window of the turner's “cubbyhole” at the rear of -the roundhouse, the chosen spot for Lanson's and MacVightie's -confidential conferences, he had overheard a conversation between the -division superintendent and the head of the railroad's detective force -that was certainly not intended for his ears. According to MacVightie, -a man by the name of Birks, the sharpest man in the United States Secret -Service, had been detailed by the Washington authorities to the case. -MacVightie had even taken a generous share of the credit for this move -to himself. Thefts there might be until the country rang with them, -murders might add their quota to the reign of terror, yet all this was -outside the province of the Secret Service. It was, so MacVightie had -said, through MacVightie's insistence that the systematised thefts and -murders were inseparable with the counterfeit notes then flooding the -country that had induced Washington to act. The Hawk and his gang, -according to MacVightie again, were at the bottom of both one and the -other—and counterfeiting was, very pertinently, within the province of -the Secret Service! - -The Hawk permitted a twisted smile to flicker across his lips. -MacVightie, the police in general, and Birks of the Secret Service in -particular, might be classed as complications, even decidedly awkward -complications, but his immediate peril lay, not in that direction, but -from those whose leadership MacVightie so blandly credited to—the -Hawk! - -The smile twisted deeper—into one of grim irony. While MacVightie -placarded the country with circulars offering rewards for the capture -of the Hawk and his gang, the “gang” was moving heaven and earth to -capture the Hawk for its own exclusive purposes—which purposes, in a -word, were an intense desire to recover the proceeds of the robberies -that he, the Hawk, had filched from under the gang's nose, and -thereafter, with such finality as might be afforded by a blackjack, a -knife thrust, or a revolver bullet, to expedite the Hawk's departure -from this vale of tears! - -The Hawk's hand curled suddenly into a clenched fist, and his face -grew set. He was facetious—and he had little enough warrant for -facetiousness! They had already shown their teeth. They had shown the -grim, ugly deadliness of their challenge in the thrust with which they -had opened their attack upon him. He had parried the thrust, it was -true—but there would be another—and another. There was something of -remorseless promise, that would stop at nothing, in the extravagantly -laid plans with which they had just attempted to lure him into the -open and trap him. They had failed, it was true, and he had even scored -against them again—but their cunning, their power, their resources, -their malignity remained unimpaired. They would try again. It was -like two adversaries in a dark room, each conscious of the other's -presence, each striving to place the other, each conscious that the -death of one was life for the other. That was the pith of the situation. - -The Hawk's teeth clamped together. It was quite certain that they -would run him to earth—unless he were first at the same game! An -organisation as widespread as the one against which he had elected to -pit his wits and play a lone hand, an organisation clever enough to have -seized and put to its own use the entire divisional telegraph system of -a railroad, an organisation callous enough to have counted a score of -murders but incidents in its schemes, and, above all, an organisation -guided by an unknown brain that was a master of cunning and unhampered -by scruples, was an antagonist as sinister as it was powerful. For days -now, in the great majority of cases, he, the Hawk, had turned their -plans to his own account, skimmed, as it were, the cream from their -milk—and there could be but one answer. And they had answered—and -in the opening attack they had just launched against him it was obvious -enough that every resource at their command was to be thrown into the -balance to settle scores with him. They might, and did, laugh at -the police, but to have their prizes pocketed and carried off by a -competitor admitted of but one solution—the annihilation of the -competitor! - -The Hawk rose abruptly from his seat, stepped over to the trunk, opened -it, and in an instant had removed the secret tray from the curvature of -the lid. He laid the tray down upon the table; and his fingers, brushing -aside a certain magnificent diamond necklace whose thousand facets -glittered in the light, delved swiftly in amongst pile after pile of -banknotes, and secured a package of papers. - -He pushed the tray to one side, sat down again at the table, removed the -elastic band from the package, and began to examine the papers. It was -not the first time he had done this—he did it again now in a sort -of desperation, and simply because it presented the one possibility at -which he might grasp in the hope of obtaining a clue. There were many -papers here, loose sheets, documents in envelopes, and, careful as -he had been before, there was a chance that he had missed the one -thing—in a sentence, in perhaps only a word, or a pencilled note-on -the back of an envelope—that would save him from disaster now. - -It was the night before last that Parson Joe, with his fake tube of -radium, had headed the gang in the attempt upon his, the Hawk's, life. -The twisted smile returned to the Hawk's lips, as he turned first one -paper and then another over in his hands. He had been fool enough to -imagine that, besides failure, they had left a well-marked and clearly -defined trail behind them—in the shape of that very comfortably, very -cosily furnished house just on the outskirts of the city, where the -Butcher had proposed to play the rôle of spider to his, the Hawk's, -rôle of fly! It had even seemed a childishly simple matter to pick up -such a thread and follow it. A house was neither rented nor furnished -out of thin air. But the next morning the house was closed and deserted. -It had been sublet—furnished. The subtenant, whose name was of no -consequence, since it was of course assumed, had vanished—that was -all. As far as the gang was concerned the house had lost its usefulness, -and, having lost its usefulness, had simply been evacuated, and, -together with the furniture, left to its own resources! - -And it had been the same, on a previous occasion, with Isaac -Kirschell's office. The morning after he, the Hawk, had appropriated -the contents of Kirschell's cash box and had recognised Kirschell -as one of the gang, the suite of rooms in the office building had been -vacant. - -The Hawk withdrew the last paper in the pile from its envelope, and -read it with a sort of miserable realisation that its perusal, like -the others, was foredoomed to futility. It was an alleged mortgage, -spurious, of course, for these were Kirschell's papers that had -been in the cash box, and, in the very nature of things, Kirschell's -business had been only a blind to cover a sort of branch headquarters -for the gang. He read it through, however, doggedly—and for his pains -the printed words in their precise legal phraseology seemed to mock at -him and chuckle with devilishly perverted humour. - -He tossed the document upon the table, and, his face strained, pushed -back his chair, got up, and began to pace the length of the room with -a tread that, in its quick, nervous litheness and its silence, was like -the pacing of a panther in its cage. - -Nothing! And yet there must be something—somewhere! It was his move -now, and there was little time to spare. It had become simply a -question of which of the two, he or the gang, would win this game of -blindman's-buff. It no longer sufficed that he should intercept those -secret code messages in the former haphazard way, for, consistently as -he had haunted the telegraph sounders, he was well enough aware that he -must of necessity have missed many of the messages. He could afford -to miss none of them now. Formerly, a message missed meant but a lost -opportunity to thwart their plans, to add a little more to the contents -of the trunk's false lid; now, since they had shown that they would -stop at nothing to trap him, his life was dependent on having, with -certainty, foreknowledge of their every plan. His defense lay in attack. -He must trace those messages to their source, and trace them quickly -before the Wire Devils should strike again, or leave the field to the -Wire Devils—in other words, quit and run for it! - -“Quit!” It was the first sound the Hawk had made, and it was only -a whisper—but the whisper was gritted out through set teeth. Quit! -He laughed a little, low, with menace, without mirth. It was not an -alternative—it was the sting of a curling whip-lash to spur him on. - -Well? What was he to do then? It was his move—and there was no time to -spare. He approached the table again, and began to rearrange the papers -into a pile, preparatory to replacing them in the tray. It was veritably -a game of blindman's-buff! They knew him through personal contact, but -only as a man who had always been masked; he knew many of them, and knew -them personally—but only in the play-off of their schemes, when he -had, as it were, snatched the plunder from their hands as he made his -own escape, had he ever seen any of them. Well—the question came -again, more insistent, more imperative, more vital—well, his life was -in the balance, what was he to do? Go out again to-night and haunt a -telegraph sounder, trust to—— - -He turned suddenly, the spurious mortgage, and the long envelope that -had contained it, in his hand. The document, for some reason or other, -refused to fit into the envelope as neatly or as readily as it had -previously done. He held the envelope up to the light—and the next -instant, flinging the document down on the table, he had ripped the -envelope apart, and from under the inner flap, where it had undoubtedly -been forced by the document itself and afterwards, as he had handled the -envelope, had obviously worked its way partially out again, he extracted -a small, thin slip of yellow paper. - -And then for a moment the Hawk stood motionless, but into the dark eyes -there leaped a triumphant flash. In his hand was the return portion of a -railroad ticket that read: - -Conmore to Selkirk City. - -He whipped the ticket over to scrutinise the date stamp on the back—it -was that of the day prior to his visit to Kirschell's office. And he -laughed a little again, but there was no bitterness in the laugh now. -The clue that he had sought, the clue that Lanson's men had in vain -patrolled and scoured the division's right of way to obtain, was in -his possession. - -“It fits—like a glove!” muttered the Hawk, with grim complacence. -“Kirschell had the envelope in his pocket, of course, and in putting -his return ticket in his pocket it slipped into the envelope without -his knowing it, got crowded under the flap, and he thought he had lost -it!” The Hawk turned sharply to the table. “Conmore—eh?” He was -working with feverish haste now, replacing the papers in the tray, and -fitting the tray back into the curvature of the trunk lid. “Number -Thirty-Eight, if she's on time, is due at seven-thirty.” He pulled -out his watch. “Seven-twenty! Conmore—eh?” The light was out, -the door locked behind him. “That's twenty-miles east of here, and -between here and Bald Creek.” He was out of the house now, and running -along the lane that gave on the station street. “Yes,” said the Hawk -again, and there was suppressed elation in his voice, “it fits! It -fits—like a glove!” - -The Hawk reached the station, and purchased a ticket; but, as usual, the -ticket did not indicate his destination—it read, not to Conmore, but -to several stations farther along the line. The local pulled in on time. -As it pulled out again, the Hawk, having appropriated the rear seat of -the smoker, lighted, though he inclined little toward that particular -form of tobacco, a cigar. - -His slouch hat was jerked a little forward over his eyes. He settled -back in his seat. Like links in a chain, the keen, alert brain was -welding the events of the days gone by into a concrete whole. The -headquarters of the gang, the heart of the web from which the Wire -Devils operated was, logically, as he had known, as MacVightie had -known, outside the city, where the telegraph line could be tapped -without observation and at will. MacVightie's initial and only attempt -to “ground out” the “tap” had indicated that the wire was -being tampered with between Selkirk and Bald Creek. Conmore was between -Selkirk and Bald Creek. And what interest could Kirschell, a New York -crook, have in a place like Conmore, that was little more than a hamlet? -What, then, had prompted Kirschell's trip to Conmore and return? The -Hawk smiled whimsically. - -It was not proof absolute, but in his own mind it was proof quite -sufficient. Kirschell's visit to Conmore had been a visit to the -headquarters of the gang. Also, material proof apart, he sensed -intuitively that he had struck the right trail. Those messages, keeping -the unknown brain that schemed and plotted each move in instant touch -with every unit of the widespread organisation, making it possible for -them to strike at a moment's warning at any point over a hundred miles -of country, emanated—from Conmore. - -The train stopped at a station, and went on again. The Hawk nursed his -cigar sedulously, and stared out of the window. Twenty minutes went by. -And then the train stopped again—at Conmore. - -The Hawk did not move, save that his eyes rested casually on a passenger -who was making a hurried and belated dash for the door. It was quite -possible that the man was not one of the gang, and equally possible that -the man was—he, the Hawk, did not recognise the other. But he would do -the Wire Devils less than justice to credit them with lack of interest -in passengers for Conmore—or in any occupant of any car who might -have left his seat and found the platform attractive, say, just before -Conmore was reached! If the man was a spy, then—well—the Hawk smiled -at his now burned-to-the-butt cigar—the man would have little to -report! - -The train jerked forward into motion again. The station was on the same -side as the Hawk's seat—the Hawk did not look out of the window, but -he was far from being oblivious to the fact that no platform lights had -shown through the car windows on the opposite side of the aisle. The -speed increased a little, but still the Hawk did not stir. The train -rattled over the east-end siding switch of the Conmore yard. And then -the Hawk rose languidly, tossed his cigar butt into the cuspidor, -brushed a very noticeable quantity of cigar ash from his vest, paused -for a drink at the water-cooler, and, as though, his smoke finished, he -was seeking the clearer atmosphere of a rear car, opened the door, and -stepped out on the platform. - -The Hawk dropped to the right of way from the side of the train opposite -to that of the station, landed as sure-footed as a cat, flung himself -instantly flat down at the edge of the embankment, and lay still. -The local racketed its way past—the red tail-lights winked, and -vanished—and there fell a silence, a drowsy night silence, broken -only by the chirp of insects and the far-distant mutter of the receding -train. The Hawk raised his head, and looked about him. A few hundred -yards away glinted the station semaphore and window lights; the siding -switch light, nearer, showed green like a huge glowing emerald in -the black; there was nothing else. There was no sign of -habitation—nothing—the little hamlet lay hidden in a hollow a mile -away on the station side of the track. - - - - -XV—THE LADYBIRD - -THE Hawk rose, and began to move forward. Conmore was certainly an -idealistic spot—from the Wire Devils' standpoint! He frowned a -little. There was no doubt in his mind but that in a general way he had -solved the problem, that somewhere in this vicinity the right of -way held the wire tappers' secret; but, as he was well aware, his -difficulties were far from at an end, and that particular spot might -be anywhere within several miles of Conmore, and it might, with equal -reason, be east or west of the station. And then the Hawk shrugged his -shoulders. The night was early yet, early enough to enable him to cover -several miles of track on both sides of the station, if necessary, -before daylight came. If he had luck with him, he was on the right -side now; if not, then, by midnight, he would start in on the other. It -required the exercise of a little philosophical patience, nothing more. - -It was black along the track—a black night, no moon, no stars. And it -was silent. A half hour passed. Like a shadow, and as silent as one, the -Hawk moved forward—from telegraph pole to telegraph pole. A pin point -of light showed far down the right of way, grew larger, brighter, more -luminous—and the Hawk-sought refuge, crouched beneath a culvert, as -a big ten-wheeler and its string of coaches, trucks beating at the -fishplates, quick like the tattoo of a snare drum, roared by over his -head. - -Still another half hour passed. It was slow work. He was perhaps, at -most, a mile and a half from the Conmore station. And then, suddenly, -the Hawk dropped to his hands and knees and crawled down the embankment, -and lay flat and motionless in the grass—faint, almost inaudible, a -footstep had crunched on the gravel of the roadbed ahead of him. The -Hawk's only movement now was the tightening of his fingers around the -stock of his automatic, as, out of the blackness, a blacker shape loomed -up, and a man sauntered by along the track. - -The Hawk's lips compressed into a grim smile. His caution had not been -exaggerated! The Wire Devils' guard! Luck, at least initial luck, was -with him, then! The “tap” was here east of the station, and at the -next pole probably. But it was more than likely that there was another -guard patrolling on the other side. They would certainly take no -chances, either of surprise, or of being unable to dismantle their -apparatus instantly at the first alarm—and it would almost necessarily -require more than one man for that. He crept forward again, and again -lay still. The man on the track returned—passed by—and, close to the -telegraph pole now, two blurred shapes showed; and then, low, there came -voices, and a laugh. - -But now the Hawk was wriggling swiftly away from the track. There was -no longer any need to examine the telegraph poles—the sense of touch -guiding him, he was following an insulated wire, two wires, that lay -along the ground, and, following these wires, he reached the barbed-wire -fence that enclosed the right of way, worked his way through, and here -paused. The wires had apparently disappeared abruptly into the ground. - -For perhaps a minute the Hawk lay still, save that his fingers worked -and dug at loose earth; and then, his coat extended on either side of -him, he raised himself an inch or two from the ground, and, beneath his -body, his tiny flashlight glowed for a brief instant, and was restored -to his pocket. - -The Hawk began to crawl forward again. He was on the edge of a ploughed -field—a piece of farm land. It was all very simple, and it was very -clear now. In the loose earth there was embedded a small, rough, wooden -box. In this receptacle was a junction box, and from the junction box, -through holes bored in the outer wooden casing, the wires continued -on into a small, flexible conduit. The Hawk smiled grimly. Lanson, and -Lanson's section men might search a thousand years and never solve -the problem. The Wire Devils were not limited to any one single or -particular telegraph pole. They were limited only in the radius of their -operations by the length of the “tap” wires they used. They had only -to tap the line, run their “tap” back, brush the loose earth away -from the top of the wooden casing, open the latter, connect with -the junction box, and their “tap” became an integral part of the -railroad's telegraph system. It was very simple! When they were not -operating—they reversed the process. They disconnected from the main -line, coiled their “tap” wires up, hid them in the wooden casing, -restored the loose earth over the latter's surface, and, save for -one of those thousands of splices on the main line incident to years -of service and differing in no way from any of its fellows, no sign or -vestige of their work remained. It required, of course, a lineman's -outfit and the necessary appliances for work at the top of the telegraph -pole—but that the Wire Devils were adequately equipped in this respect -was so obvious as to make any consideration of that detail absurd. For -the rest, the little conduit laid in a ploughed furrow with the earth -spread back over it completed in perfection and simplicity the unholy -little scheme! - -On the Hawk crawled across the field. All this premised a house, a farm -house probably, in the immediate vicinity. The ploughed field must, -of course, never be disturbed, therefore the tenancy of the land -axiomatically was for the moment vested in the Wire Devils, and——ah! -The Hawk, far enough from the railroad now to be secure from -observation, had risen from his hands and knees, and, in a crouched -position, was moving forward more rapidly. A small, wooded tract of -land was showing a little way in front of him; the house undoubtedly was -there. - -He gained the trees, made his way through what appeared to be an open -grove of pines, and, on the other side, at the edge of the clearing, -halted, and listened intently. He could just make out a little group of -buildings—the house itself, a barn, and one or two smaller structures, -probably wagon and implement sheds. No light showed from anywhere, -nor was there any sound. Cautiously, silently, the Hawk crossed the -clearing, and began to circuit the house. It was a little strange! The -place seemed absolutely deserted. Had he made a mistake? Naturally, he -could not follow the direction of the buried conduit! Was there another -house in the neighbourhood? He shook his head. There might be another -house, many of them for that matter, but the ploughed field, from its -location, surely belonged to this one. And yet—he halted once more, -and, listening again intently, looked sharply about him. - -He was around on the other side of the house now, and now his eyes were -fixed on one of the lower windows. It was not the window of a lighted -room, yet still a faint glow seemed to emanate most curiously from it. -He crept toward it, crouched beneath it, listened again, then partially -straightening up—the window sill was but breast high—peered in. -Of the room itself he could see nothing—only the dull glow of light, -extremely faint, that came, he now discovered, from an open door across -the room. He tried the window; and then, finding the catch unfastened, -with a deft pressure of his fingers upon the sash, he began to raise it -slowly, silently. - -And now into the Hawk's dark eyes there leaped for the second time -that night a triumphant flash. Yes, beyond doubt, beyond question, -beyond cavil, here was the heart of the spider's web at last! Muffled, -low, indistinct, barely audible, but equally unmistakable, there came -the clicking of a telegraph instrument. - -The Hawk drew his mask from his pocket, slipped it over his face, swung -noiselessly over the window sill, and began to creep across the room -toward the opened door and the glow of light. And, as the clicking of -the sounder grew more distinct and there mingled with it now a murmur of -voices, the Hawk's lips compressed into a thin, straight line. If he -were caught, if a single inadvertent sound betrayed his presence; it -needed no effort of the imagination to picture what would follow. Death, -if it were sudden, would be a very merciful ending—but it would not -be death, if the Wire Devils could prevent it, until they had exhausted -every means, torture ingenious and devilish, for instance, to extort -from him the whereabouts of the plunder taken from them, and which they -knew to be in his possession. He knew much now, he knew their lair at -last, and for a moment, as these thoughts flashed across his mind, he -was prompted to retreat again while he had the chance. An inner voice -called him a fool to persist; another bade him go on. But the latter -voice was right. He knew much—but he did not know enough. - -If his life was in peril in the one sense, it was equally in peril in -the other. He did not know enough. Who, for instance, was the master -brain behind the organisation? Where and how, for instance, was the next -trap they would set for him to be laid? - -Brief snatches of conversation now began to reach the Hawk, as he drew -nearer to the door: - -“... Twenty-five thousand dollars... Traders' National Bank... -superintendent's car... dummy package... counterfeit seals... that's -all right, but MacVightie says the Secret Service is sending a man by -the name of Birks out here....” - -And then a voice at which the Hawk involuntarily held his breath, and to -which, at the door now, he listened in a sort of stunned incredulity, -as though he were indeed the sport of his own ears. It was a very quiet -voice, very soft, a velvet voice, a voice whose tones were cultured -tones—and whose language was the language of a pirate of the Spanish -Main. - -“Time enough to attend to this Birks personage—what I want is the -Hawk!” came in limpid tones. “And if I were not tied down here in -this damned and double-damned wheel chair, I would have twisted his -throat for him long ago. I furnish brains—and I am cursed with a -miserable, crawling mob of gnats upon whom they are wasted! That's -it—gnats! Gnats—insects—moths—anything that, if shown the light, -knows nothing but to singe its own wings!” The voice was not raised; -it was like a mother's, like a woman's voice, talking plaintively -to a spoiled child—but there was something absolutely deadly in its -inflection. - -“The Ladybird!” The Hawk's lips framed the words without sound, -and in a sort of numbed hesitant way. “I—I thought he was dead.” - -The telegraph sounder kept on spluttering at intervals, but it was only -stray stuff, routine railroad business, going over the wires. The Hawk, -flat on the floor and at one side of the jamb now, stared through the -doorway. It was the doorway leading to the cellar. The stairs, halfway -down, turned abruptly at right angles. The Hawk was rewarded with a view -of the stone foundation wall of the house, nothing more. But for the -moment the Hawk was lost to his immediate surroundings. The Hawk's -criminal acquaintanceship was wide, varied and intimate, and his mind -was still not entirely recovered from the startled amazement which the -recognition of that voice had brought him. He was quite fully conversant -with the Ladybird's record—only he had thought the Ladybird dead! - -The Ladybird was not an ordinary criminal; instead of having spent -twenty years in Sing Sing, as was very justly his due, the police had -spent those twenty years in trying to put him there—and the Ladybird -was still to know the restrictions of a cage! Clever, fearless, cunning, -Napoleonic in the scope and breadth of his operations, the biggest -scoops on the blotters of the New York police, and, higher up, on -the Federal records, were laid to the Ladybird's door; but always, -somewhere, the thread of evidence broke—sometimes not till the door -itself was reached—but always it broke; the thread had never crossed -the threshold. The man himself was highly educated, a man now well on -toward fifty. In the underworld there were a thousand different stories -of his early life—that he had been a professor of science in a great -university; that he came of a rich family high up in the social scale; -that he had been, in fact, everything that the spice of imagination -could supply to enhance the glamour that surrounded him in the sordid -empire of Crimeland, where so many were his followers and worshippers. -But here, too, the thread was broken. None knew who he had been; -none knew where he had come from. They knew him only as one who was -invulnerable against the attacks and efforts of the police, as a peer -of their own unholy realm, as one whose name was a name to conjure -with—for in the name, the “moniker” they themselves had given the -Ladybird on account of his effeminate voice and manner, derision was -neither intended nor implied. There were limits and bounds to even the -underworld's temerity, and none knew better than the underworld the -sinister incongruity of those effeminate characteristics. Where another -might bellow and roar his rage, and threaten, the Ladybird lisped his -words—and struck. - -But he, the Hawk, had thought the Ladybird dead! The man had been badly -hurt a year ago in a railroad accident somewhere in the East, and the -report had spread, and had been credited even in the inner circles of -the underworld, that he was dead. The Hawk's lips twisted grimly. The -Ladybird had seen to it evidently that the report was not denied! And -so, instead, the man was a cripple now, weaving his plots, and scheming -with that black, cunning brain of his from a wheel chair! Well, he—— - -The Hawk reached quickly into his pocket for pencil and paper—there -would be just light enough to enable him to see. The sounder was -rattling a brisk, tattoo, but it was no longer stray stuff. The message, -in quick, sure “sending,” was coming in the Wire Devils' secret -code. Letter by letter the Hawk jotted it down: - -“pikxtfbmez byqetbqfsl kgqmbokufec srfijojeremb sthfgsbk bnfebvwq -jduuvsfpq xwfsnlipb ouflmnfsbg jeborr ettjupuj ohllsppn.” - -The sounder ceased abruptly. There was silence. The Hawk replaced pencil -and paper in his pocket. The minutes passed—the message was evidently -being decoded. Then the Ladybird's voice: - -“Very well! Code a message to Number One, and tell him Number Seven -has completed his work. Tell him again to take no chances by hurrying -things; that he is to wait until they are asleep. And warn him again -that under no circumstances is our hand to show in this to-night.” - -A slight confusion followed from below—the scuf-, fling of feet, the -murmur of voices mingling with curious, indefinable metallic sounds. And -then suddenly the Ladybird's voice again: - -“No—never mind that message! Damn my cursed, useless legs!” A -flow of unbridled oaths followed—the sacrilege the more horrible, the -menace the more ghastly for the languid, conversational tones in which -the blasphemy rolled so smoothly from the man's lips. “I'll trust -to no message tonight! Curse my legs! If I could only get there myself! -Failure! Failure! Failure! Gnats! But I will not have my plans ruined -to-night by any fool! Here, you, Dixer! Where's Dixer?” - -“I'm here,” a voice answered. - -“Listen, them!” murmured the Ladybird. “You haven't got any -more brains than any of the rest of them, but you're so cautious you -wouldn't take a chance on swapping a Mexican dollar for a gold eagle -unless you had a bottle of acid in your pocket—for fear the eagle was -bad! I want caution tonight, and I want orders obeyed to the letter, and -that's all I want. You take the runabout and go down there. You've -lots of time. Tell Number One you're in charge. I'll wire him to -that effect. And now pay attention to me so you won't have ignorance -for an excuse! It's time the police and the rags they call newspapers -around here had a little something to divert their attention—from us. -They're getting to be pests, and I want a lull in which to devote a -little more attention to—the Hawk. It's about time they understood -we are modest enough not to hog all the lime-light!” He laughed -a little, a low, modulated, dulcet laugh, that rippled like a -woman's—but in the ripple there was something that was akin to a -shudder. “Twice in the last month, the Traders' National has made -remittances to its banking correspondent at Elkhead for the mine country -pay rolls and on account of general business. They did it very neatly, -they fooled us completely—because the remittances were only piker -amounts, and because it was only a question of letting them get fed up -enough with their own cleverness to pull a good one! They're pulling -a good one to-night!” The Ladybird's laugh rippled out again. -“To outwit us, and paying us the compliment of not daring to trust to -ordinary means of shipment, they've had a little arrangement in force -with Lanson, the division superintendent. It was very simple. Lanson, -in his car, making a trip over the division, could never interest -us—certainly not! Why should it? Only they did not count on Number -Eleven inside the bank. Very well! They wrapped their banknotes up in -small packages, sealed them with the bank's seal, wrapped these small -packages up again into an innocent looking parcel without a seal, and -handed it over to a trusted young employé by the name of Meridan—Paul -Meridan. On both the former occasions, Meridan left the bank at the -usual closing hour, took the parcel with him, and went home; but, -later on, in the evening, he slipped down to the railroad yard, boarded -Lanson's private car, locked the parcel up in a small cupboard at the -bottom of the bookcase with which the main compartment of the car is -equipped, smoked a cigar with Lanson, turned in, the car was coupled to -the night express, and in the morning Meridan delivered his package in -Elkhead. - -“That was the way it was done before, Dixer”—the Ladybird's -voice, if anything, grew softer—“and that's the way it is being -done this time—only there are more little sealed packages in the -parcel to-night. And to-night Meridan will sneak out of his home again, -and go down to the private car with the money as usual. Your way, yours -and the Butcher's, and that of the rest of you, would be to lay a -blackjack over Meridan's head on the way to the railroad yard, and -snatch the parcel. It's not my way. It's too hot, as it is, around -here now, and there's got to be a big enough noise made to attract -attention to the other side of the fence and give us a breathing spell. -Paul Meridan stands for this to-night. There's nothing new about one -of those ubiquitous 'trusted employés' going wrong, but everybody -sucks in their breaths just the same every time it happens, and the -splash is always just as big. Understand? Number One has got a dummy -package identical in appearance with Meridan's—each of the small -packages is sealed with the bank's seal in dark-green wax, and the -whole is wrapped up with the bank's special wrapping paper and tied -precisely as is the one Meridan has in his possession. Number Eleven -did his work well. There was, of course, no opportunity to effect the -exchange in the bank itself, and the dummy parcel had to be made up -outside, but there was no difficulty in carrying away enough wrapping -paper and wax for the purpose—and, as far as the seal was concerned, -it was you, Dixer, who engraved it a week ago, wasn't it?” - -“Yes,” said Dixer. “You took me off the new twenty-spot plate for -that.” - -“Exactly!” lisped the Ladybird. “Well, though this exchange could -not be effected in the bank, there was no great ingenuity required to -get Meridan to handle, perhaps only to lift, say, a pile of the bank's -wrapping paper from one position on a table or desk to another. If -the under sheet happened to be slightly smeared, and so left a not too -evident, but still well-defined finger print, it was, I am afraid, our -friend Meridan's great misfortune! That was one of the sheets Number -Eleven took away with him. Very good! Meridan delivers his package to -his bank's correspondent in Elkhead to-morrow morning. When the seals -are broken, the little packages are found to contain—piles of blotting -paper, neatly and carefully cut to the size of banknotes! There could -be no reason for suspecting Meridan, the trusted employé—no one -would think of such a thing. He had simply been the victim of a clever -substitution. He was entirely blameless. Naturally! That would be the -way Meridan would reason, and that would be the way they would figure he -had reasoned when they read the letter from 'a friend' that we are -sending to-night, and which they will receive in the morning. Meridan -did have an ample opportunity to effect the substitution himself. The -letter simply suggests a close inspection of the wrappers for finger -prints, and directs attention to Apartment B, on the ground floor of The -Linden—a rather fashionable abode for a young and newly married bank -clerk—where there might possibly be found certain articles such as, -say, a counterfeit of the bank's seal, a quantity of the bank's -special dark-green wax, and some superfluous sheets of the bank's -particular wrapping paper!” - -There was utter silence from the cellar below for an instant, then there -came a callous guffaw. - -“Some plant, all right!” applauded a voice hoarsely. “And it was -twenty-five thousand dollars, you said, wasn't it, chief?” - -Again that rippling laugh, soft, low and silvery. - -“Twenty-five thousand dollars is correct,” corroborated the -Ladybird. “And now, Dixer, if you fail, you'll talk to me—you've -seen all the cards. Number One has a duplicate key to the private car, -and a duplicate key to the bookcase cupboard. Don't enter the car -until you are sure Meridan, Lanson and the porter are asleep. I want -caution—and I will settle with the man until he will wish he had never -been born who lets our hand show in this tonight. The car won't be -moved from the siding until the Eastern Express is made up at midnight, -but don't touch the car while it is on the siding at all if it means -taking any chances; in that case you and Number One can get berths in -the Pullman, and, with the private car right behind you, you can then -make the exchange sometime during the night. You'll find Number One -and the rest of them in the old freight shed near the roundhouse, and, -with the private car right behind you, you can then make the exchange -sometime during the night. You'll find Number One and the rest of them -in the old freight shed near the roundhouse, and——” - -The Hawk was wriggling silently back across the floor. There was no -scheme on foot to-night that was aimed at him; there was, instead, -twenty-five thousand dollars—in cash. He gained the window, and swung -to the sill. Footsteps, hurried, sounded from the direction of the -cellar stairs. The Hawk dropped to the ground, stole noiselessly around -the rear of the house, and reached the shelter of the grove of trees. -Here, he paused, slipped his mask into his pocket, and, for a moment, -a look of puzzled hesitation was in his face; then, running again, -but making a wide detour to avoid the guarded section of the track, he -headed for a point that would intercept the right of way quite close to -the Conmore station. And, as he ran, he jerked his watch and flashlight -from his pockets. It was a quarter past nine. It was early yet, very -early, and they certainly would not make any attempt on the car much -before midnight, but, for all that, the Hawk, who was intimately -conversant with the train schedules, shook his head impatiently, as he -sped along—there were twenty miles between himself and Selkirk, and -the quickest, as indeed the only way to get there, since, unlike Dixer, -he was not possessed of a runabout, was slow at best. There were no -westbound passenger trains scheduling Conmore for two hours or more, -and he would scarcely have dared to risk boarding one at the station if -there had been—there remained, then, not by choice, but by necessity, -the way freight. The way freight “made” Conmore at about ten -o'clock, and Selkirk at about eleven-thirty. - -It would serve admirably, of course, if——He shook his head again, -and then laughed shortly. There were no “ifs”—he would be a -passenger on the way freight. - - - - -XVI—AN EVEN BREAK - -IT took the Hawk some twenty-five minutes to reach the spot he had -selected as his objective, a spot some fifty yards east of the Conmore -siding switch, and here he lay down in the grass under the shelter of -the embankment. It was very quiet, very still, very dark; there was -nothing in sight save the winking station lights in the distance, and -the siding switch light nearer at hand. - -“Twenty-five thousand dollars!” said the Hawk very softly to -himself. He rolled the words like some sweet morsel on his tongue. -“Twenty-five thousand dollars—in cash!” - -The Hawk spread out one side of his coat, and under its protection, in -a diminutive but steady little glow of light, the tiny flashlight played -its ray upon the sheet of paper across which he had scrawled the Wire -Devils' code message. - -“Key letter—x. One-two-three—stroke at four,” muttered the -Hawk—and in parallel columns set down the letters of the alphabet, one -column transposed. - -It took the Hawk much longer to decode the message than it had taken -those in the house to perform the same task. The Hawk was working under -difficulties. A stone, none too flat, served to rest his paper upon, and -he had only two hands with which to manipulate pencil, flashlight and -coat. At the expiration of perhaps half an hour the result of his work -looked like this: - - - -0242 - -And then the Hawk looked up—the throb and mutter of a distant train -was in the air. Pencil, paper and flashlight were restored to his -pockets, and he drew further back from the right of way. Far down the -track the way freight's headlight flashed into view. A minute passed, -another, and still another. And now, where the Hawk had lain, the ground -was ablaze with light—then black again; there was the roar of steam, -a grind and clash and shatter ricochetting down the string of cars, the -scream and shriek of brake-shoes, and then, a panting thing, as though -the big mogul were drawing in deep breaths after great exertion, the way -freight came to a standstill a few yards from the siding switch. - -The Hawk crept forward, his eyes sweeping down the length of the train -in a keen, tense gaze. There was a flat car—it showed in a curious -open space, like a break in the black thread stretched along the -track—but it was too far away, and too perilously close to the -caboose. His eyes travelled back; and, being nearer to the train now -he discerned a boxcar, empty, its door open, almost in front of him. He -crawled forward until he was abreast of it, and until he lay close -up against the rails, looked cautiously up and down the length of the -train, sprang to his feet, and in an instant lay stretched out far back -in the interior of the car. - -The train moved forward, stopped again at the station, and again moved -forward. The Hawk reverted to his pencil, paper and flashlight. The code -message now read: - -seal waxp aper plan tedb ehin dlar gefr amed pict ureo verm ante lmer -idan ssit ting room - -It was now simply a matter of grouping the letters properly, and the -Hawk wrote out the message at the bottom of the sheet: - -Seal, wax (and) paper planted behind large framed picture over mantel -Meridan('.s sitting room. - -The Hawk stared at it grimly. - -“'Yea,” said the Hawk, “I guess that's right! I guess the job -is wished on the young fellow to a finish; he wouldn't have a hope, -and MacVightie would never look any further.” The Hawk was silent for -a moment. “Twenty-five thousand dollars—in cash!” murmured the -Hawk again. - -The way freight ran slowly, very slowly—and it had already been from -ten to fifteen minutes late in reaching Conmore. At the next station -the train crew seemed possessed of a perversity infernal for shifting, -shunting and lifting cars. The Hawk, fuming with impatience, consulted -his watch, as they finally pulled out into the clear again. It was -twenty-five minutes of eleven. - -The train rattled, bumped and jerked its way along—and at the -remaining intermediate stations there was more delay. And when, -approaching Selkirk at last, the Hawk consulted his watch again as the -train whistled, he was conscious that his impatience was tempered with -a sort of sullen, philosophical expectation of defeat. His luck had -been too abundant during the early part of the evening! It was now ten -minutes of twelve. He leaned out of the doorway, peering ahead. They -were just rolling into the Selkirk yard. - -The Hawk swung himself out from the car, dropped to the ground, darted -quickly to one side over several spur tracks, and stood still. The way -freight, like a snail, dragged past him, opening, as it were, a panorama -of the scene in the yard: the low switch lights, red, green, purple and -white, like myriad and variegated fireflies hovering everywhere over -the ground; the bobbing lantern of a yardman here and there; the dancing -gleam of a headlight, as the little yard engine shot fussily away from a -string of lighted coaches—the Eastern Express—which it had evidently -just made up and backed down on the main line beside the station; while -to his right, up the yard, on one of the spurs, perhaps a hundred yards -away, its platform showing in the glow of the dome light, stood the -superintendent's car; and to his left, not quite so far up the yard, -and therefore nearer to him than the private car, the Hawk could make -out the black, irregular outline of the old freight shed. - -The yard engine wheezed its way importantly up past the station, -stopped, a switch light winked, changed colour, and the shunter began to -puff its way back. The Hawk shrugged his shoulders resignedly. The game -was up and he was too late, unless Dixer had been forced to defer his -attempt until some time during the run that night, which was -hardly likely. The yard engine was backing down now to take the -superintendent's car up to the main line, preparatory to running -it back and coupling it to the string of coaches beside the station -platform. The Hawk smiled in the darkness without mirth, as he lost -sight of the little switcher on the other side of the private car. Well, -at least, he could gamble on the one chance that was left! There was -only one thing to do—go over to the station and get a Pullman berth. -If Dixer and the Butcher—the Butcher was “Number One”—were on -the Pullman, the money was still in the private car, and—— - -The Hawk's eyes narrowed suddenly. A man, crouched and running -swiftly, circled the end of the private car, and headed in the direction -of the freight shed—and like a flash the Hawk whirled and leaped -forward, running silently toward the same goal. The Hawk's brain, -stimulated, keen, alert, worked with lightning speed, and suddenly a -strange low laugh was on his lips. Their courses were convergent, his -and that black running shape's, and the other had not noticed him, and -there appeared to be something, a package, under the other's arm. -The Hawk, as he ran, slipped his mask over his face. Was it the dummy -package—or the twenty-five thousand in cash? Had the man succeeded, -or had the yard engine, backing down to couple on, disturbed him in his -attempt just at the psychological instant? Again that strange low laugh, -in a panting breath, was on the Hawk's lips. It did not matter! There -was a way now. He was not too late. If he got both of the packages -he could not lose—and there was a way to accomplish that, a wild, -dare-devil way, but a sure way! - -It was black, pitch black, in near the shed, and the Hawk, with -the shorter distance to cover, reached the edge of the freight shed -platform, and crouched down on the track. Came the faint crash and bump -of the yard engine coupling to the private car; then the short, quick -gasps of a runner out of breath, and a flying form bounded across -the tracks, sprang to the platform, and dashed for the freight shed -door—and the Hawk, his muscles, rigid, taut as steel, released -suddenly, as a coiled spring is released, leaped and hurled himself upon -the other. - -There was a yell of dismay, of surprise and fury, that seemed to echo -from one end of the yard to the other. The man went down in a heap -from the impact. The package, from under his arm, rolled off along the -platform—and the Hawk in a swoop was upon it. He snatched it up, and -running like a deer now, headed for the yard engine and the private car. - -Came another yell from behind him. He heard the freight shed door flung -violently open; and then, in grim emphasis of a sudden chorus of wild, -infuriated shouts from Dixer's waiting companions, the vicious -tongue flame of a revolver split the black, and the roar of the report -reverberated through the yard like a cannon shot. - -And now from the yard itself, the roundhouse and the station came -answering shouts. On the Hawk ran—he was alongside the private car -now, which was already in motion—and now he was opposite the cab of -the yard engine. The fireman, at the sudden pandemonium, head thrust -out, was hanging in the gangway. The Hawk's automatic swung to a line -with the other's head. - -“Get out!” gritted the Hawk coldly. “Both of you—you and your -mate! Get out—on the other side!” - -The man, with a dazed oath, retreated, and the Hawk sprang through the -gangway. The engineer, jumping from his seat, hesitated, and in the -yellow light of the cab lamp looked for the fraction of a second into -the muzzle of the Hawk's automatic, and into the hard, uncompromising -black eyes behind the mask—and followed the fireman in a hasty exit -through the opposite gangway. - -The Hawk snatched at the throttle, pulled it wider—and, like a beast -stung to sudden madness under the spur, the yard engine quivered, and in -a storm of exhausts, coughing the red sparks skyward from the stack, the -drivers racing, spitting fire as they sought to bite and hold the -steel, plunged forward. Ahead the way was clear to the main line, but -behind——The Hawk dropped his package on the floor of the cab, -leaned suddenly far out through the gangway, and as suddenly fired, his -automatic cutting a lane of flame through the darkness. He had fired -at the ground, but his shot had been effective. The engineer or the -fireman, he could not distinguish which, leaping to board the private -car by the rear platform, leaped back instead, and with a series of wild -gesticulations, in which arms and fists waved furiously, vanished in the -darkness. - -The yard engine, as though playing snap-the-whip with the private car -behind it, took the main line switch with a stagger and a lurch, and -straightened away into the clear. There was speed now, and the speed -was increasing with every second. The shouts, the yells, the cries, the -pandemonium from the yard was blotted out in the pound of the drivers -and the belch of the exhaust; and the station and switch lights -were lost to sight as engine and car flew on, heading west into the -foothills. The Hawk chuckled to himself. There would be wild confusion -in the dispatcher's office, and wild confusion all along the line west -of Selkirk, as regulars, extras and traffic of all sorts scurried for -safety to the sidings—but there would be no interference with him! -Where they would otherwise have ditched him, given him an open switch -at the first station and sent him to destruction without compunction, he -possessed, as it was, a most satisfactory hostage in the person of -the division superintendent, whom they would hesitate about sending to -eternity at the same time! - -Possibly a minute and a half, two at the outside, had passed since he -had jumped through the gangway. He eased the throttle a little now, -reducing the speed to a rate more nearly commensurate with safety; -and, placing the package on the driver's seat, ripped off the outside -wrapper. There was a queer, hard smile on the Hawk's lips, as his -fingers tore at the covering of one of the small sealed packets within. -Was it the dummy parcel—or the twenty-five thousand in cash? Had Dixer -succeeded—or was the money still behind him there in the private car? - -The cab lamp above the dancing gauge needles seemed to throw its -meagre yellow glow with strained inquisitiveness over the Hawk's -shoulder—and then the Hawk laughed softly, and laughed again. In his -hands were banknotes. He riffled the stack through his fingers. It was -here, in his possession—twenty-five thousand dollars in cash! - -And he laughed again, and glanced around him—through the cab glass -at the white ribbons of steel glistening under the headlight's glare, -around the murky cab that in its sway and jolt seemed to endow a legion -of shadowy with movement, vitality and life, at the platform of the -private car, which he could see by looking along the edge of the tender, -and which, like its fellow at the rear, was bathed in the soft radiance -of a dome light. Well, he might have known from the fact that the -occupants of the car had not made any move as yet, at least from the -forward end, that they had been in bed and asleep when the disturbance -began; and he might, on that count, if he had stopped to think, have -known that Dixer had succeeded even before he, the Hawk, had put it to -the proof by opening the parcel. - -A lurch of the cab sent him against the seat, and scattered the sealed -packages. He gathered them together again hurriedly. He had only to slow -down the engine a little more, jump to the ground, let the engine and -car go on, make his own way back through the fields, and he would be -safe unless—that strange, queer smile, half grim, half whimsical, was -flickering across his lips—unless he cared to risk his life for that -dummy package back there in the car behind, that contained nothing more -valuable than neatly trimmed pieces of blotting paper! - -The smile lost its whimsicality, and the grimness gathered until his -lips drooped in sharp, hard lines at the corners of his mouth—and, -abruptly, lifting up the seat, he swept the packages of banknotes into -the engineer's box, leaped across the cab, and began to claw his way -up over the coal, making for the back of the tender. - -“Twenty-five thousand in cash for me, and twenty years in the -'pen' for the kid, doesn't look like an even break,” muttered -the Hawk, as he clawed his way up. “Maybe I'm a fool—I guess maybe -I am—but it doesn't look like an even break. You see,” said the -Hawk, continuing to commune with himself, “they'll know, of course, -that some one who wasn't Meridan tried to get the package, but with -the package still there they'll think that the 'some one' made a -bull of it, and to-morrow morning when they open the package and spot -the finger prints, and get that bank seal in Meridan's home, -they'll hold him for it cold, because what's happened around here -to-night'll only look like somebody making a try for the goods without -knowing they were already gone. The kid wouldn't have a hope—the -Ladybird wasn't dealing any aces except to himself—the kid would -go up for having previously stolen the goods on his own account. Yes, I -guess he would—wax, seal and paper in his house to make dummy packages -with—yes, I guess the kid would stand a hot chance!” - -The Hawk rose to his feet at the rear of the tender, preparing to -negotiate a leap down over the ornamental brass platform railing of the -private car—and instantly flung himself back flat on his face on the -coal. The car door was flung open, and Lanson, the superintendent, in -pajamas, a revolver in his hand, stepped out on the platform. He -was closely followed by a young man—Meridan, the bank clerk, -obviously—also in pajamas, but apparently unarmed; and, behind Meridan -again, came the negro porter. - -Lanson's voice, raised excitedly, carried to the Hawk: - -“Damn it, there's no one in the cab! What the devil sort of a game -is this!” - -The Hawk edged up to the top of the coal again—and the next instant, -with catlike agility, he launched himself forward. Lanson, clambering -over the platform railing, with the very evident intention of making his -way via the tender to the throttle, gasped audibly over the racket of -the beating trucks, and in a sort of stunned surprise and irresolution -remained poised inertly on the railing, as the Hawk, clinging now with -one hand to the rear handrail of the switcher, his feet planted on the -buffer beam, thrust the muzzle of his automatic into Lanson's face. - -“Drop that gun!” invited the Hawk in a monotone. - -The weapon, from Lanson's hand, clattered down, struck the coupling, -and dropped to the track. - -The Hawk spoke again—with unpleasant curtness: - -“You—Sambo! Move back, and stand in the doorway! Yes—there! Now, -you, young man, you stand in front of Sambo—your back to him!” And -then, as Meridan too obeyed, though more slowly than the porter and with -a sort of defiant reluctance, the Hawk addressed the superintendent: -“Now, you—your name's Lanson, isn't it?” he snapped. “You, -Lanson, back up against the young fellow. Yes—that's it! Sambo, put -your hands on the young fellow's shoulders—and you, young fellow, -do the same on Lanson's!” The Hawk swung over to the' car -platform—and then the Hawk smiled uninvitingly. “It's the -lock-step backwards,” he explained insolently. “You get the idea, -don't you? If either of you two behind lift your hands, Lanson in -front here pays for it. Now—back with you!” - -They shuffled backward into the observation compartment of the car, -through this, and through a narrow side corridor, and emerged into the -main compartment of the car. The Hawk, guiding their movements by the -simple expedient of prodding the muzzle of his automatic none too gently -into Lanson's body, here ranged the three along the side of the car; -and, backing over to the opposite side himself, halted in front of the -bookcase, and stood surveying his captives with his former insolent -stare. The porter was patently reduced to a state of nervous terror; -Meridan, young, clean-cut, was white to the lips, and his lips quivered, -but his eyes, a hard, bitter light in them, never left the Hawk's -face; Lanson, too, was white, but there was a stern composure in his -face that was absent from the younger man's. - -It was Lanson who spoke. - -“I presume,” he said evenly, “that you are the abandoned -scoundrel, known as the Hawk, whom one of these days we are going—to -hang.” - -The Hawk shrugged his shoulders. - -“I haven't a calling card with me, but we'll let it go at that,” -he answered flippantly. - -The car swayed and lurched suddenly; the trucks beat a louder tattoo -as they clattered over a switch; lights, a row of them from without, -scintillated through the car windows—and were gone. They were not -running perilously fast, but fast enough to prohibit the possibility -of any one, even an acrobatic brakeman from a stalled train, swinging -aboard. The Hawk laughed low. Also, he had been quite right—they had -just passed a station, and, thanks to the superintendent's presence, -no attempt had been made to interfere with the train. - -From one of the Hawk's pockets—with his left hand—the Hawk -produced a small steel jimmy. He knelt down, and, still covering the -three men, inserted the jimmy in between the cupboard doors. There was -a creak, the rip and split and tear of rending wood and lock, and the -doors flew apart. The Hawk reached in, laughed again, as, with the dummy -package under his arm, he stood up and began to back away toward the -corridor leading to the forward end of the car—and the laugh died -on his lips. In the winking of an eye Meridan had swung his hands from -Lanson's shoulders, and was springing forward. - -“You'll never get it!” The boy's voice was a hoarse whisper. -“Not while I——” - -“Keep away, you fool!” snarled the Hawk, and fired—at the floor. -His brain seemed instantly in a riot of ironical mockery. He could not -fire at the boy—it was the boy who had brought him here—and now the -other was upon him—like a wild cat—snatching at the automatic. - -It was only another step backward to the opening of the corridor, and -the Hawk gained it; but still the boy clung on, fighting furiously. He -saw Lanson and the porter leap forward, but for the moment that mattered -little—no more than one at a time could get at him in the confined and -narrow space here. To hold the package rendered his left arm useless. He -dropped the package to the floor, and kicked it deftly back behind him, -as the boy, with both hands, wrenched and battled madly for possession -of the automatic. - -They were swaying now, the two of them, bumping their shoulders and -their arms and elbows against first one side of the corridor and then -the other. There was the crash of splintering glass as they lunged into -a window—another crash, louder, more ominous, and with it a tongue of -flame, as the automatic went off in their hands—and something like a -red-hot iron seared the Hawk's side, and a blur came before his eyes. - -He reeled, recovered himself, and, massing all his strength for the -effort, as, with a cry of triumph, Meridan closed again, he tore himself -free from the other's grasp. There was one way—he was still in -possession of the automatic—only one way now. - -With a lightning swing he whipped the hutt of the weapon to the -other's head, backed rapidly away as the boy slid a limp thing to the -floor, and, picking up the package as he moved backward, holding the -narrow corridor with his automatic, though Lanson was kneeling now at -Meridan's side, he reached the observation compartment, whirled, ran -for the door, opened it, and stepped out on the platform. - -He stood panting here, a little dizzy, a sort of nauseating weakness -upon him, as he fumbled in his pocket. He was not as quick as usual -in his work, not as expert now in the use of his skeleton keys, but, -swiftly for all that, he locked the car door. - -The car and the engine seemed to sway and lurch and pitch and toss -as they had never done before. Was the speed greater? What was it? He -stumbled and nearly fell as he climbed to the tender. He fell, unable to -maintain his footing in the shifting coal, as he reached the cab. There -was something hot and wet that seemed to be working its way down his -leg; his side was giving him intolerable pain. - -He looked at the package in his hands, looked at it queerly for a -moment, and then his drawn lips parted in the old whimsical smile, as -he lurched forward and opened the fire-box door. The red glow filled the -cab and spread upward, tinging the sky with a rosy light—and the Hawk -thrust the package into the fire, and, swaying unsteadily, watched it -burst into flame. - -He glanced at the gauge now. The steam was dropping rapidly. He swept -his hand across his eyes. He had two things to do, and it seemed as -though his brain clogged in its decision as to which he should do -first—he had to get more coal on the fire, or else the engine would -run down, and he did not want it to run down, for it must keep on going -a long way, a very long way if possible, after he left it; and he must -stop the flow of blood from his wound somehow, or else—— - -He put coal into the fire-box. It was painful, dizzy work, and he -spilled a great deal of it, and the lumps rolled over the floor of the -cab, and he stumbled over the lumps. - -The Hawk's teeth were biting into his bloodless lips, as he finally -shut the fire-box door, and, staggering to the side of the cab, lifted -up the engineer's seat again. Here, under the packages of banknotes, -he found a bunch of waste and some cord; and then, reeling with the -lurch of the cab, reeling with his own weakness that only an iron nerve -held back from mastering him, he examined his wound, found it, though -painful and bleeding profusely, to be only a bad flesh wound, and, -making a thick pad of the waste, he laid it against his side, and bound -it there by passing the cord tightly several times around his body. -It was a crude bandage, but it should, at least, check the flow of -blood—afterwards, if he had luck, there would be opportunity for a -better one! - -His mind reverted, seemingly without volition of his, to the fight in -the car, and he spoke aloud. - -“I guess,” said the Hawk, “I didn't hit him as hard as twenty -years in the 'pen' would have hit him—I guess I didn't hit him -that hard.” - -He rested for a moment, sitting on the floor of the cab; then from -the engineer's box he removed the sealed packages, the torn outside -wrapper, and likewise an evening newspaper which he found there. He -wrapped up the banknotes in the newspaper, tied the bundle securely with -the remainder of his cord, replaced the seat, and, crouched low enough -on the floor to be protected by the tender from, say, a shot fired -through the observation window of the private car, kept his eyes -fastened on the right of way ahead. - -The next station must be close at hand, and there was but one way in -which he could get back to Selkirk—and he must get back. There was -that letter—the Ladybird's letter—that would be received in -Elkhead in the morning! His brain was clearer now. He must be on Extra -No. 92, the eastbound fast freight's, running time, and she must be -somewhere very near here, must have taken to the siding at the next -station probably to avoid him, and to give clearance to what was, -undoubtedly now, coming behind him—a detective's special, with -MacVightie, naturally, in command. - -He straightened up painfully. Ahead, he had caught the glint of switch -and station lights. The siding was on the left-hand side. He moved to -the left-hand side of the cab, and lay on the cab floor by the gangway. -That letter! It seemed to obsess him now. If, when the letter was read, -the bank seal, the wax, and the wrapping paper were found hidden in the -boy's home, the fact that some one—he, the Hawk—had stolen the -package from the car in no way changed anything. The boy's apparent -prior guilt was as glaring as ever. On the other hand, with the package -gone, and if the seal and those other things were not found, the letter -became simply the expression of some practical joker's perverted sense -of humour, or the irresponsible work of some fool or crank. He frowned -in a sort of dazed irritation. He had known that all along, hadn't he? -He had known when he started after that dummy package in the first place -that he would have to go all the way—so why was his mind dwelling now -on useless repetitions! - -The Hawk raised his head slightly—a deafening racket was in his ears. -The freight was here—on the siding. He was roaring past it now. He -could not hope for an open boxcar on the fast freight. His eyes were -searching eagerly for a flat car—a flat car loaded with anything that -would afford him shelter. Yes—there was one—two of them—loaded -with steel girders. - -The roar subsided; he was past the station and into the clear -again—and now the Hawk was at the throttle, easing the speed craftily. -He did not dare to “shut off” entirely, for, behind there at the -station, they would know, if the sound of the exhaust ceased, that -he had stopped. He checked a little with the “air” now. And now, -calculating the speed reduced enough to risk a jump, he opened the -throttle to its former notch, took up his newspaper package, lowered -himself to the bottom gangway step, and swung off. - -He rolled down the embankment. The switcher and private car went by, -and, gradually gaining speed again, racketed on up the right of way. -With a groan, the Hawk readjusted his displaced and makeshift bandage, -and began to make his way back toward the station. If he had slowed -enough to allow of a safe landing for himself, he had, of course, given -Lanson the same opportunity—but he had no fear of that. Lanson might -have jumped, but Meri-dan, whom he had left unconscious, couldn't, and -Lanson would stick to Meridan. As for the porter—the Hawk shrugged his -shoulders, as he looked about him—the porter had not jumped. - -He stumbled on. If he were right, if they had started a posse on a -special in pursuit, he had plenty of time. The fast freight could -not pull out until the special had gone by. It seemed a long way, an -interminable way, an immeasurably greater distance than he had covered -coming up on the switcher. And then, at last, the tail-lights of the -stalled freight came into sight around a bend, and grew brighter. And -then, too, there came from the eastward the rumble of an approaching -train. He grew cautious now, and, creeping far out from the side of -the track, passed the caboose, crept in again toward the line of cars, -located the position of the flat cars, climbed aboard one of them, and -crawled in under the shored-up girders. - -The Hawk lay very quiet. He was weak again, and his head swam, and -he was dizzy. An engine and car—MacVightie and his posse -presumably—passed by on the main line; and then, presently, the -freight, with a clatter and bang echoing from one to another down the -length of cars, drew out of the station. - -When the Hawk moved again, it was as the train whistled and slowed for -the Selkirk yard. Perhaps twenty minutes had passed—the fast freight, -with no stops and already late, had made time. He put his mask in his -pocket, wormed his way out from under the girders, and peered ahead and -behind. They were just crawling into the upper end of the yard. He slid -to the ground, found himself a little more steady on his feet, slipped -across the spur tracks, dodged in between two buildings that flanked the -side of the yard, and came out on the street. - -Under a street lamp the Hawk looked at his watch. It was one o'clock. -He swayed a little again, but his lips set hard. There was not very much -time. Somewhere up the line the switcher and the private car would come -to a stop, and they would bring Meridan home—and once that happened, -with its consequent stir in Meridan's apartment, it would be -impossible to get in there, and the game, as far as the boy was -concerned, would be up. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk, as he forced himself along the street, -“I guess maybe that's right—I guess maybe I'm a fool—but it -wasn't an even break.” - -A street car at the next corner took him across town; and fifteen -minutes more found him standing in the unlighted vestibule of the -Linden Apartments. The tiny flashlight swept the ground floor apartment -doors—and an instant later the door of Apartment B yielded noiselessly -to the deft manipulation of a skeleton key. - -The Hawk closed the door, and stole forward. It was a rather fashionable -apartment, as the Ladybird had said, but it was also a very small one, -small enough to warrant the presumption that the young couple did not -keep a servant, and that there would probably be no one there except -Meridan's wife. A door at his right, as he felt out in the darkness, -he found to be open. He listened—for the sound of breathing. There was -nothing. The flashlight winked—and the Hawk stepped forward into the -room. It was the sitting room. The flashlight was sweeping about now in -an inquisitive little ray. A door, closed, leading to an inner room, was -on his right; facing him was a heavily portièred window, the portières -drawn; and a little to the left of the window was the mantel. - -The flashlight's ray wavered suddenly, unsteadily—and the Hawk -caught at the nearest thing to him, the table in the centre of the room, -for support, a sense of disaster upon him, a realisation that, lashed -on as it might be by force of will, there was a limit to physical -endurance, and that the limit had well nigh been reached. His hand -brushed across his eyes, and brushed across them again to clear his -sight, as he tried to follow the flashlight's ray to where it played -jerkily on a massively framed picture over the mantel. He bit his lips -now, bit them until they bled—and moved forward—and laid his parcel -of banknotes on the floor that he might have the use of both hands—and -climbed upon a chair, and felt in behind the picture. Yes—it was -there! His fingers closed on a roll of paper, twitched and shook a -little as they pulled it out—and a small package from inside the roll -fell with a slight thud to the mantel, and from the mantel bounded off -to the floor. - -The Hawk caught his breath, as he listened, and descended from the -chair. - -“Clumsy fool!” he gritted fiercely, as he knelt on the floor. -“I—I guess I'm pretty near the count to do a thing like that.” - -The flashlight came into play again, and disclosed a metal seal and -several pieces of dark-green wax peeping through the paper wrapper that -had been split apart in the fall. He picked them up, and put them in his -pocket; then, loosening his vest, he tucked the roll of wrapping paper -inside his shirt. Well, it was done now; he had only to get back to his -room, and there was surely strength enough left for that. Again his hand -swept across his eyes, and pressed hard against his temples—and then, -stooping swiftly, he clutched at his package of banknotes on the floor -beside him, and stood up, rigid and tense. - -Out of the darkness, almost at his elbow, with a startling clamour that -clashed and shattered through the silence, and seemed to set a -thousand echoes reverberating through the room, came the ringing of the -telephone. - -Some one in the inner room stirred. The Hawk drew back hurriedly into -the window recess behind the portières. The telephone rang again. There -came a step now, and now the room was flooded with light, and a woman, -a dressing gown flung hastily over her shoulders, crossed from the inner -doorway to the table, and picked up the instrument. - -“Yes?... Hello!... What is it?” she asked, a little sleepily. -“Yes, this is Mrs. Meridan... What?... My husband!” Her voice rang -out in sudden terror. “What did you say?” she cried frantically. -“Yes, yes—the Hawk—my husband—unconscious... You are not telling -me all the truth—you are trying to keep the worst from me—for -God's sake tell me the truth!... Not dangerous?... You are sure—you -are sure?... Yes, yes, I understand!... At the station in half an -hour... I will be there.” - -Mechanically she hung the receiver on the hook, and clung for a moment -to the table's edge, her face grey and bloodless; and then her lips -moved, and one hand clenched until the tight-drawn skin across the -knuckles was an ivory white. - -“I pray God they get this Hawk!” she whispered. “I pray God they -do! And I pray God they kill him! The coward! The miserable, pitiful -coward!” - -The Hawk's fingers were digging at the window sill, because somehow -his knees were refusing to support his weight. What was she saying? He -did not quite understand. Well, it did not matter, she was gone now into -that other room—only she had left the light on. It was very strange -the way his hand on the window sill seemed to keep pulling his body -around in circles! - -Time had lost concrete significance to the Hawk. She appeared again, -fully dressed now, and, switching off the light, went out into the hall, -and the front door closed behind her. - -The Hawk parted the portières, and staggered across the room—and, a -moment later, a dark form, a newspaper parcel clutched under its arm, -emerged stealthily from the vestibule, and, reeling like a drunken man, -disappeared in the darkness down the street. - - - - -XVII—A HOLE IN THE WALL - -THE wound was healed—partially, at least. If the Hawk had unduly -shortened his period of convalescence, he was perhaps justified, and not -wholly without excuse! He stood now in the black shadows, hugged close -to the wall of the roundhouse. And now he moved stealthily forward, -until, from a crouched position, he straightened up against the wall -at the side of one of the few windows which were lighted. Lanson had -strolled aimlessly across the tracks from the station some ten minutes -before, and, five minutes later, MacVightie had followed Lanson—to -their chosen spot for secret conferences, this little “cubbyhole” of -a turner's office in the roundhouse, as the Hawk, from more than one -experience in the past, had very good reason to know. They were in there -now, and, as the Hawk was likewise exceedingly well aware, the events -of the next few hours, and incidentally his own particular movements, -depended very pertinently upon the movements of MacVightie and Lanson. - -Lanson's voice in quietly modulated tones reached the Hawk: - -“Yes, both trains are on time to the minute; I've taken care of -that. And so far there doesn't seem to be a hitch anywhere, and with -your men boarding the trains west of here at different stations along -the line, and mixing quietly with the passengers, I don't see how any -one could be the wiser on that score. Yes, it looks as though everything -were all right—eh, MacVightie?” - -“I don't know; I hope so,” MacVightie's deep growl came in -reply. “Anyhow, we've carried out instructions from Washington, and -it's up to the Secret Service crowd as to how it pans out.” - -“No, it isn't!” declared Lanson, still quietly. “It isn't up -to a soul on earth except those of us who have got the responsibility -of this division on our shoulders! I believe the plan is a good one, but -because it came from Washington doesn't let us out—not for a minute! -What about Birks; has he shown up yet?” - -“Not yet,” MacVightie answered—and swore suddenly under his -breath. “And I don't mind admitting that the crowd down there in -Washington make me tired! It's over two weeks ago that I put it up to -them. They said they would take the matter under consideration, and in -any case would send one of their men, this Birks, out here to make an -investigation. But nothing doing! Then, as you know, I wrote them again -a week ago, when we knew this Alaskan gold shipment was coming through, -and you know their reply; they outlined a plan for us, and stated -definitely that Birks would be on deck to-night. Maybe he will—in time -to tell us what we should have done!” - -“The Secret Service isn't a police force,” said Lanson tersely. -“The only excuse they would have for acting at all would be if your -pet theory were correct—that the Hawk and his gang, apart from their -systematised murders and robberies, were also the ones who have been -flooding the country with those counterfeit ten-dollar notes. You had no -actual proof to offer, and Washington evidently hasn't felt quite so -sure about it as you have. However, there's no use discussing that -to-night. If Birks shows up, all right; if he doesn't—well, I -don't see that he could make any difference one way or the other -now.” - -There was silence for a moment, then Lanson spoke again. - -“What worries me as much as anything,” he said slowly, “is the -express company making a shipment of money at the same time—forty -thousand dollars in the car's safe. Of course, it's logical enough -with a half million to guard anyway, but it's an added incentive to -those, devils, that's all. A half million In raw gold isn't any -easy thing to pick up and walk off with, and there's more than an even -chance that the Wire Devils might pass it up on that account; but with -banknotes alone in so large an amount——” - -“If they know about it!” interrupted MacVightie brusquely. “And -it's not likely they do! You can't send a heavily guarded express -car on from the coast and keep it mum that gold is going through, -especially when the papers print pictures of the cases being swung -out of the steamer's hold on arrival from Alaska—but the other's -different. I'm not banking on them passing up the gold on any account, -though they may, at that; but in any case they'll be welcome to open -the safe now, won't they?” - -Again there was an instant's silence; and the Hawk now, as though -fearful of losing a word that might be spoken, strained forward closer -still to the side of the window. - -“Yes, that's right!” Lanson laughed now in a grimly humorous way. -“It's in the biggest case of all! Yes, I guess it's all right, -MacVightie; anyway, another hour or two will tell the story. The shift -should have been made at Mornleigh without any trouble, and the Limited -will come through here without a thing in the express car except the -guards! If they hold her up anywhere on the division, that's all -they'll find—the guards, and one of your posses. Yes, it ought -to work.” Lanson's voice took on a curiously monotonous drone, -as though he were checking over the details in his own mind, and -unconsciously doing so audibly. “The Limited takes water at Mornleigh, -and No. 18 always takes the siding there to let the Limited pass, so -there's nothing in that to arouse suspicion. In the darkness, with the -door of the Limited's express car only a foot or so away from the door -of No. 18'. baggage car, and a picked crew to transfer the gold, I -don't see how there could be any 'leak.' The Limited pulls in -here with its guarded express car—everything looks just as those Wire -Devils would expect it to look—and they know the gold left the coast -on that train, and in that car. Yes, I think we win to-night. If they -hold up the Limited they'll catch a Tartar, and without any risk on -our part as far as the gold is concerned. How many men in the posse -scattered through the cars on that train?” - -“Twenty,” said MacVightie tersely. - -“Good!” said Lanson approvingly. “That ought to be enough to round -them up—if they nibble at the bait at all. And if they don't, if -they let the Limited go through unmolested, it will be pretty nearly -safe to assume, as I said before, that they figure gold in the bulk is -too awkward a thing to handle, and too hard to get away with. But even -there we are not taking any chances; they might have discovered that it -had been transferred. How many men in the posse on No. 18?” - -“The same number,” replied MacVightie—and then MacVightie's -fist crashed down into the palm of his hand. “I hope they start -something!” he exclaimed savagely. “I'd give a year's salary -to get to grips with them, and if I ever do I'll clean 'em out! And -I'll see that some of them, and particularly that damned Hawk, swing -for it! I haven't forgotten the murder of old Mother Barrett's boy -in the express car that night, or a dozen others, or——” - -“That's your end of it, MacVightie,” said Lanson grimly. -“Mine's to see five hundred thousand dollars' worth of bullion and -forty thousand in cash over this division and safely on its way East. If -the plan——” - -The Hawk, slipping silently out of the shadows, began to cross the -railroad yard, heading for the station. - -“Forty thousand dollars,” said the Hawk softly to himself—and -chuckled suddenly. “Forty thousand dollars in a big packing case! The -biggest case of the lot, he said, wasn't it?” The chuckle died away, -and the Hawk's face grew hard. “I don't know!” muttered -the Hawk. “It's no cinch! I guess there'll be something doing -to-night!” - -A glance at the illuminated dial of the clock on the station tower -showed it to be half past eight, as the Hawk stepped to the platform. -He hesitated an instant in indecision, then went on into the general -waiting room. There was ample time. The Limited was not due for another -hour; and No. 18—in which alone he had now any concern—did not -schedule Selkirk until forty minutes after the Limited. Nearly two -hours! - -The Hawk, standing in the doorway of the waiting room, ostentatiously -consulted a time-table which he drew from his pocket, frowned, glanced -about him, and, finally, approaching the news-counter, which appeared -for the moment to be minus an attendant, helped himself to a newspaper, -tossed a copper on top of the pile, and appropriated the nearest seat. -The Hawk opened his paper in front of him—and over the top of the -paper inspected with some interest the view afforded by the open doorway -of the news-counter, which was directly facing him and but a few feet -away. The news-counter was a long, narrow affair, glass enclosed, with -big sliding windows, making one corner of the waiting room, and at its -further end boasted a little office of its own. The door of this private -domain was closed, but it, too, was glass panelled, and the apparent -absence of any attendant was explained. The Hawk permitted a curious -smile to flicker across his lips behind his newspaper. Inside the little -office a man, sprawled forward in a chair, his head resting on his arms, -which were outflung across the desk in front of him, appeared to be -sound asleep and magnificently oblivious to anything so grossly material -as business. - -The Hawk shifted his glance, this time for a more critical survey of the -waiting room. He found himself, strangely enough, quite sheltered from -observation. True, it was “between trains,” and there were very few -people in the room—he had noted several women and an elderly man with -a little boy, as he had come in—but these were now screened from his -view by the large, boxed-in posts, or pillars, that, in the remodelling -and enlargement of the station some years before, had sought to combine, -evidently, ornamentation with stability. - -The Hawk's eyes, under cover of his newspaper, reverted to the man at -the desk. The minutes passed—five, ten of them. The man's hours -were long undoubtedly, and usually there were two in charge of the -news-counter, which might perhaps account for the man's weariness, -and the profound slumber that was possible even in such an uncomfortable -position! The Hawk turned to the editorial page of his newspaper. There -were almost two hours before No. 18 was due, and, though he had a little -business of a purely personal and intimate nature to transact before -then, there was time in abundance and to spare, and it might possibly -be utilised as profitably here as anywhere else. In any case, there was -usually an editorial diatribe, interesting principally for the virulent -language in which it was couched, anent the Hawk and the Wire Devils, -with whose leadership he, the Hawk, was universally credited. The Hawk -smiled thinly. If leadership was vested in the lion's portion of the -spoils, then MacVightie, and Lanson, and the newspapers, and the public -generally were unquestionably right—but, since those spoils had -been snatched from under the noses of the Wire Devils, thanks to his -possession of their secret code, the Wire Devils and the Ladybird in -particular, that peer of the underworld who, as he had discovered a few -nights ago, was the moving spirit of the gang, held a very different and -even more decided opinion on the subject! - -He folded the paper over, and sprawled himself out lazily on his -seat—but if the editorial in question was on the sheet before him, he -did not see it. The man at the desk raised his head, yawned, stretched -himself, and, as though wearily resuming his work, reached into a small -drawer that stood open in the upper section of the roll-top desk, took -out a pad of paper, and began to write. - -Still another five minutes passed; and then the man tossed his pencil -away from him, and reached out for the telephone at his elbow. But now -he seemed to hesitate, then evidently changed his mind. He pushed -back his chair, stood up, tore the sheet of paper on which he had been -writing from the pad, replaced the pad in the drawer, closed the drawer, -and, turning quickly, opened the office door. He came down the narrow -space behind the news-counter itself, stepped out into the waiting -room, glanced hurriedly about him, and, breaking suddenly into a run, -disappeared through the waiting room door in the direction of the -platform. - -The Hawks lassitude seemed suddenly to have vanished. In a flash he had -covered the few feet of space that separated his seat from the doorway -of the news-counter, and now, crouched low, hidden by the counter -itself, he darted silently for the little office, gained it, wrenched -open the drawer of the desk—and over the Hawk's set, tense features -there flickered again that curious smile. Faint, muffled, but none the -less distinctly, there came from the interior of the drawer, which, -as he reached in his hand, he found was open through to the wall, the -clicking of a telegraph sounder. But, while he listened, the Hawk was -working with breathless haste. His fingers closed on the pad of paper, -and tore off the topmost sheet. Without folding or crushing the paper, -he laid it carefully inside his vest, buttoned his vest over it again, -closed the drawer of the desk noiselessly—and in another instant was -lolling again in his seat in the waiting room, apparently immersed once -more in his newspaper. - -It had taken the Hawk a matter of less than a minute to go and come, -but for all that his margin of safety had been small. The man returned -almost instantly, and again entered the office. The Hawk, finding that -for once the editorial which might have afforded him a genuine, if -passing, interest, was absent, turned another page of the paper, spent -a few minutes in the somewhat unprofitable perusal of what proved to -be massed columns of “Help Wanted” and “Situations Vacant” -advertisements, and, finally, throwing the paper down on the seat beside -him, got up leisurely, and strolled out through the main entrance of the -station to the street. - -The Hawk crossed the road, and slipped into the lane that was almost -opposite the station. This being accustomed ground to the Hawk, he made -his way quickly along in the blackness, reached the first intersecting -street, dove through the doorway of the dirty and squalid three-story -building, the ground floor of which was occupied by a saloon, and, -mounting the narrow staircase, entered the room that was directly over -the saloon on the first landing. The Hawk locked the door behind him. If -his temporary abode in Selkirk City could be so designated, the Hawk was -at home. - -He switched on the electric light, drew a chair up to the cheap and -somewhat dilapidated table that stood against the wall opposite the -door, and from under his vest took out the sheet of paper he had -purloined a few minutes before. He spread it out eagerly before him on -the table, scanned it closely, and into his dark eyes there came a half -mocking, half triumphant gleam. - -“I thought so!” murmured the Hawk. “He didn't dare telephone it. -I thought the messages must be coming in pretty hot to-night—the other -fellow must have gone up to the East End to shoot some mighty important -reply back, or else he'd never have left his pal short-handed. It's -no wonder I never tumbled to that lay until the Ladybird opened the bag! -I didn't recognise those news-counter fellows, did I? Why should I? -They're new ones just breaking into the game, or they'd never have -pulled a fool stunt like this!” - -The Hawk bent over the paper. In places the impression left by the -pencil was faint and, indeed, illegible, and had not come through from -the upper sheet at all; but the Hawk patiently and painstakingly settled -himself to his task. The first few lines were but a confused and, to all -outward appearances, meaningless jumble of letters run together—one -of the Wire Devils' code messages. And here, if this had been all, the -Hawk would have been hopelessly astray; but lower down on the sheet the -man had decoded the cipher, and here, where letters and words were too -faintly impressed on the paper or were missing altogether, the Hawk was -able to supply them by following the general sense of the message. -He began by tracing over the impressions carefully with a sharp lead -pencil, and at the expiration of a few minutes was staring, a grim smile -on his lips, at the following: - -“Gold transferred to No. 18 at Momleigh. Keep away from Limited. -Probably big posse on No. 18. Every man will join Number One on Train -18 to-night. Those boarding No. 18 at Selkirk must on no account excite -suspicion. All other details to stand.” - -The Hawk's remark, as he reached into his inside coat pocket and -brought out several small slips of paper, which he laid on the table in -front of him, was seemingly quite irrelevant. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk. “I've been curious ever since yesterday to -get a look at that desk—yes, I guess the Ladybird's no fool!” - -The Hawk arranged the slips of paper in what appeared to be a sort -of chronological order, and studied them for a moment. Prefacing -the message he had just obtained, these others, messages that he had -intercepted at intervals during the preceding few days, made a complete -and decidedly enlightening record. The first one, decoded, read: - -“Reported movement of half million in gold to be made from coast. -Number Three will proceed to coast, verify, and secure details.” - -The Hawk nodded shortly. Number Three was the Bantam. He passed on to -the next message: - -“Gold coming through on Limited on Thursday night. Express car well -guarded. Numbers One, Seven, Eight, Six and Four will board Limited -at different stopping points west of Mornleigh; all others to hold -themselves in readiness at Selkirk.” - -Again the Hawk nodded. This was Thursday night! Mornleigh was the -Limited's last stop west of Selkirk. Number One was the Butcher, and -the others were—he shrugged his shoulders. As he had once facetiously -remarked, somebody must have left the door of Sing Sing open! - -There was still another message: - -“Hold up train three miles East of Echo Rock. Detach express car, and -run to Willow Creek bridge. Load gold on wagon, and disperse.” - -The Hawk consulted his watch. It was a quarter past nine. He took -out his pipe, lighted it, put his feet up on the table, and gathering -together the various slips of paper abstractedly began to tear them into -shreds. - -Pieced together, the whole affair was quite simple. In a word, every -move that had been made by Larson and MacVightie at the instigation of -the Secret Service men, and, presumably, in particular by one Birks, -was known to the Ladybird and the Wire Devils. Lanson and MacVightie had -waited until the last moment before making the transfer at Mornleigh, -the final stop before Selkirk, but the Bantam was already accompanying -the gold east on the Limited, and, added to the Bantam by that: time, -there would have been those others who were detailed to board the -Limited at the various points still further west of Mornleigh. - -It was very simple. The Bantam had not been asleep at Mornleigh, and it -was not the contents of the express car alone that had been transferred -there—the Bantam and his companions had likewise transferred -themselves to No. 18! Also, either because the Bantam had spotted some -of MacVightie's men, or because logical deductions in the Ladybird's -very shrewd brain had led to that conclusion, it was known that No. 18 -harboured a posse. It was evident, however, that this in no way -dismayed the Ladybird; and it was equally evident that both Lan-son -and MacVightie were very far astray, in their estimate of the nerve and -resourcefulness of the brain behind the Wire Devils' organisation, to -have, even considered it as a possibility that the physical difficulty -in the way of handling a half million in raw gold would have caused the -Ladybird to hesitate an instant in an effort to get his hands upon it. A -half million—was a half million! That was the answer! The only change -the Ladybird had seen fit to make was to mobilise, as it were, the -entire, strength of the Wire Devils to offset MacVightie's posse. -Apart from that, according to the final message, the prearranged plan -was to stand. - -It was not a plan that was markedly original, paralleling very closely, -as it did, the Wire Devils' removal of the safe from the express car -of the last Mail on a certain night not very long since, but this could -hardly be held up against the Ladybird—there were limitations to -originality, and originality was a secondary consideration as compared -with feasibility and success. Echo Rock station was two stations east -of Conmore, the Wire Devils' headquarters—just far enough distant -to preclude the immediate search from spreading to the neighbourhood of -Conmore, and yet not too far away to make the transport of the gold to -the isolated old farmhouse impractical before daylight. The details of -the holdup itself required little elucidation. In whatever manner they -might elect to bring the train to a stop, all that was necessary, once -that was accomplished, was to keep MacVightie's men from No. 18'. -baggage car while the car itself, into which the Wire Devils would -naturally retreat, moved off down the line to the Willow Creek bridge -some two or three miles further on. - -The Hawk took his pipe from his lips, polished the bowl by rubbing it -along the side of his nose, and inspected the result critically. And -then the Hawk smiled pleasantly to himself. In none of the messages had -the Wire Devils given the slightest evidence of any knowledge of a fact -that was very near to his, the Hawk's, heart. It was quite possible, -even probable, that on one point, at least, Lanson and MacVightie were -right—that the Wire Devils were ignorant of the presence of that forty -thousand dollars in bills—but even supposing that they did know, they -would scarcely give him, the Hawk, credit for being in possession of the -knowledge as well. Therefore, bitter as was the feud between them, the -Ladybird would be almost certain to ignore his, the Hawk's existence -in so far as this night's work was concerned. The Hawk's smile -broadened. It was quite true, single-handed he would have no excuse on -earth for attempting the impossible feat of carrying away a half million -in gold—but forty thousand dollars in banknotes was not as prohibitory -in its weight! His problem, therefore, simplified itself into an -intimate investigation of No. 18'. baggage car before Echo Rock was -reached, and before either MacVightie's posse, or the Butcher and his -ungentle crowd in the cars behind, should have started anything on their -own account. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk confidentially to the toe of his boot, “yes, -I guess I'll sit in for a hand in the game myself; yes, I guess it -looks pretty good—if the luck holds.” - -The Hawk relapsed into silence, still studying the toe of his boot. His -last remark seemed suddenly to have obsessed him, and he frowned. If the -luck still held! It wasn't altogether luck—indeed, it was far from -luck. The Ladybird, and, for that matter, a half dozen others of the -Wire Devils whom he could name, were not to be lightly reckoned with. He -had no delusions on that score! Since the day he had begun to trespass -on the Wire Devils preserves, listening when and where he could, he had -intercepted enough of their cipher messages as they came over the wires -to enable him to pull from the fire and pocket for himself the chestnuts -they had been so carefully roasting for themselves, to turn in fact the -entire labour and effort of their organisation to his own account—and -in their turn they had sought by every means within their power to trap -him. And they had nearly caught him, very nearly caught him once, and -he had realised that the haphazard method in which, not knowing their -source, he had been able to obtain the cipher messages would no longer -do. It was through those messages alone that he could hope to get a hint -of, and thereby forestall, the next trap they might set for him. And -then the way had seemed to clear a little when he had at last discovered -that source in the old farmhouse near Conmore, and had discovered that -the Ladybird, thought dead and mourned by the underworld as one of its -greatest, from a wheel chair now, a maimed thing in all save brain, -moved and guided what MacVightie had been pleased to call the most -powerful and dangerous criminal organisation that had ever known -existence. Only on the night that he, the Hawk, had made those -discoveries he had been wounded! That was a week ago. For three days, -not daring to let it be known that a wounded man was in the house, he -had remained here in his room, nursing his hurt as best he could. It had -only been a flesh wound, and those three days were all he had allowed -himself to remain inactive; for in those three days, temporarily -blindfolded as to any move against him that the Ladybird might make, -he had lived like a hunted man, wary of every passing moment, of every -sound without his door, his automatic never for an instant out of reach. -After that, during the past four nights, he had resumed his vigil at the -farmhouse again. - -The Hawk smiled grimly. No, he laboured under no delusions as to the -craft, the cunning, and the power of those against whom he had elected -to play a lone hand! The four nights just past had resulted in something -more than the mere accumulation of those code messages he had just read, -in something besides a more intimate acquaintanceship with the farmhouse -and its surroundings, even including the underground passage, for -instance, that led from the wagon shed to a trapdoor in the cellar—it -had resulted, last night, in a still further insight into the ingenuity -and the sort of remorseless mastery of detail through which the -organisation attained its ends. The method by which they tapped the -wires, commandeering the telegraph system of the railroad, the -primary purpose of which was undoubtedly to supply them with the vital -information that must of necessity pass over the wires and on which they -based their own plans, this gold shipment to-night, for example, or the -shipment of diamonds from New York of a few weeks back, was ingenious -enough; but still more ingenious, when using their secret code and -putting the wires to another purpose, that of enabling the Ladybird to -direct his operations and send his orders as he had done to-night, was -the method by which those messages were received. Every sounder on the -line carried them, of course, and when, in isolated cases, the gang was -working at smaller places along the line, they could readily enough, if -expecting a message, as he, the Hawk, had often done, keep within sound -of an instrument by the simple expedient of occupying a waiting room, -or of lounging on the platform outside the operator's window; but the -vast majority of the messages were for those of the gang who maintained -a sort of branch headquarters in Selkirk, and such a method was neither -practical nor possible, since the first essential in making the scheme -of value was that, without the chance of a single message being missed, -the messages should reach their destination at any hour of the day and -night. - -Again the Hawk smiled grimly. It had puzzled him a good many times—but -it puzzled him no longer! Last night the Ladybird, quite unconscious -of a rapt audience, had, by a chance remark, disclosed the secret; and -to-night he, the Hawk, had seen the plan in operation! The news-counter! -It was simple enough; but it held a deadly significance in its proof of -the fact that there were no obstacles too great, no details too minute -to stand in the way between the Ladybird and the end he sought. The -news-counter was directly beneath the operator's room upstairs. In the -old days, before the station had been enlarged and modernised, it had -been a somewhat diminutive affair, and where the news-counter now stood -had been the superintendent's office. This had connected with the room -above by means of an old-fashioned speaking tube. When the alterations -had been made, the mouthpieces, both above and below, had been removed, -the room above had been papered over, and the waiting room had been -plastered; but, as the wall had been left intact, the speaking tube had -remained embedded—in the wall. Yes, it was very simple! Say, a dint in -the wall in the operator's room above, and a slight tear in the paper -that, if it attracted any attention at all in surroundings where the -call boys backed their chairs against the wall and kept their hair on -end with nickel thrillers, would at least never excite suspicion! And -below, with the desk in the little office of the news-counter backed up -against it, who was to know that a hole had been punched in the -wall, or, for that matter, in the back of the desk itself behind the -convenient little drawer, so that one could sit there and listen to the -sounder upstairs! Also, it was quite obvious now why, several months -ago, the old lessee of the news-counter had been bought out by some -newcomers! - -The Hawk's lips tightened. The game to its full extent was wide open -now. The news-counter ran day and night, operated by four of the gang -in pairs, one always on duty at the desk; while, should there, by any -chance or at any time, be an unwelcome intruder in the office, the -drawer had only to be shut and the sound was thereby eliminated. When -a message “broke” over the wires above, the man on duty had only to -decipher it and telephone it to what the Ladybird had referred to as the -“boarding house”—the disguise, it appeared now, under which the -gang maintained its headquarters in the city. That was all there was to -it! To-night, it was true, the operation had been a little different; -but the reason for that, as the Hawk had already decided in his own -mind, was obvious enough. With MacVigh-tie, Lanson, and the authorities -generally, on the alert, due to the gold shipment coming through, the -man had not dared to take the risk of telephoning any such message as -he had received, but had taken it outside to where one of the gang, -undoubtedly, in view of the importance of the night's work, was on -additional duty and in readiness to receive and transmit it on the -instant, say, to the local headquarters. As for the absence of the -second man at the news-counter, who ordinarily preserved the pretence of -catering to the public, it was quite possible, and indeed likely, that -he had gone on a similar errand with a previous message; or, if one of -the rare occasions when it was necessary to telegraph a cipher message -from Selkirk had arisen, he might have gone—according to the Ladybird -again—to the little suburban station at the East End of the city, -which was closed at night, but to which an entry and the subsequent -use of the wire would present little difficulty, since MacVightie had -finally given up as impossible the task of guarding all the numerous -stations of that description on the division. - -“Yes,” said the Hawk suddenly, under his breath, “I guess they'd -go a long way to get their hands on what I've got off their bat; and -I guess, after that, I'd go out—like a pricked bubble!” He sucked -meditatively at his brier for a moment; then a mirthless smile parted -his lips, and he spoke again. “Forty thousand dollars,” whispered -the Hawk. “Yes, I guess that's the play—and the last one! If I win -out to-night, and I guess I will, this is where the curtain drops, and -the Hawk makes his fade-away for parts unknown!” - - - - -XVIII—THE HAWK PACKS HIS VALISE - -THE Hawk looked at his watch again, removed his feet from the table, -knocked the ashes from the bowl of his pipe, stood up, and crossed -leisurely to the window. The window gave on the fire escape. He lifted -aside the shade, and stood there for a moment staring out into the -darkness, then drew the shade very carefully back into place again. From -the window he crossed to the door, reassured himself that it was locked, -and, as an extra precaution, draped his handkerchief on the door handle, -completely screening the keyhole. - -He returned now to the other side of the room, and from under the bed -pulled out a large, black valise. He laid this on the bed, and opened -it. It was quite empty. - -Between the bed and the table stood his trunk. He unlocked the trunk, -and threw back the lid. - -“It's quite possible,” muttered the Hawk, as his fingers worked -deftly and swiftly around the edges of the lid, “that I may not -return. I've forgotten just how I stand on my rent, though, I fancy -I've paid up for a week in advance! In any case, there's the trunk -for old Seidelberger downstairs, and likewise its contents, with the -exception, scarcely worth mentioning—of this!” There was a grim -chuckle on the Hawk's lips, as the false tray came away in his hands. -“Yes,” said the Hawk, as he laid the tray on the bed beside the -valise, “I hardly think that I'll be back! I guess they're pretty -peeved as it is, and after to-night I've a notion their sentiments -aren't going to improve any!” - -He stood looking down at the tray, that bulged to repletion with the -proceeds of a dozen robberies that were almost country-wide in fame, -and which, more pertinent still as far as the Hawk was concerned, -represented the loot that the Wire Devils had already counted their -own—when he, the Hawk, instead, had helped himself to the prize at -their expense! - -The Hawk began to transfer the contents of the tray to the valise. - -“I don't know how big the lot would size up, but it looks like a -garden villa at Palm Beach—which is going some!” observed the -Hawk softly. “Yes, just one more little play to-night, and I guess I -retire!” - -He held the magnificent diamond necklace up to the light, causing its -thousand facets to leap and gleam and scintillate in fiery flashes, -then laid it in a curiously caressing sort of way in the bottom of the -valise. The Hawk seemed peculiarly entranced with diamonds, as though -in their touch and in their responsive life and fire he found a pure and -unalloyed delight. From their little box he allowed the score or two of -unset stones to trickle into the palm of his hand, and again he brought -the light to flash and play upon them. And for a moment he held them -there—then a sudden hardness set his jaws and lips, and impulsively he -thrust the stones back into the box, and tossed the box into the valise. - -“Damn it!” said the Hawk through compressed lips. “They make me -think of the kid—and old Mother Barrett.” - -He laughed harshly, and shrugged his shoulders as though literally to -throw off the weight of an unpleasant memory—and reached again into -the tray. He worked more quickly now. Into the valise he packed away in -rapid succession a very large collection of valuables, amongst them -the ten thousand dollars in banknotes that he had taken from the -paymaster's safe, the contents of the cash box, amounting to some -three thousand dollars, of which he had once relieved one Isaac -Kirschell, and, still in its newspaper wrapper, the Trader's National -Bank's twenty-five thousand dollars, likewise in banknotes, which had -been his last venture, and which he had appropriated on the night he had -been wounded. - -The tray was empty now, save for a black mask, a steel jimmy, and a -neat little package of crisp, new, ten-dollar counterfeit notes. The two -former articles the Hawk laid aside on the table; and the latter, after -an instant's hesitation, was added to the horde in the valise. He -closed and locked the valise. There remained now but the empty tray. He -stared at this ruefully. - -“I hate to lose that trunk, upon my soul, I do!” he muttered. “But -I can't afford to take any chances of spilling the beans by trying to -get it out of here!” - -He took out his knife, and slashed away the canvas bottom of the tray, -then broke the framework into a dozen pieces. The lid of the trunk -itself was innocent of fastenings, or of any evidence that it had ever -concealed a tray; and the tray itself, when the Hawk was through with -it, was an unrecognisable debris of splintered wood and ribbons of torn -canvas. He made a bundle of this, tying it together with a strip of the -canvas. - -The Hawk now emptied his pockets, and proceeded to change his clothes. -If he were destined to sacrifice the greater part of his wardrobe, he at -least need not linger long in indecision over the choice of what should -be preserved! There was an exceedingly useful and ingeniously devised -pocket concealed in the back lining of a certain one of his coats. The -suit, of which this coat was an integral part, was a trifle worn and -threadbare, not in quite as good repair as any of the rest of his -clothing, and for that reason he had not worn it of late; but one could -not at all times afford to be fastidious! What he left behind would -be minutely searched and examined. The secret of that pocket, a little -invention of his own, was worth preserving from the vulgar eye, even at -the expense of sacrificing a better suit of clothes for the sake of it! -He resurrected the suit in question from the bottom of the trunk, and -put it on. And into the concealed pocket he tucked away his mask and his -bunch of skeleton keys. A side coat pocket, more instantly accessible, -served for his automatic—the other pockets for his various other -belongings, including the steel jimmy. - -The Hawk made a final and comprehensive survey of the room, then closed -and locked the trunk, and again consulted his watch. It was five minutes -after ten, and No. 18 scheduled Selkirk at ten-twenty. The Hawk nodded. -It was time to go—just time. He took from his pocket his automatic, -tested and examined its mechanism critically, and restored it to his -pocket. He crossed the room, turned out the light, unlocked the door -without opening it, and took his handkerchief from the keyhole. Without -a sound now the Hawk moved back to the bed, picked up the valise, tucked -the bundle of what had once been the tray under his arm, returned to -the door, opened it silently, and stood peering out into the dark -hallway—and the next instant, the Hawk, stealing like a shadow down -the stairs, gained the street, and in another had swung around the -corner into the lane. - -It was only the length of a block to the station, but here in the lane -the Hawk found means of disposing of the irksome bundle under his arm by -the simple expedient of dropping pieces of the wreckage in the various -refuse barrels as he went along. Nor had the Hawk, evidently, any -intention either of hampering his movements with the care of the valise, -or of risking the valise's contents in the night's work that lay -ahead of him. The Hawk was, perhaps, possessed of a certain ironical -sense of humour. Since his possession of the loot which the valise -contained was due in a more or less intimate degree to the railroad, it -seemed eminently fitting that it should be restored to the railroad -for safekeeping temporarily. The Hawk, as he entered the station, -nonchalantly exchanged his valise for a parcel-room check, paid down -the dime for the service to be rendered, and passed on into the general -waiting room. - -He glanced at the news-counter on his way through to the platform. Its -full complement of two attendants were present now; but, contrary to all -precedent, it being an all-night stand, obvious preparations for closing -it for the night were in progress—the two men were engaged in removing -the magazines, newspapers, and various small wares from the outside -ledge of the counter, and in pulling down the large sliding windows -that enclosed the place. The Hawk's dark eyes flashed a gleam of grim -appreciation. It was then literally a mobilisation of the Wire Devils -to the last man to-night! A half million in gold—was a half million in -gold! - -The Hawk bought a mileage book in lieu of a ticket to any specific -destination, both because his immediate destination was peculiarly his -own private concern, and because in the very near future he expected to -put a considerable quantity of mileage to excellent use. He strolled out -to the platform, and along to the east end of the station. - -Here, quite unobtrusively, he awaited the arrival of No. 18. The -platform was fairly well crowded—but not unusually so, or rather, -perhaps, not noticeably so. A half dozen, or even a dozen, extra men -circulating amongst the ordinary press of traffic would hardly be -expected to make any appreciable difference. The Hawk, back under -the shadows of the building, surveyed the lighted stretch of platform -narrowly. They were there, the Wire Devils' reserve, he knew; but -he recognised none of them. He smiled a little whimsically. His -acquaintanceship with the gang so far had been with its more prominent -members, as it were, and these, as likewise Mac-Vightie's posse, had -already boarded the train far west of Selkirk—that each might not -excite the other's suspicion! Nor was MacVightie himself in evidence. -Not that this surprised the Hawk! He was interested, that was all. It -was simply a question of whether MacVightie had elected to stay with -the gold, or had gone on with the first posse on the Limited on the -assumption that the Limited was the more likely to be attacked. It made -little difference, of course, as far as he, the Hawk, was concerned, -whether it was MacVightie or some one else who was in command of the -posse—his own plans would in no way be affected on that account. - -There was a stir along the platform. Up the yard, past the twinkling -switch lights on the spurs, the glare of a headlight flashed into sight -around the bend. Came the roar and rumble of a heavy train, and a -moment later No. 18, its big mogul panting like a thing of life from a -breathless run, its long string of coaches behind it, rolled into the -station. - -The Hawk did not stir. By coincidence, perhaps, the baggage car had come -to a stop directly opposite the position he had chosen. The rearmost -sliding door of the car was slammed back, and the baggageman, a -powerfully built, muscular fellow of perhaps thirty, appeared in -the doorway. The Hawk, from his place of vantage, eyed the other -appraisingly, and then his glance travelled on into the interior of the -car—what he could see of it. What he saw was a mass of trunks, some -of which the man now unloaded on the waiting trucks, and in turn piled -others, as they were heaved up to him from the platform, into the -formers' places. The Hawk nodded his head shortly. True, the forward -door of the car had not been, opened, but MacVigh-tie had done his work -well. There was no hint of concealment, the baggage car of No. 18 was as -frankly innocent in appearance on its run tonight as it had ever been. - -The train was starting into motion again when the Hawk finally moved. -He crossed the platform, and swung himself on the forward steps of the -smoker, that was immediately behind the baggage car. His slouch hat -pulled a little over his eyes, he opened the door, stepped into the car, -sauntered down the aisle, and out of the rear door to the vestibuled -platform of the first-class day coach behind. But here, the Hawk paused -a moment, and his face, impassive before, was stamped now with a twisted -smile. His reconnaissance of the train so far had proved fruitful. The -four men in the forward double seat of the smoker, a lap board across -their knees, and apparently engrossed in their card game, were the -Butcher, Whitie Jim, the Cricket and the Bantam! And further down -the aisle, unwittingly rubbing shoulders quite probably with some of -MacVightie's men, Parson Joe occupied a seat, and the keen, pale, thin -face of Kirschell peered out from another. - -“Yes, they're all here,” decided the Hawk, his voice drowned -in the rattle of the train. “Counting those who got on at Selkirk, -they're all here to the last man—except the Ladybird and his wheel -chair!” - -The Hawk moved forward, reached out for the handle of the day coach -door—and sucked in his breath, as he drew sharply back again. Through -the glass panel he had caught sight of two men he had not expected to -see. Sitting together on the right-hand side about a quarter of the -way down the aisle were MacVightie and Lanson. The Hawk frowned. He had -waited until the train was in motion, and he had not seen them get on; -and they, as witness that little conference in the roundhouse of a -while back, had not been amongst those who had boarded the train west of -Selkirk. And then the frown gave place to a sort of self-commiserating -expression. Where were his wits to-night! It was simple enough! They -had boarded the car from the yard side of the train, and not from the -platform, of course! - -Well, that put an end to any further reconnaissance through the train! -In one sense it was not altogether true that it made no difference -whether MacVightie was aboard or not. He and MacVightie were not -altogether strangers. They had met once in his, the Hawk's, room, -and on that occasion, the night, to be precise, he had cleaned out the -paymaster's safe of that ten thousand dollars, MacVightie had been in -a decidedly suspicious frame of mind. MacVightie, it was quite certain, -had not forgotten that night; nor, it was quite equally safe to assume, -had MacVightie forgotten his, the Hawk's face—and at that exact -moment the Hawk had no desire that MacVightie should recognise him -again! - -The Hawk turned, re-entered the smoker, found the always unpopular -crosswise seat behind the door vacant, and appropriated it. His eyes -straying forward over the car located two more acquaintances in the -person of Crusty Kline and French Pete, and came back to fix musingly on -the worn nickel faucet of the water-cooler. No. 18'. first stop was at -Barne's Junction, fifteen miles out from Selkirk, and some five miles -this side of Conmore; the next stop was Lorraine, and Lorraine was on -the other side—in fact a good many miles on the other side—of Echo -Rock and the Willow Creek bridge. The deduction was obvious; and the -Hawk's destination, in so far as his occupancy of a seat in the smoker -was concerned, was therefore quite plainly—the Junction. - -“Three miles east of Echo Rock,” repeated the Hawk to himself. -“No, I don't think so! This is where the Ladybird has another guess! -Maybe I couldn't get away with a half million—but maybe I'm not -the only one! There's one or two guys in this car that haven't -got the high-sign to my lodge! It seems to me I promised the Butcher -something the night he tried to shoot me through his pocket, and it -seems as though I promised Parson Joe something too—yes, it seems to -me I did!” - - - - -XIX—BIRDS OF A FEATHER - -IT took twenty minutes for the run to the Junction. And at the Junction, -as far as the Hawk could tell, since, yielding to what had become a sort -of habit with him, he descended to the ground on the opposite side from -the station, he was the only passenger for that stop. It was dark here; -strangely silent, and strangely lonely. Barne's Junction owed its -existence neither to a town site, nor to commercial importance—it -existed simply as a junction, and for purely railroad operating purposes -only. It was, in fact, the other extreme as compared to Selkirk with its -lighted and busy platform, its extensive yard, and its ubiquitous and, -perhaps, too inquisitive yardmen! - -The Hawk dropped on all fours and began to creep along the side of the -smoker toward the forward end of the train, his eyes strained warily -through the darkness against the possibility of one or other of the -engine crew descending from the cab. He passed the smoker and kept on -along the length of the baggage car, still crawling, moving without -a sound. When he rose from his knees finally, he was crouched down in -between the tender and the forward end of the baggage car; and a -moment later, as the train jerked forward into motion, he was crouched -again—this time on the end beam of the baggage car which, in lieu of -platform, served as a sort of wide threshold for the door. - -The train was beginning to gain momentum now, and against the jolt and -swing of the increasing speed the Hawk steadied himself by clinging with -one hand to the iron handrail at the side of the door—with the other -hand he tried the door cautiously, and found it locked. - -From the pocket in the back lining of his coat he produced his mask, -fingered it speculatively for an instant, then slipped it over his face. -True, this was to be his last venture in the Wire Devils' preserves, -but he had always worn a mask, and—there came a twisted grin—they -perhaps would not recognise him without it. And it was quite necessary -that they should recognise the Hawk—if he was to keep that promise to -the Butcher! It might be a farewell, as far as he was concerned, but he -intended that it should be a memorable one, and that no doubt should -be permitted to linger in their minds as to the identity of the parting -guest they had so lavishly, if ungraciously, entertained! - -From the same pocket came his skeleton keys. The Hawk now felt -tentatively with his finger over the keyhole, nodded his head briskly, -and from the bunch of keys, still by the sense of touch, selected one -without hesitation. The Hawk, however, for the moment, made no effort -to open the door. The rush of the wind was in his face now; like some -black, monstrous, uncanny wall confronting him, the tender clashed and -clattered, and swayed in dizzy lurches before his eyes; while heavenward -the sky was tinged with a deep red glow, and the cab was ablaze with -light from the wide-flung fire-box door, and the top of the baggage car -door, and the individual particles of coal on the top of the tender's -heap stood out in sharp relief against the background of the night. - -And then the darkness fell again. - -The Hawk's hand shot forward to the keyhole, lingered there an -instant, as he crouched again swaying with the lurch of the train, then -the skeleton keys were returned to the pocket in the back lining of his -coat—and the Hawk was in action. In a flash he had opened and closed -the door behind him, and, with his back against it, his automatic flung -significantly forward in his hand, he stood staring down the length of -the car. - -There was a hoarse, startled yell, that was lost in the roar of the -flying train, and the baggageman, from his chair at one side of the car -and in front of a shelf-like desk topped with a rack of pigeonholes, -leaped to his feet. - -“Sit down!” invited the Hawk coldly. - -The man hesitated, but the next instant dropped back into his chair, as -the Hawk moved suddenly forward to his side. - -“What do you want?” he demanded sullenly. - -“This—to begin with!” The Hawk's voice was an insolent drawl -now, as his deft fingers, like a streak of lightning, were into the -other's pocket and out again with the man's revolver. “How long -since they've been arming the baggagemen on this road? You needn't -answer—I'm only talking to myself. Those are the cases up there -by the forward door, aren't they? And the big one's got the green -boys—eh?” He was backing away from the man now. “Don't move, my -bucko—understand? That chair you're sitting in is the only health -resort in this car!” - -The man's hands clenched, as his eyes narrowed on the Hawk. - -“You damned thief!” he rasped out. “I—I'd like to——” - -“Quite so!” said the Hawk softly. “I know how you feel about it, -and if it helps any to get it off your chest, go to it! Nobody'll hear -you but me, and I'll try and make the best of it!” - -Piled along the side of the car from the doorway were a number of -solidly made, heavy-looking cases that obviously contained the gold -shipment. In front of these, between them and where the baggageman sat, -and acting too perhaps as a screen when the rear sliding door was -open, as, for instance, it had been at Selkirk, was a large, -innocent-appearing, flimsily-constructed packing case. The Hawk, beside -this now, moved it slightly. It was very light, so light as to warrant -the presumption that it might even be empty. - -The baggageman had relapsed into a scowling silence, his eyes still on -the Hawk. The Hawk took his steel jimmy from his pocket, shifted his -automatic to his left hand, and inserted the jimmy under the cover of -the case. There was a rip and tear of rending wood; the operation was -twice repeated—and the Hawk threw the shattered cover on the floor. -He glanced inside. At the bottom of the case lay a large paper package, -strongly tied, and heavily sealed with red wax. - -Under his mask, the Hawk's lips parted in a smile, as, his eyes on -the baggageman again, he noted that the other was watching his every -movement now with a sort of intense expectancy. The Hawk, however, made -no effort to reach down into the four-foot depth of the packing case; -he canted the box over, and picked up the package from the floor of -the car. With the point of his jimmy he tore a rent in the paper -wrapper—and his smile broadened. - -“I apologise,” said the Hawk, with an engaging nod to the sullen -figure in the chair. “They're not green boys—they're yellow -backs!” - -“You damned thief!” said the man, in a choked voice. - -The roar and sway of the train seemed suddenly to increase, as the -wheel trucks, jolting and beating at a siding switch, set up a sort -of infernal tattoo. They were passing the first station after the -Junction—Conmore. - -The smile left the Hawk's face. A little further along, and they would -stop the train. There came a sort of dare-devil set to the Hawk's -clamped jaws. - -He was taking chances, but he had already weighed those chances well. -The Wire Devils, the Butcher and his crowd, would be on the alert; but -equally so would be MacVightie—and the posse that must far outnumber -the gang. And there was that promise to the Butcher! With their -plans awry, and taken by surprise, instead of profiting by surprise -themselves, their chances, rather than of securing a half million in -gold, were most excellent of securing quite as generous a reward, though -of another nature—at the hands of MacVightie! - -“I'm going to get off here,” said the Hawk coolly to the figure in -the chair. “And the only way to get off without cracking my bean is to -let that guy there in the engine know that he's infringing the speed -laws! You remember what I told you—the only healthy place in this car -for you is where you're sitting now. Something may crack loose around -here—keep out of the wet!” - -The Hawk reached above his head for the bell cord, and pulled it -sharply. The engine crew, too, were evidently on the alert! The shrill -blast of the whistle answered the signal instantly. There was a sudden -jerk that almost threw the Hawk from his feet, the pound and slam -of buffer plates, and the vicious shriek of the “air.” The Hawk -recovered himself, and, cool and quick in every movement now, thrust his -jimmy into his pocket to free his hands, flung the package of banknotes -up the aisle made by trunks and boxes behind him, and began to retreat -toward the forward door, pulling the empty case along as a shield -between himself and the other end of the car. - -The rear door of the car smashed inward. The Hawk caught a blurred -glimpse of faces and forms surging through the doorway, and streaming -across the platform from the smoker behind—and, in the lead, the -Butcher's crafty face, with its little black, restless, ferret eyes -fixed down the trunk-made aisle of the car on him! - -“The Hawk!”—it came in a scream of abandoned fury from the -Butcher—then a headlong rush—a flash, the roar of the report, as the -Butcher fired—another, as the Hawk's automatic answered—and the -spat of a bullet splitting the panel of the forward door. - -The Hawk, stooped low behind the packing case now, still edged backward -toward the door, still dragging the case after him. A smile that was -deadly grim and far removed from mirth curved his lips downward in hard, -merciless lines. He had, at least, attained his object! There was no -doubt concerning their recognition of him as the Hawk! Well, he had -weighed the chances. They would be on him now, but only one at a -time; there was not room for more, with the packing case blocking the -way—and it would be the Butcher first. After that—well, after that, -he counted on MacVightie creating a diversion from the rear, and—— - -The Butcher had flung himself against the packing case. It toppled to -one side, and the Hawk, like a crouched tiger, sprang and closed, making -of the Butcher's body, as a substitute for the packing case now, -a shield from the onrush behind. There was a furious oath from the -Butcher; a lurch, a stagger, as the train jerked and jerked again—and -both men, gripped and locked together, went to the floor. - -For an instant they rolled over and over, the Butcher snarling like -a mad beast, wrenching and twisting for an opening at the Hawk's -throat—and then suddenly the car was in an inferno. A voice, -MacVightie's, rang out sternly from the rear door. It was echoed by -a yell from one of the Hawk's companions, then a shot, another, a -fusillade of them—and then a voice above the uproar: - -“It's MacVightie, an' de bulls!” - -There was a scurrying of feet, a stampede for cover behind trunks and -boxes by the Butcher's men—and the Butcher's grip was tense upon -the Hawk. - -“Cut it out!” he whispered hoarsely. “My God, we're -trapped—the lot of us! Make a break for the door—get me? -Crawl—that's the only chance!” Blue eddies of smoke hung in queer, -wavering, hesitant suspension up and down the length of the car; the air -was full of the acrid smell of powder. The firing broke out again. The -Hawk released his hold. - -“All right!” he panted. “I'm with you!” - -The Butcher was right, it was the only chance—and a chance that was -theirs alone, for, as they lay on the floor, the packing case hid them, -and it was barely two yards to the door. The train was almost at a -standstill now. MacVightie's men had gained an entrance and a position -for themselves behind the trunks at the lower end, firing as they crept -forward, while back on the smoker's platform, through the baggage -car's open door, others commanded the sweep down the center of the -car. - -The Hawk snatched at the package of banknotes, snuggled it under his -coat, and, with the Butcher beside him, began to wriggle toward the -door. - -MacVightie's voice rang out again from the rear of the car: - -“Marston, take ten men, and surround the car! And——” His voice -rose suddenly in a bull-like roar. “The forward door, there—two of -them! Watch which way they jump—not a man of them gets away to-night! -Quick!” - -The Hawk had wrenched the door open, and, with the Butcher behind him, -flung himself out, and leaped to the ground. With the Hawk leading, -running like hares, the two men dashed down the embankment, and hurled -themselves over the barbed-wire fence that enclosed the right of way. -Shouts, the crackle of shots, echoed from behind them—the short, -vicious tongue-flames of the revolvers, a myriad of them, it seemed, -stabbed yellow through the blackness. - -The Hawk glanced back over his shoulder. He could just make out perhaps -a half dozen dark forms in pursuit—and perhaps fifty yards away. The -darkness and the distance made the shooting at best uncertain. It was -only a chance shot that would get either the Butcher or himself, and -ahead, unless he was mistaken, for the train must have come to a stop at -just about that distance from Conmore, must be the wooded tract of -land that surrounded the old farmhouse. Yes—there it was! The -old dare-devil set clamped his jaws again. Yes, and so was the -Ladybird—there! Well, it was obvious enough that there was no other -cover! He glanced at the Butcher's face that he could just discern -in the darkness. The Butcher might decide against it, but the Butcher -evidently had not recognised his surroundings. The man's lips were -working, and he was cursing in abandon as he ran. - -The Hawk spoke in short, gasping breaths: “There's some trees over -there—to the right—a little—make for them—cover!” - -The Butcher swerved automatically in the direction indicated. - -“Curse you!” he wheezed out. “This is all your infernal, nosey -work! What did you want to butt in for to-night—you fool—you -couldn't have got that gold, anyway!” - -“You close your face!” snapped back the Hawk. “I'm running my -own show! There was a little cash—forty thousand bucks along with -that gold, that maybe you didn't know about. That's what I was -after—see? And that's what I got—see?” - -“Yes”—the Butcher's voice broke in infuriated passion—“yes, -and you got them all pinched, every last one of them—blast you! -I——” - -“You save your breath, and put it into running,” retorted the Hawk -savagely, “or else maybe you'll get pinched yourself! It's their -lookout! I don't owe any of you any candy, do I!” - -MacVightie himself was evidently one of those in pursuit behind, for -again the Hawk recognised the other's voice: - -“Spread out there to the right! And try and shoot a little -straighter—before they get into that belt of trees!” - -A renewed outburst of firing came in response—and the Hawk measured -grimly the few yards that still separated him from the trees, as a -bullet, drumming the air venomously, seemed to miss his cheek by but -the fraction of an inch. MacVightie's presence was evidence that the -detective was so well satisfied that the gang penned up in the car could -not escape, that he obviously counted his temporary absence from the -scene well warranted if thereby the clean-up were made complete in the -capture of——-The Hawk's mental soliloquy came to an abrupt end. -There was a low cry from the Butcher, and the man, as they ran shoulder -to shoulder, lurched against him. - -“What's wrong?” flung out the Hawk sharply. - -“They got me!” gasped the Butcher—and lurched again. “They got -me—in the leg.” - -The Hawk glanced backward again. They were still those fifty yards -behind, those dark, flitting, oncoming forms, those vicious yellow stabs -of flame in the blackness—it had been a dead heat so far, here to the -fringe of the trees. - -The Butcher stumbled. The Hawk swung his free arm around the other's -waist, and plunged in amongst the trees. It was slower work now, -desperately slow. He clutched at the package of banknotes beneath his -coat, and with his other hand tightened his grip upon the Butcher. The -man was evidently badly hit, and was beginning to sag limply. Came the -thrashing and branches, and the rush of feet behind them. The fifty -yards was ten now—the Hawk, with his burden, struggled on—and then -there came a cry again from the Butcher—they had gained the edge -of the clearing, and the old farmhouse and its outbuildings loomed up -before them. - -“It's—it's——” the Butcher's voice choked weakly. - -“I—I know where we are—my God, quick! They'll search the house! -I got to warn him now—quick!” The man, as though under a stimulant, -with new strength, had sprung forward alone into the clear, making -for the farmhouse door. It was only a few yards, but halfway there he -stumbled again—and again the Hawk pulled him to his feet. - -A yell went up behind them. MacVightie and his men, too, were now in the -clearing, and the ten yards' lead was cut to five, to three—and then -the door before them was flung suddenly open, and a voice challenged -hoarsely from within: - -“Who's there? What's——” - -The Butcher pitched across the threshold, dragging the Hawk down with -him in his fall. - -“The door, Jim—quick—slam it!” screamed the Butcher. “We're -done—the cellar!” - -The Hawk had leaped to his feet. The room was dark, unlighted, but from -across it came, as there had come that other night, the faint glow from -the open door of the cellarway. The Butcher had staggered up again, and -was making in that direction—and then the Hawk, too, was across the -room—but the next instant, turning to meet the rush from without, as -the front door, evidently before the man whom the Butcher had addressed -as Jim could fasten it, burst inward and crashed against the wall, he -was borne backward, and, losing his balance, half pitched, half rolled -down the cellar stairs. - -The fall must have stunned him for a moment. He realised that as he -struggled to his feet—to find himself staring into the muzzle of -MacVightie's revolver, and to find that the bulging package of -banknotes was gone from under his coat, as, too, were his automatic, his -jimmy and the baggageman's revolver that had been in the side -pockets of his coat. He raised his hand dazedly toward his eyes—and -MacVightie, reaching out, knocked his hand away. - -“I'll do that for you—we were just getting around to it!” said -MacVightie roughly—and jerked the Hawk's mask from his face. And -then MacVightie leaned sharply forward. “O-ho!” he exclaimed grimly. -“So it's you—is it? I guess you put it over me the night that ten -thousand was lifted at the station—but I've got you now!” - -The Hawk made no answer. He was staring, still in an apparently dazed -way, about him. The cellar was a veritable maze of work benches and -elaborate equipment—for counterfeiting work. A printing press stood -over in one corner; on the benches, plates and engravers' tools of all -descriptions were scattered about; and, near the wall by the stairway, -he made out a telegraph set. But the Hawk's glance did not linger on -any of these things—it fastened on a bent and twisted form that craned -its neck forward from a rubber-tired wheel chair; on a livid face, out -of which the coal-black eyes, narrowed to slits, smouldered in deadly -menace, and from whose thin lips, that scarcely moved, there poured -forth now a torrent of hideous blasphemy in that soft, silken voice -that had earned the Ladybird his name; on the hand, crooked into a claw, -that, pushing away the man who stood guard over him, reached out toward -where the Butcher lay upon the floor. - -“You ape, you gnat, you brainless pig! And you led them -here—here—here!” - -“I didn't know where I was until I was right on the house,” -mumbled the Butcher miserably. “I——” - -“Shut up—both of you!” ordered MacVightie gruffly. “What do you -say, Lanson? Is this the Hawk?” - -The Hawk had not seen the superintendent, and he turned now quickly. -Lanson's steel-grey eyes were boring into him coldly. - -“Yes,” said Lanson evenly, “I think I could swear he was the man -who held us up in the private car the other night—but it's easily -proved. If he is the Hawk, he has got a wound in his right side. I -saw him clap his hand there when the pistol went off in his fight with -Meridan.” - -“Well, we'll soon see!” snapped MacVightie. - -The Hawk licked his lips. - -“You needn't look,” he said morosely. “It's there.” - -“So you admit it, do you?” MacVightie's smile was unpleasant. -“Well, then, since you seem to be so thick with that pack of curs -back there in the train, perhaps you'll admit to a hand in this little -counterfeiting plant as well?” - -“No; I won't!” said the Hawk shortly. “I never had anything to -do with this! I don't admit anything of the kind! Ask him!”—the -Hawk jerked his hand toward the Ladybird. - -“Oh, all right!” MacVightie smiled unpleasantly again. “Let it -go at that for now, if you like it that way. It doesn't much matter. -You're birds of a feather, anyway, and there's enough on all of you -to go around!” He reached behind him, and picked up the package of -banknotes from where he had evidently laid it on the nearest bench. -“How did you know this was on the train, and how did you know where it -was in the car—and tell the truth about it!” - -“I heard you and Mr. Lanson talking about it tonight,” said the -Hawk. - -“Where?” - -“In the roundhouse. I was outside the window. And”—the Hawk's -voice thinned in a sudden snarl—“you go to the devil with your -questions!” - -The Ladybird was craned forward again in the wheel chair listening -intently, he sank back now and scowled murderously at the Hawk. -MacVightie shrugged his shoulders, handed the package to one of his -three men who were with him in the cellar, and drew a pair of handcuffs -from his pocket. - -“Get that cash down to the train, and put it back with the gold where -it will be under guard, MacGregor!” he ordered brusquely. “And you -two carry this fellow”—he rattled his handcuffs in the Butcher's -direction—“down there, too. Tell Marston to let you have three or -four more men. The chap that Williams has got upstairs there will have -to be carried, too, I guess; and our friend here, in the invalid buggy, -with the thanksgiving expression on his face, will have to have somebody -to push him along over the ruts. Yes, and I'll want a couple to put in -the night here—tell Marston to make it four. And now, beat it! You run -ahead, MacGregor, and get back as soon as you can—we don't want to -tie up the traffic all night!” - -The two men picked up the Butcher, and, preceded by their companion -with the package of banknotes, went up the stairs. MacVightie caught -the Hawk's arm roughly, snapped one link of the steel cuffs over the -Hawk's right wrist, and yanked the Hawk ungently over to a position -beside the wheel chair. - -He snapped the other link over the Ladybird's left wrist, and smiled -menacingly. - -“I guess there's dead weight enough there to anchor you for a few -minutes while I take a look around here!” he said curtly—and turned -to Lan-son. - -The Hawk was licking at his lips again. Upstairs, the tramp of feet was -dying away: There would be no one there now but the other member of the -gang who, it seemed, had been hurt when the house was rushed, and the -one man who was guarding the prisoner. The Ladybird's cultured voice -at the Hawk's side poured out an uninterrupted stream of abandoned -oaths that were like a shudder in the nonchalant, conversational tones -in which they fell from the twitching lips. MacVightie and Lanson were -moving here and there about the place. Snatches of their conversation -reached the Hawk: - -...Well, I reckon I called the turn, all right, when I said it was -the same crowd that was turning out the phony stuff, eh?... Yes, the -telegraph set. - -... Can't trace the wires until daylight, of course. - -... Sure, a clean-up....” - -The Hawk's eyes travelled furtively around the cellar. They rested -hungrily on a spot in front of him, where, in the centre of the floor, -but partially hidden by one of the workbenches, was the bolted trapdoor -of the underground passage that led out to the wagon shed. He circled -his lips with his tongue again, and furtively again, his glance -travelled on—to the door at the head of the cellar stairs that had a -massive bolt, and that, evidently swinging back of its own accord after -the men had passed through, now hung just ajar—to a long, narrow -window, most tantalising of all because it was wide open, that was -shoulder high, just above the stonework of the cellar and evidently on a -level with the ground outside. - -And then suddenly the Hawk's lids drooped—to hide a quick flash and -gleam that lighted the dark eyes. MacVightie had stooped, and throwing -back the bolt, had lifted up the trapdoor. - -“Hello!” he ejaculated. “What's this? Here, Lanson! It looks -like a passage of some sort.” He was leaning down into the opening. -“Yes, so help me, that's what it is!” He lowered himself hurriedly -through the trapdoor, and his voice came back muffled into the cellar. -“Come down here a minute, Lanson; they certainly had things worked out -to a fine point!” - -Lanson's back, as, following MacVightie, he lowered himself through -the opening, was turned to the Hawk—and in a flash the Hawk's free -hand had swept behind him under his coat to the concealed pocket in the -back lining, and his eyes were thrust within an inch of the Ladybird's -as he lowered his head. - -“You understand?”—the Hawk's lips did not move, he was breathing -his words, while a skeleton key worked swiftly at the handcuff on his -wrist—“you understand? It's you or me! You make a sound to queer -me, and I'll get you—first!” - -The livid face was contorted, working with impotent fury, but, perhaps -for the first time that it had ever been there, there was fear In the -Ladybird's burning eyes. The Hawk's hand was free now. Lanson's -shoulders were just disappearing through the opening, and with a -lightning spring the Hawk reached the trapdoor, swung it down, bolted -it, and, running without a sound, gained the head of the cellar stairs, -pulled the door gently shut, slid the bolt silently into place—and the -next moment the Hawk, returning, darted to the window, swung himself up -to the ledge, and vanished. - - - - -XX—“CONFIDENTIAL” CORRESPONDENCE - -TWO days later MacVightie received a letter that had been posted the day -before from a city quite a number of miles nearer the East than -Selkirk was. In the left-hand, lower corner of the envelope, heavily -underscored, was the word: “Confidential.” What MacVightie read, -when he opened the letter, was this: - -“Dear Mr. MacVightie:— - -“I feel that you are entitled to an explanation—I will not call it -an apology, for I am sure you will recognise with me the unavoidable -nature of the circumstances existing at the time—of my somewhat -informal leave-taking of you two evenings ago; and I am afraid that my -actions on that occasion have not enhanced your opinion of—the Hawk. I -shall try and redeem myself. You have, I make no doubt, already -searched that room where I first had the pleasure of making your -acquaintance—and have found nothing. Let me begin, then, by saying -that the diamond necklace belonging to His Excellency the Governor's -wife, a certain well-known shipment of unset stones, and cash in varying -amounts derived from sources with which you are acquainted, are in -a black valise which you will find in the parcel room of the Selkirk -station—and for which I enclose herewith the parcel-room check. - -“I imagine that you are sceptical. I wonder, then, if it would also -occasion you surprise to know that Birks of the Secret Service was, -after all, 'on deck' the night that the Wire Devils fell into your -hospitable hands? Yes, it is quite true—I am Birks. The newspaper -biographies of the Hawk, the apparent authenticity of his prison record -and release from Sing Sing was but 'inspired' fiction supplied from -'authoritative' sources. The East was being swamped with one of -the cleverest counterfeit notes that the Federal authorities, popularly -called the Secret Service, had ever had to deal with; and it was evident -at once that the gang at work possessed an organisation against which -ordinary methods would be of no avail. Facts in the possession of the -Federal authorities indicated that the headquarters of the gang was -in the West, and, indeed, as you later concluded yourself, that the -so-called Wire Devils, who were just beginning to operate over the wires -around Selkirk, were the men we wanted. That, because of my knowledge of -telegraphy, I was detailed to the case, and how, almost at the outset, I -was fortunate enough to secure the key to their cipher, need not be gone -into here. Knowing their code, then, it would have been a simple enough -matter to have run one or two of them to earth at almost any time, but -that was not enough; it was necessary that the entire organisation, and -especially its head, should be caught. The rôle of the Hawk furnished -the solution to the problem. It enabled me to frustrate their plans, -while at the same time I was working on the case, and it enabled me to -do this without arousing their suspicions that the Secret Service was on -the track of their counterfeiting plant. 'Birds of a feather,' you -called us, Mr. Mac-Vightie; and 'birds of a feather' I am going to -ask you to allow us, in the public's eyes, and particularly in the -eyes of those you now have behind the bars, to remain. - -“I am sure you will readily acquiesce in this. You will instantly -see that my usefulness would be destroyed if the Hawk became known and -recognised as Birks of the Secret Service by every crook in the country, -as would result if he now figured in the case in his proper person. And -this leads to a word of explanation in reference to the final act in our -little drama of two nights ago. I had discovered the headquarters of the -gang, and I had found that cleverest of unhung crooks, the Ladybird, -to be in command. The plan outlined to you from Washington was at my -suggestion, and was simply a trap to collect them all into one net; a -trap, I might add, which they walked into, as they believed, with their -eyes wide open, for they were well aware of every move you had made. The -purpose of the money in banknotes accompanying the gold shipment was to -supply the Hawk with a reason for his appearance on the scene. It was -not altogether a question of coincidence that the train was stopped just -outside Con-more; nor that the chase led you to the farmhouse and the -Ladybird. The rest you know. It was necessary that I should be captured -and arrested in their presence, be caught in fact with the 'goods,' -and also that my escape should in their eyes appear equally genuine, if -I was to preserve the Hawk's identity. As for this last point, things -turned out a little differently than I had planned, for I had expected -to be taken to jail with the common herd, and there had intended to -arrange some sort of an escape to keep up appearances. As it turned out, -however, I am sure you will agree with me that there are worse things at -times than a trapdoor in a cellar floor! - -“I think that is all—save for one little detail. I would suggest -that you account for the recovery of the 'swag' and the black valise -through the fact that, dissatisfied with your first search of that room -over our friend Seidel-berger's saloon, you searched it again more -minutely, found a parcel-room check ingeniously hidden, say, behind the -wall bracket of the electric-light fixture—and by so doing permit me -to remain, - -“Ever and most sincerely yours, - -“The Hawk.” THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wire Devils, by Frank L. -Packard - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIRE DEVILS *** - -***** This file should be named 52084-0.txt or 52084-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/0/8/52084/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously provided by the -Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be -renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and -trademark. 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