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diff --git a/old/52084-h/52084-h.htm b/old/52084-h/52084-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index ae32d61..0000000 --- a/old/52084-h/52084-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10154 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title> - The Wire Devils, by Frank L. Packard - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wire Devils, by Frank L. Packard - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Wire Devils - -Author: Frank L. Packard - -Release Date: May 16, 2016 [EBook #52084] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIRE DEVILS *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - THE WIRE DEVILS - </h1> - <h2> - By Frank L. Packard - </h2> - <h4> - Author of “Greater Love Hath No Man,” “The Adventure of Jimmie Dale,” Etc. - </h4> - <h5> - A. L. Burt Company Publishers New York - </h5> - <h3> - 1918 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0007.jpg" alt="0007 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0007.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE WIRE DEVILS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I—THE SECRET CODE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II—THE TEN-DOLLAR COUNTERFEIT NOTE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III-THE PAYMASTER'S SAFE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV—AT BALD CREEK STATION </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V—IN WHICH A CASH BOX DISAPPEARS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI—SOME OF THE LITTLE SPIDERS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII—WANTED—THE HAWK—DEAD OR - ALIVE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII—THREADS IN THE WEB </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX—THE LOOTING OF THE FAST MAIL </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> X—THE THIRD PARTY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XI—THE LEAD CAPSULE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XII—BLINDMAN'S-BUFF </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIII—THE MAN WITH THE SCAR </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIV—THE CLUE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XV—THE LADYBIRD </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVI—AN EVEN BREAK </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVII—A HOLE IN THE WALL </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVIII—THE HAWK PACKS HIS VALISE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XIX—BIRDS OF A FEATHER </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XX—“CONFIDENTIAL” CORRESPONDENCE </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - THE WIRE DEVILS - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - I—THE SECRET CODE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WO switch lights - twinkled; one at the east, and one at the west end of the siding. For the - rest all was blackness. Half way between the switch lights, snuggled close - against the single-tracked main line, the station, little more than a - shanty and too insignificant to boast a night operator, loomed up shadowy - and indistinct. Away to the westward, like jagged points sticking up into - the night and standing out in relief against the skyline, the Rockies - reared their peaks. And the spell of the brooding mountains seemed to lie - over all the desolate, butte-broken surrounding country—for all was - utter silence. - </p> - <p> - And then there came a sound, low at first, like a strange muttering from - somewhere to the westward. - </p> - <p> - It died away, grew louder, was hushed again—and broke into a - sustained roar. Came then the quick, short gasps of the exhaust—it - was a freight, and a heavy one. And suddenly, from up the track, circling - an intervening butte, an electric headlight cut streaming through the - black. It touched the little station in a queerly inquisitive way in the - sweep of its arc, lingered an instant over the platform, then swung to the - right of way, and held there, the metals glistening like polished silver - ribbons under the flood of light. - </p> - <p> - Straining, panting at its load, reddening the sky as the fire-box door was - flung open, the big tenwheeler stormed by, coughing the sparks heavenward - from its stack. The roar in the still night grew deafening, as boxcar, - flat and gondola, lurching, swaying, clanking, groaning, an endless - string, tugging at one another, grinding their flanges, screaming as they - took up the axle play, staggered with a din infernal past the lonely and - unlighted station. - </p> - <p> - The roar sank into a gradually diminishing murmur. The tail-lights winked - like mischievous little red eyes in the distance—and vanished. - </p> - <p> - All was stillness and that brooding silence again. - </p> - <p> - And then a man's form, like a black shadow in the darkness, rose from the - trackside, and crept to the platform, and along the platform to the - station door. - </p> - <p> - The man bent forward, and the round, white ray of a pocket flashlight - played upon the lock. He examined the lock for an instant appraisingly, - then drew a bunch of skeleton keys from his pocket, and, selecting one of - the number without hesitation, unlocked the door, stepped inside, and - closed the door behind him. - </p> - <p> - The flashlight swept in a circle around the interior of the little - station. There were but two rooms—the small waiting room which he - had entered, and in which he now stood; and, partitioned off from this, - the door open, a still smaller inner room, the agent's office. He moved at - once into the latter, and his flashlight, swiftly now, searched around the - walls and held upon the clock. It was six minutes to ten. - </p> - <p> - “Pretty close work!” muttered the man. “Six minutes to wait.” - </p> - <p> - The ray travelled now over the operator's table, and from the table to the - switchboard. He reached out, “cut in” the office circuit, listened for an - instant as the sounder began to chatter—then the ray swept over the - table again. Under a newspaper, that the day man had apparently flung down - at haphazard on leaving the office, he found a pad of telegraph blanks, - from which, evidently wary of the consequences of using a pad with its - resultant tell-tale impressions on the under sheets, he tore off a sheet - and laid it down ready to hand before him. - </p> - <p> - This done, he nodded complacently, sat down in the operator's chair, - tilted the chair back, put his feet up on the table, and coolly picked up - the newspaper. It was the evening edition of the Selkirk City <i>Journal</i>, - that had presumably been tossed off at the station by a charitable train - crew of some late afternoon train out from the city. He held the paper in - one hand, the flashlight in the other, scanned the page, which happened to - be an inner one, cursorily, turned it over, and suddenly leaned forward a - little in his seat. He was staring at the headline at the top right-hand - corner of the front page. - </p> - <h3> - NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL RELEASED FROM SING SING - </h3> - <h3> - POLICE ARE WARNED THAT MAN MAY BE IN THIS VICINITY - </h3> - <h3> - HARRY MAUL, ALIAS THE HAWK, KNOWN TO BE IN THE WEST - </h3> - <p> - The telegraph sounder chattered volubly for an instant, as though to - challenge and silence the raucous ticking of the clock, and ended in a - splutter of wrath, as it were, at the futility of its attempt. The clock - ticked on. There was no other sound. And then the man spoke aloud. - </p> - <p> - “That's me,” he said. “The Hawk.” The paper rattled in his hand. There was - a twisted smile on his lips in the darkness. “I guess I'm pretty well - known.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes fixed on the text, and he began to read: - </p> - <p> - “It is reported that Harry Maul, better known to the police as the Hawk, - safe-breaker, forger and thief, one of the cleverest 'gentleman' crooks in - the country, who is at large again after a five-years' penitentiary term, - is somewhere in the West. - </p> - <p> - “The crime wave that has recently been sweeping over Selkirk City and its - vicinity, and particularly the daring and, in too many cases, successful - outrages with which the railroad officials and detectives have been called - upon to cope of late, may, as a very plausible theory, have lured the Hawk - here as to a promising field in which to resume his criminal operations. - Certain it is that, while we have been the victims of a band of mysterious - desperadoes for some time past, the last week or so has seen a very marked - increase in the number of crimes that have been committed—a - significant coincidence with the Hawk's release from Sing Sing. - </p> - <p> - “A twenty-thousand-dollar diamond necklace was stolen from a private car - two nights ago; there was an express car robbery on Monday of this week; - and a sleeping car was thoroughly and systematically looted the night - before. True, it is mere conjecture to connect the Hawk with these in any - way, since the gang that has been operating in this neighbourhood has - proved itself quite capable of all and more than this without any outside - and highly specialised assistance, and it would appear is in no whit - inferior in resource and devilish ingenuity to the best, or worst, that - Sing Sing has to offer in the shape of this so-called Hawk; but, out of - conjecture, one question naturally suggests itself. - </p> - <p> - “Granting the presence of the Hawk, is he here as a rival of the criminals - of whose existence we are already only too well aware, or is he one of - them through old-time associations before Sing Sing put a temporary check - upon his activities?” - </p> - <p> - There was more—a virulent outpouring of wrath at the intolerable - extent to which the community, its life and property, was being - endangered, and a promise of summary vengeance upon the criminals if - caught. - </p> - <p> - “Quite so!” murmured the Hawk, lowering his feet slowly to the floor. “I - guess it wouldn't be healthy to get caught around these parts. I have a - feeling that it would be the nearest telegraph pole instead of a trial!” - </p> - <p> - He tossed the newspaper back on the table. The sounder, spasmodic in its - chatter, for the moment was still. All was silence, profound, absolute. - Then the clock struck, loud, resonant, smashing through the silence, - startling. And at the same instant the sounder broke into a quick tattoo. - The Hawk snatched a pencil from his pocket, and jerked his body forward—then - relaxed again. - </p> - <p> - “Stray stuff,” he muttered. “Got in ahead of him. We'll get it in a minute - now.” - </p> - <p> - Pencil poised in his hand, the flashlight playing on the blank sheet of - paper before him, the Hawk waited. The sounder ceased—and almost - instantly broke again, rattling sharply through the room. The Hawk nodded, - as his pencil began to travel across the paper. - </p> - <p> - “'mtlky'—stroke at five. Two-three-one tonight,” he said aloud. - </p> - <p> - Without pause, without hesitation, without the slightest indication of - spacing to break its continuity, the sounder rattled on—and finally, - as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped. - </p> - <p> - On the sheet of paper the Hawk had written this: - </p> - <p> - <i>mtlkyeqodktrpcvkqlmtp kpwrtrgtftuqcyqtnt tsghv ukopgfkxtiku kqprelcn - rcatocuvgdatf gumttlvgpvjf qwucpmtfkp uckjihg vqptkijvrsa wvpxodtt dgtqprg - qplqosd</i> - </p> - <p> - He reached out for the pad, tore off another sheet, and in two parallel - columns set down the letters of the alphabet, one column transposed. There - was a faint smile on his lips, as he turned again to the cipher and began - to write in another line of letters under the original message. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder what Poe and his predominant 'e' would do with this!” he - chuckled. “'Combi'—stroke two. Key letter—stroke three.” He - frowned the next instant. “What's this! Ah—stroke three, instead of - one.” He completed the transposition, stared at the several lines which - were now scattered with vertically crossed-out letters, whistled low under - his breath, and a grim look settled on his face. - </p> - <p> - The message now read: - </p> - <p> - <i>—-combi—natio—-ninup-perdr—eftsi—dediv—sion—al - paymasterdesk—fousan dinsaj—feton-ight-autnum—-beron-eonjob</i> - </p> - <p> - Mechanically, he separated words and sentences, and, eliminating the - superfluous letters, wrote out the translation at the bottom of the sheet: - </p> - <p> - <i>“Combination in upper drawer left side divisional paymaster ('.) desk. - Ten thousand in safe to-night. Put Number One on job</i>.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk stood up, “plugged out” the station circuit, and, gathering up - the two sheets of paper he had used, put them in his pocket; then, leaving - the door of the operator's room open behind him, as he had found it, he - stepped out from the station to the platform, and, with his skeleton key, - relocked the station door. He stood for a moment staring up and down the - track. The switchlights blinked back at him confidentially. He listened. - The eastbound freight, from which he had jumped some twenty minutes - before, would cross Extra No. 83, the westbound way freight, at Elkton, - seven miles away, but there was no sound of the latter as yet. - </p> - <p> - He turned then, and, jumping from the platform to the track, swung into a - dog-trot along the roadbed. The Hawk smiled contentedly to himself. It was - all timed to a nicety! A mile or so to the west, the right of way rose in - a stiff grade that the way freight would be able to negotiate at no better - speed than the pace at which a man could crawl. He could make the distance - readily, board her there, and the way freight would get him to Selkirk—and - the divisional paymaster's office!—by about midnight. - </p> - <p> - He ran on, the swing and ease of a trained athlete in his stride. And, as - he ran, he took the sheets of paper from his pocket, and, tearing them - into small fragments, scattered the pieces at intervals here and there. - </p> - <p> - He reached the foot of the grade, and paused to look back along the track, - as suddenly from behind him came the hoarse scream of an engine whistle. - That was the way freight now, whistling perfunctorily for the deserted - station! He had made the grade in plenty of time, though the nearer to the - top he could get the better, for the freight, requiring all the initial - impetus it could attain, would hit the foot of the grade wide open. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk broke into a run again, glancing constantly back over his - shoulder as he sped on up the grade. And then, when he was well on toward - the summit, opening the night like a blazing disk as it rounded a curve, - he caught the gleam of the headlight. It grew larger and larger, until, - beginning to fling a luminous pathway up the track that, gradually - lengthening, crept nearer and nearer to him, he swerved suddenly, plunged - down the embankment, and, well away from the trackside, dropped flat upon - the ground. - </p> - <p> - The engine, slowed, was grunting heavily on the incline as it strained by - the spot where he lay; there was the glimmer of the front-end brakeman's - lamp from the top of one of the forward cars—and, with a quick, - appraising glance to measure the length of the train, the Hawk, on hands - and knees, crawled forward, and up the embankment, and, in the shadow of - the rolling cars themselves, stood up. There would be sharp eyes watching - from the cupola of the caboose. He laughed a little. And not only the - train crew there, perhaps! The railroad detectives, at their wits' ends, - had acquired the habit of late of turning up in the most unexpected - places! - </p> - <p> - A boxcar rolled by him, another, and still another—but the Hawk's - eyes were fixed a little further along toward the rear on an open space, - where, in the darkness, a flat car gave the appearance of a break in the - train. The flat car came abreast of him. He caught the iron foot-rung, - jumped, and, with a powerful, muscular swing, flung himself aboard. - </p> - <p> - The car was loaded with some kind of carriage, or wagon, - tarpaulin-covered. The Hawk crawled in under the tarpaulin, and lay down - upon his back, pillowing his head on a piece of timber that blocked the - carriage wheels. - </p> - <p> - The train topped the grade, gained speed, and roared on through the night. - Occasionally, during what was close to a two-hours' run, it stopped at - intermediate stations, and the Hawk peered furtively out from under the - tarpaulin to locate the surroundings, with which he appeared to be - intimately familiar; and once, nearing the end of the run, as the - faint-suffused glow from the city's lights in the distance showed under - the shadows of the towering peaks, he spoke aloud, “Ten thousand dollars,” - remarked the Hawk pleasantly. “Nice picking for a few hours' work—ten - thousand dollars!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - II—THE TEN-DOLLAR COUNTERFEIT NOTE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk crawled - out from under the tarpaulin and dropped to the ground, as the freight, - slowing down, began to patter in over the spur switches of the Selkirk - yard. He darted, bent low, across several spurs to escape the possibility - of observation from the freight's caboose; then began to make his way - toward the roundhouse ahead of him. He would have to pass around behind - the roundhouse in order to get up opposite the station and the divisional - offices. The Hawk glanced sharply about him as he moved along. He dodged - here and there like some queer, irresponsible phantom flitting amongst the - low, myriad red, green and purple lights that dotted the yard; and he - carefully avoided those other lights, the white lights of the yardsmen, - now bobbing as the men ran up and down, now swinging from the footboard of - a passing switcher, that seemed to be unusually ubiquitous—for the - Hawk was secretive, and for certain good and valid reasons was possessed - of an earnest desire that no stranger should be reported prowling around - the railroad yard that night. - </p> - <p> - He reached the roundhouse, stepped close up against the wall to take - advantage of the security afforded by the shadows, and began to circle the - building. The Hawk was treading silently now. Halfway around the building - he halted abruptly, his head cocked suddenly in a listening attitude - toward a small, open and lighted window on a level with his shoulders, and - in order to pass which he had just been on the point of stooping down. - </p> - <p> - “I think,” said the Hawk softly to himself, “I think this sounds as though - it interested me.” - </p> - <p> - He crept cautiously forward, and from the edge of the window glanced - inside. It was the turner's “cubbyhole,” or office. The door was closed, - and two men were standing there, talking earnestly. The Hawk's face, dimly - outlined now in the window light, smooth-shaven, square-jawed, the eyes - and forehead hidden by the brim of the slouch hat that was pulled forward - almost to the bridge of his nose, set with a curious and significant - smile. It was not a bad place for a private conference! He had thought he - had recognised the voice—and he had not been mistaken. The big, - heavy-built, thin-lipped, pugnacious-faced man was MacVightie, the head of - the railroad's detective force; the other, a smaller man, with alert grey - eyes, his forehead furrowed anxiously, whose clenched hand rested on the - table, was Lanson, the division superintendent. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know, damn it, MacVightie!” Lanson was saying savagely. “I don't - know what to think, or believe—I only know that a Pullman hold-up - one night, a twenty-thousand-dollar necklace stolen the next, an express - car looted, and several other little pleasant episodes all jammed one on - top of the other, means hell to pay out here and nothing to pay it with, - unless we can do something almighty quick!” - </p> - <p> - “Any more of those messages?” inquired MacVightie—there was an - ominous abstraction in his tones. - </p> - <p> - “Yes—to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Make anything of it?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Lanson; “and I think it's about time to put a kink in that - little business, whether they mean anything or not. This cat-and-mouse - game we've been playing isn't——” - </p> - <p> - “We'll get back to that in a minute,” interrupted MacVightie quietly. - “Here's a little something else that may possibly fit into the - combination.” He reached into his pocket, took out his pocketbook, opened - it, and handed the division superintendent a crisp new ten-dollar note. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's lips thinned instantly, and he swore sharply under his breath. - </p> - <p> - “What's this?” asked Lanson, in surprise. “Phony!” said MacVightie - laconically. “Counterfeit!” Lanson turned the note over in his hands, - staring at first one side and then the other. “Are you sure? I'd take it - any time.” - </p> - <p> - “You'd have lots of company with you”—there was a sudden rasp in the - detective's voice. “Pretty good one, isn't it? The East is being flooded - with them. Two of them showed up in the banks here in the city yesterday, - and one to-day.” - </p> - <p> - Lanson frowned perplexedly. - </p> - <p> - “I don't get you, MacVightie,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Suppose they were being struck off around here,” suggested MacVightie - curtly. “I don't say they are, but suppose it were so. They'd likely be - shoved out as far away from this locality as possible, wouldn't they—back - East, say. They're so good that a jag of them got by before they began to - be detected—and now suppose we assume that they're beginning to sift - back around the country.” - </p> - <p> - “Well?” - </p> - <p> - “Well”—MacVightie caught the superintendent up quickly—“I - didn't say I could prove it; but, coupled with the fact that I happen to - know that the police have traced the work back to somewhere west of - Chicago, I've got a hunch that the gang that is operating around here and - the crowd that is turning out the phony money is the same outfit. The Lord - knows”—he smiled bitterly—“they're clever enough! And to go - back to those messages now. If there was anything in them at all, anything - more than some irresponsible idiot tampering with a key somewhere, we were - face to face, not with a mere gang of train robbers, but with an organised - criminal league as dangerous and powerful as has ever existed in this - country—and that's what made me hesitate. We couldn't afford to take - any chances, to start out after a mare's nest, and we had to make as - nearly sure of our ground as possible before we played a card. We went on - the principle that if it was only somebody playing the goat, he'd get - tired of it before long if no one paid any attention to him; if it meant - anything more than that, he'd keep on.” MacVightie's pugnacious face - screwed up into a savage grimace. “Well, maybe this counterfeiting idea - has had something to do with deciding me, but, anyway, I'm satisfied now. - He <i>has</i> kept on. And I'm satisfied now that those messages are a - cipher code that the gang is using, and that our cat-and-mouse play, as - you call it, instead of being abortive, is exactly what's going to land - our men for us. That's one thing I came to tell you to-night—that - I'm ready now to take the gloves off on this wire game.” - </p> - <p> - Lanson smashed his fist down on the table top. “Good!” he exclaimed - grimly. “I'd like to make things hot for somebody, and it'll at least be - easy enough to catch whoever is using the wire.” MacVightie shook his - head. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no; it won't!” he said evenly. “I didn't mean to give you that - impression, and don't you make the mistake of under-estimating the brains - we're up against, Lanson. I'm no expert on telegraphy, that's your end of - it, but I know they wouldn't sit in on any game where they didn't hold - trumps up their sleeves. Get me? Now let's see what it looks like. As I - understand it, these messages, no matter from what point on the division - they are sent, would be heard on every sounder on the line—that's - right, isn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—sure! Of course!” agreed Lanson. - </p> - <p> - “And it might be an operator working with them as an inside man; or, with - the necessary outfit, the wire could be tapped at any point, couldn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Lanson; “but the minute he starts in, we could begin to - 'ground' him out.” - </p> - <p> - “Go on!” invited MacVightie. “I'm listening.” - </p> - <p> - “We could tell whether he was working east or west of any given point,” - explained the superintendent; “and, with the operators instructed - beforehand, practically narrow him down to, say, between two stations.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, as he, too, listened, permitted an amused smile to flicker - across his lips. - </p> - <p> - “Um!” said MacVightie. “And would he be aware that this 'grounding' - process was going on?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—naturally,” admitted Lanson. “We can't prevent that.” - </p> - <p> - MacVightie shook his head again. - </p> - <p> - “That doesn't sound good to me,” he said slowly. “All he'd have to do - would be to beat it then—and the next time start in fifty miles - away, and you'd have to begin all over again. And, besides, who's <i>receiving</i> - the messages? You can't put any tabs on that. Every sounder from Selkirk - City to Rainy River registers them, and all a man's got to do is <i>listen</i>. - You see, Lanson, it's not so easy—eh?” - </p> - <p> - Lanson frowned. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what do you suggest?” he asked uncomfortably. “We can stop it.” - </p> - <p> - “But we don't <i>want</i> to stop it!” returned MacVightie. “We could have - done that from the first. What we want is our man now. And it strikes me - that the first thing to do is to find out whether one of our own operators - is in on this or not. Unless the line is tapped somewhere, it's a cinch - that a station key is being used, isn't it? Send some linemen that you can - trust over the division. If they find anything at all, they'll find the - spot where the messages are coming from, won't they? If they find nothing, - we'll know we've got to look nearer home—amongst our own men.” - </p> - <p> - Lanson, in his turn, shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “Not necessarily,” he objected. “We've a number of small stations where - there's no night operator. They might have got into one of those. The - messages all come through at night.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'll call the turn there!” responded Mac-Vightie, with a short - laugh. “See that I get a list of those stations in the morning, and I'll - detail men to take care of that end of it.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk drew back a little, shifting his strained position—the - amused smile was no longer on his lips. - </p> - <p> - “And as for that 'ground' business,” went on Mac-Vightie, “go slow with it - till you get your linemen's report. Don't do any more than try it out with - some operator you can absolutely depend upon, say, about halfway down the - line. You say you would be able to tell whether the messages were coming - from east or west of that point; that'll cut the division in half for us - as far as our search is concerned, and that's worth taking a chance on. - But don't overdo it, Lanson. We don't want to throw any scare into him—yet.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” agreed Lanson. “I'll start things moving to-night. Martin, at - Bald Creek, will be the best man, I guess. I'll send a letter down to him - on No. 8.” - </p> - <p> - “And warn him to make no reports by <i>wire</i>,” cautioned MacVightie. - </p> - <p> - “All right—yes, naturally,” agreed the superintendent again. Then, - after a short pause, anxiously: “Anything turned up at all, MacVightie? - Any clue to that necklace? The governor's wife is making a holler that's - reached from here to the road's directors down in Wall Street.” - </p> - <p> - “Damn it,” growled MacVightie. “I'm well enough aware of it—but the - necklace isn't any more important than any one of the other affairs, is - it? No; there's nothing—not a blamed thing!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, what about this Sing Sing convict, the Hawk, that the papers are - featuring to-night?” Lanson asked. “Anything in that?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know—maybe,” McVightie answered viciously. “He's only one - more, anyway. This gang was operating before he was released—and - it's likely enough, if they're old pals of his, that he's come out here to - give them a hand. The New York police say he went to Chicago immediately - after his release, two weeks ago. The Chicago police reported him there, - and then he disappeared; then Denver spotted him a few days later—and - that's the last that's been seen of him. You can make what you like of - that. He's certainly been hitting a pretty straight trail west. He wasn't - stopped, of course, because he isn't 'wanted' at present; he's only a man - with a bad record, and labelled dangerous. We were warned to look out for - him, that's all.” - </p> - <p> - “Got his description?” inquired Lanson. - </p> - <p> - “Yes”—MacVightie's laugh was a short bark. “Medium height, - broad-shouldered, muscular, black hair, black eyes, straight nose, - good-looking, and gentlemanly in appearance and manner, dresses well, age - twenty-four to twenty-six, no distinctive marks or disfigurement.” - </p> - <p> - “There's probably not more than twenty-five thousand men in Selkirk City - who would answer to every detail of that!” Lanson commented sarcastically. - </p> - <p> - “Exactly!” admitted MacVightie. “And that's——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was creeping forward again in the shadows of the roundhouse. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I guess it interested me,” muttered the Hawk; “I guess it did. I - guess I'm playing in luck to-night.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - III-THE PAYMASTER'S SAFE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ROM the roundhouse - it was only a few yards to the rear of the long, low-lying freight sheds - and, unobserved, the Hawk gained this new shelter. He stole quickly along - to the further end of the sheds; and there, crouched down again in the - shadows, halted to make a critical survey of his surroundings. . - </p> - <p> - Just in front of him, divided only by a sort of driveway for the - convenience of the teamsters, was the end wall of the station, and, in the - end wall—the window of the divisional paymaster's office. The Hawk - glanced to his left. The street upon which the station fronted, an - ill-savoured section of the city, was dark, dimly lighted, and deserted; - the only sign of life being the lighted windows of a saloon on the corner - of a narrow lane that bisected the block of somewhat disreputable, - tumble-down wooden structures that faced the station. To his right, on the - other side of the freight shed, the railroad yard had narrowed down to the - station tracks and a single spur alongside the shed. There was no one in - sight in either direction. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes strayed back to the paymaster's window. The station, like - its surrounding neighbours, was an old wooden building; and, being low and - only two-storied, the second-story window offered inviting possibilities. - From the sill of the lower window, a man who was at all agile had the - upper window at his mercy. Against this mode of attack, however, was the - risk of being seen by any one who might pass along the street, or by any - one who might chance upon the end of the station platform. - </p> - <p> - “What's the use!” decided the Hawk, with an abrupt shrug of his shoulders. - “Play safe. There's a better way.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk crept across the driveway, reached the street side of the - station, peered cautiously around the corner of the building, and, - satisfied that he was unobserved, edged down along the building for a - short distance, paused in a doorway, glanced quickly about him again—and - then the door opened and closed, and he was standing in a murky - passageway, that was lighted only by a single incandescent far back by a - stair well. - </p> - <p> - He stood motionless, listening. From above, through the stillness, came - the faint drumming of a telegraph key. There should be no one upstairs now - but the dispatcher, whose room was at the opposite end of the building - from the paymaster's office—and, possibly, with the dispatcher, a - call boy or two. And the hallway above, he could see, was dark. - </p> - <p> - Moving stealthily forward, as noiseless as a cat in his tread, the Hawk - took a mask from his pocket, slipped it over his face, and began to mount - the stairs. He gained the landing—and halted again. It was pitch - black here, since even the door of the dispatcher's room, where there - would be a light, was closed. - </p> - <p> - And then once more the Hawk moved forward—and an instant later, the - paymaster's door at the extreme end of the corridor, under the deft - persuasion of his skeleton keys, had closed behind him. - </p> - <p> - It was not quite so dark here. The lights from the platform and the yard - filtered in through the window in a filmy sort of way; but it was too dark - to distinguish objects in anything more than grotesque, shapeless - outlines. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk produced his flashlight, and turned it upon the lock he had just - picked. It was a spring lock, opened readily from the inside by the mere - turning of the doorhandle. He tried it carefully, assuring himself that it - could not be opened from the corridor without a key—and then his - light swept around the room. It played in its circuit upon the paymaster's - flat-topped desk against the wall, and upon a large safe in the corner, - near the window, whose polished nickel dial sent back an answering flash - under the darting ray; but the Hawk, for the moment, appeared to be - interested in neither desk nor safe. The flashlight was holding in a kind - of dogged inquisitiveness upon another door close to the window, and - directly opposite the safe. - </p> - <p> - He stepped without a sound across the room, and, reaching this door, - snapped off his flashlight. He tried the door cautiously, found it - unlocked, and very softly opened it the space of an inch. He listened - attentively. There was no sound. He pushed the door open, switched on his - flashlight again, and stepped through the doorway. It appeared to be a - clerks' office—for the paymaster's staff, presumably. The Hawk - seemed to possess a peculiar penchant for doors. The only thing in the - room that apparently held any interest for him now was the door that - opened, like the paymaster's, upon the corridor. He slipped quickly across - the room, and, as before, examined the lock. Like the other, it was a - spring lock; and, like the other, he tested it to make sure it was locked - on the outside. - </p> - <p> - “Ten thousand dollars,” confided the Hawk to the lock, “isn't to be picked - up every night; and we can't afford to take any chances, you know.” - </p> - <p> - He began to retrace his steps toward the paymaster's office, but now, - obviously, with more attention to the details of his surroundings, for his - flashlight kept dancing quick, jerky flashes in all directions about him. - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” The exclamation, low-breathed, came suddenly. “I thought there ought - to be something like this around here!” - </p> - <p> - From, beside a desk, he stooped and picked up an empty pay satchel; then, - returning at once to the other office, but leaving the connecting door - just ajar, he dropped the pay bag in front of the safe, and went silently - over to the desk—a mouse running across the floor would have made - more commotion than the Hawk had made since his entry into the station. - </p> - <p> - “... Upper drawer, left side,” he muttered, “Locked, of course—ah!” - A tiny key, selected from its fellow outlaws, was inserted in the lock—and - the Hawk pulled out the drawer, and began to rummage through its contents. - </p> - <p> - From the back of the drawer, after perhaps a minute's search, he picked up - a card, and with a nod of satisfaction began to study it. - </p> - <p> - “'Left—two right; eighty-seven, one quarter—left; three... '” - The Hawk's eyes travelled swiftly over the combination. He read it over - again, “Thank you!” murmured the Hawk whimsically—and dropped the - card back in the drawer, and locked the drawer. - </p> - <p> - A moment more, and the white beam of the flashlight was playing on the - face of the safe, and the silence of the room was broken by the faint, - musical, metallic whirring of the dial. Bent forward, a crouching form in - the darkness, the Hawk worked swiftly, a sure, deft accuracy in every - movement of his fingers. With a low thud, as he turned the handle, the - heavy bolt shot back in its grooves, and the ponderous door swung open. - And now the flashlight's ray flooded the interior of the safe, and the - Hawk laughed low—before him, lying on the bottom of the safe, neatly - banded as they had come from the bank, were a dozen or fifteen little - packages of banknotes. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk dropped on his knees, and reached for the pay bag. Ten thousand - dollars was not so bulky, after all—if the denominations of the - notes were large enough. He riffled one package through his fingers—twenties! - Gold, yellow-back twenties! - </p> - <p> - There was a sort of beatific smile on the Hawk's lips. He dropped the - package into the bag. - </p> - <p> - Tens, and twenties, and fives—the light, in a curiously caressing - way, was lingering on the little fortune as it lay there on the bottom of - the safe. There was only a pile or two of ones, and the rest was—<i>what - was that!</i> - </p> - <p> - The smile vanished from the Hawk's lips, and, in a rigid, tense, strained - attitude, he hung there, motionless. What was that—that dull, - rasping, sound! It was like some one clawing at the wall outside. The <i>window!</i> - </p> - <p> - With a single motion, as though stirred to life by some galvanic shock, - the Hawk's hand shot out and swept the packages of banknotes into the bag. - He snapped off his flashlight. The room was in darkness. - </p> - <p> - That sound again! And now a creak! The window was being opened. Something - black was bulking there on the sill outside—and something queerly - white, a man's face, was pressed against the pane, peering in. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk glanced sharply around him. Inch by inch he was pushing the safe - door shut. He could not reach the door leading to the clerks' office, for - he would have to pass by the window, and—he shrank back quickly, the - safe door closed but still unlocked, and crouched low in the corner - against the wall. The window slid up to the top, and with a soft <i>pad</i>, - like some animal alighting on the floor, the man had sprung into the room. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's fingers crept into his pocket and out again, tight-closed now - upon an automatic pistol. The other's flashlight winked, went out, then - shot across the room, locating the desk—and once more all was - darkness. - </p> - <p> - There was not a sound now, save the short, hurried breathing of the other, - panting from the exertion of his climb. Then the man's step squeaked - faintly crossing the room—and the Hawk, a few inches at a time, - began to edge along the wall away from the neighbourhood of the safe. - </p> - <p> - Then the man's flashlight gleamed again, lighting up the top of the desk. - There was a sharp, ripping sound, as of the tearing of wood under - pressure, and the upper drawer, forced open by a steel jimmy, was pulled - out. - </p> - <p> - “Birds of a feather!” said the Hawk grimly to himself. “Number One, of the - Wire Devils! I didn't beat him to it by as much margin as I thought I - would!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk shifted his automatic to the hand that was clutching the pay bag, - and, with the other hand, began to feel in wide sweeps over the wall above - his head. The electric-light switch, he had noticed in that first quick - glance when he had entered the room, a glance that had seemed to notice - nothing, and yet in which nothing had escaped the sharp, trained eyes, was - somewhere about here. - </p> - <p> - “Dangerous—for both of us—if it's seen outside,” communed the - Hawk with himself again. “But when he finds the safe unlocked, and the - goods gone, there'll be trouble. If he gets a flashlight on me, he's got - me where he wants me. Ah—here it is!” The Hawk's fingers touched the - switch. He lowered the pay bag cautiously to the floor between his feet, - his automatic free in his hand again. - </p> - <p> - There was a rustling of papers in the drawer; then the man's hand, holding - a card, was outlined as though thrown upon a screen, as, with his other - hand, he focused his flashlight upon it. Then the flashlight swung an arc - over the opposite wall, and pointed a pathway to the safe, as the man - turned abruptly and stepped back across the room. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, one hand raised to the switch on the wall, his automatic - outflung a little in the other, tense, like an animal in leash, watched - the other's movements. - </p> - <p> - The dark-outlined form was in shadowy relief against the light, that - played now upon the glistening knob and dial of the safe. The man gave a - preliminary, tentative twist at the handle. Came a quick, dismayed, - hissing sound, like the sharp intake of 'breath. The safe door was - wrenched open with a jerk. There was a low, angry cry now. The man sprang - back, and as though involuntarily, in a sort of uncertain, panic-struck - search, his flashlight shot along the wall—and fell full upon the - Hawk. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's finger pressed the switch. The room was ablaze with light. With - a startled, furious oath, the man's hand was sweeping significantly toward - his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “No, you don't!” snarled the Hawk, covering the other. “No, you don't! Cut - that out!” His eyes, behind the mask, narrowed suddenly. “Hello!” he - sneered. “It's 'Butcher' Rose—I might have known from the way you - opened that drawer!” - </p> - <p> - It was a moment before the man answered. - </p> - <p> - “Blast you!” he whispered finally. “You gave me a bit of a start, you did! - I thought at first you were a 'bull'.” His eyes fastened on the pay bag at - the Hawk's feet. The top gaped open, disclosing the banknotes inside. The - man raised his eyes to the Hawk's, and a cunning look came over his thin, - hatchet-like face. “Caught with the goods this time, eh?” he jerked out. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk smiled unpleasantly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he said. “The nest's empty. What is it they used to tell us in the - nursery?—it's the early bird that grabs the worm. How long you been - out in these parts, Butcher?” - </p> - <p> - “Look here,” said the Butcher ingratiatingly, ignoring the question, “I - guess it's a case of split—eh?” - </p> - <p> - “You've got a nerve!” ejaculated the Hawk coolly. - </p> - <p> - “Well, put that light out, then, and we'll talk it over,” suggested the - Butcher. “If it's seen from outside, we'll both get caught.” - </p> - <p> - “I'd rather take a chance on that, than a chance on you,” replied the Hawk - curtly. “There's nothing to talk over. I've got the coin, and you've got a - frost—all you've got to do now is beat it.” - </p> - <p> - Sharp, little, black, ferret eyes the Butcher had, and they roamed around - the room now in an apparently aimless fashion—only to come back and - fix hungrily on the bag of banknotes again. A sullen look came into his - face, and the jaw muscles twitched ominously. - </p> - <p> - “So you're the Hawk they're talking about, eh?” he said, trying to speak - smoothly. “Well, there's no use of us quarrelling. If you know me, we must - be old pals. Take off that mask, and let's have a look at you. There ain't - any reason why we can't be pals again.” - </p> - <p> - “Nix!” said the Hawk softly. “Nothing doing, Butcher! It suits me pretty - well the way it is. I've made it a rule all my life to play a lone hand, - and the more I see of the raw work that guys like you try to get away - with, the more I pat myself on the back. Savvy? Why, say, even a - drag-worker on Canal Street wouldn't show his face to a self-respecting - crook for a month, he'd be so ashamed, if he took a crowbar to a desk - drawer the way you did, you poor boob!” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher's face flushed, and he scowled. - </p> - <p> - “You're looking for trouble, ain't you!” he said hoarsely. “Well, mabbe - you'll get it—and mabbe you'll get more than you're looking for. - How'd you get wise to this game to-night?” - </p> - <p> - “It's the way I make my living—getting wise. How'd you suppose?” - queried the Hawk insolently. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher was chewing at his lips angrily; his eyes, closed to slits, - searched the Hawk's masked face. - </p> - <p> - “This is the second time!” he said, between his teeth. “You pinched that - necklace, and——” - </p> - <p> - “O-ho!” exclaimed the Hawk, with a grin. “So <i>you</i> were after that, - too, were you?” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher's flush deepened. - </p> - <p> - “That's none of your damned business!” he gritted. “And if I thought——” - He bit his lips quickly. - </p> - <p> - “Go on!” invited the Hawk sweetly. “Don't mind me. If you thought—what?” - </p> - <p> - “You've had the luck with you,” mumbled the Butcher, half to himself. “It - can't be anything else, there's no chance of a leak. But I'm going to tell - you something—your luck's going to get a hole kicked in it. I'll - tell you something more. There's a few of us that have picked out this - little stamping ground for ourselves, and we ain't fond of trespassers. - Get that? It ain't going to be healthy for you to linger around here over - more than one train!” - </p> - <p> - “Are the rest of 'em all like you?” inquired the Hawk maliciously. - </p> - <p> - “You'll find out quicker than you'll want to, perhaps!” the Butcher - retorted furiously. - </p> - <p> - “All right!” said the Hawk. “And now I'll tell you a little something. I - don't know who are in this gang of yours, but you might take them a little - message from me. If they're finding it crowded out here, they'd better - move on to somewhere where competition isn't so likely to put them out of - business through lack of brains, because I'm kind of figuring on hanging - around until it gets time to open my château down at Palm Beach and stick - my feet up on the sofa for a well-earned rest. Do you stumble to that? - And”—the Hawk was drawling now—“I might say, Butcher, that I - don't like you. My fingers are crossed on that trespassing gag. It don't - go! I don't scare for any half-baked outfit of near-crooks! I stick here - as long as there's anything worth sticking for.” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher's eyes seemed to be fascinated by the pay bag—they were - on it again. He choked a little, swallowing hard; and, attempting a change - of front, forced a smile. - </p> - <p> - “Well, don't get sore!” he said, in a whining tone. “Mabbe I was only - trying to chuck a bluff, and got called. But, say, how'd you like to break - in here to-night like I did, and find another fellow'd got all the swag? - Say, it's damned rough, ain't it? Say, it's fierce! And, look here, I'm in - on it now, anyhow. I know who took it. I'm going to keep my mouth shut, - ain't I? You ain't going to leave me out in the cold, are you? All I ask - is a split.” - </p> - <p> - “It's not much!” said the Hawk, in a velvet voice. “It hardly seems - enough. You're too modest, Butcher. Why don't you ask for the whole of it? - You might as well—you'd stand just as much chance of getting it!” - </p> - <p> - The smile faded from the Butcher's lips, and his face became contorted - with rage again. He raised his fist and shook it at the Hawk. He cursed in - abandon, his lips livid, beside himself with passion. - </p> - <p> - “You'll get yours for this!” He choked, in his fury, over his words. “You - think you're slick! I'll show you what you're up against inside of - twenty-four hours! You'll crawl for this, d'ye hear, blast you—you'll - <i>crawl!</i>—you'll——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's automatic, dangling nonchalantly in his hand, swung suddenly - upward to a level with the other's eyes. - </p> - <p> - “That's enough, you cheap skate!”—there was a cold, menacing ring in - the Hawk's voice now. “I've heard enough from you. You and your hot-air - crowd of moth-eaten lags! If you, or any of you, run foul of me again, you - won't get off so easy! Tell 'em that! Tell 'em the Hawk said so! And you - beat it! And beat it—<i>now!</i>” He caught up the pay bag, and - advanced a step. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher retreated sullenly. - </p> - <p> - “Get out of that window!” ordered the Hawk evenly. “And take a last tip - from me. If you try to plant me, if you let a peep out of you while I'm - making my own getaway, I'll <i>get</i> you for it, Butcher, if it's the - last thing I ever do. Go on, now! Step quicker!” - </p> - <p> - Still sullenly, mumbling, his mouth working, the Butcher retreated - backward toward the window. The Hawk, his lips like a thin straight line - just showing under the mask, followed grimly, step by step. And then, - suddenly, both men halted, and their eyes met and held each other's in a - long tense gaze. - </p> - <p> - From outside in the corridor came the sound of voices and footsteps. The - footsteps drew nearer; the voices grew louder. The Hawk shot a glance - toward the door. He drew in his breath sharply. No, there was no fanlight, - the light would not show in the hall. That was the superintendent's voice. - That letter Lanson was going to send down on No. 8! The other, probably, - was MacVightie. Yes; it <i>was</i> MacVightie—he caught the - detective's gruff tones now. The door on the opposite side of the corridor - from the paymaster's room opened. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher licked his lips. - </p> - <p> - “Me for the window, and for it quick!” he muttered under his breath. - </p> - <p> - He turned, and, his back to the Hawk now, tiptoed to the window, turned - again sideways, as though to throw one leg over the sill—and his - right hand, hidden, suddenly lifted the side of his coat. - </p> - <p> - It came quick, quick as the winking of an eye. Racketing through room and - building, like the detonation of a cannon in the silence, came the roar of - a revolver shot, as the Butcher fired through his coat pocket. - Mechanically, the Hawk staggered backward; and then, the quick, keen brain - working like lightning, he reeled, dropped the pay bag, and clutched - wildly at his side. He was not hit. The Butcher had missed. So that was - the man's game! Clever enough! They'd break in here at the sound of the - shot, and find him dead or wounded on the floor! - </p> - <p> - The Butcher, a devil's triumph in his face now, came leaping back from the - window, and, stooping, snatched at the pay bag. - </p> - <p> - “I'd put another in you to make sure,” whispered the Butcher fiercely; - “only they'll get you anyway, you——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk straightened, his arm streaked outward from his side, his pistol - butt crashed on the Butcher's skull, and he was upon the other like a - flash, his free hand at the Butcher's throat. - </p> - <p> - From the room opposite came startled cries; across the corridor came the - rush of feet—then the doorhandle was tried, the door shaken - violently. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher was struggling but feebly, making only a pitiful effort to - loosen the Hawk's clutch upon his throat, hanging almost limply in the - Hawk's arms, half dazed by the blow upon his head. White to the lips with - passion, the Hawk whipped his hand into the other's pocket, whipped out - the other's revolver, and flung the man away from him. And then, as the - Butcher reeled and lurched backward to the window, and, clawing - frantically at the sill, attempted to work his way out, the Hawk ran - silently back, picked up the pay bag, and, jumping to the window again, - caught the Butcher roughly by the collar of the coat. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher, white, haggard-faced with fear, moaned. - </p> - <p> - “For God's sake!” he pleaded piteously. “Let me go! Let me go! For God's - sake, let me go—they'll get me!” - </p> - <p> - There was a terrific crash upon the door, as of some heavy body hurled - against it. The Hawk laughed mirthlessly. - </p> - <p> - “If I let you go, you'd break your neck!”—the Hawk's words were - coming through clenched teeth. “Don't worry, Butcher! They'll not get you. - I don't want <i>them</i> to get you. I want to get you myself for this. - Some day, Butcher, some day <i>I'll</i> do the getting!” He pushed the - Butcher's feet over the sill. “Feel with your toes for the window casing - beneath! Quick!” He leaned out, gripping at the Butcher's collar, lowering - the man—his lips were close against the Butcher's ear. “Some day—for - this—you yellow cur—you and me, Butcher—remember—<i>some - day!</i>” - </p> - <p> - A crash again upon the door! The Butcher's feet were on the lower sill; - but here the man lost his hold, and toppled to the ground. The Hawk - glanced backward into the room. The door was yielding now. He looked out - of the window again. The Butcher had regained his feet, and was swaying - against the wall, holding to it, making his way slowly, weakly toward the - corner. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk threw one leg over the sill. With a rip and tear, the door - smashed inward, sagging from its lower hinge. Came a hoarse yell. - MacVightie was plunging through the doorway. - </p> - <p> - Instantly the Hawk, hugging the pay bag, drew back his leg, and dove into - the clerk's room through the door which he had left ajar. There would have - been no use in letting the Butcher go at all if he led the chase through - the window—the man was barely crawling away. Across the room, light - enough now from the open doorway behind him to point the way, raced the - Hawk. He reached the corridor door, as MacVightie lunged through the - connecting door in pursuit. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie's voice rose in a bellow of warning: - </p> - <p> - “Look out there, Lanson! The next door—quick!” - </p> - <p> - But the Hawk was the quicker. He tore the door open, and dashed through, - just eluding the superintendent and another man—the dispatcher - probably, attracted by the row—as they sprang forward from the - paymaster's door. - </p> - <p> - Running like a deer, the Hawk made for the stairway. It was lighter now in - the hall. The dispatcher's door along at the farther end was open. At the - head of the stairs, a call boy, wide-eyed, gaped, openmouthed. The Hawk - brushed the boy aside incontinently, and, taking the stairs three and four - at a time, leaped downward, MacVightie's bull-like roar echoing behind - him, the top stairs creaking under the detective's rush. - </p> - <p> - The street door opened outward, and as the Hawk reached it, and, wrenching - at the knob, pushed it open, there was a flash, the report of a revolver - shot—and, with a venomous <i>spat</i>, the bullet buried itself in - the door jamb, not an inch from his head, it seemed, for the wind of the - bullet was on his cheek. - </p> - <p> - Cries sounded now from the railroad yard; but the street in front of him, - deserted, was still undisturbed. He was across it in a twinkling, and, - passing the saloon that was now closed, darted into the lane. - </p> - <p> - He flung a glance over his shoulder—and his lips set hard. - MacVightie, big man though he was, was no mean antagonist in a race. The - detective, quicker in initiative, quicker on his feet, had outdistanced - both Lanson and the dispatcher, and was already halfway across the street. - </p> - <p> - Again MacVightie fired. - </p> - <p> - On the Hawk ran. If he could reach the next corner—providing there - was no one about the street—there was a way, a risky way, but still - a way, his best chance of escape. The cheap combination lodging house and - saloon, that was just around the corner, was where he had a room. Yes, it - was his <i>one</i> chance! He must get to cover somewhere without an - instant's delay. With MacVightie firing now, emptying his revolver up the - lane, with the yells and shouts growing constantly in volume from farther - back toward the station, it was only a question of minutes before the - whole neighbourhood would be aroused. - </p> - <p> - Again he glanced behind him. It was very dark in the lane. He was grimly - conscious that it was the blackness, and not MacVightie's poor - marksmanship, that had saved him so far. That flash of the other's - revolver was perhaps fifty yards away. He had gained a little, then! If - there was any one around the corner, the plan of reaching his room would - not serve him, and he would still have to run for it. Well, he would see - in an instant—it was only two yards more—a yard—now! - </p> - <p> - Without slackening his pace, at top speed he swung from the lane—and, - with a gasp of relief at sight of an empty street, slipped into a doorway - just beyond the now dark entrance to a saloon that occupied most of the - ground floor of a dirty and squalid three-story building. - </p> - <p> - The door gave on a narrow flight of stairs, and up these the Hawk sprang - swiftly and with scarcely a sound. And now, as he ran, he pulled his mask - from his face and thrust it into the pay bag; a pocket-book from his - inside coat pocket followed the mask, and, with the pocketbook, the - flashlight, and the two pistols, his own and the Butcher's. He opened a - door at the head of the landing, and stepped into a room, leaving the door - partly open. - </p> - <p> - He was not safe yet—far from it! He did not under-estimate - MacVightie. It would be obvious to MacVightie that he was not far enough - ahead to have disappeared in any but one way—into some building - within a very few yards of the lane! And the presumption, at least, would - be that this was the one. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk worked now with almost incredible speed. He switched on the - light, ran to the window that opened on the rear of the building, felt - with one hand along the sill outside, lifted the pay bag out of the - window, let go of it, and turned instantly back into the room. He hung up - his hat on a wall peg, and tearing off his jacket, flung it haphazardly - upon the bed. There was a small table against the wall near the foot of - the bed. The Hawk opened a drawer, snatched up a pack of cards, and sat - down at the table. - </p> - <p> - The street door opened and closed. A quick, heavy tread sounded on the - stairs. - </p> - <p> - In his shirt sleeves, his back to the door, the Hawk was coolly playing - solitaire. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I'd better be smoking,” murmured the Hawk. “Maybe I'm breathing a - little hard.” - </p> - <p> - He picked up a pipe from the table, lighted a match—and, half the - deck of cards in one hand, the lighted match in the other, swung around in - his chair with a startled jerk. - </p> - <p> - The door slammed back against the wall. MacVightie had unceremoniously - kicked it wide open. MacVightie was standing on the threshold. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, in a sort of surprised gasp, sucked the flame of the match down - into the bowl of his pipe, and stared at MacVightie through a curtain of - tobacco smoke. The detective's eyes travelled sharply from the Hawk around - the room, came back to the Hawk, narrowed, and, stepping into the room, he - shut the door with equal lack of ceremony behind him. - </p> - <p> - “Say, you got a gall!” ejaculated the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “You bet your life I have!” flung out MacVightie. “Now then, my bucko, - what are you doing, here?” - </p> - <p> - “Say,” said the Hawk, as though obsessed with but a single idea, “say, you - got a gall! You got a gall, busting into a fellow's room and asking him - what he's doing there! Say, maybe you might answer the same question - yourself—eh? What are you doing here?” - </p> - <p> - “Your room, is it?” snapped MacVightie. - </p> - <p> - “Sure it's my room!” replied the Hawk, a little tartly. - </p> - <p> - “How long you been here?” - </p> - <p> - “'Bout a week”—the Hawk was growing ungracious. - </p> - <p> - “Boarding here?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Where'd you come from?” MacVightie was clipping off his words. “What do - you do for a living?” - </p> - <p> - “Say,” said the Hawk politely, “you go to hell!” - </p> - <p> - MacVightie stepped forward toward the Hawk, with an ominous scowl; and, - throwing back the lapel of his coat, tapped grimly with his forefinger on - a shield that decorated his vest. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk whistled low. - </p> - <p> - “O-ho!” said the Hawk, with sudden cordiality. “Well, why didn't you say - so before?” - </p> - <p> - “I'm saying it now!” snarled MacVightie. “Well, where do you come from?” - </p> - <p> - “Chicago,” said the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “What's your business?”—MacVightie's eyes were roving sharply again - around the room. - </p> - <p> - “Barkeep—when I can get a job,” answered the Hawk; and then, - insinuatingly: “And, say, I'm looking for one now, and if you can put me - on to anything I'd——” - </p> - <p> - “I guess you've got to show me!” growled Mac-Vightie, uncompromisingly. - </p> - <p> - “Look here,” ventured the Hawk, “what's up?” - </p> - <p> - “I'm waiting!” prompted MacVightie significantly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, all right!” The Hawk flared up a little. “If you love your grouch, - keep on hugging it tight!” He jerked his hand toward the coat that was - lying on the bed. “I must have lost the letter the pastor of my church - gave me, but there's a couple there from the guys back in Chicago that I - worked for, and there's my union card with them. Help yourself!” - </p> - <p> - MacVightie picked up the coat brusquely, shoved his hand into the inside - pocket, brought out several letters, and began to read them. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk shuffled the half deck of cards in his hand monotonously. - </p> - <p> - There was a puzzled frown on MacVightie's face, as he finally tossed the - letters down on the bed. - </p> - <p> - “Satisfied?” inquired the Hawk pleasantly. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie's frown deepened. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, as far as that goes,” he said tersely; and then, evenly, his eyes - boring into the Hawk: “About five minutes ago a man ran into this house - from the street. What's become of him?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk started in amazement—and slowly shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “I guess you've got the wrong dope, ain't you?” he suggested earnestly. - </p> - <p> - “Don't try that game!” cautioned MacVightie grimly. “And don't lie! He had - to come up these stairs, your door was partly open, and he couldn't have - passed without you knowing it.” - </p> - <p> - “That's what I'm saying,” agreed the Hawk, even more earnestly. “That's - why I'm saying you must have got the wrong dope. Of course, he couldn't - have got by without me hearing him! That's a cinch! And, I'm telling you - straight, he didn't.” - </p> - <p> - “Didn't he?” MacVightie's smile was thin. “Then he came in <i>here</i>—into - this room.” - </p> - <p> - “In here?” echoed the Hawk weakly. His gaze wandered helplessly around the - room. “Well, all you've got to do is look.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm going to!” announced MacVightie curtly—and with a sudden jerk - he yanked the single bed out from the wall. He peered behind and beneath - it; then, stepping over to a cretonne curtain in the corner that served as - wardrobe, he pulled it roughly aside. - </p> - <p> - There were no other places of possible concealment. MacVightie chewed at - his under lip, and eyed the Hawk speculatively. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes were still travelling bewilderedly about the room, as - though he still expected to find something. - </p> - <p> - “Are you dead sure he came into this house,” he inquired heavily, as - though the problem were entirely beyond him. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie hesitated. - </p> - <p> - “Well—no,” he acknowledged, after a moment. “I guess you're straight - all right, and I'll admit I didn't see him come in; but I'd have pretty - near taken an oath on it.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I guess he must have ducked somewhere else,” submitted the Hawk - sapiently. “There wasn't no one went by that door—I'm giving it to - you on the level.” - </p> - <p> - MacVightie's reluctant smile was a wry grimace. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I reckon it's my mistake.” His voice lost its snarl, and his fingers - groped down into his vest pocket. “Here, have a cigar,” he invited - placatingly. - </p> - <p> - “Why, say—thanks”—the Hawk beamed radiantly. “Say, I——” - </p> - <p> - “All right, young fellow”—with a wave of his hand, MacVightie moved - to the door. “All right, young fellow. No harm done, eh? Good-night!” - </p> - <p> - The door closed. The footsteps without grew fainter, and died away. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, staring at the door, apostrophised the doorknob. - </p> - <p> - “Well, say, what do you know about that!” he said numbly. “I wonder what's - up?” - </p> - <p> - He rose from his chair after a moment as though moved by a sort of - subconscious impulse, mechanically pushed his bed back against the wall, - and returned to his chair. - </p> - <p> - He dug out his pipe abstractedly, filled it, and lighted it. He gathered - up the cards, shuffled them, and began to lay them out again on the table—and - paused, and drummed with his fingers on the table top. - </p> - <p> - “They're after some guy that's ducked his nut somewhere around here,” he - decided aloud. “I wonder what's up?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk spread out his remaining cards—and swept them away from him - into an indiscriminate heap. - </p> - <p> - “Aw, to blazes with cards!” he ejaculated impatiently. - </p> - <p> - He put his feet up on the table, and sucked steadily at his pipe. - </p> - <p> - “It's a cinch he never went by that door,” the Hawk assured the toe of his - boot. “I guess he handed that 'bull' one, all right, all right.” - </p> - <p> - The minutes passed. The Hawk, engrossed, continued to suck on his pipe. - Then from far down the stairs there came a faint creak, and an instant - later the outer door closed softly. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's feet came down from the table, and the Hawk smiled—grimly. - </p> - <p> - “Tut, tut!” chided the Hawk. “That treadmill diminuendo on the top step - and the keyhole stunt is pretty raw, Mr. MacVightie—pretty raw! You - forgot the front door, Mr. MacVightie—I don't seem to remember - having heard it open or close until just now!” - </p> - <p> - The back of the Hawk's chair, as he pushed it well away from the table and - stood up, curiously enough now intercepted itself between the keyhole and - the interior of the room. He stepped to the door, and slipped the bolt - quietly into place; then, going to the window, he reached out, and, from - where it hung upon a nail driven into the sill, picked up the pay bag. - </p> - <p> - “That's a pretty old gag, too,” observed the Hawk almost apologetically. - “I was lucky to get by with it.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's attention was now directed to his trunk, that was between the - table and the foot of the bed. He lifted the lid back against the wall, - and removed an ingeniously fashioned false top, in the shape of a tray, - that fitted innocently into the curvature of the lid. The Hawk stared at a - magnificent diamond necklace that glittered and gleamed on the bottom of - the tray, as its thousand facets caught the light—and grinned. - </p> - <p> - “If you'd only known, eh—Mr. MacVightie!” he murmured. - </p> - <p> - From the pay bag the Hawk took out the packages of banknotes, the - flashlight, the mask, the two pistols, and packed them neatly away in the - tray. The only article left in the bag was his pocketbook. He opened this, - disclosing a number of crisp, new ten-dollar bills. He held one of them up - to the light for a moment, studying it admiringly. - </p> - <p> - “I guess these won't be much more good around here, according to that - little conversation between MacVightie and the superintendent,” he - muttered—and, with a shrug of his shoulders, tossed the entire - number into the tray. - </p> - <p> - He fitted the false top back into the lid, and closed the trunk. There - remained the empty pay bag. He frowned at it for an instant; then, picking - it up, he tucked it under the mattress of his bed. - </p> - <p> - “I'll get rid of that in the morning”—he nodded his head, as he - turned down the bed covers. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk began to undress, and at intervals voiced snatches of his - thoughts aloud. - </p> - <p> - “Pretty close shave,” said the Hawk, “pretty close.... Ten thousand - dollars is some haul.... All right as long as they don't find out I've got - the key to their cipher.... And so Butcher Rose is one of the gang, eh?... - Number One—Butcher Rose.... Guess he got away all right—from - MacVightie.... He nearly did me.... Pretty close shave....” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk turned out the light, and got into bed. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I played in luck to-night,” said the Hawk softly, and for the - second time that night. “Yes, I guess I did.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - IV—AT BALD CREEK STATION - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was twenty-four - hours later. A half mile away, along a road that showed like a grey thread - in the night, twinkled a few lights from the little cluster of houses that - made the town of Bald Creek. At the rear of the station itself, in the - shadow of the walls, it was inky black. - </p> - <p> - There was stillness! Then the chattering of a telegraph instrument—and, - coincident with this, low, scarcely audible, a sound like the gnawing of a - rat. - </p> - <p> - The chattering of the instrument ceased; and, coincident again, the low, - gnawing sound ceased—and, crouched against a rear window, the Hawk - chuckled a little grimly to himself. Within, and diagonally across from - the window, an otherwise dark interior was traversed by a dull ray of - light that filtered in through the open connecting door of the operator's - room beyond. Inside there were Lan-son, the division superintendent, and - Martin, the trusted Bald Creek operator; while at any minute now, - MacVightie would be up on No. 12. They were preparing to spring their trap - for the Wire Devils to-night! The Hawk was quite well-informed on this - point, for the very simple reason that the Hawk himself had not been - entirely idle during those twenty-four hours that were just past! - </p> - <p> - Again the sounder broke into a splutter; but this time the gnawing sound - was not resumed—the window fastenings were loosened now. - </p> - <p> - Came then the distant rumble of an approaching train; the rumble deepening - into a roar; the roar disintegrating itself into its component sounds, the - wheel trucks beating at the rail joints, the bark of the exhaust; then the - scream of the brakeshoes biting at the wheel tires; the hiss of steam—and - in the mimic pandemonium, the Hawk raised the window, and crawled in over - the sill. - </p> - <p> - And again the Hawk chuckled to himself. Up and down the line to-night, at - all stations where there were no night operators, the road's detectives, - stood guard over the telegraph instruments. It had been MacVightie's plan, - originated the night before. It was very clever of MacVightie—if - somewhat abortive! Also, quite irrelevant of course, and quite apart from - that little matter of ten thousand dollars which he, the Hawk, had taken - from the paymaster's safe last night, MacVightie to-night was likely to be - in no very pleasant mood! - </p> - <p> - The engine without, blowing from a full head of steam, drowned out all - other sounds. The Hawk picked his way across the room to a position near - the connecting door, and composedly seated himself upon the floor behind a - number of piled-up boxes and parcels. With a grin of acknowledgment to the - escaping steam, he coolly moved two of the parcels a few inches to right - and left, thus providing himself with an excellent view into the - operator's room. From one pocket he took an exceedingly small flashlight, - and from another a notebook, and from his hip pocket his automatic pistol. - This latter he transferred to his right-hand coat pocket. Bunching the - bottom of his coat over his hand, he flashed on the tiny ray, found a - convenient ledge formed by one of the boxes, and upon this laid down his - notebook. The first page, as he opened the book, contained a neatly drawn - sketch of the interior of Bald Creek station. He turned this over, leaving - the book open at a blank page, and switched off his light. - </p> - <p> - The door from the platform opened and closed, as the train pulled out - again, a man stepped into the operator's room—and in the darkness - the Hawk smiled appreciatively. It was MacVightie, and Mac-Vightie's thin - lips were drawn tighter than usual, and the brim of the slouch hat, though - pulled far forward, did not hide the scowl upon MacVightie's countenance. - </p> - <p> - “Well, you're here all right, Lanson, eh?” he flung out brusquely. - “Nothing yet, by any chance, of course?” - </p> - <p> - Lanson, from a chair at the operator's elbow, nodded a greeting. - </p> - <p> - “Not yet,” he said. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie was glancing sharply around him. - </p> - <p> - “Martin,” he ordered abruptly, “close those two ticket wickets!” - </p> - <p> - The operator rose obediently, and pulled down the little windows that - opened, one on each side of the office, on the men's and women's waiting - rooms. - </p> - <p> - “What's that door there?” demanded MacVightie, pointing toward the rear - room. - </p> - <p> - “Just a place I had partitioned off for stores and small express stuff,” - Martin answered. “There's no back entrance.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, then,” said MacVightie. He pulled up a chair for himself on - the other side of the operator, as Martin returned to his seat. “You know - what you're here for, Martin—what you've to do? Mr. Lanson has told - you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” Martin replied. “I'm to test out for east or west, if there's any - of that monkeying on the wire to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Show me how it's done,” directed MacVightie tersely. . - </p> - <p> - The operator reached over to the switchboard and picked up a key-plug. - </p> - <p> - “I've only got to plug this in—here—or here. Those are my - ground wires east and west. The main batteries are west of us at Selkirk, - you know. If I ground out everything east, for instance, and he's working - to the east of us the sounder'll stop because I've cut him off from the - main batteries, and we'll hear nothing unless I adjust the relay down to - get the weak circuit from the local batteries. If he's working west of us - the sounder will be much stronger because the main batteries at Selkirk, - with the eastern half of the division cut out, will be working on a - shorter circuit.” - </p> - <p> - “'T see.” MacVightie frowned. “And he'd know it—so Mr. Lanson told - me last night.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; he'd know it,” said Martin. “The same as we would.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you can do it pretty quick, can't you?” suggested MacVightie. “Sort - of accidentally like! We don't want to throw a scare into him. You'd know - almost instantly whether he was east or west, wouldn't you? That's all - that's necessary—<i>to-night!</i> Then let him go ahead again. We'll - have found out what we want to know.” He turned to Lanson, his voice - rasping suddenly. “Did you see the <i>Journal</i> on the 'Crime Wave' this - afternoon?” - </p> - <p> - Lanson's alert, grey eyes took on an angry glint. “No; I didn't see it, - but I suppose it's the old story. I wish they'd cut it out! It hurts the - road, and it doesn't get them anywhere.” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps not,” said MacVightie, with a thin smile; “but it gets <i>me!</i> - Yes, it's about the same—all except the last of it. Big headlines: - 'Ten thousand dollars stolen from paymaster's safe last night—What - is being done to stop this reign of assassination, theft, outrage, crime?—Has - the clue afforded by the Hawk's release from Sing Sing been thoroughly - investigated?' And then a list of the crimes committed in the last ten - days—two murders, one in the compartment of that sleeping car; the - theft of the diamond necklace; the express robbery; and so on through the - list, ending up with last night. Then a nasty shot at the local police; - and, finally, prefacing the remark with the statement that the crimes were - all connected with the railroad, a thinly veiled hint that I am either a - boy on a man's job, or else asleep, in either of which cases I ought to be—well, - you understand?” MacVightie's fist came down with a crash on the - operator's table. - </p> - <p> - Lanson, with a worried look, nodded his head. - </p> - <p> - “Damn it!” said MacVightie. “I——” He stopped abruptly, and - laid his hand on the operator's sleeve. “Look here, Martin,” he said - evenly, “you're the one man that Mr. Lanson has picked out of the - division, you're the one man outside of Mr. Lanson and myself who has any - inkling that these secret messages coming over our wires have anything to - do with these crimes—you understand that, don't you? This is pretty - serious business. The newspaper didn't exaggerate any. We're up against a - gang of crooks, cleverly organised, who will stop at nothing. Murder - appears to be a pastime with them! Do you get me—Martin?” - </p> - <p> - For a long second the two men looked each other steadily in the eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Martin simply. - </p> - <p> - “All right!” said MacVightie. “I just want you to realise the necessity of - keeping anything you may hear, or anything that may happen here to-night, - under your hat.” He turned to Lanson again, the scowl heavy upon his face - once more. “I was going to say that I know who the man is that slipped - through my fingers last night.” - </p> - <p> - “You—<i>what!</i>” Lanson leaned sharply forward in his chair. “But - he got away! You said he——” - </p> - <p> - “It was the Hawk”—MacVightie bit off the words. - </p> - <p> - “The Hawk?” - </p> - <p> - “The Hawk!” - </p> - <p> - “But how do you know?” demanded Lanson incredulously. “You said yourself - that he had left no clue to his identity. How do you know?” MacVightie - reached into his pocket, took out his pocketbook, and from the pocketbook - passed a new, crisp ten-dollar banknote to Lanson. - </p> - <p> - “What's this?” inquired Lanson. “The counterfeit ten-dollar bill you - showed me last night?” - </p> - <p> - “No—another one,” MacVightie answered curtly. “Look on the other - side.” - </p> - <p> - Lanson turned the banknote over, stared at it, and whistled suddenly under - his breath. - </p> - <p> - “'With the compliments of the Hawk!'.rdquo; he read aloud. He stared now at - MacVightie. “Perhaps it's a fake, inspired by that newspaper article - yesterday evening,” he suggested. - </p> - <p> - “It's no fake,” declared MacVightie grimly. “The Hawk wrote that there all - right—it was inside the <i>pay bag</i> in which the ten thousand was - carried away from the paymaster's office last night.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean—you recovered the bag?” cried Lanson eagerly. “Where? - When?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, watching MacVightie's face, grinned wickedly. MacVightie's jaws - were clamped belligerently, and upon MacVightie's cheeks was an angry - flush. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, I 'recovered' it!” MacVightie snapped. “He's got his nerve with - him! The bag was found reposing in full view on the baggage counter at - Selkirk this afternoon—addressed to me. Nobody knows how it got - there. But”—MacVightie's fist came down again upon the operator's - table—“this time he's overplayed his hand. We knew he had been - released from Sing Sing, and that he had come West, but it was only - surmise that he was actually around here—now we <i>know</i>. In the - second place, it's pretty good evidence that he's in with the gang that's - flooded the country with those counterfeit tens, and you'll remember I - told you last night I had a hunch it was the same gang that was operating - out here—well, two and two make four!” - </p> - <p> - “You think he's——?” Lanson swept his hand suggestively toward - the telegraph instruments. - </p> - <p> - “Yes—and the leader of 'em, now he's out here on the ground!” - returned MacVightie gruffly. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had taken a pencil from his pocket, and was scribbling aimlessly - at the top of the page in his notebook. - </p> - <p> - “Sure!” confided the Hawk to himself. “I thought maybe you'd dope it out - like that.” - </p> - <p> - There was silence for a moment in the office, save for the intermittent - clicking of the sounder, to which the Hawk now gave his attention. His - pencil still made aimless markings on the top of the page—it was - only routine business going over the wire. Then Lanson moved uncomfortably - in his chair, and the chair legs squeaked on the bare floor. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie spoke again: - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he said bluntly, “you've got all of my end of it, except that I've - placed men in hiding at every station on the line where there are no night - operators. What about you? Started your outside line inspection?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” Lanson answered. “I've had three men out with section crews working - from different points. But it's slow business making an inspection that's - careful enough to be of any use, and even then it's a pretty tall order to - call the turn on anything when there's already so many legitimate splices - and repairs on the wires.” - </p> - <p> - “Well—any results?” asked MacVightie. - </p> - <p> - Lanson shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “We found what we thought was a new splice in one place, but it turned out - to have been made by one of our own men two weeks ago, only he had - forgotten to report it.” - </p> - <p> - MacVightie's eyes narrowed. - </p> - <p> - “One of our <i>own</i> men—eh?” he repeated curtly. “Who was it?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing doing there!” Lanson shook his head again, emphatically this - time. “It was Calhoun.” - </p> - <p> - “Calhoun—eh?” observed MacVightie softly. - </p> - <p> - Lanson bridled slightly. - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter with Calhoun?” he inquired testily. “Got anything - against him?” - </p> - <p> - “Never heard of him before,” said MacVightie, with a short laugh. “But - I'll take pains to make his acquaintance.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you might as well spare yourself the trouble,” advised Lanson. “I - can tell you before-hand that he carries a good record on this division, - and that he's one of the best linemen we've got.” - </p> - <p> - “I daresay,” admitted MacVightie coolly. “But amongst other things we're - looking for <i>good</i> linemen to-night—who forget to make reports. - You needn't get touchy, Lanson, because one of your men's names comes up. - You can make up your mind to it there's an inside end to this, and——” - </p> - <p> - The tiny ray of the Hawk's flashlight shot suddenly upon the notebook's - open page, as the sounder broke into a sharp tattoo. - </p> - <p> - “;wtaz'—stroke at four,” he muttered, as he began to write. “Three—one—two. - They've changed the code to-night—'qxpetlk——'” - </p> - <p> - There was a sharp exclamation from the other room. - </p> - <p> - “Listen! There he is now!” Martin cried. Chairs were pushed back—the - three men were on their feet. - </p> - <p> - “What's he sending?” questioned MacVightie instantly. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk scowled at the disturbance, as, over their voices, he - concentrated his attention upon the sounder. He wrote steadily on: - </p> - <p> - “... huwkmuh hdtlqgvh... - </p> - <p> - “Same as usual,” Martin replied. “Just a jumble of letters.” - </p> - <p> - “Well then, get ready to throw that ground, or whatever you call it, into - him!” ordered MacVightie tensely. - </p> - <p> - “I'm ready,” said Martin. - </p> - <p> - “All right then—<i>now!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk nodded to himself, as his pencil unflaggingly noted down letter - after letter. The sounder was very perceptibly stronger. - </p> - <p> - “West!” Martin cried out. “You noticed the difference in strength, didn't - you? He's somewhere between here and Selkirk. That's——” - </p> - <p> - The sounder had suddenly ceased. - </p> - <p> - “But he's stopped,” said MacVightie; “and you said if he stopped——” - </p> - <p> - “That's nothing to do with it!” Martin interposed hurriedly. “The wire - isn't grounded now.” - </p> - <p> - “He's taken to cover, I guess,” said Lanson. “I was afraid he would scare, - no matter how——” He broke off abruptly. “Wait! What's that!” - </p> - <p> - The sounder was clicking again; but the sharp, quick tattoo was gone, and - in its place, as though indeed it drawled, the sending came in leisurely, - deliberate fashion. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's pencil resumed its labours—and then, with a queer smile, - the Hawk scratched out what he had just written. It was no longer code—it - was in exceedingly plain English. - </p> - <p> - Martin was reading directly from the sounder: - </p> - <p> - “'Try—that—game—just—once—more—and—the—division—goes—up— - in—the—air—and—a—train—or—two—maybe—to—a— - place—that—Mister—MacVightie—will—some—day—honour—with— - his—presence. That's—quite—plain—isn't—it? - If—you—think—this—is—a—bluff—call—it. - Now—keep—off—the—wire—or—have—it—cut. - Suit—yourselves.'.rdquo; - </p> - <p> - “Well, of all the infernal nerve!” exploded MacVightie furiously. - </p> - <p> - “And the worst of it,” said Lanson shortly, “is that he's got us where he - wants us!” - </p> - <p> - Once more the sounder broke into the old quick tattoo. The Hawk was - writing steadily again. There was silence now between the three in the - office. - </p> - <p> - A minute, two, three went by—the sounder ceased—the Hawk - closed his notebook. Then in its leisurely drawl the sounder broke again; - and again Martin read aloud: - </p> - <p> - “'Pleasant—evening—isn't—it? Ask—MacVightie—if—he—has—seen—anything—of—the—Hawk. - Good-night.'.rdquo; - </p> - <p> - But this time there was only a menacing smile on MacVightie's lips. - </p> - <p> - “He's west of here, you say?” he shot at Martin. “Yes,” said Martin - briefly. - </p> - <p> - “And that splice of Calhoun's, Lanson? Where was that?” - </p> - <p> - Lanson, drumming with his fingers on the edge of the operator's table, - looked up with a frown. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing but coincidence,” he said tersely. “Yes, it was west of here—pretty - near Selkirk.” He moved toward the door. “There's nothing more we can do - here to-night. I'm going back on No. 17. Let's get out on the platform - until she shows up.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk very carefully replaced his notebook, his flashlight and his - pencil in his pockets, and, as MacVightie and the superintendent went out - of the door, he retreated softly back to the rear window. The window being - up, he quite as noiselessly slipped out over the sill. He debated a moment - about the window, and decided that if any significance were attached to - the fact that it was found open, MacVightie, for instance, was fully - entitled to make the most of the significance! Then, the rattle of a wagon - sounding from the direction of the road, the Hawk moved along to the end - of the station, and waited. - </p> - <p> - The wagon, in the light of its own smoky oil lamps, proved to be the town - hotel bus. There were evidently other passengers for Selkirk besides - himself and the two officials, as several people alighted from the bus. In - view of this fact the Hawk calmly lighted a cigarette, though the glow of - the match exposed his face only to the blank wall of the station, and - walked around to the front platform. - </p> - <p> - He located MacVightie and Lanson; and, thereafter, at a safe distance, did - not lose sight of them. MacVightie's memory for faces would hardly be - over-rated if credited with being able to bridge a matter of some - twenty-four hours, particularly as MacVightie had evidenced unusual - interest in the occupant of the room on the first landing over a certain - ill-favoured saloon the night before! The Hawk, therefore, was - unostentatiously attentive to MacVightie's movements; so much so that, - when No. 17 pulled in and MacVightie and Lanson boarded the chair car at - the rear of the train, the Hawk, when No. 17 pulled out, quite logically - boarded the smoking car at the forward end. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk chose the most uncomfortable seat in the car—the rear seat - with stiff, upright, unyielding back, that was built against the wash-room—and, - settling himself down, produced his notebook and pencil. The water-cooler - could be quite confidentially trusted not to peer over his shoulder! - </p> - <p> - On the second page of the notebook—the first having been devoted to - the sketch of Bald Creek Station—-the Hawk, as he had taken it from - the sounder, had written this: - </p> - <p> - “<i>wtaz qxpetlkhu wkmuh hdtlq gvhmmpy hqltvd df rmnluvpo nfkhomovfdh - gvkerkmmawrq fljkwte dvsoedtdqqh mgfdoifk rxqkuvwruh gsruwmtdoo - ommtlqhvksol foghvklst rvrzqmqxpe mkhurqjkh hvdbfvkdzc mnvohrtpqg - hutzklwkj hkdqm mo g v pdlqlfxoq uhgpifthglxg pkhlmfj kwhttwb hv d p q g - kdrllu eomosdfnhta shqkjvlyhtg mwdlomruhgegf orwmpqk hvwtzrwk mmrxvddg - iqggrqo odusnvrx wmfkriu hkvhuymt hixqljtg wrqpxpeh houwkdmd gwsxws - vdexmuooh wtjqlqklmp</i>” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk tore out a page from the back of the notebook, and set down the - letters of the alphabet in a column. Opposite these he painstakingly set - down another column of letters. After that the Hawk worked slowly. It was - not quite so simple as it looked—not merely the substitution of - letters in a different order of rotation. Nor, apparently, from the Hawk's - observations as he muttered to himself, were all messages to be deciphered - alike—the code appeared to possess within itself an elasticity for - variation. - </p> - <p> - “At four... key letter changed... stroke!” muttered the Hawk. “N-u-m-b... - pass three... e-r-t-h... stroke one....” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's notebook, closed, was reposing idly on the window ledge and the - Hawk was lighting another cigarette, as the conductor came down the aisle. - The Hawk presented the return stub of a ticket to Selkirk. The conductor - punched it, and passed on—and the Hawk picked up his notebook again. - </p> - <p> - Again he was interrupted—and again. The water-cooler, after all, was - not proving an unmixed blessing. It seemed as though every man in the car - were possessed of an inordinate thirst. They were well on toward Selkirk - when the Hawk finally completed the deciphering of the message. - </p> - <p> - It now ran: - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0074.jpg" alt="0074 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0074.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - He arranged the scattered letters into words, and the words into - sentences: - </p> - <p> - <i>“Number Three and Seven Isaac Kir-schell('.s cash box to-night as - planned. Calhoun to report all line splices his own. Number One says Hawk - slender white hands, manicured, medium height, eyes and hair black, - expensive tailored clothes. Two thousand dollars out of reserve fund to - Number that puts a bullet in him.</i>” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk inspected his hands, and smiled whimsically. Number One was the - Butcher. He had not given the Butcher credit for being so observant! - Presently he stared out of the window. - </p> - <p> - “Wonder how much of a haul I can make tonight?” he murmured. “Regular El - Dorado—having 'em work it all up and handing it to you on a gold - platter. Pretty soft! Hope they won't get discouraged and quit picking the - chestnuts out of the fire for me—while there's any chestnuts left!” - </p> - <p> - And then the Hawk frowned suddenly. The chestnuts appeared to be only - partially picked for him to-night. What was the game—as planned? - There must have been a previous message that had got by him. His frown - deepened. There was no way of remedying that. To hope to intercept them - all was to expect too much. There was no way whereby he could spend - twenty-four hours out of twenty-four in touch with a sounder. He shrugged - his shoulders philosophically after a moment. Perhaps it was just as well. - They credited him with playing a lone hand, believing that his and their - depredations were clashing with one another simply by virtue of the fact - that their mutual pursuits were of a competitive criminal nature, that was - all. If it happened with <i>too</i> much regularity, they might begin to - suspect that he had the key to their cipher, and then—the Hawk did - not care to contemplate that eventuality. There would be no more - chestnuts! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk read the first part of the message over again. Who was Isaac - Kirschell? The name seemed to be familiar. The Hawk studied the toe of a - neatly-fitting and carefully polished shoe thoughtfully. When he looked up - again, he nodded. He remembered now. He had lunched the day before in a - restaurant that occupied a portion of the ground floor of an office - building, the corridor of which ran through from street to street. In - going out, he had passed along the corridor and had seen the name on the - door panels of two of the offices. - </p> - <p> - He resumed the study of his boot toe. It was not a very vital matter. A - moment spent in consulting the city directory would have supplied the - information in any case. He nodded again. MacVightie was unquestionably - right. Some one on the inside, some railroader, and probably more than - one, was in on the game with the Wire Devils—and it was perhaps as - well for this Calhoun that MacVightie, already suspicious, was not - likewise possessed of the key to the cipher! Also, Lanson had been right. - It was no easy task to locate a new splice on a wire that was already - scarred with countless repairs. Still, if Lanson's men went at it - systematically and narrowed down the radius of operations, it was not - impossible that they might stumble upon a clue—if Calhoun did not - placidly inform them that it was but another of his own making! But even - then, granted that the wire was found to have been tapped in a certain - place one night, that was no reason why it should not, as Mr. MacVightie - had already suggested, be tapped fifty miles away the next! The Hawk - grinned. Mr. Lanson and his associates, backed even by Mr. MacVightie, - were confronted with a problem of considerable difficulty! - </p> - <p> - “I wonder,” communed the Hawk with himself, “who's the spider that spun - the web; and I wonder how many little spiders he's got running around on - it?” - </p> - <p> - He perused the message once more; but this time he appeared to be - concerned mainly with the latter portion. He read it over several times: - “Two thousand dollars to the Number that puts a bullet in him.” - </p> - <p> - “Nobody seems to like me,” complained the Hawk softly. “MacVightie. - doesn't; and the Butcher's crowd seem peeved. Two thousand dollars for my - hide! I guess if I stick around here long enough maybe it'll get exciting—for - somebody!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk tore up the message, the sheet on which he had deciphered it, the - sketch of Bald Creek station, tore all three into small fragments, opened - the window a little, and let the pieces flutter out into the night. He - closed the window, returned the notebook, innocent of everything now but - its blank pages, to his pocket—and, pulling his slouch hat down over - his eyes, appeared to doze. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - V—IN WHICH A CASH BOX DISAPPEARS - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WENTY minutes - later, as No. 17 pulled into Selkirk, the Hawk, his erstwhile drowsiness - little in evidence, dropped to the platform while the train was still in - motion, and before MacVightie and Lanson in the rear car, it might be - fairly assumed, had thought of leaving their seats. The Hawk was - interested in MacVightie for the balance of the night only to the extent - of keeping out of MacVightie's sight—his attention was centered now - on the office of one Isaac Kirschell, and the possibilities that lay in - the said Isaac Kirschell's cash box. - </p> - <p> - He glanced at the illuminated dial of the tower clock. It was eighteen - minutes after ten. - </p> - <p> - “That's the worst of getting the dope a long way down the line,” he - muttered, as he hurried through the station and out to the street. “But I - had to get a look at MacVightie's cards to-night.” He struck off toward - the downtown business section of the city at a brisk pace. “It ought to be - all right though tonight—more than enough time to get in ahead of - them—they're not likely to pull any break in that locality until - well after midnight. Wonder what Kirschell's got in his cash box that's so - valuable? I suppose they <i>know</i>, or they wouldn't be after it! They - don't hunt small game, but”—the Hawk sighed lugubriously—“there's - no chance of any such luck as last night again. Ten thousand dollars in - cash! <i>Some</i> haul! Yes, I guess maybe they're peeved!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, arrived at his destination, surveyed the office building from - the opposite side of the street. The restaurant on the ground floor was - dark, but a lighted window here and there on the floors above indicated - that some of the tenants were working late. It was therefore fairly safe - to presume that the entrance door, though closed, was unlocked. The Hawk - crossed the street unconcernedly, and tried the door. It opened under his - hand—' but noiselessly, and to the extent only of a bare inch, in - view of the possibility of a janitor being somewhere about. Detecting no - sound from within, however, the Hawk pushed the door a little further - open, and was confronted with a dimly lighted vestibule, and a long, still - more dimly lighted corridor beyond. There was no one in sight. He slipped - inside—and, quick and silent now in his movements, darted across the - vestibule and into the corridor. - </p> - <p> - Halfway along the corridor, he halted before a door, on whose glass panel - he could just make out the words “Isaac Kirschell,” and, beneath the name, - in smaller letters, the intimation that the entrance was next door. The - Hawk's decision was taken in the time it required to produce from his - pocket a key-ring equipped with an extensive assortment of skeleton keys. - If by any chance he should be disturbed and had entered by the designated - office door, his escape would be cut off; if, on the other hand, he - entered by this unused door, and left it unlocked behind him, he would - still be quite comfortably the master of the situation in almost any - emergency. - </p> - <p> - The door seemed to offer unusual difficulties. Even when unlocked, it - stuck. The Hawk worked at it by the sense of touch alone, his eyes busy - with sharp glances up and down the corridor. Finally, succeeding in - opening it a little way, it was only to find it blocked by some - obstruction within. He scowled. A desk, probably, close against it! The - door was certainly never used. He would have to enter by the other one, - after all, and—no! He had reached his arm inside. It was only a - coat-stand, or something of the sort He lifted it aside, stepped in, and - closed the door behind him. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's flashlight—not the diminutive little affair that had - served him for his notebook—began to circle his surroundings - inquisitively. He was in a small, plainly furnished private office. There - was a desk, two chairs, and a filing cabinet. Also there were two doors. - The Hawk opened the one at his left, and peered out. It gave on what was - presumably the general office; and at the upper end was a partition with - the name, “Mr. Kirschell,” upon the door. He looked at the panel of the - door he had just opened. It bore no name. - </p> - <p> - “This belongs to Kirschell's secretary probably,” he decided. “The other - door from here opens, of course, into Kirschell's private office. Wonder - what Mr. Isaac Kirschell's business is?” - </p> - <p> - He closed the door leading into the outer office, and moved across the - room to the second door that already stood wide open, and almost directly - faced what he had taken for granted was the secretary's desk. He stepped - over the threshold. Mr. Kirschell's sanctum was somewhat more elaborately - furnished. Apart from a rather expensive flat-topped desk in the centre of - the room, there was a massive safe, new and of modern design, a heavy rug - upon the floor, and several very comfortable leather-up holstered chairs. - A washstand, the metal taps highly polished, and a mahogany towel rack - occupied the far corner. The Hawk inspected the safe with the eye of a - connoisseur, scowled unhappily by way of expressing his opinion of it, and - turned to the desk. He opened a drawer, and picked up a sheet of business - stationery. The letterhead read: - </p> - <h3> - ISAAC KIRSCHELL - </h3> - <h3> - LOANS, MORTGAGES & GENERAL EXCHANGE - </h3> - <p> - “Ho, ho!” observed the Hawk. “Sort of a glorified pawnbroker, eh? I——” - </p> - <p> - The sheet of paper was shot back into the drawer, the flashlight was out—and - on the instant the Hawk was back in the other office, and crouched on the - floor behind the desk. Some one had halted outside in the corridor before - the main office door, and now a key was turned in the lock. The door was - opened and closed, footsteps crossed the general office, paused for a - moment outside Mr. Kirschell's door, then the lights in Mr. Kirschell's - room went on, a man entered, tossed his hat on a chair, and sat down at - the desk. It was obviously Mr. Kirschell himself. - </p> - <p> - Through the wide opening between the ends of the desk that sheltered him, - the Hawk, flat on the floor, took stock of the other. The man was rather - small in stature, with a thin, palish face, sharp, restless, very small - black eyes, and he was extremely well dressed—the Hawk noted the - dainty little boutonnière in the lapel of the man's coat, and smiled - queerly. From Mr. Kirschell's face he glanced at the face of Mr. - Kirschell's safe, then back at Mr. Kirschell again—and fingered his - automatic in the pocket of his coat. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, however, made no further movement—Mr. Kirschell's actions - suggested that it would be unwise. The man, though apparently occupied - with some mail which he had taken from his pocket, kept glancing - impatiently at his watch. It was quite evident that he was expecting some - one every moment. The Hawk frowned perplexedly. The message that night, - even when deciphered, left much, too much, to the imagination! It was - quite possible that Mr. Kirschell was to be relieved of his cash box with - more address and finesse than by the bald expedient of ruining Mr. - Kirschell's safe! This appointment, for instance, might—and then the - Hawk smiled queerly again. - </p> - <p> - The corridor door had opened and closed for the second time. A heavy step - traversed the outer office, and a man, hat in hand, in cheap store - clothes, stood before Mr. Krischell's desk. - </p> - <p> - “Mentioned in dispatches!” said the Hawk very softly to himself. “I guess - that's Calhoun. So that's the game—eh?” - </p> - <p> - “You're late, Mr. Calhoun!” Kirschell greeted the other sharply. “Five - minutes late! I have put myself to considerable inconvenience to give you - this appointment.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun's hair was tossed, there was a smudge across his cheek, and his - hands were grimy, as though he had just come from work. He was a big man, - powerfully shouldered. His grey eyes were not friendly as they met - Kirschell's. - </p> - <p> - “I couldn't help it,” he said shortly. “I've been up the line all day. I - told you I couldn't get here until about this time.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, all right, all right!” said Kirschell impatiently. “But, now that - you are here, are you prepared to settle?” - </p> - <p> - “I can give you a small payment on account, that's the best I can do,” - Calhoun answered. - </p> - <p> - Kirschell tilted back in his swivel chair, and frowned as he tapped the - edge of his desk with a paper cutter. - </p> - <p> - “How much?” he demanded coldly. - </p> - <p> - “Forty dollars”—Calhoun's hand went tentatively toward his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Forty dollars!” There was derision in Kirschell's voice, an uninviting - smile on Kirschell's lips. “That's hardly more than the interest!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Calhoun, snarling suddenly, “at the thieving rates you, and - the bloodsuckers like you, charge.” - </p> - <p> - Kirschell's uninviting smile deepened. - </p> - <p> - “Considering the security, the rate is very moderate,” he said evenly. - “Now, see here, Calhoun, I told you plainly enough this thing had to be - settled to-day. You don't want to run away with the impression that I'm a - second Marakof, to be staved off all the time. I bought your note from the - pawnbroker's estate because the executors didn't like the look of it, and - weren't any too sure they could collect it. Well, I can! I'm new out here, - but I'm not new at my business. Excuses with me don't take the place of - cash. I hold your note for five hundred dollars, which is past due, to say - nothing of six months' interest besides—and you come here to-night - and offer me forty dollars!” - </p> - <p> - “I would have paid Marakof,” said Calhoun, in a low voice; “and I'll pay - you as fast as I can. You know what I'm up against—I told you when - you first got after me, as soon as you got that note. My brother got into - trouble back East. What would you have done? That five hundred kept him - out of the 'pen.' He's only a kid. Damn it, don't play the shark! Marakof - renewed the note—why can't you?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I don't do business that way,” said Kir-schell curtly. - </p> - <p> - Calhoun's voice grew hard. - </p> - <p> - “How much did you pay for that note, anyway?” - </p> - <p> - Kirschell shrugged his shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “I didn't say I wasn't taking <i>any</i> risk with you,” he replied - tersely. “That's the profit on my risk. And as far as you are concerned—it's - none of your business!” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun shrugged his shoulders in turn, and, taking a small roll of bills - from his pocket, smoothed them out between his fingers. - </p> - <p> - “I got a wife, and I got kids,” said Calhoun slowly. “And I'm doing the - best I can. Do you want this forty, or not?” - </p> - <p> - “It depends,” said Kirschell, tapping again with his paper cutter. “How - about the rest?” - </p> - <p> - “I'll pay you what I can every month,” Calhoun answered. - </p> - <p> - “How much?”—bluntly. - </p> - <p> - “What I can!” returned Calhoun defiantly. - </p> - <p> - The two men eyed each other for a moment—and then Kirschell tossed - the paper cutter down on the desk. - </p> - <p> - “Well, all right!” he decided ungraciously. “I'll take a chance for a - month—and see how you live up to it. Hand it over, and I'll give you - a receipt.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “I don't trust the man who don't trust me,” he said gruffly. “I don't want - that kind of a receipt. You'll indorse the payment on the back of the - note, Mr. Kirschell, if you want this forty.” - </p> - <p> - “What?” inquired Kirschell, staring. - </p> - <p> - “You heard what I said,” said Calhoun coolly. “I'm in the hands of a - shark, and I know it. That's plain talk, isn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “But,” Kirschell flared up angrily, “I——” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun calmly returned the money to his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Suit yourself!” he suggested indifferently. “I ain't asking for anything - more than I have a right to.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well, my man!” said Kirschell icily. “If our dealings are to be on - this basis, I hope you will remember that the basis is of your own - choosing.” He swung around in his chair, and, rising, walked over to the - safe. - </p> - <p> - And then, for the first time, the Hawk moved. He edged silently back along - the floor until far enough away from the doorway to be fully protected by - the darkness of the room, and stood up. Kirschell was swinging the heavy - door of the safe open. The cash box was to be produced! Lying down, the - Hawk could not hope to see its contents if it were opened on the desk; - standing up, he might be able to form a very good idea of how tempting its - contents would prove to be. - </p> - <p> - Kirschell took a black-enamelled steel box from the safe, and returned to - the desk. He opened this with a key, threw back the cover—and the - Hawk stuck his tongue in his cheek. A few papers lay on the top—otherwise - it was crammed to overflowing with banknotes. Kirschell selected one of - the papers, and picked up a pen in frigid silence. - </p> - <p> - But the Hawk was no longer watching the scene. His head was cocked to one - side, in a curious, bird-like, listening attitude. He could have sworn he - had heard the outer office door being stealthily opened. And now Calhoun - was speaking—rapidly, his voice raised noticeably in a louder tone - than any he had previously employed. - </p> - <p> - “I ain't looking for trouble, Mr. Kirschell,” he stated Hurriedly, as - though relenting, “and I don't want you to think I am, but——” - </p> - <p> - There was a sharp cry from Kirschell. The room was in darkness. Came a - quick step running in from the outer office, no longer stealthy now—the - crash of a toppling chair—a gasping moan in Kirschell's voice—the - thud of a falling body—a tense whisper: “All right, I've got it!”—then - the steps running back across the outer office—the closing of the - corridor door—and silence. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, grim-lipped, had backed up against the wall of the room. - </p> - <p> - Calhoun's voice rose hoarsely: - </p> - <p> - “Good God, what's happened! Where's the electric-light switch?” - </p> - <p> - Kirschell answered him faintly: - </p> - <p> - “At—at the side of the door—just—outside the partition.” - </p> - <p> - The lights went on again, and the Hawk leaned intently forward. Calhoun - was standing now in the doorway between the outer and the private office, - his eyes fixed on Kirschell. The swivel chair had been overturned; and - Kirschell, a great crimson stream running down his cheek from above his - temple, was struggling to his knees, clutching at the edge of the desk for - support. The cash box was gone. - </p> - <p> - Kirschell's eyes swept the top of the desk haggardly, as though hoping - against hope. He gained his feet, lurching unsteadily. A crimson drop - splashed to the desk. - </p> - <p> - “My chair!” he cried out weakly. “Help me!” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun stepped forward mechanically, and picked up the chair. Kirschell - dropped into it. - </p> - <p> - “You're hurt!” Calhoun said huskily. “You're badly hurt!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” Kirschell answered; “but it—can wait. The police first—there - was—three thousand dollars—in my cash box.” With an effort he - reached out across the desk for the telephone, pulled it toward him—and, - on the point of lifting the receiver from the hook, slowly drew back his - hand. A strange look settled on his face, a sort of dawning, though - puzzled comprehension; and then, swaying in his chair, his lips thinned. - He drew his hand still further back until it hovered over the handle of - the desk's middle drawer. His eyes, on Calhoun, were narrowing. - </p> - <p> - “You devil!” he rasped out suddenly. “This is your work! I was a fool that - I did not see it at first!” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun's face went white. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean?” he said thickly. - </p> - <p> - “What I say!” Kirschell's voice was ominously clear now, though he sat - none too steadily in his chair. - </p> - <p> - “Then you lie!” said Calhoun fiercely. “You lie—and if you weren't - hurt, I'd——” - </p> - <p> - “No, you wouldn't!”—Kirschell had whipped the drawer open, and, - snatching out a revolver, was covering Calhoun. He laughed a little—bitterly. - “I'm not so bad that I can't take care of myself. It was pretty clever, - I'll give you credit for that. You almost fooled me.” - </p> - <p> - “Damn you!” snarled Calhoun. “Do you mean to say I've got your cash box?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no,” said Kirschell. “I can <i>see</i> you haven't. I don't even know - which of you two struck me. But I do know that you and the man who <i>has</i> - my cash box worked up this plant together.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun stepped forward threateningly—only to retreat again before - the lifted muzzle of the revolver. - </p> - <p> - “You're a fool!” he snarled. “You've nothing on me!” - </p> - <p> - “That's for the police to decide,” returned Kirschell evenly. “It would - have been a pleasant way of disposing of that note, wouldn't it—if - you hadn't under-rated me! And your pal for his share, I daresay, was to - take his chance on whatever there might be in the cash box! Why did you - say you couldn't come until <i>night</i>, when I gave you until to-day as - the last day in which to settle? Why did you insist on my indorsing the - payment on the note, which necessitated my opening the safe and taking out - the cash box in which you knew the note was kept, for you saw me put it - there a week ago, when you first came here? And just after I was knocked - down I heard your accomplice whisper: '<i>All right, I've got it.</i>” - </p> - <p> - “It's possible the police might form the same opinion I have as to <i>whom</i> - those words were addressed!” Calhoun's face had grown whiter. - </p> - <p> - “It's a lie!” he said scarcely above a whisper. “It's a lie! I had nothing - to do with it!” - </p> - <p> - “I want my three thousand dollars!” Kirschell's lips were set. He held a - red-stained handkerchief to his cheek. “If I call the police now they'll - get <i>you</i>—but it's your accomplice that's got my money. And - it's my money that I want! I'll give you half an hour to go to him, and - bring the money back here—and leave the police out of it. If you're - not here in that time, I put it up to the police. Half an hour is time - enough for you to find your pal; and it's not time enough for you to - attempt to leave the city—and get very far!” Kirschell laid his - watch on the desk. “You'd better go—I mean half an hour from <i>now</i>.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun hung hesitant for a moment, staring at the muzzle of Kirschell's - revolver. He made as though to say something—and instead, abruptly, - with a short, jarring laugh, turned on his heel, and passed out of the - room. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was already edging his way along the wall toward the corridor - door. - </p> - <p> - “Three thousand dollars!”—the Hawk rolled the words like so many - dainty morsels on his tongue, as he communed with himself. “I guess it's - my play to stick to Mr. Calhoun!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VI—SOME OF THE LITTLE SPIDERS - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk reached - the door, as Calhoun stepped into the corridor from the general office and - passed by outside, evidently making for the main entrance of the building. - He opened the door cautiously the width of a crack—and held it in - that position. A man's voice, low, guarded, from the corridor, but from - the opposite direction to that taken by Calhoun, reached him. - </p> - <p> - “Here! Calhoun! Here!” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun halted. There was silence for an instant, then Calhoun retraced - his steps and passed by the door again. There were a few hurried words in - a whisper, which the Hawk could not catch; and then the footsteps of both - men retreated along the corridor. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk opened the door wider, and peered out. The two men were well down - the corridor now; and now, as they passed the single incandescent that - lighted that end of the hall, Calhoun's companion reached up and turned it - out. - </p> - <p> - “Why, say—-thanks!” murmured the Hawk, and stepped out into the - corridor himself. - </p> - <p> - It was now quite dark at that end, and the men had disappeared. The Hawk - moved silently and swiftly along, keeping close to the wall. Presently he - caught the sound of their voices again, and nodded to himself. He - remembered that in going out this way yesterday he had noticed that the - corridor, for some architectural reason, made a sharp, right-angled jut - just before it gave on the side-street entrance. He stepped now across to - the other side of the corridor, and stole forward to a position where he - could look diagonally past the projecting angle of the jut. The two men, - standing there, showed plainly in the light from a street arc that shone - into the entranceway through the large plate-glass square over the door. - The Hawk, quite secure from observation, nestled back against the wall—and - an ominous smile settled on the Hawk's lips. The face of Calhoun's - companion was covered with a mask. - </p> - <p> - “There's nothing to be leery about here,” the man was saying. “There's no - one goes out or comes in this way at night. Well, it's a nice mess, eh? So - the old Shylock called the turn on you, did he?” - </p> - <p> - There seemed to be a helpless note in Calhoun's voice. He passed his hand - heavily across his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “What's the meaning of this?” he cried out. “What do you know about what - happened in there?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing much,” said the other coolly. “Except that I'm the guy that - pinched the swag, and hit Kirschell that welt on the head.” - </p> - <p> - “<i>You!</i>” Calhoun involuntarily stepped back. “Yes, sure—me!” - The man shrugged his shoulders. “Me and a pal who was outside. He's away - now putting the cash box where it won't come to any harm—savvy? - He'll be back pretty soon.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's lips moved. - </p> - <p> - “Number Three and Number Seven,” whispered the Hawk gently. - </p> - <p> - “I—I don't understand,” said Calhoun dazedly. “Then why are you - telling me this. And why are you staying here? And how did you know that - Kirschell accused me of being in it?” - </p> - <p> - “That's another one that's easy,” announced the man evenly. “Because it - was part of the game to <i>make</i> him think so.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun seemed to stiffen up. - </p> - <p> - “What! You mean, you——” - </p> - <p> - “You're getting it!” said the other shortly. “But you'd better wait until - you get it all before you start spitting your teeth out! Mabbe you've - heard of a little interference with the telegraph wires, and a few small - jobs pulled off around here where some innocent parties accidentally got - croaked? Ah—you have, eh! Well, that's where you come in, Calhoun. - We want you—and when we want anything, we get it! See? We knew about - that note, and we've been expecting the railroad crowd to wake up some - time, and we had you picked out to place our bets on against them. They - woke up to-day and began to nose over the line. It ain't likely to do them - much good, but there's a chance—and we ain't taking chances. We - don't want much from you, Calhoun, just a little thing, and it'll bring - you more money than you ever saw in your life before and without you - running any risk. All you've got to do is stand for anything in the shape - of a splice or tap on the line that they're suspicious of—you can - say it's a repair job of your own, see?” - </p> - <p> - An angry flush was tinging Calhoun's cheeks. - </p> - <p> - “Is that all?” he burst out passionately. “Well, I'll see you damned - first!” - </p> - <p> - “Will you?” returned the other calmly. “All right, my bucko! It's your - funeral. Take your choice. That—or twenty years in the penitentiary. - You're in cold on this. Think it over a bit. For instance, how did you - come to make the break of wanting Kirschell to indorse the payment on the - back of the note, which made him open his safe?” - </p> - <p> - “How do you know I did?” Calhoun flashed back sharply. - </p> - <p> - “Mabbe I'm only guessing at it,” said the man nonchalantly; “and mabbe I - was back in the outside room when you did. But, say, you don't happen to - remember, do you, a little talk you had with a stranger up the line - to-day? And how the conversation got around to loan sharks, and how he - told about a trick they had of giving receipts that were phony, and how he - beat one of them to it by making the shark indorse on the paper itself? - Kind of sunk in, and you bit—eh, Calhoun? We don't do things by - halves. We happen to <i>need</i> you. And what do you think I made the - break of whispering so Kirschell would hear me for?” - </p> - <p> - The color was ebbing from Calhoun's face. - </p> - <p> - “It's not proof!” The defiant ring in his voice was forced. “I——” - </p> - <p> - “It's enough to make Kirschell believe it, and that's all we wanted for a - starter. We'll take care of the rest!” stated the man grimly. “What did he - say to you?” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun answered mechanically: - </p> - <p> - “He said if I didn't return in half an hour with the cash box, he'd notify - the police.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, ho!” The man's lips widened in a grin under the edge of his mask. “So - he's going to wait here, eh? Well, so much the better! It'll save us a - trip to his house. Now, see here, Calhoun, let this sink in!” He put his - hand in his pocket and drew out a slip of paper. “Here's your note. It was - on the desk where Kirschell was writing on it, and I pinched it when I - pinched the cash box. We didn't figure we were going to make the haul we - did to-night—we were after you. But there's <i>some</i> money in - that cash box, as you saw for yourself. Here's the idea: Kirschell's read - a thing or two about what's going on around here—enough to make him - know that there ain't much our gang'll stop at. If you say you're with us, - me and my pal 'll go in there and throw the fear of God into him. Do you - get it? He'll think himself lucky to get off by keeping his mouth shut - about to-night when he finds out who he's up against. Also you get the - note back, and a share of the cash—and more to come later on.” - </p> - <p> - “No!” Calhoun cried out. “No! I'm no thief!” - </p> - <p> - “All right!” agreed the other indifferently. - </p> - <p> - “That's one side of it. Here's the other: Kirschell certainly believes you - took it. He's a shark all right, and he thinks more of his money than he - does of anything else, or he wouldn't have given you the chance he did. - But when you don't show back there with the coin, he'll take the only - other hope he's got of getting his money and turn on the police tap—see? - What are you going to do then? Make a break for it, or let 'em get you? - Well, it doesn't matter which. This note and a chunk of the cash gets - mailed to-night—and the police get tipped off to watch your mail in - the morning. Kind of reasonable, isn't it? Your pal, not being able to - find you, and not tumbling to the fact that the police have got you until - too late, comes across with your share like an honest little man! I think - you said something about proof, Calhoun? And I think I told you before - that we didn't do things by halves. How about that on top of Kirschell's - story—do you think it would cinch a jury, or do you think they'd - believe any little fairy story you might tell them, say, about meeting me? - Does it look any more like twenty years than it did?” - </p> - <p> - There was a sudden agony in Calhoun's face. - </p> - <p> - “My God!” he whispered. “You—you wouldn't do that?” - </p> - <p> - The man made no answer. He still held the note-in his hand—but in - the other now he carelessly dangled a revolver. - </p> - <p> - “You wouldn't! You wouldn't!” Calhoun's voice was broken now. “I've a wife - and children, and—my God, what am I to do!” - </p> - <p> - “That half-hour Kirschell gave you is slipping along,” suggested the other - uncompromisingly. “Here's the note, and there's easy money waiting for - you.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun turned on the other like a man demented. - </p> - <p> - “Do you think I'd touch that cash! Or touch that note—I <i>owe</i> - it! I may not have been able to pay it—but I owe it!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, well, suit yourself as to that, too!” said the man cynically. “It's - the other thing <i>we</i> want. What's the wife and the kids you're - talking about going to do if you go up for twenty years?” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun, with a miserable cry, buried his face in his hands. - </p> - <p> - There was silence—a minute dragged by. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” prompted the man curtly. - </p> - <p> - Calhoun dropped his hands, met the other's eyes for an instant—and - turned his head away. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I thought you would!” said the man calmly. “My pal ought to be back - by now, and as soon as he comes we'll go in there and hand Kirschell his - little jolt, and——” He stopped. There was a light rapping on - the entrance door. “Here he is now! We'll——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was retreating back along the corridor. Again he opened the door - of what he had designated to himself as the secretary's office, and for - the second time that night stepped silently into the room, closing the - door behind him. The sound of running water came from Kirschell's private - office, but there was no other sound—the Hawk made none as he once - more gained his place of vantage behind the desk. Kirschell was bending - over the washbowl, his back turned, bathing his temple and face, and now, - straightening up, he bound a towel tightly around his head. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk watched the proceedings impassively, his head, in that bird-like, - listening attitude, cocked on one shoulder toward the outer door. Steps - were coming along the corridor. But this time Kirschell, too, heard them—for - he turned, and, as the corridor door opened, started toward his desk. He - reached it and sat down, as Calhoun entered the room. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, ha!” snapped Kirschell triumphantly. “So you've thought better of it, - have you? I imagined you would! Well, where's the——” The words - seemed to freeze on his lips; there was a sudden terror in his face. “What—what - does this mean?” he faltered. - </p> - <p> - Two masked men, the one who had been with Calhoun in the corridor, and a - taller, more heavily built man, had stepped in behind Calhoun, and were - advancing toward the desk. - </p> - <p> - The short man pointed a revolver at Kirschell's head. - </p> - <p> - “Calhoun says he keeps a gun in the middle drawer of the desk,” he grunted - to his companion. “Get it!” - </p> - <p> - The other, leaning over, pulled the drawer open, and, appropriating - Kirschell's revolver, stuck it in his pocket. - </p> - <p> - Kirschell's tongue circled his lips. He looked wildly from one to the - other. - </p> - <p> - “We just dropped in to make a confession, Mr. Kirschell,” said the short - man, with an ugly jeer. “We don't like to see an innocent man suffer—understand? - I'm the one that lifted your cash box, you measly shark—me and my - pal there. I heard you trying to stick it on Calhoun. We ain't asking any - favours for ourselves, and when we get through with you, you can tell the - police it was us, and that we're part of the crowd that's been making - things lively around these parts—you've been reading the papers, - ain't you?—but you open your mouth about Calhoun, you put him in bad - when he had nothing to do with it, and inside of twenty-four hours you'll - be found in a dark alley somewhere with a bullet through you! Get me? You - know who you're up against now, and you've got fair warning!” - </p> - <p> - Kirschell was huddled in his chair. His little black eyes were no longer - restless—they were fixed in a sort of terrified fascination on the - speaker. - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” He licked his lips again. “Yes, I—I understand,” he mumbled. - </p> - <p> - From his pocket the Hawk took a mask, which he slipped over his face; and - from his pocket he took his automatic. - </p> - <p> - “I don't think he believes you,” sneered the second masked man, with a - wicked grin. “Perhaps mabbe we'd better twist his windpipe a little, just - to show him in a friendly way that there ain't any mistake about it—eh?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no!” Kirschel's voice was full of fear. “No, no! I believe—I——” - His words ended in a choked scream. - </p> - <p> - The man's hands had shot swiftly out, and closed on Kirschell's throat. He - was shaking, twisting, and turning Kirschell's head from side to side. His - companion laughed brutally. Came a series of guttural moans from Kirschell—and - Kirschel's body began to slip limply down in his chair. - </p> - <p> - Calhoun had gone white to the lips. - </p> - <p> - “Stop it! My God, stop it!” he burst out frantically. “You promised me you - wouldn't do him any harm.” - </p> - <p> - “You mind your own business!” snarled the man with the revolver. “We know - how to handle his breed. Give him enough to hold him for a while Jim! We——” - </p> - <p> - “Drop that revolver! <i>Drop it!</i>” The Hawk was standing in the - doorway. - </p> - <p> - There was a startled oath from the leader of the two men as he whirled - around, a gasp as he faced the Hawk's automatic—and his weapon - clattered to the floor. The other, in a stunned way, still hung over - Kirschell, but his hands had relaxed their hold on Kirschel's throat. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you!” drawled the Hawk. “I must say I agree with Mr. Calhoun. It's - not a pleasant sight to watch a man being throttled.” His voice rang - suddenly cold. “You, there!” His automatic indicated the man beside - Kirschell. “Stand back at the end of the desk, and put up your hands!” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun had not moved. He was staring numbly at the Hawk. Kirschell, - making guttural sounds, was clawing at his throat. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Calhoun,” requested the Hawk coolly, “as I happen to know that you - have little reason to love either of these two gentlemen, will you be good - enough to pick up that revolver and hand it to me?” Calhoun stooped - mechanically, and extended it to the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “And now our friend over there with his hands up, Mr. Calhoun,” purred the - Hawk. “You will find two in his pockets—his own, and Mr. - Kirschell's. Mr. Kirschell, I am sure, is already fairly well convinced - that you are in no way connected with the robbery of his cash box, and I - am equally sure that in no way could you better dispel any lingering - doubts he might still entertain than by helping to draw these gentlemen's - teeth.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun laughed a little grimly now. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know who you are,” he said, his lips set, as he started toward - the man; “but I guess you're right. I'd like to see them get what's coming - to them.” - </p> - <p> - “Quite so!” said the Hawk pleasantly. He accepted the two remaining - revolvers from Calhoun; and from his pocket produced his skeleton keys. He - handed them to Calhoun, designating one of the keys on the ring. “One more - request, Mr. Calhoun,” he said. “I entered by the door that opens on the - corridor from this other office here. Will you please lock it; and, on - your way back, also lock this connecting door through which I have just - come in—the key of the latter, I noticed, is in the lock.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun nodded, took the keys, and stepped quickly from the room. - Kirschell, evidently not seriously hurt from the handling he had received, - though still choking a little and clearing his throat with short coughs, - was regarding the Hawk with a questioning stare. The eyes of the other two - men were on the Hawk's revolver. The shorter of the two suddenly raised a - clenched fist. - </p> - <p> - “The Hawk!” he flashed out furiously. “You cursed snitch! You'll wish you - were dead before we're through with you!” - </p> - <p> - “So the Butcher told me last night.” The Hawk smiled plaintively. “Move a - little closer together, you two—yes, like that, at the far end of - the desk beside each other. Thank you! You are much easier to cover that - way.” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun returned, locking the connecting door behind him, and handed the - door key, together with the key-ring, back to the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk moved forward to the desk. He was alert, quick, ominous now. The - drawl, the pleasantry was gone. - </p> - <p> - “Out there in the hall,” he said coldly, “I heard Mr. Calhoun refuse to - take back his note—from a thief. You”—his revolver muzzle - jerked toward the short man—“hand it out!” - </p> - <p> - The man reached viciously into his pocket, and tossed the note on the - desk. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk pushed it toward Kirschell. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Kirschell,” he said quietly, “you no doubt had good reasons for it, - but you have none the less falsely accused Mr. Calhoun. Furthermore, Mr. - Calhoun has been instrumental in laying these two who have confessed by - the heels. Under the circumstances, if you are the man I think you are, - you will tear that up.” - </p> - <p> - Kirschell lingered the note for an instant. He looked from Calhoun to the - Hawk, and back at Calhoun again. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he said abruptly—and tore it into several pieces. “I suppose - I could hardly do less. You are quite right! And, Mr. Calhoun, I—I - apologise to you.” - </p> - <p> - A flush spread over Calhoun's face. He swallowed hard, and his lips - quivered slightly. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Kirschell,” he stammered, “I—I——” - </p> - <p> - “That's all right!” interposed the Hawk whimsically. “Don't start any - mutual admiration society. I dislike embarrassing situations; and besides, - Mr. Calhoun”—his eyes travelled from one to the other of the two - masked men—“I think you had better go now.” - </p> - <p> - “Go?” repeated Calhoun, somewhat bewilderedly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” supplemented the Hawk. “As far as you are concerned, you are clear - and out of this now. Stay out of it, and say nothing—that's the best - thing you can do.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, that suits me,” said Calhoun with a wry smile, “if Mr. Kirschell——” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly! I see!” approved the Hawk. “It does you credit. But Mr. - Kirschell and I are quite capable of settling with these two; and you can - thank Mr. Kirschell further to-morrow if you like—when I'm not here! - Now—if you please!” - </p> - <p> - Calhoun turned, and walked to the door. His footsteps echoed back from the - general office. Then the corridor door closed behind him. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk addressed the two masked men. - </p> - <p> - “Last night,” remarked the Hawk gently, “it was the Butcher, and to-night - it is—pardon me”—he was close in front of the two now, and, - with a jerk, snatched the masks from their faces—“Whitie Jim, and - the Bantam! Well, I might have known from the Butcher! You're all out of - the same kind of cocoons! The poor old simp at the head of your gang is - sure stuck with a moth-eaten lot! He's sure collected a bunch of - left-overs! Why, say, back there in New York, where a <i>real</i> crook - couldn't keep the grin off his face every time he met you, even the police - had you passed up as harmless cripples!” - </p> - <p> - “You go to blazes!” growled the Bantam, with an oath. “You'll sing through - the other side of your mouth for this yet!” - </p> - <p> - “You are not nice to me, Bantam,” said the Hawk, in a pained voice. “You - don't appreciate what I'm doing for you. It was a piker game you tried to - hand Calhoun; but, even at that, I wouldn't have queered it if it would - have helped you work out a few more little deals, so that I could skim the - cream off them. But it wouldn't! I don't see what you gain by interfering - with the telegraph lines, but I'll let you in on something. I've been - keeping an eye on MacVightie because MacVightie's been keeping an eye on - me, and I overheard him talking to the superintendent to-night. - MacVightie's got an idea that Calhoun's fooling with the wires now. See - where you would have been? If Calhoun had ever got started on the real - thing, some of you would have been nipped—and, say, there's nothing - like that going to happen if I can help it! You and your crowd are too - valuable to me to take any chances of your getting in wrong anywhere. I'm - not wringing the neck of the goose that lays my golden eggs! Tell that to - the guy that's supposed to have the brains of your outfit, will you? And - you might add that I don't want any thanks. I'm getting well paid.” - </p> - <p> - “You'll get paid, curse you!” The Bantam's voice was hoarse with fury. - “You butted in once too often last night. The Butcher warned you. There - ain't any more warnings. You've got the drop on us here to-night, but——” - </p> - <p> - “It's getting late,” said the Hawk wearily. “And I'm sure Mr. Kirschell - agrees with me that it is about time to produce that cash box—do you - not, Mr. Kirschell?” - </p> - <p> - Kirschell made no reply. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk smiled—unhappily. - </p> - <p> - “I don't think you put it back in the safe—I see that the door is - still wide open. A drawer in the desk, then, perhaps? Ah—<i>would - you!</i>” There was a sudden deadly coldness in the Hawk's voice. The - Bantam had edged around the corner of the desk. “If any of you move - another inch, I'll drop you as quick as I'd drop a mad dog! Now then—if - the Cricket will oblige? I'll give him until I count three. One—two——” - </p> - <p> - “Damn you!—Kirschell's face was livid and contorted. He wrenched a - lower drawer open, and flung the cash box on the desk. - </p> - <p> - “The Butcher, Whitie Jim, the Bantam, and the Cricket,” murmured the Hawk. - “It's good to see old New York faces out here, even if you do size up like - bush-leaguers trying to bust into high society. You can take that towel - off, if you like, Cricket, it doesn't become you particularly—and, - as you've washed off the heart-rending effect of that little bag of liquid - stain you smashed over your temple, I'm sure you'll look less like a comic - opera star! No? Well, please yourself!” The Hawk was coolly transferring - the contents of the cash box to his pockets with his left hand. “These - papers,” mused the Hawk deliberately aloud, “appear to be some securities - you lifted on that Pullman car raid. Rather neat idea, this, establishing - this office—sort of a clearing house, I take it, for the gang's - drag-net—'loans, mortgages and general exchange!' I take back part - of what I said—this shows a first faint glimmer of brains. Well, - keep the office going, your interests are mine! You'll notice that I was - considerate enough to get Calhoun out of the way before the show-down. You - were very generous, magnanimous even, Cricket—I admire you! - Calhoun'll swear Mr. Kirschell is the squarest man on earth—and - don't forget that's another little debt of gratitude you owe the Hawk. - Three thousand dollars!” The Hawk's pockets were bulging. “Must have been - what you separated some one from when I wasn't looking! Glad you weren't - stingy with your bait for Calhoun! I heard to-day that Mr. Kirschell kept - a good deal of cash in his safe, but I had no idea that Mr. Kirschell was - the Cricket—not till I came here this evening to take a look at Mr. - Kirschell's safe. I must say it has been a surprise—a very pleasant - surprise.” - </p> - <p> - The cash box was empty. The Hawk backed away from the desk. - </p> - <p> - None of the three men spoke—they were eying him like caged and - infuriated beasts. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk reached the doorway. - </p> - <p> - “You will observe,” smiled the Hawk engagingly, “that this is now the only - exit, and that as I walk backward across the outer office any one who - steps into this doorway will be directly in the line of fire.” He bowed - facetiously, backed through the doorway and across the general office, - and, still facing the inner room, opened the corridor door and stepped - out. - </p> - <p> - And then the Hawk spoke again. - </p> - <p> - “I bid you good evening, gentlemen!” said the Hawk softly. “You will - pardon me if I put you to the inconvenience of locking this door—on - the outside.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VII—WANTED—THE HAWK—DEAD OR ALIVE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>ACVIGHTIE had - become troublesome. For two days MacVightie had very seriously annoyed the - Hawk. It was for that reason that the Hawk now crept stealthily up the - dark, narrow stairs, and, on the landing, listened in strained attention - before the door of his own room. - </p> - <p> - Reassured finally, he opened the door inch by inch, noiselessly. The bolt, - in grooves that were carefully oiled, made no sound in slipping into - place, as the Hawk entered and closed the door behind him. So far, so - good! He was quick, alert, but still silent, as, in the darkness, he - crossed swiftly to the window, and crouched down against the wall. A - minute, two, went by. The fire-escape, passing at an angle a short - distance below the window sill, and at first nebulous in the blackness, - gradually took on distinct and tangible shape. Still the Hawk held there - motionless, searching it with his eyes—and then, abruptly, satisfied - that it sheltered no lurking shadow, he straightened up, thrust his - automatic back into his pocket, pulled down the shade, and, turning back - into the room, switched on the light. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie, it appeared, still had lingering suspicions of this room over - the somewhat disreputable saloon below, and still had lingering suspicions - of its occupant. All that afternoon the Hawk was quite well aware that he - had been shadowed—but the result had been rather in his favour than - in Mac-Vightie's. From the moment he had discovered that he was being - followed, he had devoted his time to making applications for a job—for - MacVightie's benefit—that being the reason he had given MacVightie - for his presence in Selkirk. Later on, when it had grown dark, having - business of his own, he had left MacVightie's satellite standing on a - street corner somewhat puzzled just which way to turn! That, however, had - no bearing on the watch that had been, or might be at the present moment, - set upon this room. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, in apparent abstraction, was flipping a coin up in the air and - catching it. There was a slight frown on the Hawk's face. MacVightie's - suspicions were still lingering for the simple reason that MacVightie, - utterly at sea, was clutching at the only straw in sight, unless—the - coin slipped through the Hawk's fingers and fell beside his trunk. He - stooped to pick it up—yes, not only had the room been searched, but - the trunk had been opened! The single strand of hair, almost indiscernible - against the brass and quite innocently caught in the lock, was broken. - Well, he had not finished that mental sentence. Unless—<i>what?</i> - </p> - <p> - He tucked the coin into his pocket, and, standing up, yawned and stretched - himself. With the toe of his boot he lazily pushed a chair out from the - wall. The chair fell over. The Hawk picked it up, and quite casually set - it down—near the door. He took off his coat, and flung it over the - back of the chair. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's face was greyer now, as it set in rigid lines, but there was no - tremor in the hand that inserted the key in the lock of the trunk. He - flung back the lid—and his eyes, for an instant, searched the room - again sharply. The window shade was securely drawn; the coat over the back - of the chair completely screened the keyhole of the door. He laughed a - little then—mirthlessly. Well, the trunk had been opened! Had - MacVightie found <i>all</i>—or nothing? - </p> - <p> - His fingers were working swiftly, deftly now around the inside edges of - the lid. He was either caught here, cornered, at bay—or MacVightie, - once for all, would be satisfied, and, as far as MacVightie was concerned, - the coast would hereafter be clear. The Hawk's dark eyes narrowed, the - square under jaw crept out and set doggedly. It had been a close call, - perilously close, that other night when he had taken the ten thousand - dollars from the paymaster's safe, and MacVightie had followed him here to - this room. He had pulled the wool over MacVightie's eyes for the moment—but - MacVightie had returned to the old trail again. Well, the cards were on - the table now, and it was a gamble that was grim enough! Either he was - quit of MacVightie, could even count on MacVightie as a sort of sponsor - for his innocence; or—“Ah!” The ingeniously fashioned false tray in - the curvature of the lid had come away in the Hawk's hands. He was safe! - MacVightie had missed it! In the tray, untouched, where he had left them, - lay the packages of banknotes from the paymaster's safe; in the tray still - glittered the magnificent diamond necklace, whose theft from the wife of - His Excellency the Governor of the State had already furnished more than - one of the big dailies back in the East with attractive copy for their - Sunday editions; and there, undisturbed, were the contents of Isaac - Kirschell's cash box, a trifling matter of some three thousand dollars; - and there too, snugly tucked away in one corner, was the bundle of crisp, - new, counterfeit ten-dollar bills. The Hawk grinned maliciously, as his - eyes rested on the counterfeit notes. The one he had sent, inscribed with - his compliments, to MacVightie, when he had returned the otherwise empty - paymaster's bag to the detective, had not pleased MacVightie! - </p> - <p> - Quite at his ease now, the Hawk fitted the false top back into the lid, - closed the trunk, locked it, drew a chair up to the table, and sat down. - With MacVightie removed as a possible factor of interruption, there was - another, and very pressing little matter to which he was now at liberty to - give his attention. He produced a folded sheet of paper from his inside - vest pocket, spread it out on the table before him, and inspected it with - a sort of cynical curiosity. In each corner were tack holes. He had - removed it less than half an hour ago—not through any misguided - dislike to publicity, but simply because he had urgently required a piece - of paper—from a conspicuous position on the wall of the railroad - station. It was a police circular. The Hawk had not before had an - opportunity to absorb more than the large type captions—he filled - his pipe calmly now, as he read it in its entirety: - </p> - <h3> - $5,000 REWARD—FOR EX-SING SING CONVICT - </h3> - <p> - Five Thousand Dollars Reward Will Be Paid For Information Leading to the - Arrest and Conviction of THE HAWK, Alias HARRY MAUL. - </p> - <p> - Here followed a description tallying with the one given by MacVightie to - Lanson, the division superintendent, and which Lanson had caustically - remarked would not fit more than twenty-five thousand men in Selkirk City; - followed after that a résumé of the crimes recently committed on the - railroad, amongst them the theft of the diamond necklace and the robbery - of the paymaster's safe; and, at the end, in bold-faced type again: - </p> - <h3> - $2,000 REWARD - </h3> - <p> - Two Thousand Dollars Reward Will Also be Paid For Information Leading to - the Arrest and Conviction of Each and Every One of THE HAWK'S - Confederates. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk smiled broadly, as he held the flame of a match to his pipe bowl. - The last paragraph was exquisitely ironical. Those whom MacVightie so - blithely called the “Hawk's confederates” were vying with each other at - that exact moment, and for the exact amount of two thousand dollars - offered by the Master Spider of the gang, for the privilege of putting an - even more conclusive end—in the shape of a knife thrust, a bullet, - or a blackjack—to the Hawk! - </p> - <p> - “And,” said the Hawk softly, as he turned the circular over, “I guess - they'd make it a whole lot more if they knew that I had—<i>this!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The back of the circular was covered with line after line of what, - seemingly, was but a meaningless jumble of scribbled letters—nor, in - this case, were the letters any too well formed. The Hawk had laboured - under difficulties when the telegraph sounder had “broke” unexpectedly - with the message. He had been listening—as he was always listening - when within sound of a telegraph instrument—but he had never known a - message from the Wire Devils to come through at so early an hour in the - evening before. He had shaken MacVightie's man off the trail and had gone - down to the depot, intending to go up the line to the first small station, - where, with little chance of being discovered, he could spend the night - within earshot of the operator's instrument—in the hope that his - vigil would not, as it sometimes did, prove futile. He had been standing - under the dispatcher's open window waiting for a train, when the police - circular tacked on the station wall had caught his eye. The large type was - readily decipherable, but the platform lights were poor, and he had - stepped closer to read the remainder—and instead, glancing quickly - about him to see that he was not observed, he had snatched the circular - from the wall, and, whipping a pencil from his pocket, had scrawled on the - reverse side, as best he could, the message that was rattling in over the - dispatcher's sounder from the room above. He had taken chances—but - he had played in luck. No one had noticed him, and—well, he was here - now with the message; and, since it must sooner or later have been put to - the proof in any case, he was back here, too, to find that he was quit of - MacVightie. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” confided the Hawk to himself, as he reached for a blank sheet of - paper in the drawer of the table, “I guess I played in luck—both - ways. Wonder if there's another ripe little melon here going to be shoved - my way on a gold platter by the Butcher and his crowd?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk studied the cipher for a moment. - </p> - <p> - “lqrtvy... key letter... stroke at six...two-three-one,” he murmured. - </p> - <p> - He drew the fresh sheet of paper toward him, and began to work busily. - Occasionally he paused, staring dubiously at a letter—he had taken - the message under far from ideal conditions, and a mistake here and there, - if not fatal, was annoying and confusing. Finally, however, the Hawk - leaned back in his chair, and whistled low under his breath. The message, - deciphered and arranged into words and sentences, ran: - </p> - <p> - <i>Final orders. Number One, Three, and Six hold up Fast Mail three miles - east of Burke's Siding to-night. Cut wires on approach. Express car next - to engine. Uncouple and proceed. Diamond shipment in safe. Messenger - drugged. No interference with remainder of train. Deliver safe five-mile - crossing to Number Four and Seven. Number One, Three, and Six take engine - and car further along the line. Return separately to Selkirk.</i> - </p> - <p> - Again the Hawk whistled low under his breath—and for the second time - reached into his inside vest pocket. He took out a letter that was - addressed, care of general delivery, to Mr. J. P. Carrister. The Hawk - puffed pleasantly at his pipe as he read it: - </p> - <p> - “Dear Friend: The folks are all well, and hope you are the same. I haven't - had time to write much lately. I like my new job fine. Say, I felt like a - Fifth Avenue dook for about umpty seconds to-day. One of the fellows in - the office let me hold a package of diamonds in my hand just to see what - it felt like. Gee! Say, you could almost shove it in your vest pocket, and - it was invoiced through customs at twenty thousand plunks. They were unset - stones, and came in from Amsterdam. It made me feel queer. - </p> - <p> - “I wouldn't like to be the fellow that has to keep his eye on it any of - the way from here to San Francisco, where it's going to-morrow by express. - If you see any bright lights flashing around your burg that you can't - account for about 11:15 next Wednesday night, you'll know it's the - diamonds going through in the express-car safe. I'm getting to be some - joker, eh? We all went down to Coney last Sunday. It's been fierce and hot - here. Say, don't be a clam, write us a line. Well, I guess there ain't any - more news. Yours truly, Bud.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, instead of folding up the letter and returning it to his pocket, - began meditatively to tear it into minute shreds, and with it the police - circular and the sheet of paper on which he had worked out the cipher - message. The Fast Mail scheduled Selkirk at 11:15—<i>and this was - Wednesday night!</i> - </p> - <p> - “Twenty thousand dollars,” said the Hawk gently under his breath. “Thanks, - Bud, old boy! You were there with the goods all right, but it wasn't a - one-man job, and I didn't think there was going to be anything doing.” The - Hawk grinned at the ceiling. “And just as I was about passing up the last - check, here they go and fix it for me to scoop the whole pot! Three miles - east of Burke's Siding, eh?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk relapsed into silence for a moment; then he spoke again. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk, “I guess that ought to work. She won't make the - three miles from the siding under five or six minutes. She's due at - Burke's at ten-ten. I can make it on the local out of here at - eight-thirty. Twenty thousand dollars—in <i>unset</i> stones! Just - as good as cash—and a lot easier to carry!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk looked at his watch. It was five minutes of eight. He rose - leisurely from his chair, stooped for a precautionary inspection of the - trunk lock, put on his coat, and, moving toward the door, switched off the - light. - </p> - <p> - “If I get away with this,” observed the Hawk, as he went down the stairs - and let himself out through the street door, “it'll be good-night for - keeps if any of the gang ever pick up my trail—and they won't quit - until they do! And then there's MacVightie and the police. I guess - there'll be some little side-stepping to do—what? Oh, well”—he - shrugged his shoulders—“I guess I'll get a bite of supper, anyway—there's - no telling when I'll have a chance to eat again!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VIII—THREADS IN THE WEB - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was not far to - the station—down through the lane from the Palace Saloon—and - close to the station, he remembered, there was a little short-order house - that was generally patronised by the railroad men. Old Mother Barrett's - short-order house, they called it. She was the wife of an engineer who had - been killed, he had heard, and she had a boy working somewhere on the - railroad. Not that he was interested in these details; in fact, as he - walked along, the Hawk was not interested in old Mother Barrett in a - personal sense at all—but, as he reached the short-order house and - entered, his eyes, as though magnetically drawn in that direction, fixed - instantly on the little old woman behind the counter. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was suddenly very much interested in old Mother Barrett. It was - not that she made a somewhat pathetic figure, that she drooped a little at - the shoulders, that her face under her grey hair looked tired, or that, - though scrupulously neat, her clothes were a little threadbare—it - was none of these things—it was old Mother Barrett's hands that for - the moment concerned the Hawk. She was in the act of adjusting her - spectacles and picking up a very new and crisp ten-dollar bill, that a - customer from the stool in front of her had evidently tendered in payment - for his meal. The Hawk shot a quick glance up and down the room. There - were several other customers at the long counter, but the stool beside the - owner of the ten-dollar bill was vacant—and the Hawk - unostentatiously straddled it. - </p> - <p> - He glanced casually at the man at his elbow; allowed his eyes to stray to - the kindly, motherly old face with its grey Irish eyes, that was puckered - now in a sort of hesitant indecision—and glanced a little more than - casually at the banknote she kept turning over and over in her hands. No, - he had not been mistaken. It was one of those counterfeits which, - according to MacVightie, had flooded the East and were now making their - appearance in Selkirk, and it was a duplicate of those in the false tray - of his trunk. His eyes perhaps were sharper than old Mother Barrett's—in - any case, his identification was the quicker, for his gaze had wandered to - the coffee urn, and he was drumming idly on the counter with his finger - tips before the little old woman finally spoke. - </p> - <p> - “I—I'm afraid I can't take this,” she said slowly, handing the - banknote back across the counter. - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter with it?” demanded the man gruffly. - </p> - <p> - “Why—it's—it's counterfeit,” she said a little anxiously, as - though she were fearful of giving offence. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes, with mild and quite impersonal interest, were on the - man's face now. The man had picked up the bill, and was pretending to - examine it critically. - </p> - <p> - “Counterfeit!” echoed the man shortly. “Say, what are you giving us! It's - as good as wheat! Give me my change, and let me get out—I'm in a - hurry!” He pushed the bill toward her again. - </p> - <p> - She did not pick it up from the counter this time. - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry.” She seemed genuinely disturbed, and the sweet old face was - full of sympathy. “I'm sure you did not know that it was not good, and ten - dollars is a great deal to lose, isn't it? It's too bad. Do you remember - where you got it?” - </p> - <p> - “Look here, you're dippy!” snapped the man. “I tell you it's not - counterfeit. Anyway, it's all I've got. If you want your pay, take it!” - </p> - <p> - “You owe me thirty-five cents, but I can't take it out of this.” She shook - her head in a troubled way. “This is a counterfeit.” - </p> - <p> - “You seem to be pretty well posted—on counterfeits!” sneered the man - offensively. “How do you know it's a counterfeit—eh?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I've seen one like this before,” she said simply. “My son showed - me one the last time he was in from his run, and he warned me to be - careful about taking any.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, your son—eh?” sneered the man again. “Some son! Wised you up, - did he? Carries it around with him—eh? And who does <i>he</i> shove - it off on?” - </p> - <p> - There was a queer little sound from the old lady—like a quick, hurt - catch of her breath. The Hawk's eyes travelled swiftly to her face. She - had turned a little pale, and her lips were trembling—but she was - drawn up very proudly, and the thin shoulders were squared back. - </p> - <p> - “I love my boy,” she said in a low voice, and tears came suddenly into her - eyes, “I love him with all my heart, but I should a thousand times rather - see him dead than know him for a thief. And a man who attempts to pass - these things knowingly is a—<i>thief</i>. I have been very - respectful to you, sir, and I do not deserve what you have said. I assumed - that you had been swindled yourself, and that you were perfectly honest in - offering the bill to me, but now from your——” - </p> - <p> - “What's the trouble, Mother Barrett?”—a big railroader farther up - the counter had laid down his knife and fork, and swung round on his - stool. - </p> - <p> - With a hurried glance in that direction, the man hastily thrust the - counterfeit note into his pocket, laid down thirty-five cents on the - counter—and, with a dive across the room, disappeared through the - door. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk stared thoughtfully after him. - </p> - <p> - “I couldn't butt in on that, and hand him one,” said the Hawk to himself - almost apologetically. “Not with twenty thousand in sight! I couldn't - afford to get into a row, and maybe miss the local, and spill the beans, - could I?” - </p> - <p> - He looked around again to find the little old woman wiping her spectacles, - and smiling at him a little wistfully. - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry that you had to listen to any unpleasantness,” she said. “My - little place isn't very pretentious, but I would not like to have you, a - stranger, think that sort of thing was customary here. What can I get you, - sir?” - </p> - <p> - It was no wonder that the railroaders evidently swore by old Mother - Barrett, and that one of them had been quick to shift her trouble to his - own shoulders! - </p> - <p> - “I guess he was a bad one, all right!” growled the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - She shook her head regretfully. There was no resentment left—it was - as though, indeed, the man was a charge upon her own conscience. - </p> - <p> - “He meant to be dishonest, I am afraid,” she admitted reluctantly; “but I - am sure he cannot be thoroughly bad, for he wasn't very old—just a - young man.” - </p> - <p> - She was a very simple, trusting little old lady—as well as a sweet - little old lady. Why should her illusions be dispelled? The Hawk nodded - gravely. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps,” suggested the Hawk, “perhaps he hasn't had any one to keep him - straight. Perhaps he hasn't got what keeps a good many chaps straight—a - good mother.” - </p> - <p> - The mist was quick in her eyes again. He had not meant to bring that—he - had meant only to show her a genuine admiration and respect. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps not,” she answered slowly. “But if he has, I hope she will never - know.” She shook her head again; and then: “But you have not told me yet - what you would like, sir?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk gave his order. He ate mechanically. Back in his mind he was - reviewing a rather extensive acquaintanceship with certain gentry whose - morals were not wholly above reproach. Failing, however, to identify the - individual with the counterfeit note as one of this select number, he - finally dismissed the man somewhat contemptuously from his mind. - </p> - <p> - “Just a piker crook, I guess,” decided the Hawk. “I'd like to have found - out though how many more of those he's got, and who the fool was that let - an amateur skate like that loose with any of the goods!” - </p> - <p> - He finished his meal, paid his bill, smiled a goodnight to old Mother - Barrett, walked out of the short-order house, and made his way over to the - station. Five minutes later, having purchased a magazine, the Hawk, with a - ticket in his pocket for a station a number of miles beyond Burke's - Siding, curled himself up with his pipe on a seat in the smoker of the - local. - </p> - <p> - The train started, and the Hawk apparently became immersed in his - magazine. The Hawk, however, though he turned a page from time to time, - was concerned with matters very far removed from the printed words before - him. The game to-night was more hazardous, more difficult, and for a - vastly greater stake than any in which he had before pitted his wits or - played his lone hand against the combined brains of the Butcher, his - fellows, and their unknown leader, who collectively were referred to by - the papers as—the Wire Devils. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk tamped down the ash in the bowl of his pipe with a wary - forefinger. He, the Hawk, according to MacVightie, was the leader of this - ingenious criminal league! It was very complimentary of MacVightie—very! - Between MacVightie and the Wire Devils themselves, he was a personage much - sought after! MacVightie, however, was not without grounds for his - assertion and belief—the Hawk grinned pleasantly—he, the Hawk, - had certainly, and for some time back, helped himself to the leader's - share of the spoils, and helped himself very generously! - </p> - <p> - The grin died away. He had beaten them so far, appropriated from under - their very noses the loot they had so carefully planned to obtain, and he - had mocked and taunted them contemptuously in the doing of it; but the - cold fact remained that luck sometimes was known to turn, and that the - pitcher that went too often to the well ran the risk of getting—smashed! - If they ever caught him, his life would not be worth an instant's - purchase. He knew some of them, and he knew them well for what they were, - and he laboured under no delusions on that score! The Butcher, for - example, who was the Number One of the message, had already nearly done - for him once; and the Butcher had nothing on Number Three, who was the - Bantam, or on Number Seven, who was Whitie Jim—or, it was safe to - presume, on any of the others that he had not yet identified—this - Number Four and Number Six, for instance, who were mentioned in the cipher - message to-night. And how many more were there? He did not know—except - that there was the Master Spider of them all. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had ceased now even to turn cursorily the pages of the magazine. - He was staring out of the window. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder,” muttered the Hawk grimly, “when I'll run up against <i>him?</i> - And who he is? And where the head office is?” - </p> - <p> - He nodded his head after a moment. MacVightie had called the turn. The - Wire Devils formed as powerful and dangerous a criminal organisation as - had probably ever existed anywhere. And not for very long would they put - all their resources at work to pull off some coup, only to find that he, - the Hawk, had made use of their preparations to snatch the prize away from - them; they were much more likely to put all their resources at work—with - the Hawk as their sole objective! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's lips tightened. He might under-estimate, but he could not - exaggerate, his danger! The man in the seat behind him might be one of - them for all he knew. Somewhere, hidden away in his web, at the end of a - telegraph wire, was the Master Spider directing the operations; and there - must be very many of them—the little spiders—spread all over - the division. Where there was a telegraph sounder that sounder carried the - messages, the plans, the secret orders of the brain behind the - organisation; and the very audaciousness with which they made themselves - free of the railroad's telegraph system to communicate with each other was - in itself a guarantee of success. If one of their messages was interfered - with, they threatened to cut the wires; and that meant, if luckily it - meant no more, that train operating was at an end until the break could be - located and repaired. Were they tapping the wire somewhere? What chance - was there to find out where? There were hundreds of old splices on the - wires. Or, if found, what would prevent them tapping the wire on the next - occasion many miles away? Also the sources of information that they tapped - must be far-flung. How, for instance, unless they too had a “Bud” back - there in New York, did they know of this diamond shipment coming through - to-night? - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's lips grew still a little tighter. His safety so far had - depended on the fact that he possessed the key to their cipher messages, - which not only enabled him to reap where they had sown, but warned him of - any move they might make against him. But it was becoming increasingly - difficult to intercept those messages. He had MacVightie to thank for - that. Where before he had only to crawl into some little way-station where - there was no night operator, MacVightie now had every one of those - stations securely guarded. Yes, it had become exceedingly more difficult! - If only he could find out <i>where</i> those messages emanated from, or - the system in force for receiving them! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk slid further down in his seat, tossed the magazine to one side, - pulled his hat over his eyes, and appeared to sleep. All that was neither - here nor there—<i>to-night</i>. He <i>had</i> the message to-night—but - he had not yet got that twenty thousand dollars in unset stones! He would - perhaps do well, now that he had the leisure, to give the details of that - matter a little more critical attention than they had received when he had - made up his mind that his best chance lay in the three miles between - Burke's Siding and the point where the Butcher and his men planned to hold - up the train. According to the message, the implication was that there - would be nobody in the express car at that time except a drugged - messenger. And now, somehow, he did not quite like the appearance of that. - It seemed a little queer. What was the object of drugging the man if they - did not take immediate advantage of it? He pondered the problem for a long - time. No, after all, it was logical enough—since they meant to - remove the safe bodily. There evidently was not a specialised cracksman - amongst them who had lifted his profession to the plane of art, no - “knob-twirler” such as—well, such as himself! The Hawk opened his - eyes sleepily to inspect the tips of his carefully manicured fingers. - Otherwise, with no one to interfere but a drugged messenger, they could - have opened the safe, looted it, and, since the Fast Mail carried only - through express matter, have slipped away from the car at the first stop, - with no one being the wiser until, somewhere up the line, the messenger - returned to life and gave the alarm. - </p> - <p> - Yes, it was very craftily worked out. The Master Spider was far from a - fool! They would have to “soup” the safe, and blow it open. If they - attempted that while the train was en route they ran the risk of being - heard, and trapped like rats in the car; and if they were heard, even if - they managed to stop the train and make their escape, they invited instant - and definite pursuit on the spot. The reason for drugging the express - messenger became quite evident now. If the man were already helpless when - they held up the train, they, at one and the same time, assured their - access to an otherwise guarded car without danger to themselves, and - without danger of being balked at the last moment of their reward—which - the messenger, with a small package like that, might easily have been able - to accomplish if he were a game man. He could have opened the safe, say, - the instant the first alarm came as they tried to force the car door, - taken out the package, and secreted it somewhere. It needed only the nerve - after that to defy them, and they had evidently given him credit for it - whether he possessed it or not. - </p> - <p> - Yes, decidedly, the Master Spider was no fool in the spinning of his web! - As it was, the safe, which would only be a small affair anyhow, would - disappear bodily; and between the point where the train was held up and - the point where they finally left the engine and express car there would - be a distance of at least ten miles, even allowing that they approached no - nearer than within two miles of Bradley, the first station west of Burke's - Siding. With the wires cut and the coaches of the Fast Mail stalled three - miles out of Burke's, considerable time must elapse before any one could - make a move against them; and even when the pursuit finally started, - MacVightie, for instance, would be confronted with that somewhat illusive - stretch of ten miles in which to decide <i>where</i> the pursuit should - begin. Ten miles was some little distance! MacVightie would be quite at - liberty to make his guess, and there was the chance, with the trifling - odds of some few odd thousand to one against it, that he might guess right—unless - he guessed that the safe had been removed at the point where the engine - and car were finally left, in which case MacVightie would guess wrong. - </p> - <p> - If the Hawk was asleep, he was perhaps dreaming—for the Hawk smiled. - The chances were just about those few odd thousand to one that MacVightie - would guess exactly that way—wrong. Yes, it was an exceedingly neat - little web that the Master Spider had spun. If he, the Hawk, were - permitted to make a guess, he would guess that the safe would never be - found! - </p> - <p> - His mind reverted to the cipher message. The safe was to be delivered at - “five-mile crossing.” Where that was the Hawk did not know—except - that it must necessarily be somewhere between the point where the train - was held up and Bradley. However, that was a detail with which he need - hardly concern himself. Long before this “five-mile crossing” was reached, - his vest pocket, if he played in luck, would be very comfortably lined! He - would enter the express car as the Fast Mail pulled out of Burke's Siding, - trust to certain long and intimate experience to open the safe—and - get off the train as it slowed down at the Butcher's very thoughtful - request! For the rest, the details—circumstances must govern there. - In the main, that would be his plan. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk “slept” on. Station after station was passed. His mind now dealt - in little snatches of thought. There was MacVightie and the police - circular; and the search of his room that day; and speculation as to how - they had managed to drug the express messenger; and the man with the - counterfeit ten-dollar bill in old Mother Barrett's short-order house; and - the little old woman herself, with her shabby clothes and her tired, - gentle face—and finally the Hawk stirred, glanced at his watch, and, - as the train whistled, picked up his magazine and sauntered down the car - aisle to the door. - </p> - <p> - They were approaching Burke's Siding. The Hawk opened the door, went out - on the platform, and descended to the lowest step. The train slowed. A - water-tank loomed up, receded—and the Hawk dropped to the ground. A - minute later, as the tail-lights winked by and came to a stop at the - station a short distance down the track, he had made his way back, to the - water-tank, crossed to the opposite side of the track, and stretched - himself out on the grass in the hollow at the foot of the embankment. The - Fast Mail's sole excuse for a stop at Burke's Siding was the water-tank—which - would bring the express car to a halt directly in front of the spot where - he now lay. - </p> - <p> - The local pulled out, and racketed away into the night. The tail-lights - vanished. Silence fell. There was only the chirping of the insects now, - and the strange, queer, indefinable medley of little night-sounds. Burke's - Siding was a lonely place. There was a faint yellow gleam from the station - windows, and there was the twinkle of the switch lights—no other - sign of life. It was pitch black—so black that the Hawk could just - barely distinguish the outline of the water-tank across the track. - </p> - <p> - “It's a nice night,” observed the Hawk pleasantly to himself. “A very nice - night! It's strange how some people prefer a moon!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - IX—THE LOOTING OF THE FAST MAIL - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE minutes went - by, ten, fifteen, twenty of them—a half hour—and then, from - far down the track, hoarse through the night, came the scream of a - whistle. From his pocket the Hawk took out his diminutive flashlight, thin - as a pencil. It might have been the winking of a firefly, as he played it - on the dial of his watch. - </p> - <p> - “On the dot!” murmured the Hawk. “Some train—the Fast Mail! I guess, - though, she'll be a little late, at that, to-night—when she pulls - into Selkirk!” A roar and rumble was in the night again, increasing - steadily in volume. Down the right of way, in the distance, a flash of - light stabbed through the black. It grew brighter and brighter. The Hawk, - wary of the spread of the powerful electric headlight, edged further away - from the trackside. And now the rails gleamed like polished silver—and - the water-tank stood up out of the darkness, a thing of monstrous size. - There was the hiss of steam, the rasp and grind of the setting brakes, the - glinting rays from the windows of a long string of coaches that trailed - back to the station platform, and a big ten-wheeler, like some human - thirsty thing, was panting beside the water-tank. - </p> - <p> - The engineer, with his torch, swung from the gangway for an oil around. - There was the creak of the descending spout, the rush of water, and, - silhouetted against the water-tank, the Hawk could make out the fireman - standing on the back of the tender. And now, poking with his long-spouted - oil can, weirdly swallowed up in the darkness at intervals as he thrust - the torch far in under the big machine, the engineer moved slowly along - the side of the engine, and finally disappeared around the end of the - pilot. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk stole forward closer to the track again, his eyes on the fireman, - who, now that the engineers torch was on the other side, was more sharply - outlined than before. Came then the swish and gush of water as it - overflowed, the spout banged back against the water-tank, and the fireman - scrambled back over the tender into the cab. It was the moment the Hawk - had been waiting for. Swiftly, but still crawling as a safeguard against - being seen by any of the train crew in the rear, he moved up the - embankment, and in an instant had swung himself up between the tender and - the forward door of the express car. There was no platform here, of - course, but the end beam of the car, making a sort of wide threshold, gave - him ample room on which to stand. - </p> - <p> - The roar of escaping steam drowned out all other sounds; the back of the - tender hid him from any chance of observation from the cab. He tried the - door cautiously. It was locked, of course—there were twenty thousand - dollars' worth of stones in the safe inside! The Hawk felt carefully over - the lock with his fingers, classifying it in the darkness, as it were, by - the sense of touch, and produced from his packet his bunch of skeleton - keys. He inserted one of the keys, worked with it for a moment, then shook - his head, and selected another. This time he felt the lock-bolt slide - back. The train was jerking into motion now. He exchanged his keys for his - automatic, turned the knob softly, opened the door an inch, and listened. - Even the Wire Devils were not infallible, and if by any chance the - messenger— - </p> - <p> - The Hawk whistled low and contentedly under his breath. He had caught a - glimpse of the interior of the car—and now he slipped quickly - through the door, closing the door behind him. - </p> - <p> - A quarter length down the car, in the aisle made by the express packages - which were piled high on either side, the messenger, a young man of - perhaps twenty-two, was huddled, apparently unconscious, in his chair. In - a flash the Hawk was down the car, and bending sharply over the other. The - man sat in a helpless, sagging attitude; he was breathing heavily, and his - head, hanging forward and a little to one side, swayed limply with the - motion of the car. There was no question as to the messenger's condition—he - was drugged, and well drugged. From the man, the Hawk's eyes travelled to - a sort of desk, or ledge, built out from the side of the car, and topped - by a pigeonholed rack stuffed with express forms and official-looking - manila envelopes. On the desk was a small leather satchel containing some - lunch, and a bottle of what was evidently cold tea, now but barely a - quarter full; and, as though to supply further evidence that the man had - succumbed in the midst of his meal, a little to one side lay a meat - sandwich, half eaten. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk nodded quietly to himself, as again his eyes shifted—this - time to a small safe, about three feet square, that stood beneath the - desk. It was quite easy to understand now. The Wire Devils had only to - ascertain the fact that it was the messenger's habit to eat his lunch at a - certain time, choose the point of attack on the line to correspond - therewith, and see that a sufficient quantity of knockout drops was - introduced into the cold tea—not a very weighty undertaking for the - Wire Devils! - </p> - <p> - Well, it was a bit rough on the boy—the Hawk was kneeling now in - front of the safe—but he, the Hawk, was greatly indebted to the Wire - Devils! Twenty thousand dollars was a snug little sum—quite a snug - little sum! - </p> - <p> - The figure in the chair, with swaying head, breathed stertorously; there - was the pound, quick in its tempo, of the trucks beating at the rail - joints; the give-and-take of the car in protesting little creaks; and, - over all, a muffled roar as the Fast Mail tore through the night—but - the Hawk heard none of this. His ear was pressed close against the face of - the safe listening for the tumblers' fall, as his fingers twirled the dial - knob. - </p> - <p> - After a little while the Hawk spoke aloud. - </p> - <p> - “Left, twenty-eight, one quarter... two right, fourteen... two left, - eighteen, one-half,” he said. - </p> - <p> - He straightened up, swung the handle of the safe—and a dismayed, - anxious look flashed across his face. There was not much time, very little - time—-and he had missed it! How far along those three miles from - Burke's Siding to where the Butcher was waiting had the train already - come? - </p> - <p> - He tried again, coolly, methodically—and again he missed. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I'm out of practice to fall down on a tin box like this!” he - muttered grimly. “But the first two are right, that's sure—it's the - last turn that's wrong somewhere. Give me another minute or two”—he - was twirling the dial knob with deft, quick fingers once more—“that's - all I ask, and——” - </p> - <p> - A sudden jolt flung him forward against the safe. Came the scream of the - whistle, the screech of the tight-set brakes, the bump, and jerk, and - pound, and grind of the flying train coming to an emergency stop. The limp - form of the messenger, sliding down, was almost doubled over the arm of - the chair. - </p> - <p> - In an instant the Hawk had recovered his balance, and, his face set like - iron, his jaws clamped hard, he snatched at the knob, and with desperate - haste now made another attempt. There were a few seconds left, a few - seconds before the train would come finally to a standstill and—no, - they were gone now, those seconds—and he had missed again! - </p> - <p> - His automatic was in his hand as he stood up. It was no longer a question - of twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset diamonds—it was a - question of his life. There was a bitter smile on his lips, as he ran for - the forward door. It looked as though the pitcher had at last gone once - too often to the well! The train had stopped now. He reached the door, and - opened it guardedly a little way. A great red flare from somewhere ahead - lighted up the night. He heard and recognised the Butcher's voice, - menacing, raucous, punctuated with vicious oaths: - </p> - <p> - “Get out of that cab, and get out <i>damned</i> quick! Down you come—jump - now! Now, boys, run 'em back, and keep firing down the length of the train - as you go; and if these guys don't run faster than you do, let 'em have it - in the back! Beat it now—beat it like hell! I'll pull out the minute - you're uncoupled. You two grab the rear end as she moves, there's room - enough for you, and you can bust in the door, and——” - </p> - <p> - A fusilade of shots rang out. Flashes cut the black. The Butcher's two - companions, evidently driving the engineer and fireman before them, were - coming on the run along the trackside from the cab. The Hawk retreated - back a step, and closed the car door. He heard the men rush past outside. - The fusilade seemed to redouble in intensity; and now, added to it, were - shouts and yells from the rear of the train itself, and—if he were - not mistaken—answering shots. - </p> - <p> - His hand on the doorknob, he stood waiting tensely. With the Butcher on - guard out there in front, it would have been equivalent to suicide to have - opened the door again until he knew the other was back in the cab—against - the background of the lighted interior he would have made a most excellent - mark for the Butcher! - </p> - <p> - His eyes swept past the huddled form of the young messenger in the chair, - and fixed speculatively on the safe. He nodded suddenly, grimly. Twenty - thousand dollars! Well, he wasn't beaten yet—not till he threw down - his own hand of his own accord—not till he lost sight of the safe - for keeps! - </p> - <p> - Over the shouts and revolver shots came the sharp, vicious hiss of the - air-hose, as it was uncoupled; and then, with a violent jerk, the car - started forward, as the Butcher evidently whipped the throttle open. And, - coincidently, there was a smash upon the rear door—and the Hawk - opened the forward door and slipped out again. - </p> - <p> - A din infernal was in his ears. Like a maddened thing under the Butcher's - unscientific spur, the big ten-wheeler was coughing the sparks heavenward - in a volleying stream, while the huge drivers raced like pinwheels in - another shower of sparks as the tires sought to bite and hold. And now the - rear door of the car crashed inward; the shots came fast as a gatling, and - shouts, screams and yells added their quota to the uproar. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, crouched by the door, moved suddenly to one side, as he caught - the dull, ominous <i>spat</i> of a bullet against one of the panels. The - train crew and those of the passengers who were armed were, very - obviously, keeping up a running fight from the stalled section of the - train, and pumping their bul-lets through the broken rear door and up the - aisle of the express car as long as they could hold the range; and, from - within, he could distinguish the duller, muffled reports of the Butcher's - confederates firing in return, preventing any attempt being made to rush - the rear of the car. - </p> - <p> - And then the sounds began to recede and die away. The men inside the car - ceased firing, and he could hear them now moving the safe out from the - side of the car. It seemed as though a very long interval of time had been - consumed in the hold-up; but in reality he knew it had been little more - than a matter of seconds—the time it had taken the two men to run - the length of the car, uncouple it, and leap on the rear end. The fight - afterwards could hardly count, for once the express car began to pull away - the thing was done. - </p> - <p> - They were moving fast now, and with every instant the speed was - increasing. The Hawk clutched at the handrail, and lowered himself to the - iron foot-rung which, on the express car, served in lieu of steps. Here, - having chosen the opposite side to that of the Butcher at the throttle in - the cab, he ran no risk of being observed. This “five-mile crossing,” - wherever it was, promised to concern him a great deal more than he had - anticipated! He leaned out, and clung there, staring ahead. - </p> - <p> - The big ten-wheeler was swaying and staggering like a drunken thing; the - rush of the wind whipped at his face; a deafening roar sang in his ears. - The Fast Mail usually ran <i>fast</i>; but the Butcher was running like a - dare-devil, and the bark of the exhaust had quickened now into a single - full-toned note deep as thunder. - </p> - <p> - With a sort of grim placidity, the Hawk clung to the lurching rail. Far - ahead along the right of way, a shaft of light riven through walls of - blackness, played the headlight. Shadowy objects, trees that loomed up for - an instant and were gone, showed on the edge of the wavering ray. They - tore through a rock cut, and, in the confined space and in the fraction of - a second it took to traverse it, the roar was metamorphosed into an - explosion. And then suddenly, as though by magic, the headlight shot off - at a tangent, and the glistening lines of steel, that were always - converging but never meeting, were gone, and the ray fell full upon a - densely wooded tract where leaves and foliage became a soft and wonderful - shade of green under the artificial light. The Hawk braced himself—and - just in time. The ten-wheeler, unchecked, swung the curve with a mighty - lurch, off drivers fairly lifted from the rails. She seemed to hang there - hesitantly for a breathless instant, then with a crunch, staggering, - settled back and struck into her stride again. - </p> - <p> - The thunder of the exhaust ceased abruptly, and the speed began to - slacken. The Butcher had slammed the throttle shut. At the end of the - headlight's ray, that was straight along the track again, a red light - flashed up suddenly three times and vanished. The Hawk leaned farther out, - tense now, straining his eyes ahead. It was evidently Number Four and - Number Seven signalling from “five-mile crossing.” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher began to check with the “air.” And now, in the headlight's - glare, the distance shortened, the Hawk could discern a large wagon, drawn - by two horses, that appeared to be backed up close to the right-hand side - of the track. Two forms seemed to be tugging at the horses, which equally - seemed to be plunging restively—and then, being on the wrong side of - the car, the angle of vision narrowed and he could see no more. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk turned now—his eyes on the door of the car. There was a - possibility, a little more than a possibility, that the men inside, - knowing that they had reached their destination, would come out this way. - No—he had only to keep hidden from the men out there with the wagon - until the car stopped—the men within were sliding back the side - door. He swung himself still farther out on the foot-rung; then, curving - back with the aid of the handrail, flattened himself against the side of - the car. - </p> - <p> - They were close up to the wagon now, and he could hear voices cursing - furiously at the horses, as the frightened animals stamped and pawed. And - then the car bumped and jerked to a standstill, and the Butcher was - bawling from the cab: - </p> - <p> - “Take the horses out, you blamed fools, and tie 'em back there on the road - a bit till we're gone! We'd have a sweet time loading the wagon with them - doing the tango every second! Take 'em out! We'll back the wagon up - against the car.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk lowered himself silently to the ground—to find that the car - had come to a stop directly over a road crossing. The men in the car had - joined their voices with the Butcher's, and in the confusion now the Hawk - slipped quickly along the side of the car, stole around the rear end, and - from that point of vantage stood watching the Butcher and his men at work. - </p> - <p> - He could see quite plainly, thanks to the light from the car's wide-open - side door that flooded the scene. The horses had been unharnessed, and - were being led away along the road. One of the men in the car jumped to - the ground, as the Butcher called out, and together they backed the wagon - close up against the car doorway; and then, presently, the men who had - accompanied the horses, one carrying a lantern, came running back. The - Hawk's eyes, from a general and comprehensive survey of the scene, fixed - on the man who until now had not left the car, but who had now sprung down - into the wagon and was running a short plank, to be used as a skid - evidently, up to the threshold of the car door, which was a little above - the level of the wagon. The light shone full in the man's face. - </p> - <p> - “Number Six—Crusty Kline!” confided the Hawk softly to himself. “I'm - glad to know that. The last time I chummed with Crusty was back in little - old Sing Sing. Guess he got out for good behaviour—thought he was - elected for five spaces yet!” - </p> - <p> - Crusty spoke now, as he jumped back into the car. - </p> - <p> - “Look here, Butcher, I'm telling you again, this guy in here's in pretty - bad shape.” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind about that!” replied the Butcher roughly. “Get the safe out! - All hands now! We've got no time to monkey with him. He'll come around all - right, I guess—anyway, it's none of our lookout!” - </p> - <p> - The men were bunched together now, three in the doorway of the car and two - in the wagon, the safe between them. The Hawk was studying one of the two - who stood in the wagon. One was Whitie Jim, as he already knew, but the - other had had his back half turned, and the Hawk had not been able to see - his face. The safe slid down the plank, and was levered and pushed forward - into the middle of the wagon. - </p> - <p> - “French Pete!” said the Hawk suddenly and as softly as before, as the man - he had been watching straightened up and turned around. “Say, I guess Sing - Sing's gone out of business—or else somebody left the door open!” - </p> - <p> - But if the Hawk's words were indicative of a facetious mood, his actions - were not. There was a sort of dawning inspiration in the dark, narrowed - eyes; and the strong jaw, as it was outthrust, drew his lips into a grim, - hard smile. They were spreading a huge tarpaulin over the wagon and safe—and - abruptly the Hawk drew back, dropped to his hands and knees, crawled along - the trackside on the opposite side of the car again until almost opposite - the wagon, and there lay flat and motionless at the side of the road. - There was a chance yet, still a chance, a very good chance—for that - twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset stones. - </p> - <p> - “All right, now!” It was the Butcher's voice. “Pull her away a few feet - into the clear!” The wagon creaked and rattled. “That's enough! Now get a - move on—everybody!” - </p> - <p> - Steps crunched along the trackside—the Butcher and his two - companions obviously making for the cab—and a moment later came the - cough of the engine's exhaust, and the express car began to glide past the - spot where the Hawk lay. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk raised himself cautiously on his elbows. Two dark forms and a - bobbing lantern were already speeding toward where the horses had been - left. The Hawk crawled forward, crossed the track—and paused. The - engine and express car were fast disappearing in the distance; the lantern - glimmered amongst the trees at the side of the road a good hundred yards - away. - </p> - <p> - There was no shadow to fall across the back of the wagon. - </p> - <p> - “I said it was a nice night, and that it was strange how some people - preferred a moon!” observed the Hawk cheerfully—and, lifting the end - of the tarpaulin, he swung noiselessly under it into the wagon, and - stretched himself out beside the safe. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - X—THE THIRD PARTY - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Hawk felt - upward with his hand over the safe. It was faced, he found, toward the - rear of the wagon. This necessitated a change in his own position. He - listened tensely. They were coming back with the horses now, but they were - still quite a little way off. He shifted quickly around until his head and - shoulders were in front of the safe. - </p> - <p> - “It was the last turn of the combination that I fell down on, though I - don't see how it happened!” muttered the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - He felt above his head again, this time rubbing his fingers critically - over the tarpaulin—and then the diminutive little flashlight winked, - winked again as it played around him, and finally held steadily on the - nickel dial. There were no inadvertent openings, and, particularly, no - holes in the tarpaulin, and the texture of the tarpaulin was a guarantee - that the tiny rays of light would not show through. - </p> - <p> - They were harnessing the horses into the wagon now. The Hawk, in a - somewhat cramped position, due to the wagon's narrow width, his legs - twisted at right angles to his body as he lay on his back, reached up and - began to twirl the dial knob slowly and with painstaking care. - </p> - <p> - “Left, twenty-eight, one quarter,” murmured the Hawk; and, a moment later: - “Two right, four——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk swore earnestly under his breath. The jolt of the wagon, coming - unexpectedly as it started forward, had caused him to spin the knob too - far around. - </p> - <p> - It was hot, stifling hot, under the heavy tarpaulin, that, slanting - downward from the little safe, lay almost against his face. A bead of - sweat had gathered on his forehead. He brushed it away, and began again to - work at the dial. It was more difficult now—the wagon bumped - infernally. And as he worked, he could hear the muffled clatter of the - horses' hoofs, and occasionally the voices of the two men on the seat. - </p> - <p> - And then suddenly the Hawk's fingers travelled from the dial knob to the - handle. Had he got it this time, or—yes! The handle swung easily—there - was a low metallic thud—the bolt had slipped back to the end of its - grooves. The safe was unlocked! - </p> - <p> - “Twenty thousand dollars!” said the Hawk very softly—and, without - the slightest sound, he edged his body backwards to afford space for the - swing of the opening door. “Twenty thousand doll——” - </p> - <p> - The word died, half uttered, on the Hawk's lips. The flashlight was - illuminating the interior of the safe. On the bottom lay a single, crisp, - ten-dollar counterfeit note, over the face of which was scrawled in ink—“<i>With - the Hawk's compliments!</i>” Otherwise the safe was empty. - </p> - <p> - For a moment, like a man dazed, he stared at the counterfeit note. He - could not seem to believe his eyes, Empty—the safe was empty! The - diamonds were gone—gone! Gone—and these poor fools were - driving an empty safe to the Master Spider—and another poor fool, - with dropped jaw, was staring, gaping like an imbecile, into one! And - then, a grip upon himself again, he laughed low, grimly, unpleasantly. - “With the Hawk's compliments!” He had sent a bill like that once to - MacVightie inscribed—“With the Hawk's compliments!” This was very - neat, very clever of—<i>somebody</i>. Of somebody—who must - have known what the Wire Devils were up to to-night! There would be no - doubt in the minds of the Wire Devils, who would have heard of that little - episode with MacVightie, but that the Hawk had again forestalled them, and - left them a ten-dollar counterfeit bill in exchange for—twenty - thousand dollars' worth of unset diamonds! Only it was this somebody, and - not he, the Hawk, who was twenty thousand dollars the richer for it! - </p> - <p> - He reached in, picked up the bill to put it in his, pocket—and - suddenly laid it back again, and closed and locked the safe. Why deprive - the Master Spider of a little joy; and, besides, it would carry a message - not perhaps so erroneous after all—for, in a flash, logically, - indisputably, apparently impossible though it appeared to be on the - surface, he knew who that <i>somebody</i> was. The shelving of the theft - to the Hawk's shoulders would have defeated its own object unless the - theft were committed and discovered on this particular division of the - railroad where the Hawk and, incidentally, his supposed gang of - desperadoes were known to be operating. The messenger certainly had not - been in a drugged condition when he went on duty, and, since it was only - reasonable to assume that he would have satisfied himself everything was - all right at that time, it was evident, as he had given no alarm, that the - contents of the safe had been intact when he took charge—whether as - a “through” man in New York, or at the eastern terminus of the road, or at - the last divisional point—it did not matter which. The robbery, - then, had been committed while the messenger was present in the car—and - it had been committed on this division. The safe had not been forced, it - showed not the slightest sign of violence—it had been opened on the - combination. Some one then, an expert safe-worker, in the first stages of - the messenger's drugged condition, had happened into the car just ahead of - him, the Hawk, and had done exactly what he, the Hawk, had intended to do? - </p> - <p> - “No,” said the Hawk. “No, I guess not.” He was wriggling noiselessly - backward, and his feet were hanging out now over the end of the wagon. “No—coincidences - like that don't happen—not very often!” The Hawk's head and - shoulders were still under the tarpaulin, but his feet now could just feel - the ground beneath them. “I guess,” said the Hawk, as he suddenly withdrew - his head, and, crouching low, ran a few steps with the wagon, then dropped - full length in the road, “I guess it's—the third party.” - </p> - <p> - The wagon disappeared in the darkness. The Hawk rose, and, turning, broke - into a run back along the road. - </p> - <p> - He had been longer in the wagon than he had thought—it took him ten - minutes to regain the railroad tracks. - </p> - <p> - Here, without pause, still running, he kept on along the right of way—but - there was a hard twist to his lips, and the clenching of his fists was not - wholly due to runner's “form.” How far had the Butcher taken the car - before deserting it? A mile? Two miles—three? He could not run three - miles under half an hour, and that would be <i>fast</i> over railroad - ties! How long would it be before the train crew of the stalled Mail got - back to Burke's Siding and managed somehow, in spite of the cut wires, to - give the alarm—or how long before the dispatcher at Selkirk, with - the Fast Mail reported “out” at Burke's Siding and no “O. S.” from - Bradley, would smell a rat? It would take time after that, of course, - before anything could be done; but, at best, the margin left for him was - desperately narrow. - </p> - <p> - He ran on and on; his eyes, grown accustomed to the darkness, enabling him - to pick out the ties with a fair degree of accuracy. There was not a sound - save that of his own footsteps. He stopped for breath again and again; and - again and again ran on at top speed. It seemed as though he had run not - three miles, but six, when finally, far ahead, he caught a glow of light. - The Butcher and his confederates had evidently not taken the trouble to - close the side door of the car! - </p> - <p> - Instinctively, the Hawk, in caution, slowed his pace—and the next - instant, smiling pityingly at himself for the act, ran on the faster. The - Butcher and the other two would long since have made their getaway! There - was only the messenger—and the messenger was drugged. That was all - that need concern him now—the messenger—to find some way to - rouse the man so that he could talk. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk reached the car, ran along the side to the open door—and - stood suddenly still. And then, with a low, startled cry, he swung himself - up and through the doorway, and running forward, knelt beside a huddled - form on the floor. It was the messenger, sprawled on his face now, - motionless, and it was no longer a case of being drugged—<i>the man - had been shot!</i> There was a dark, ugly pool on the flooring, and a thin - red stream had trickled away in a zigzag course along one of the planks. - The Hawk's lips were tight. The Butcher's work! But why? <i>Why?</i> Yes! - Yes, he understood! The Butcher, too, in some way had discovered that the - messenger was—the third party! - </p> - <p> - The boy—he was even more of a boy now in appearance, it seemed to - the Hawk, with his ashen face and colourless lips—the boy moaned a - little, and, as the Hawk lifted him up, opened his eyes. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk produced a flask, and forced a few drops between the other's - lips. - </p> - <p> - “Listen!” he said distinctly. “Try and understand what I am saying. Did - they get the diamonds from you after they shot you?” - </p> - <p> - The boy's eyes widened with a quick, sudden fear. Perhaps the drug had - begun to wear off—perhaps it was the wound and the loss of blood - that had cleared his brain. - </p> - <p> - “The diamonds?” he faltered. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk grimly. “The diamonds! You took them. Did you tell - those men where they were?” - </p> - <p> - “It's—it's a lie!” The boy seemed to shiver convulsively. Then, his - voice scarcely audible: “No, it's—it's true. I—I did. I—I - guess I'm going out—ain't I? It's—it's true. But I—I - didn't tell. There weren't any men—I——” He had fainted - in the Hawk's arms. - </p> - <p> - “My God!” whispered the Hawk solemnly. “It's true—the kid's dying.” - </p> - <p> - He held the flask to the other's lips again. It wasn't the Butcher, then, - who had shot the boy; and, besides, he saw now that the wound was in a - strangely curious place—in the back, below the shoulder blade; the - boy had been sitting in his shirt sleeves, and the back of his vest was - soaked with blood. And the Hawk remembered the fusillade of bullets that - had swept up the interior of the car, and the <i>spat</i> upon the forward - door panel as he had crouched there outside—and he understood. The - boy, sitting in a stupor in his chair facing the forward door, had been - directly in the line of fire, and a stray bullet had found its mark. - </p> - <p> - “I—I don't know how you knew”—the boy had roused, and was - speaking again—“but—but I'm going out—and—and it's - true. Two days ago, a man gave me a hundred dollars to stand for—for - knockout drops on the run to-night. I—I couldn't get caught—I—I - was safe—whatever happened. I'd be found drugged—and—and - no blame coming to me—and——” He motioned weakly toward - the flask in the Hawk's hand. “Give me—give me some more of that!” - </p> - <p> - He did not speak for a moment. - </p> - <p> - “And, instead,” prompted the Hawk quietly, “you double-crossed the game.” - </p> - <p> - “I—I had a counterfeit ten-dollar bill,” the boy went on with an - effort. “I'd heard about the Hawk—and—and MacVightie. I knew - from what:—the fellow said—that the Hawk—wasn't one of - them. I—I got to thinking. All I had to do was empty the safe—and—and - write just what the Hawk did on the bill—and—and shove it in - the safe—and—and take the diamonds—and—and then - drink the tea that had the drops in it. I—I would be drugged, and - they—they'd think the Hawk did it while I was drugged before they—they - got here—and—and that's what I did.” - </p> - <p> - The boy was silent again. It was still outside, very still—only the - chirpings of the insects and the night-sounds the Hawk had listened to - while he had lain below the embankment waiting for the train at Burke's - Siding. There was a set, strained look on the Hawk's face. The kid was - paying the long price—for twenty thousand dollars' worth of unset - diamonds! - </p> - <p> - “To make it look like—like the real thing”—the boy's lips were - moving again—“I—I cleaned out everything in the safe—but—but - of course there mustn't any of that be found—and—and I tied - the stuff up—and—and weighted it, and dropped it—into—the—river - as we came over the bridge at Moosehead. And then I had to—to hide - the diamonds so they wouldn't be found on me, and yet so's they—they'd - come along with me—and—and not be left in the car. I was - afraid that when some of the train crew found me drugged—they—they'd - undress me—and—and put me to bed—and—and so I - didn't dare hide the diamonds in my clothes. They're—they're—in——” - He raised himself up suddenly, clutched frantically at the Hawk's - shoulders and his voice rang wildly through the car. “Hold me tight—hold - me tight—don't let me go out yet—I—I got something more - to say! Don't tell her! Don't tell her! I'll tell you where the stones - are, they're in the lining of my lunch satchel—but don't—oh, - for God's sake, don't tell her—don't let her know that—that - I'm a—thief! You don't have to, do you? Say you don't! I'm—I'm - going out—I—I've got what's coming to me, and that's—enough—isn't - it—without her knowing too? It—it would kill her. She was a - good mother—do you hear!” - </p> - <p> - He was stiffening back in the Hawk's arms. “And this ain't coming to her. - She was a good mother—do you hear—everybody called her mother, - but she's <i>my</i> mother—you know—old Mother Barrett—short-order - house—you know—old—Mother—Barrett—good——” - </p> - <p> - The boy never spoke again. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk laid the still form gently back on the floor of the car, and - stood up. And there was a mist in the Hawk's eyes that blotted out his - immediate surroundings, and in the mist he seemed to see another scene, - and it was the picture of a gentle, kindly-faced old woman, who had silver - hair, and who wore clothes that were a little threadbare, and whose grey - Irish eyes behind the spectacles were filled with tears, and he seemed to - see the thin shoulders square proudly back, and he seemed to hear her - speak again: “I love my boy, I love him with all my heart, but I should a - thousand times rather see him dead than know him for a thief.” - </p> - <p> - Mechanically the Hawk moved over to the desk where the lunch satchel still - lay, and emptied out the remainder of the food. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said the Hawk, “I guess she'll never know; and I guess I'd have to - take the stuff now, anyway, whether I wanted to or not—if she's not - to know.” He was examining the inside of the satchel. It was an old and - well-worn affair, and a torn piece of the lining, stuck down with paste at - the edges, would ordinarily have attracted no attention. The Hawk loosened - this, and felt inside. At the bottom, carefully packed away, were strips - of cotton wadding. He took one out. Embedded in this were a number of - diamonds, which, as he drew the wadding apart, flashed brilliantly in the - light of the oil lamps above his head. He wrapped the stones up again, and - put them in his pocket—took out the remainder from the satchel, put - these also in his pocket, and replaced in the satchel the portion of the - lunch he had removed. It mattered little about the torn lining now! - </p> - <p> - “He kind of put it up to me,” said the Hawk slowly. “Yes, and she did too—without - knowing it—old Mother Barrett. It's kind of queer she should have - said that—kind of queer.” The Hawk pulled the drawer of the desk - open, and nodded as he found and took out the messenger's revolver. - “Thought he'd have one, and that it would most likely be here,” he - muttered. - </p> - <p> - He crossed the car, and listened intently at the open side door. There was - no sound—nothing, for instance, coming from Bradley yet. He closed - the door, and stood for an instant looking down at the boy's form on the - floor. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I can fix it for you, kid—maybe,” he said simply. “I guess - I can.” - </p> - <p> - In rapid succession he fired five of the seven shots from the revolver; - then, stooping, laid the weapon, as though it had dropped at last from - nerveless fingers, just beside the boy's outstretched hand. He - straightened up, stepped to the side door, and slid it open again. - </p> - <p> - “It'll let the smoke out before anybody gets here,” said the Hawk. “The - Butcher isn't coming forward with any testimony, and with all those shots - fired at the time of the hold-up who's to know the boy didn't fight till - he went down and out? And now I guess I'll make my own getaway!” He - dropped to the trackside, and started forward at a brisk pace. “I'll keep - on a bit until I hear something coming,” he decided. “Then I'll lay low - while they're cleaning up the line, and wait till I can hop a freight, - east or west, that will get me out of this particular locality. After - that, there's nothing to it!” - </p> - <p> - A hundred yards farther on the Hawk spoke again, and there was a twisted - smile on the Hawk's lips. - </p> - <p> - “It'll break her heart anyway, I guess,” he said; “but it'll help some - maybe to be proud of him. Yes, I guess they'll tell her that, all right—that - he died a game kid.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XI—THE LEAD CAPSULE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk yawned. He - had been almost forty-eight hours without sleep. He had slept all day - after he had regained his room, following the night at “Five-Mile - Crossing,” but after that—— - </p> - <p> - He frowned in a perturbed and puzzled way. Ensconced now in a wicker - lounging chair in the observation car of the Coast Limited, he was - apparently engrossed in the financial page of his newspaper, and - apparently quite oblivious of his fellow travellers, some four or five of - whom lounged and smoked in their own respective wicker chairs around him. - On a little pad of paper, which he held in his left hand, he might even, - without serious tax upon the imagination, have appeared to be calculating - the effect of the market's fluctuations upon personal, and perhaps - narrowly held, margins—for again he scowled unhappily. The Hawk, - however, at the moment, was engrossed solely with a few curiously assorted - letters of the alphabet, which were scrawled across the top of the pad. - They ran: - </p> - <p> - pzudl kmlqpb. - </p> - <p> - Beneath this his pencil had already been at work, and he had transformed - the line as follows: - </p> - <p> - He was staring at this result now in a bewildered way. Then his pencil - picked out the remaining five unscored letters, and mechanically set them - down as a third line: - </p> - <p> - “Rainy”—there was one word, just one word—“rainy.” What did it - mean? What was the significance of the word? No message in the Wire - Devils' cipher, once the message was decoded, but had been at once clear - and unmistakable in its meaning before. Had they resorted now to <i>code</i> - words as well, to a cipher within a cipher? Into the grimness of the - Hawk's smile there crept a hint of weariness, as he slipped the pad into - his pocket, allowed the newspaper to drop to his knees, and, edging his - chair around, gazed out of the window. - </p> - <p> - For once his knowledge of their cipher was obviously useless to him—and - useless when a foreknowledge of their plans at that moment meant scarcely - less than a matter of life and death to him in a very unpleasantly real - and literal sense. Not a word had come from them; not a message had gone - over the wires on either of the two preceding nights; not a sign of - existence had they given since three nights ago when, with an empty safe - as the sole reward for their elaborately laid plans, he, the Hawk, had - enriched himself with the twenty thousand dollars' worth of diamonds it - had once contained. There had been something sinister, something ominous - in their silence, as compared with the almost insane ravings of - MacVightie, the police, and the press—yes, and the railroad men as - well, who were particularly incensed over the “murder” of the young - messenger found dead at his post in the express car with his revolver - partially emptied on the floor beside him. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk drummed abstractedly with his finger tips upon the window pane. - MacVightie, the police, and the press made no doubt but that he, the Hawk, - was the leader of the desperadoes who were terrorising that particular - section of the country; on the other hand, the gang itself had already had - occasions enough and in plenty to be painfully aware that he, the Hawk, - played always a lone hand—and won! A smile, grim and ironical, - parted the firm, set lips. The police and the Wire Devils had a common - interest—the Hawk. He was the storm centre. - </p> - <p> - The smile faded, the strong jaws clamped, and the dark eyes narrowed on - the flying landscape. It was not the police who concerned him, it was not - the impotent frothings of the press—it was the <i>silence</i> that - the Wire Devils had not broken since that night until they had broken it - this morning with the single word that, now that he had deciphered it, - still meant nothing to him. A dozen times, stealing their cipher messages, - he had turned all their carefully prepared plans to his own account, and - snatched away the prize, even as they were in the act of reaching for it. - But he was not a fool to close his eyes to the inevitable result. He was - pitted against the cleverest brains in the criminal world; all the cunning - that they knew would be ruthlessly turned against him; and, already out to - “get” him, a price already guaranteed to the lucky member of the band out - of the common funds, the empty safe of three nights before, with its - jeering ten-dollar counterfeit bill flung in their faces, crowned, he - feared, their injuries at his hands, and marked the turning point where - they would leave no stone unturned to wreak their vengeance upon him. - </p> - <p> - And he did not like this silence of theirs since that night. Were they - suspicious at last that he had the key to their cipher? He did not think - so, and yet he did not know—it was always a possibility. But in any - case, wary of any move they might make, he had, as far as it was humanly - possible, remained within sound of a telegraph instrument ever since. Last - night, for example, taking advantage of some repairs that were being made - on the station at Elk Head, fifty miles east of Selkirk, he had lain - hidden behind a mass of building material in the dismantled waiting room - within earshot of the telegraph sounder—and there had been nothing. - Forced to retire from there by the advent of the workmen, he had eaten a - very leisurely breakfast at the lunch counter—still within earshot - of the sounder. He had lingered around the station as long as he had dared - without running the risk of exciting suspicion, and then he had taken the - local east for Bald Creek—and taken the chance, because he had no - choice, that nothing would “break” over the wires during the - three-quarters of an hour that he was on the train. The Limited scheduled - Bald Creek, and that would give him an excuse for remaining there, an - innocent and prospective patron of the road, until the Limited's arrival - some two hours later. After that, if nothing happened, he had intended to - go back on the Limited to Selkirk—and get some sleep. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk yawned heavily again. Yes, after an almost uninterrupted vigil of - forty-eight hours one needed sleep. Well, he was on his way back to - Selkirk now—on the Limited. Only something <i>had</i> happened. - Almost at the moment that the Limited had pulled into Bald Creek, the Wire - Devils had broken their silence, and a cipher message had flashed over the - wires. He had waited for it, fought for it, schemed for it, gone without - sleep for two days and nights for it—and he had been rewarded. He - had intercepted the message, deciphered it, he had got it at last—he - had it now! It was the one word—“rainy.” And the word to him meant—nothing! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's fingers ceased their drumming on the window pane, his head - inclined slightly to one side, and he listened. His fellow travellers had - evidently scraped up acquaintanceship. The conversation had become general—and - suddenly interesting. - </p> - <p> - “... Yes, unquestionably! The amount I have with me is worth quite easily - a half million francs—a hundred thousand dollars. It is not my - personal property, I regret to say. Quantities sufficient to be of - material service are for the most part institutionally held.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk swung around in his chair, and with frank interest surveyed the - little group. He had scanned them once already, critically, - comprehensively—at the moment he had first entered the car. The man - who sat nearest to him was a doctor from Selkirk; and, it being the - ingrained policy of the Hawk to know a reporter as he would know a - plain-clothes man, he had recognised one of the others as a young reporter - on the staff of the Selkirk <i>Evening Journal</i>. The others again, of - whom there were three, were strangers to him. His eyes rested—with - frank interest—on the man who had just spoken. There had been just a - trace of accent in the other's perfect English, and it bore out the man's - appearance. The man was perhaps forty-five years of age, rather swarthy in - complexion, and, though slight in build, commanding in presence. The black - Vandyke beard, as well as the mustache, was carefully trimmed; and his - face had an air of the student about it, an air that was enhanced by the - extraordinarily heavy-lensed spectacles which he wore. The excellent - clothes were unmistakably of foreign cut. - </p> - <p> - “Great Scott!” ejaculated the reporter. “Is that straight?” He twisted his - cigar excitedly from one corner of his mouth to the other. “I say, I don't - suppose there's a chance of getting a squint at it, eh?” - </p> - <p> - “A—squint?” The foreigner's face was politely puzzled. - </p> - <p> - “I mean a chance to see it—to see what it looks like,” interpreted - the reporter, with a laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, of course—a squint. I will remember that!” The foreigner - joined in the laugh. “One learns, monsieur, always, eh—if one keeps - one's ears open!” He reached down and picked up a small black bag from the - floor beside his chair. “No, I am afraid I cannot actually show it to you, - monsieur, owing to the nature of the container; but perhaps even the - manner in which it is carried may be of interest, and, if so, I shall be - delighted.” - </p> - <p> - The others, the Hawk among them, leaned spontaneously forward in their - chairs. From the bag the man produced a lead box, some four inches square. - He opened this, and, from where it was nested in wadding, took out what - looked like a cylindrical-shaped piece of lead of the thickness and length - of one's little finger. He held it out in the palm of his hand for their - inspection. - </p> - <p> - “Inside this sealed lead covering,” he explained, “is a glass tube - hermetically sealed. The lead, of course, absorbs the rays, which - otherwise would render the radium extremely dangerous to handle. You - perhaps remember the story—if not, it may possibly be of interest. - Radium, you know, was discovered in 1898 by Monsieur and Madame Curie; but - the action of radium on human tissues was unknown until 1901, when - Professor Becquerel of Paris, having incautiously carried a tube in his - waistcoat pocket, there appeared on the skin within two weeks the severe - inflammation which has become known as the famous 'Becquerel burn.' Since - that time, I may add, active investigation into the action of radium has - been carried on, resulting in the establishment in Paris in 1906 of the - Laboratoire Biologique du Radium.” - </p> - <p> - The doctor from Selkirk reached out, and, obtaining a smiling permission, - picked up the lead cylinder from the other's hand. The reporter sucked - noisily on the butt of his cigar. - </p> - <p> - “And d'ye mean to say <i>that's</i> worth one hundred thousand dollars?” - he demanded helplessly. - </p> - <p> - “Fully!” replied the foreigner gravely. “I should consider myself very - fortunate if I had the means and the opportunity of purchasing it at that - price. There are only a few grains there, it is true, and yet even that is - a very appreciable percentage of the world's entire output for a single - year. The Austrian Government, when it bought the radium-producing - pitchblende mines at Joachimsthal, you know, acquired what is practically - a world's monopoly of radium. And since the annual production of ore from - those mines is but about twenty-two thousand pounds, and that from those - twenty-two thousand pounds only something like forty-six grains of radium - are obtained, it is not difficult to understand the enormous price which - it commands.” - </p> - <p> - The little lead cylinder passed from hand to hand. It came last to the - Hawk. He examined it with no more and no less interest than had been - displayed by the others, and returned it to its owner, who replaced it in - the black handbag. - </p> - <p> - “Look here,” said the reporter impulsively, “I don't want to nose into - personal affairs; but, if it's a fair question, what are you going to do - with the stuff?” - </p> - <p> - It was the doctor from Selkirk who spoke before the foreigner had time to - reply. - </p> - <p> - “I was being tempted to ask the same question myself,” he said quickly. “I - am a physician—Doctor Moreling is my name—and from what you - have said I imagine that possibly you are a medical man yourself?” - </p> - <p> - “And you are quite right,” the other answered cordially. “I am Doctor - Meunier, and I come from Paris.” - </p> - <p> - “What!” exclaimed the Selkirk physician excitedly. “Not Doctor Meunier, - the famous cancer specialist and surgeon of the Salpêtrière Hospital!” - </p> - <p> - The other shrugged his shoulders protestingly. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he smiled, a little embarrassed, “my name is certainly Meunier, - and it is true that I have the honour to be connected with the institution - you have mentioned.” - </p> - <p> - The reporter had a notebook in his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Gee!” he observed softly. “You don't mind, do you, Doctor Meunier? This - looks like luck to me. I'm on the <i>Evening Journal</i>—Selkirk.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah—a reporter!” The dark eyes seemed to twinkle humorously from - behind the heavy lenses. “I have met some—when I landed in New York. - They were very nice. I liked them very much. Certainly, young man, why - should you not say anything I have told you? You have my permission.” - </p> - <p> - “Fine!” cried the reporter enthusiastically. “And now, Doctor Meunier, if - you'll just round out the story by telling us why the celebrated Paris - surgeon is travelling in America with a hundred thousand dollars' worth of - radium, I'll be glad I got panned on the story I went after this morning - and so had to take this train back.” - </p> - <p> - “Panned?” inquired the other gravely. - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” The reporter nodded. “It blew up, you know.” - </p> - <p> - “Blew up! Ah!” The foreigner's face was at once concerned. “So! You were - in an accident, then?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” laughed the reporter. “There wasn't anything in the story. It - didn't have any foundation.” - </p> - <p> - “Again I learn,” observed the foreigner, with an amused drawl. He studied - the reporter for an instant quizzically. “And so I am to supply the place - of the panned story that blew up—is that it? Well, very well! Why - not? I see no reason against it, if it will be of service to you. Very - well, then. I have been summoned to Japan to attend a case of cancer—radium - treatment—and I am on my way there now.” He smiled again. “I have - noticed that American reporters are observant, and it may occur to you - that I might have reached my destination quicker by way of Russia. As a - matter of fact, however, I was in New York attending a convention when I - received the summons. I cabled for the radium, and—well, young man, - that pretty well completes the story.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—thanks!” said the reporter. He wrote rapidly. “Operation on a - Japanese?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes, of course—on a Japanese.” - </p> - <p> - “'Summoned,' you said. That listens as though it might be for one of the - Emperor's family,” prodded the reporter shrewdly. - </p> - <p> - “I did not say so,” smiled the other imperturbably. - </p> - <p> - “And even if it were so——” He shrugged his shoulders - significantly. - </p> - <p> - “I get you!” grinned the reporter. “Well, there's no harm in saying a - 'High Personage' then, is there? That sounds good, and it would have to be - some one on the top of the heap to bring a man like you all this way.” - </p> - <p> - “Let us be discreet, young man, and say—well, let us say, a member - of prominent family,” suggested the other, still smiling. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” agreed the reporter. “I won't put anything over on you, I - promise you. And now, doctor, tell us something more about radium, how it - acts and all that, and how an operation is performed with it, and——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had apparently lost interest. He settled back in his chair, and - picked up his previously discarded newspaper—yet occasionally his - eyes strayed over the top of his newspaper, and rested meditatively on the - little black handbag on the car floor beside the Frenchman's chair. The - doctor from Selkirk, the reporter, and the French specialist talked on. - The Limited reached the last stop before Selkirk. As the train pulled out - again, the Hawk, as it were, summed up his thoughts. - </p> - <p> - “A hundred thousand dollars,” confided the Hawk softly to himself. “Maybe - it wouldn't be easy to sell, but it would make a very nice haul—a - very nice haul. It would tempt—almost anybody. Yes, bad stuff to - handle; the fences would be leery probably, because I guess every last - grain on this little old globe is catalogued as to ownership, and they'd - be afraid it would be an open-and-shut game that what they were trying to - shove would be spotted as the stolen stuff—not that it couldn't be - done though, at that! There's always somebody to take a chance—on a - hundred thousand dollars! And what about the institution that owns it - coming across big and no questions asked to get it back again? Yes, I - guess it would make a nice haul—a very nice haul. I wonder——” - </p> - <p> - The conductor had entered the car, had said something that the Hawk had - not caught—and now the French specialist was on his feet. - </p> - <p> - “How long did you say?” he demanded excitedly. - </p> - <p> - “I didn't say,” replied the conductor; “I only guessed—twelve hours - anyway, and if we're through under twenty-four it'll be because some one - has performed a miracle.” - </p> - <p> - “Twelve hours—twenty-four!” echoed the Frenchman wildly. “But, <i>mon - Dieu</i>, I have not that to spare to catch my steamer for Japan in San - Francisco!” - </p> - <p> - “But what's wrong, conductor?” asked the Selkirk doctor. “You haven't told - us that.” - </p> - <p> - “The Rainy River bridge is out,” the conductor answered. - </p> - <p> - The <i>Rainy</i> River bridge! The Hawk reached into his pocket, withdrew - his cigarette case, and made a critical choice of one of the six identical - cigarettes the case contained. - </p> - <p> - “Out! How?” the doctor from Selkirk persisted. - </p> - <p> - “No details,” said the conductor; “except that it was blown up a little - while ago and that they think it's the work of the Hawk's gang. They just - got word over the wire at the last stop.” - </p> - <p> - “Jumping whiskers!” yelled the reporter. “Is that right, conductor?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I guess it's right, fast enough,” said the conductor grimly. He - turned to the Frenchman. “It's tough luck, sir, to miss transpacific - connections; but I guess that's the man you've got to thank for it—the - Hawk.” - </p> - <p> - “The Hawk? What is that? Who is the Hawk?” The Frenchman had lost his - poise; he was gesticulating violently now. - </p> - <p> - “I'll tell you,” said the reporter briskly. “He's the man that's got your - original reign of terror skinned a mile—believe me! He's an ex-Sing - Sing convict, and he's the head, brains and front of a gang of criminals - operating out here compared with whom, for pure, first-water deviltry, any - one of Satan's picked cohorts would look as shy and retiring as a maiden - lady of sixty who suddenly found herself in a one-piece bathing suit—in - public. That's the Hawk! Yes, sir—believe me!” - </p> - <p> - Doctor Meunier waved his hands, as though to ward off a swarm of buzzing - bees. - </p> - <p> - “I do not understand!” he spluttered angrily. “I do not care to - understand! You do not speak English! I understand only of the delay!” He - caught at the conductor's sleeve. “You, monsieur—is there not - something that can be done?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know, sir,” said the conductor. “We'll be in Selkirk now in a few - minutes, and the best thing you can do is to see Mr. Lanson, the - superintendent.” - </p> - <p> - The conductor retired. - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman sat down in his chair, mopped his face with a handkerchief, - and stared from one to another of his fellow passengers. - </p> - <p> - “Messieurs, it is necessary, it is imperative, that I catch the steamer!” - he cried frantically. “What am I to do?” - </p> - <p> - “Lanson's a good head; he'll fix you up some way,” said the reporter - soothingly. “Don't you worry. I'm mighty sorry for you, Doctor Meunier, - upon my soul—but, say, this is <i>some</i> story—whale of a - climax!” - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman glared for an instant; then, leaning forward, suddenly shook - his fist under the other's nose. - </p> - <p> - “Young man, damn your story!” he snarled distractedly. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk retired once more behind his newspaper. The reporter was - pacifying the excited Frenchman. The Hawk was not interested in that. The - message, that single word which had puzzled him, was transparently clear - now—and had been from the moment the conductor had spoken. The - surmise of the railroad officials, even if it were no more than surmise on - their part, was indubitably correct—barring the slight detail of his - own participation in the affair! The Wire Devils had blown up the Rainy - River bridge. This, as a detached fact, did not interest him either—they - were quite capable of blowing up a bridge, or anything else. That was a - detail. But they were quite incapable of doing it without a very good and - sufficient reason, and one that promised returns of a very material nature - to themselves. What was the game? Why the Rainy River bridge? Why this - morning? Why at this time? The Rainy River bridge was but a few miles west - of Selkirk, and—the Hawk's eyes strayed over his newspaper again, - and rested mildly upon the Frenchman's little black handbag, that was - quite slim, and not over long, that was of such a size, in fact, that it - might readily be concealed under one's coat, for instance, without - attracting undue attention—and with the bridge out a passenger, say - on the Coast Limited this noon would experience an annoying, somewhat - lengthened, but unavoidable interruption in his journey. The passenger - might even be forced to spend the night in Selkirk, and very much might - happen in a night—in Selkirk! It was a little elaborate, it seemed - as though it might perhaps have been accomplished with a little less fuss—though - lack of finesse and exceeding cunning was, in his experience, an unmerited - reproach where that unknown brain that planned and plotted the Wire - Devils' acts was concerned; but, however that might be, the reason that - the Rainy River bridge was out now appeared quite obviously attributable—to - a very excited foreigner, and a little black handbag whose contents were - valued at the modest sum of one hundred thousand dollars. - </p> - <p> - “And I wonder,” said the Hawk almost plaintively to himself, “I wonder - which of us will cash in on that!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk rose leisurely from his chair, as the train reached Selkirk. He - permitted the Frenchman, the Selkirk physician and the reporter to descend - to the platform in advance of him; but, as they hurried through the - station and around to the entrance leading upstairs to the divisional - offices, obviously with the superintendent's office as their objective, - the Hawk, in the privileged character of an interested fellow traveller, - fell into step with the reporter. - </p> - <p> - The four entered the superintendent's office, and from an unobtrusive - position just inside the door the Hawk listened to the conversation. He - heard Lan-son, the superintendent, confirm the conductor's story, and - express genuine regret at the Frenchman's plight, as he admitted it to be - a practical certainty that the other would miss his connection in San - Francisco. The Frenchman but grew the more excited. He suggested a special - train from the western side of the bridge—they could get him across - in a boat, he said. The superintendent explained that traffic in the - mountains beyond was already demoralised. The Frenchman raved, begged, - pleaded, implored—and suddenly the Hawk sucked in his breath softly. - The Frenchman was backing his appeal for a special with the offer to pay - any sum demanded, and had taken a well-filled pocketbook from his pocket. - The Hawk's eyes aimlessly sought the toes of his boots. He had caught a - glimpse of a fat wad of bills, a very fat wad, whose denominations were of - a large and extremely interesting nature. The official shook his head. It - was not a question of money; nor was the other's ability to pay in - question. Later on, he, Lanson, would know better what the situation was; - meanwhile he suggested that Doctor Meunier should go to the hotel and wait—that - there was nothing else to do for the moment. The Selkirk physician here - intervened, and, agreeing with the superintendent, offered to escort the - Frenchman to the Corona Hotel. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, as one whose curiosity was satiated, but satiated at the expense - of time he could ill afford, nodded briefly to the reporter who stood - nearest to him, and quietly left the room. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XII—BLINDMAN'S-BUFF - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>IVE minutes later, - standing in another room—his own—the Hawk rapidly changed the - light-grey suit he had been wearing for one of a darker material. From the - pockets of the discarded suit he transferred to the pockets of the suit he - had just put on, amongst other things, his automatic and his bunch of - skeleton keys. He opened his trunk, removed the false tray, and smiled - with a sort of grim complacency as his glance inventoried its unhallowed - contents; and particularly he smiled, as, opening a little box, he allowed - a stream of gleaming stones to trickle out into the palm of his hand—the - twenty thousand dollars' worth of diamonds robbed from the Fast Mail three - nights ago. - </p> - <p> - “Some haul!” observed the Hawk softly. “And, with any luck, there'll be - something else there worth the whole outfit put together before to-night - is over.” He replaced the diamonds in the box, the box in the tray, and - spoke again, but now his smile was hard and twisted; not an article there - but he had scooped from under the noses of the gang. “Yes, I guess I'd go - out like you'd snuff a candle if they ever get me, and I guess they're - getting—querulous!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, however, had not opened the trunk purely for the opportunity it - afforded of inspecting these few mementos, interesting as they might be. - It was an excellent safeguard to change his clothes, but it would avail - him very little if—well, any one, say—were still permitted to - recognise—his face! From the top of the tray, where it lay upon the - packages of banknotes that had once reposed in the paymaster's safe, the - Hawk picked up a mask and slipped it into his pocket. He fitted the false - tray back into the lid of the trunk, closed the trunk, locked it, put on a - wide-brimmed, soft felt hat, locked the door of his room behind him, - descended the narrow staircase, and stepped out on the street. - </p> - <p> - His destination was the Corona Hotel, but there was no particular hurry. - Undoubtedly from the moment the Frenchman had left the train some, or one, - of the gang had fastened on the man's trail; but the companionship of the - Selkirk physician guaranteed the Frenchman's immediate safety. His own - plan, as far as it was matured, was very simple. He meant to “spot” if he - could, should that particular member, or members, of the gang be unknown - to him personally, the man, or men, selected by the Wire Devils to shadow - the Frenchman—and then watch the <i>gang!</i> The Hawk had no - intention whatever of making an attempt on the Frenchman's property with - the gang watching him—that would have been little less than the act - of a fool who was bent on suicide! Since, therefore, he had no choice in - the matter, he was quite content to have the gang take the initiatory risk - in relieving the Frenchman of the handbag! After that—the Hawk's old - twisted smile was back on his lips as he walked along—after that it - became his business to see that the bag did not get very far out of his - sight! - </p> - <p> - He reached and crossed the city park upon which the Corona Hotel fronted, - entered the hotel, and, sauntering leisurely through the lobby, approached - the desk. He glanced casually over the register; then, lighting a cigar, - he selected a chair near the front windows where he could command a - general view of the lobby, and sat down. - </p> - <p> - Doctor Meunier's room was Number 106. - </p> - <p> - Once the Hawk's eyes lazily surveyed the lobby; thereafter they appeared - to be intent on what was passing in the street. He was in luck! The first - trick, at least, had gone to him. Lolling in a chair near the elevator - doors, and apparently drowsy from a heavy luncheon, was—the Bantam. - The Hawk smoked on. Half an hour went by. The Bantam appeared to awaken - with a start, smiled sheepishly about him, went over to the news stand, - bought a paper—and returned to his seat. The Hawk finished his - cigar, rose, strolled to the main entrance, and went out. The Bantam could - be safely trusted to see that Doctor Meunier did not vanish into thin air! - He would do the like for the Bantam! He crossed over into the park. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk chose a bench—strategically. Sheltered by a row of trees, - he had the corner upon which the hotel was built diagonally before him, - and could see both the side entrance on the cross street and the front - entrance on the main thoroughfare. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's vigil, however, was not immediately rewarded. An hour passed—and - yet another—and the greater portion of the afternoon. Five o'clock - came. A newsboy passed, crying the <i>Evening Journal</i>. The Hawk bought - one. A headline in heavy type on the front page instantly caught his eye: - </p> - <h3> - ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS IN A LEAD CAPSULE - </h3> - <p> - And beneath this, still in assertive type: - </p> - <p> - Famous French Surgeon en route to Japan with Fortune in Radium Misses - Connections Through Destruction of Railroad Bridge. - </p> - <p> - Offers Company Large Sum of Money for Special Train to the Coast. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” observed the Hawk caustically, “and even if I hadn't known anything - about it before, I'd have had a look-in thanks to this! Sting you, - wouldn't it! The papers hand you a come-on—and then they wonder at - crime!” - </p> - <p> - The “story” itself ran a column and a half. The Hawk began to read—or, - rather, to divide his attention between the story and the hotel entrances. - The reporter had certainly set out with the intention of overlooking no - detail that could be turned to account. His meeting and conversation with - the Frenchman in the car were breezily set forth; the member of a - “prominent family” in Japan artfully disguised, or, perhaps better, - disclosed no less august a personage than the Emperor himself; the value - of radium, both intrinsically and scientifically, was interestingly dealt - with; and the surgeon's black handbag, with its priceless contents, was - minutely described and featured. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had reached this point, when suddenly the newspaper and the - reporter's version of the story lost interest for him. Doctor Meunier, - gripping his little black handbag tenaciously, had stepped out through the - main entrance of the hotel, and was walking briskly down the street. A - moment later, the Bantam sauntered through the doorway and started in the - same direction, a hundred yards behind the Frenchman. The Hawk, with a - grim smile, folded his paper, stuffed it into his pocket, rose from the - bench, crossed the street, and fell into the procession—a hundred - yards behind the Bantam. - </p> - <p> - It was still light, though it was beginning to grow dusk—too light - for any highway thuggery, and yet—the Hawk gradually closed the gap - between himself and the Bantam to half the original distance. - </p> - <p> - The chase led on for a half dozen blocks, then turned into one of the - crowded streets of the shopping district, and proceeded in a downtown - direction. And then, abruptly, the Hawk dropped further behind the Bantam - again, and crossed to the opposite sidewalk. It was perhaps only fancy, - but intuitively he felt that he, too, in turn, was being followed. His hat - brim, hiding his face, was pulled a little farther forward over his eyes, - as he hurried now until he was abreast of the Frenchman. Intuition or not, - it was quite possible and even likely that one of the gang might “cover” - the Bantam. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk scowled. He could not be sure; and he dared not put it to more - than a casual test, for he could not afford to lose sight of the Bantam. - He paused, took a slip of paper from his pocket, and, as though having - consulted it for an address, appeared to scan the signs and numbers on the - stores in his immediate vicinity. The Frenchman had passed by; the Bantam - was directly opposite to him now across the street. The Hawk's keen eyes - searched the stream of pedestrians behind the Bantam. And then suddenly he - shrugged his shoulders, and returned the paper to his pocket—a man, - in a light suit and brown derby hat, had stepped out of the crowd, and was - leisurely lighting a cigarette in a doorway just across from where he, the - Hawk, stood. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk went on, but keeping in the rear of the Bantam now on the - opposite side of the street. He was still not sure; but, in any case, - neither could the man in the brown derby be <i>sure</i> that he, the Hawk, - was following the Bantam. So far then, granted that he <i>was</i> being - followed, it was an even break! - </p> - <p> - At the next crossing the Frenchman accosted a policeman, and, as though he - had received directions, at once turned down the cross street. The Hawk, - as he followed, smiled grimly. The cross street automatically verified the - suspicions of the man in the brown derby—if the man in the brown - derby had any suspicions to verify; but, at one and the same time, it also - answered the Hawk's own question. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, in turn, made use of a doorway. He could afford to allow the - Bantam, temporarily, the lead of an extra half block now, for there were - fewer people on the cross street and he would still be able to keep the - other in sight. A minute, two, elapsed—and then the Hawk picked up - the Bantam's trail again. The man in the brown derby hat had passed by the - corner and continued on along the main street. - </p> - <p> - And yet still the Hawk was not satisfied. And it was not until after he - had repeated the same manouvre some four or five times, as the Frenchman, - leading, turned into different streets, that he was finally convinced that - neither the man in the brown derby hat, nor any one else, was interested - in his movements. - </p> - <p> - The chase, since leaving the main street, had wound its way through the - less populous wholesale district—it ended at the railway station. - The Frenchman passed along the front of the building, and disappeared - through the doorway leading upstairs to the divisional offices, his object - being, it now appeared obvious, to obtain another interview with the - superintendent; the Bantam disappeared inside the main entranceway of the - station, evidently to await the Frenchman's reappearance; and the Hawk, on - the far side of the street, slipped into the lane that had served him many - times as a thoroughfare between the station and his room over the saloon - two blocks away. - </p> - <p> - It was growing dark now. A half hour went by. Still the Hawk crouched in - the shadow of the building that bordered the lane. The street lights went - on. The six o'clock whistle blew from the shops over across the tracks. - Either the Frenchman was a visitor not easy to get rid of, or Lanson was - out and the other was awaiting the superintendent's return. But the Hawk's - patience was infinite. - </p> - <p> - Another fifteen minutes dragged away; then the office door opened, the - Frenchman emerged, and started back uptown. The Bantam appeared from the - main entranceway, and started after him. The chase was on again. The Hawk - followed. - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman, seemingly sticking to rule of thumb and following the - directions he had received on the way down, took exactly the same route on - the way back. But now the neighborhood presented an entirely different - aspect. The wholesale houses were closed; the streets deserted, dark, and - poorly lighted. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk hugged the shadows of the buildings craftily on the opposite side - of the street. Was it coming now? Certainly the gang would go far before - finding a more ideal opportunity, and the Bantam, if he had realised that - fact, could easily have sent, or telephoned, a message from the station. - He, the Hawk, had not cared to take the risk of following the Bantam - inside—the Bantam <i>might</i> remember having seen him in the hotel - lobby. - </p> - <p> - And then the Hawk's lips thinned. Yes—it was the old, old game! They - were on the cross street, a little less than a block distant from the main - street ahead. The Bantam began to close up on the Frenchman. The Hawk now, - crouching low, slipped almost literally from doorway to doorway. Two men, - apparently drunk and quarrelling, were coming down the block toward the - Frenchman. The Bantam closed to within a few yards of his quarry. The - brawl attained its height as the two men reached the Frenchman. One man - struck the other. They clenched, and, smashing into the Frenchman knocked - him down. His hat flew in one direction, the handbag in another. The - brawlers curiously did not resume their quarrel, but lounged a few paces - away—within call of the Bantam. The Hawk, squeezed in his doorway - directly opposite the scene, kept his eyes on the Bantam. If the play had - lacked originality before, it did not lack it now! The Bantam stooped, - picked up the handbag, and, as he stooped again for the hat, slipped the - handbag under his coat, and slipped another bag—evidently a - carefully prepared duplicate—out from under his coat and into his - hand. The Frenchman was rising dazedly to his feet. The Bantam stepped - hurriedly forward, holding out hat and bag. - </p> - <p> - “I hope you're not hurt, sir,” the Hawk heard him say—and then the - two moved on together toward the corner. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk shook his shoulders in a queer, almost self-apologetic sort of - way, as he followed again. And then he smiled as queerly. The Bantam had - the bag now, and, if he, the Hawk, were permitted to hazard an opinion, - the Wire Devils had very kindly picked the fruit again for him to eat! - </p> - <p> - At the corner, the Bantam shook hands with the Frenchman, and, stepping - out into the street, signalled an approaching car. Quick, alert on the - instant, the Hawk, safe in the protection of the crowded sidewalk, moved - swiftly along in the direction that the car would take, his eyes searching - the street on both sides for a taxicab. The street car passed him, but - stopped at the next corner, and he caught up with it again. And then, over - his shoulder, he saw a taxi coming up behind him. He stepped from the - curb, and stopped it. - </p> - <p> - “Sorry, sir,” said the chauffeur. “I'm going after a fare.” - </p> - <p> - “You've got one now—and a good one,” said the Hawk quietly. He had - opened the door—a ten-dollar bill lay in the chauffeur's hand. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but look here, sir,” said the chauffeur, a little dubiously, “I'll - get into trouble for this, and——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had stepped inside, and lowered the window between himself and - the chauffeur. - </p> - <p> - “Follow that car,” said the Hawk pleasantly. “And while we're on the - crowded streets don't get so far behind it that you can't close up near - enough to see who gets off every time it stops. And don't worry about your - trouble—there's another ten coming on top of the regular fare. - That's good enough, isn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “I guess I'm not kicking!” admitted the chauffeur. The taxi started - forward. He looked back over his shoulder at the Hawk. “What's the lay? - Fly-cop?” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe!” said the Hawk. “Mind yourself! It's stopping again. Keep where I - can see both sides of the car.” - </p> - <p> - “I get you!” said the chauffeur. “Leave it to me!” - </p> - <p> - Block after block was passed, the street car stopping frequently. The - Hawk, in the body of the taxi, knelt behind the chauffeur's back, his eyes - held steadily on the street car ahead. The Bantam did not alight. The - street car began to run out into the suburbs. The taxicab, with lights out - now, risking the city ordinance, dropped back to a more respectful - distance in the rear. The district became less settled, the houses farther - apart; the street lights were single incandescents now, and these few and - far between. There was one passenger left in the car—the Bantam. - </p> - <p> - The chauffeur spoke abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “We're pretty near the end of the line,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” the Hawk answered. “Stop when the car stops—keep about - this distance, we're not likely to be noticed.” A moment later he stepped - from the taxi. “Wait for me here!” he directed. - </p> - <p> - The Bantam, leaving the street car, had started off at a sharp pace past - the end of the car line. It was little more than a country road now; only - a house here and there. The Bantam, just discernible in the darkness, had - a lead of perhaps a hundred yards, and the Hawk, moving stealthily, began - to creep nearer, and still nearer, until the hundred yards were fifty—and - then suddenly, with a low muttered exclamation, he threw himself flat on - the ground. The Bantam, abreast of a house from which there showed a light - in the side window, had turned in abruptly from the road. A glow of light - spread out as the front door opened. The Hawk lay motionless. Then the - Bantam entered, and the door was closed again. A little later, a form - appeared at the side window, a hand reached up, and the shade was drawn. - </p> - <p> - “Nice respectable neighborhood, too!” observed the Hawk tersely. “Wonder - if it's <i>the</i> lair, and if the Master Spider's in there now?” - </p> - <p> - He was creeping forward now across a small lawn. He neared the side - window; it was open, and the shade lacked a tiny, though inviting, space - of reaching to the sill. A murmur of voices came from within. There was - not a sound from the Hawk. And then, from beneath the window, which was - low and not more than four feet from the ground, he raised himself up - cautiously, and suddenly his dark eyes narrowed. It was not the Master - Spider—it was the Butcher, whose treachery had nearly done for him - that night in the paymaster's office, the man whom he had promised should - one day <i>remember!</i> - </p> - <p> - He could hear now, and he could see. It was a sitting room such as one - might find anywhere in a house whose occupants were in comfortable - circumstances. It was cosily and tastefully furnished. It bore no sign of - criminal affiliation; it was, as it were, a sort of alibi in itself. A - telephone stood on the table beside a pile of magazines, the latter - flanked by an ornamental reading lamp; deep leather lounging chairs added - to the inviting and homelike appearance of the room—the incongruity - was in the Butcher's thin, hatchet-like face, and in the coarse, vicious - features of the short, stocky Bantam, as they faced each other across the - table. - </p> - <p> - “Where's the others, d'ye say?” demanded the Bantam. - </p> - <p> - “Out,” said the Butcher. “The chief called 'em an hour ago. I don't know - what's up. I guess you and I keep house here to-night; he said you were to - stay. Mouser and Jack were to report to Kirschell, weren't they?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that's what they said.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, all right!” The Butcher shrugged his shoulders. “That's none of our - hunt. I suppose you got it, didn't you—or you wouldn't be here?” - </p> - <p> - “Sure, I got it!” answered the Bantam. “What d'ye think?” - </p> - <p> - “Let's have a look,” said the Butcher eagerly. “The chief says we can cash - in on it for fifty thousand.” - </p> - <p> - “Fifty thousand!” The Bantam growled, as he unbuttoned his coat, and, - taking out the bag, laid it on the table. “I thought it was worth a - hundred thousand!” - </p> - <p> - “So it is.” The Butcher was opening the bag. “But it's no cinch to turn it - into money without a big split—savvy?” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher opened the lead box, took out the lead cylinder, and balanced - it speculatively in the palm of his hand. - </p> - <p> - The Bantam regarded it distrustfully. - </p> - <p> - “It don't look like fifty cents to me!” he commented finally. - </p> - <p> - “I know,” said the Butcher facetiously; “but your eyesight's bum, Bantam! - Have any trouble?” - </p> - <p> - The Bantam grinned. - </p> - <p> - “Not what you'd notice! After the Mouser and Jack smashed into him, the - poor old boob didn't know what had happened till I was handing him his hat - and the other bag. I guess he bumped his bean kind of hard on the - sidewalk.” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher nodded approvingly. He was still twisting the lead cylinder - around and around in his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Say,” suggested the Bantam impatiently, after a moment, “when you've done - chucking it under the chin, put it to bed somewhere, and if there's any - grub in the house lead me to it. I'm hungry!” - </p> - <p> - “All right!” agreed the Butcher. He replaced the lead cylinder in its box, - and the box in the bag, crossed the room, opened a little cupboard in the - wall opposite the window, laid the bag inside, and closed the cupboard - door again. “Come on!” he said. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XIII—THE MAN WITH THE SCAR - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE two men left - the room. The Hawk did not move. He was fingering in a curiously - absent-minded sort of way the edges of the newspaper that still protruded - from his pocket. It was very simple, very easy. The window was open, the - cupboard was not locked, the room was empty, there were only the Bantam - and the Butcher to look out for, and they were in another part of the - house; he had only to lift aside the window shade, step in, steal across - the room, and steal out again—with a hundred-thou-sand-dollar prize. - It was very inviting. It seemed suddenly as though it were a pressing - invitation to enter that room—<i>and never leave it alive!</i> - </p> - <p> - Flashing quick through the Hawk's brain now was a résumé of the afternoon, - of each separate and individual occurrence since he had left the train. - Had he, after all, been followed? If so—how? Had the Bantam been - warned? He shook his head, as though impatient with himself. Even apart - from that, what he had begun to suspect now would be thoroughly logical on - the part of the gang. The newspaper supplied the key. He would - unquestionably have seen the newspaper that afternoon, and he would, apart - from being spared several aimless hours in the park, have done exactly as - he had done, and just as unquestionably be where he was now at this - precise moment even if he had not been with the Frenchman on the train. - The newspaper placed him in possession of the same facts that the Wire - Devils possessed. They must know that. They were therefore justified in - assuming that he, quite as rabidly as themselves, would make an attempt to - steal the bag. They knew, in that case, that he would have discovered that - they were already at work; and they knew that, on a dozen occasions - before, that had not prevented him from snatching the prize they had - already counted within their grasp. Were they on their guard now—or - a little more than on their guard! Were they offering him, on the chance - or with the knowledge that he was here now, the opportunity to snatch - another prize—and seeing to it that it was for the <i>last</i> time! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk edged back from the window; and, silent as a shadow now, began to - circuit the house. And then suddenly his suspicion became a certainty. It - was only a little thing—a slip—but it was enough. The Butcher - had made a misplay! There was no light in any other window—and a man - did not usually eat in the dark! It was fairly, even painfully, evident - now that the Bantam and the Butcher were in, say, the adjoining room, - waiting for him to enter through that window into their trap. - </p> - <p> - But there was still the little black bag—and one hundred thousand - dollars! The Hawk's smile was more ominous than pleasant. There were other - ways apart from a window—and even two men, especially if they were - caught napping, had been known to be quite amenable to the influence of - the muzzle of an automatic! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk found the back door entrance, found it locked—and used a - skeleton key. He was perhaps five minutes in opening the door; but in - those five minutes there was no click of lock as the handle turned by - infinitesimal fractions of an inch, no creak of hinge as the door little - by little swung back and was closed again. - </p> - <p> - The silence was almost uncanny. It was utter blackness. By feeling out - with his hand he discovered he was in a passageway. He moved along, - guiding himself by the sense of touch against the wall, his weight - balanced and full upon one foot before he lifted the other for the next - step. - </p> - <p> - It seemed a passage of interminable length, that led on and on through - blackness and silence. In reality he had come possibly thirty feet, and - had passed one door. And then he began to catch the sound of voices - whispering. The whisperings grew more distinct and became low, guarded - tones, as he moved forward—and now he could distinguish words. He - flattened back against the side of the passage. Opposite to him was an - open door; and within the room, instead of blackness now, was a sort of - murky gloom which was created by a ray of light that seeped in through a - partially open door at the far side of the room. The Hawk's fingers - slipped into his pocket—and slipped his mask over his face. He had - his bearings now. The room from which the light came was the baited trap; - the room immediately in front of him was the room from which the trap was - to be sprung! His hand went to his pocket again, and came out with his - automatic. It was their move now. If, when they finally grew impatient, - they went back into the lighted room, or turned on the light in the room - where they were now waiting, they sprang the trap upon themselves. - </p> - <p> - Came the Bantam's low growl—and the twitching of the Hawk's jaw - muscles. - </p> - <p> - “I don't like it, I tell you! Where is he? What's he waiting for? I know - he followed me. You saw him yourself from the front room creeping across - the lawn out there. 'Twouldn't take him all this time to get in through - that window.” - </p> - <p> - “Aw, shut up!” snarled the Butcher. “You'd give any one the creeps!” - </p> - <p> - “That's all right,” whispered the Bantam hoarsely; “but I said from the - start it was a fool game not to cover him close on the way back, and——” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—and scare him off!” sneered the Butcher. “There ain't but one - guy that'd pick up that trail—and that's the Hawk. He's butted in - enough, but he's butted in for the last time to-night! The two of us are - aplenty, aren't we? Sure—cover him close on the way back—and - scare him off! D'ye think he's a fool!” - </p> - <p> - “No, I don't, curse him!” retorted the Bantam. “And if I'd had my way, I'd - have croaked him in broad daylight with a bullet through his bean, and - finished him for keeps the minute Jack spotted him following me! Instead - of that, Jack never even gets a look at his mug.” - </p> - <p> - “You're some bright guy!” grunted the Butcher. “We'd have had a hot chance - making a dead man tell us where he'd planted those diamonds off the Fast - Mail, not to speak of a few other little trifles the swine did us out of!” - </p> - <p> - “And you think——” - </p> - <p> - “You bet, I do!” the Butcher cut in viciously. “He'll talk to-night to - save his life—and then I'll toss you, Bantam, if you like, to see - who bumps him off!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's fingers played in a curious, caressing motion over the stock of - the automatic in his hand; the twist on his lips grew a little harder, a - little more merciless. - </p> - <p> - There was movement in the room now. One of the two, the Bantam - undoubtedly, in growing uneasiness, was moving softly, erratically, up and - down the room. It proved to be the Bantam. - </p> - <p> - “Well then, where the blazes is he!” he burst out nervously. - </p> - <p> - “Aw, shut up!” snarled the Butcher savagely for the second time. - </p> - <p> - The Bantam's shadow, as the man paced up and down, passed the doorway, - repassed, and passed again. - </p> - <p> - “I tell you, I don't like it!” he flung out suddenly. “Something's wrong! - If he's outside the house, he can't see, anyway. I'm going to take a - chance, and——” - </p> - <p> - There was a click, the light in the passageway went on—then a yell - from the Bantam in the doorway—a lightning spring from the Hawk, as - the other jerked a weapon upward—and the Bantam went down in a heap, - as the Hawk's clubbed weapon caught him on the head. It was quick, like - the winking of an eye. From back in the room, the Butcher sprang forward - for the doorway—and fired—and missed—and the Hawk's left - hand, as they came upon each other, darting out, closed with the strength - of a steel vise on the Butcher's right wrist, and with a terrific wrench - twisted the other's arm halfway around. It was lighter now in the room—light - enough to see. The two forms swayed strangely—a little apart—the - Butcher's body bent over, as though queerly deformed. Slowly, - remorselessly, the Hawk turned the other's arm in its socket. Sweat sprang - to the Butcher's forehead, his face writhed with pain—and, with a - scream of agony, his revolver clattered to the floor. - </p> - <p> - “You're breaking it—for God's sake, let go!” he moaned. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk kicked the revolver to the other side of the room. - </p> - <p> - “Take the Bantam by the shoulders and drag him into that lighted room!” - The Hawk's tones were flat, unpleasant. “I don't think I hit him hard - enough to take the chance of leaving him there alone!” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher obeyed—with the muzzle of the Hawk's automatic pressed - persuasively against the small of his back. He left the Bantam in the - middle of the sitting room floor, and himself accepted a chair—at - the Hawk's invitation. - </p> - <p> - “You again—eh, Butcher?” The Hawk's voice had become a drawl. With - his automatic covering the Butcher, he had backed to the cupboard, opened - it, and was feeling inside with his left hand. “My grateful thanks, and - you'll convey my compliments—the Hawk's, you know—to our - friend—the chief.” He had slipped the little black bag under his - arm, and now his hand was back in the cupboard again; he had felt a ball - of heavy cord there. “Sorry I haven't a phony ten-spot with me—my - card, you know—unpardonable breach of etiquette—really!” He - smiled suddenly. The ball of cord was in his hand, as he advanced toward - the Butcher's chair. He set the little black bag down on the table. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher seemed to have lost all his characteristic ferocity; the sharp - little ferret eyes rested anywhere but on the Hawk, and on his face was a - sickly grin. - </p> - <p> - “Stand up!” commanded the Hawk curtly—he was knotting the end of the - cord into a noose. “Now—your hands behind your back—and - together! Thank you!” He slipped the noose over the Butcher's hands, and - began to wind the cord around the other's wrists. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher winced. - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry,” said the Hawk apologetically; “but it's all I have. The cord - is rather thin, and I'm afraid it may cut into you—not strong enough - to allow you any play, you know. And, by the way, Butcher, I heard the - Bantam say that I was spotted on the way down—I presume he meant on - the way down to the station. I'll be honest and admit I'm disappointed in - myself. Would you mind explaining, Butcher—I was quite convinced - there was no one behind me.” - </p> - <p> - “There wasn't!” The Butcher risked a sneer. “Mabbe the French guy was - heard telephoning to the station, and the Bantam passed on the word. - Nobody had to follow behind. All there was to do, knowing where the - Frenchy was going, was to dodge around the blocks ahead, and keep hidden - down the different intersecting streets, and see if the same guy kept - going by the corners after the Bantam.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, Butcher,” murmured the Hawk gratefully. “That lets me out a - little, doesn't it?” He wound the cord again and again around the - Butcher's wrists, knotted it, shoved the other unceremoniously back into - the chair, and tied the Butcher's legs. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk then gave his attention to the Bantam. The Bantam was just - beginning to regain consciousness. The Hawk knelt down, rolled the man - over on his side, and secured him in the same manner as he had the - Butcher. But with the Bantam he went a little farther. He transferred the - Bantam's handkerchief from the Bantam's pocket to the Bantam's mouth—and - tied it there. - </p> - <p> - He turned once more to the Butcher. - </p> - <p> - “I must apologise again,” he said softly. “I hate to do this”—he - felt for, and obtained, the Butcher's handkerchief—“but the house is - unfortunately close to the road, and you might inadvertently make yourself - heard before I got decently away.” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher's reply was a shrug of the shoulders. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, about to cram the handkerchief into the other's mouth, paused. - </p> - <p> - “Butcher,” said the Hawk, almost plaintively, “if you'll permit me to deal - in mixed metaphors, you appear to have shed your spots—you're too - awfully docile!” - </p> - <p> - “You got the goods,” muttered the Butcher sullenly. “What more do you——” - </p> - <p> - He stopped suddenly. His eyes met the Hawk's. The telephone on the table - was ringing. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk hesitated. Into the Butcher's eyes, narrowed now, there seemed to - have come a mocking gleam. The telephone rang again. And then the Hawk - reached out abruptly, and took the receiver from the hook. - </p> - <p> - “Hello!” he said gruffly. - </p> - <p> - “Four X. Who's that?” responded a voice. - </p> - <p> - There was something familiar about the voice, but he could not on the - instant place it. The Hawk's mind, even as he answered, was swiftly - cataloguing every member of the gang known to him in an effort to identify - it. - </p> - <p> - “The Bantam,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” replied the voice. “Give me the Butcher.” - </p> - <p> - “Hold the line,” answered the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - He placed his hand over the transmitter. The voice was still eluding him. - He turned, and eyed the Butcher. - </p> - <p> - “Four X wants you, Butcher.” All the drawl, all the insouciance was gone - now; his voice was hard with menace, cold as death. “And you're going to - speak to him—but you're going to say what I tell you to say. But - before you begin, I want you to remember the little account between us - that's been hanging over since that night in the paymaster's office. If - you make a break, if you try to frame me—<i>I'll settle that account - here to-night</i>, while you sit in that chair. If you hesitate on a word, - I'll fire—and not through my pocket, you yellow cur! Understand? - Don't kid yourself on this, Butcher! If I nod my head, say 'yes'—and - no more. Now!” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher had sunk back in his chair. There was fear in his face; it was - white, and he circled his lips with his tongue. - </p> - <p> - Beneath the mask, the Hawk's lips were a straight line. He laid down his - automatic on the table, placed the receiver to his own ear, and held the - transmitter to the Butcher's lips. - </p> - <p> - “Go ahead!” ordered the Hawk. “Ask him what he wants.” His fingers, cupped - and pressed over the transmitter, lifted. - </p> - <p> - “Hello!” said the Butcher. “What is it?” - </p> - <p> - “That you, Butcher? Everything all right?” inquired the voice. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk nodded. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Butcher. - </p> - <p> - “Well, open up a bit!” complained the voice. “Did you get him, and——” - </p> - <p> - The voice was speaking on. The Hawk's lips had set a little tighter. He - had recognised the voice now. His fingers were pressed over the - transmitter again. - </p> - <p> - “Tell him you laid me out cold,” instructed the Hawk; “and that I haven't - regained consciousness, yet. Now!” The voice had ceased speaking; the - Hawk's fingers lifted again. - </p> - <p> - “We beaned him,” said the Butcher morosely.. “He's still asleep.” - </p> - <p> - “Good!” chuckled the voice. “I'll be up there by and by, and——” - </p> - <p> - “Tell him to stay where he is, that it will be—<i>safer</i>.” The - Hawk clipped off his words. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher delivered the message, the snarl in his voice entirely to the - Hawk's liking. - </p> - <p> - “What?” questioned the voice. “I didn't get you.” - </p> - <p> - “Repeat!” whispered the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher repeated. - </p> - <p> - “O. K.,” came back the answer. “Yes, I guess you're right. So long, - Butcher.” - </p> - <p> - “Say 'good-night,'.rdquo; prompted the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “'Night!” growled the Butcher. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk replaced the receiver on the hook, and the instrument on the - table. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher's lips were livid. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk picked up his automatic and leaned forward, his eyes on a level - with the Butcher's. - </p> - <p> - “What's that fellow's moniker, Butcher?” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher hesitated. - </p> - <p> - The automatic crept forward an inch. - </p> - <p> - “Parson Joe.” The Butcher's voice choked with mingled rage and fear. - </p> - <p> - “Parson Joe, eh?” repeated the Hawk ruminatingly. “Was he the chap who - pulled that con game on the Riverdale Bank back in New York State about - six years ago, and afterwards got cornered by the police in Ike - Morrissey's gambling hell, and was caught because he nearly bled to death, - with his wrist half off, trying to get through a broken window pane? He - got four spaces. That him?” - </p> - <p> - “If you say so, it must have been!” There was a leer in the Butcher's - voice. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Was it?</i>” The automatic touched the Butcher's breast. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Butcher. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you!” smiled the Hawk. “Now——!” - </p> - <p> - He gagged the Butcher with the handkerchief, tied it securely into place, - stood up, picked up the little black bag, switched off the electric - reading lamp, moved to the window, and drew aside the shade. “We'll let - that account stand open for a little while longer, Butcher,” he said - softly. “Just a little while longer—good-night!” - </p> - <p> - He swung out of the window, dropped to the ground, ran across the lawn, - and gained the road. His mask and automatic were back in his pockets. His - fingers felt and patted the little black bag under his coat. - </p> - <p> - “Always play your luck,” whispered the Hawk confidentially to himself. “It - seems to me I saw a little loose change in Doctor Meunier's pocket-book, - and I don't think he's opened the duplicate bag yet and stirred up a fuss. - It isn't much compared with a hundred thousand, or even fifty, to quote - the Butcher, but 'every little bit added to what you've got——'” - He fell to whistling the tune pleasantly under his breath, as he hurried - along the road. - </p> - <p> - A minute later he had regained the taxicab. - </p> - <p> - “Drop me a block this side of the Corona—and give her all she's - got!” he directed crisply. - </p> - <p> - “D'ye get him?” demanded the chauffeur eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “My friend,” replied the Hawk gently, as he stepped into the taxi, “if - you'll think it over, you'll come to the conclusion that you really don't - want to know. Take it from me that the less you're wise about to-night the - wiser you will be to-morrow. Now, cut her loose!” - </p> - <p> - It had taken a good thirty minutes on the trip up; it took less than half - of that, by a more direct route, for the return journey. At the corner, a - block from the hotel, the Hawk crumpled two generous bank-notes into the - chauffeur's hand, and bade the man good-night. He traversed the block, - entered the hotel lobby, and, ignoring the elevators, leisurely and - nonchalantly ascended the staircase to the first floor. From the landing - he noted the room numbers opposite to him, and with these as a guide - passed on along the corridor to where it turned at right angles at the - corner of the building, and halted before room No. 106. A light showing - above the transom indicated that the Frenchman was within. He had passed - one or two people. No one had paid any attention to him. Why should they! - He glanced up and down. The corridor, for the moment, was empty. He tried - the door gently—it was locked. His right hand, in his side pocket, - closed over his automatic. He pressed close to the door, knocked gently - with his left hand—and with his left hand reached quickly into his - pocket for his mask. - </p> - <p> - “Who's there?” the Frenchman called out. - </p> - <p> - “Message for you, sir,” the Hawk answered. - </p> - <p> - Footsteps crossed the room, the key turned in the lock—and, in a - flash, the Hawk, slipping on his mask, had pushed the door open, closed it - behind him, and the Frenchman was staring into the muzzle of the - automatic. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Mon Dieu!</i>” gasped the Frenchman faintly. - </p> - <p> - “That's right!” said the Hawk coolly, “Don't speak any louder than that, - or——” He shrugged his shoulders significantly, as he locked - the door. - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman, white-faced, was evidently fighting for his nerve. - </p> - <p> - “What—what is it?” he stammered. “What is it that you want?” - </p> - <p> - It was almost a reassuring smile that flickered on the Hawk's lips, and - his voice did not belie it—it was purely conversational in its - tones. - </p> - <p> - “I was reading in the paper this afternoon about the famous Doctor - Meunier. I'm a bit of a scientist myself, in an amateur way, and I'm - particularly interested in radium when there's enough of it to——” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! My radium! That is what you want!” cried out the Frenchman wildly. - The duplicate bag lay on the bed. He ran for it, and snatched it up. “No! - That you shall not have! You come to steal my radium, you——” - </p> - <p> - “You jump at conclusions, doctor,” said the Hawk patiently. “Since it is - already stolen, I——” - </p> - <p> - “Stolen!” The Frenchman stared—and then with feverish fingers opened - the bag. He looked inside. The bag dropped to the floor, his hands went up - in the air. “It is empty—empty!” he cried distractedly. “It is gone—gone! - <i>Mon Dieu</i>, my radium is gone! What shall I do!” His hands were - rumpling through his hair like one demented. “What shall I do—it is - gone!” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” suggested the Hawk suavely, “I thought perhaps you might like to - buy it back again.” - </p> - <p> - “Buy it back! Are you crazy? Am I crazy?” The man appeared to be beside - himself; he flung out his arms in mad gesticulation. “With what would I - buy it back? It is worth a hundred thousands dollars—a half million - francs!” - </p> - <p> - “You are excited, Doctor Meunier,” said the Hawk calmly. From where it - bulged under his coat he drew out the black bag. “I said nothing about a - hundred thousand dollars.” - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman reached out a shaking hand, pointing at the bag. - </p> - <p> - “It is you then, after all, who stole it—eh? The bags—they are - identical! <i>Mon Dieu</i>, what does this mean? I am mad! I do not - understand!” - </p> - <p> - There was a chair on each side of the small table near the bed. - </p> - <p> - “Sit down!” invited the Hawk, indicating one with the muzzle of his - automatic. The Frenchman sat down with a helpless and abandoned gesture of - despair. The Hawk took the other chair. He opened the bag, opened the lead - box, and laid the lead capsule on the table. “Do you identify this?” he - inquired pleasantly. - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman reached for it eagerly. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk drew it back. - </p> - <p> - “One moment, please, Doctor Meunier!” he murmured. “You recognise it? You - are satisfied that it is your tube of radium?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes—<i>mon Dieu!</i> But, yes!” - </p> - <p> - “And it is worth, you say, a hundred thousand dollars?” - </p> - <p> - “But, yes, I tell you!” cried the Frenchman. “A hundred thousand—certainly, - it is worth that!” - </p> - <p> - “Quite so!” said the Hawk placidly. “Therefore, Doctor Meunier, a - comparatively small sum—eh?—you would be willing to pay that—a - sum, I might add, that would be quite within your means.” - </p> - <p> - “Quite within my means?” repeated the Frenchman a little dazedly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk sweetly. “And to be specific, let us say—whatever - is in your pocketbook.” The Frenchman drew back in his chair. His face - blanched. - </p> - <p> - “You—you mean to rob me!” he exclaimed hoarsely. - </p> - <p> - “I do not see it quite in that light.” The Hawk's voice was pained. “But - we will not discuss the ethics involved—we probably should not - agree. I did not steal your precious capsule from you, and I am returning - it, not, I might say, without having incurred considerable personal risk - in so doing. Perhaps we might better agree if we called it—a - reward.” - </p> - <p> - “No!” said the Frenchman desperately. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's automatic tapped the table top with a hint of petulance. - </p> - <p> - “And—and what guarantee have I,” the Frenchman burst out, “that you - will give me the tube after you have taken my money?” - </p> - <p> - “My word,” said the Hawk evenly. “And—I am waiting, Doctor Meunier!” - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman hesitated, then, with an oath, flung his pocketbook upon the - table. The Hawk opened it, extracted the wad of bills that he had seen - exhibited in the superintendent's office, smiled as he fingered them, and - put them in his pocket. He pushed the lead capsule across the table—and - suddenly, as the other reached for it, the Hawk was on his feet, his - automatic flung forward, his left hand grasping the other's sleeve. - </p> - <p> - They held that way for an instant, eying each other—the Hawk's left - hand slowly pushing back the other's right-hand sleeve. And then the - Hawk's eyes shifted—to a long, jagged, white scar on the bare - forearm just above the wrist. - </p> - <p> - “Shall I introduce myself—Parson Joe?” purred the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - The other's face was a mottled red—it deepened to purple. - </p> - <p> - “No, blast you!” he said between his teeth. “I know you—but I didn't - think you knew me. So you called the turn when the Bantam followed me—eh?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “I never saw you in my life before to-day,” he said grimly; “and, if it - will do you any good to know it, I fell for that radium plant—until - you telephoned the Butcher half an hour ago.” - </p> - <p> - “And how did you know me, then?” The other flung the question fiercely. - </p> - <p> - Again the Hawk shook his head. He had no desire that Parson Joe should - know he had been on the Limited that morning—Parson Joe might - possess an inconveniently retentive memory for faces, and he, the Hawk, - did not always wear a mask. - </p> - <p> - “Maybe I guessed it, Parson!” he said insolently. “I must have—it - was the only thing that wasn't in the paper! What encyclopedia did you get - that 'Becquerel burn' dope out of? And was the reporter lying, or how did - you work it to get him on the train?” - </p> - <p> - Parson Joe was leaning forward over the table, fingering the lead capsule. - He suddenly crushed it with a blow of his fist, twisted it in two, and - hurled the pieces across the floor. - </p> - <p> - “We got him up the line on a fake that didn't come off!” he snarled. - </p> - <p> - There was an instant's silence, then the Hawk spoke. - </p> - <p> - “Nice, amiable crowd, you are, Parson!” The Hawk's voice was silken. “I'm - just beginning to appreciate you. Let's see! You had to pull a story that - any newspaper would jump at and <i>feature</i>, didn't you? And you had to - have a big enough bait to make sure I'd rise to it. And you had to account - for the celebrated Doctor Meunier's layover in Selkirk; and, not expecting - I'd pick up the trail quite so quickly, say, not until after the paper had - been out a little longer and you had made another baiting trip or two to - Lanson's office, you had to account for the famous gentleman's enforced - stay through the night if necessary; and it gave a big swing to the story, - and let you work your stunt for the special train that you knew you - couldn't get; and you figured I'd be even more sure to see it in the paper - if it was connected with some pleasant little episode of yours—and - so, on several counts, you blew up the bridge.” - </p> - <p> - The man's teeth were clamped together. - </p> - <p> - “Yes!” he choked. “And we'd blow a dozen more to get you!” - </p> - <p> - “You flatter me!” said the Hawk dryly. “I'm afraid I've put you to quite a - little trouble—for nothing!” - </p> - <p> - Sullen, red, furious, Parson Joe's face twitched. - </p> - <p> - “You win to-night”—the heavy-lensed spectacles were off, and the - black eyes, the pupils gone, burned on the Hawk—“but you're going - out! As sure as God gave you breath, we'll get you yet, and——” - </p> - <p> - “The Butcher told me that, and so did the Cricket—some time ago,” - said the Hawk wearily. “I'm—<i>keep your hands above the table</i>—I'm - sure you mean well!” He was backing toward the door. “I won't bother to - relieve you of your revolver; and I don't think you'll telephone down to - the office. It might be awkward explaining to the police how Doctor - Meunier lost his pocketbook—and got his medical degree! I shall, - however, lock the door on the outside, as I shall require a minute or two - to reach the street, and I cannot very well go through the hotel corridor - with—this”—he jerked his hand toward his mask. - </p> - <p> - The other's hands were above the table, obediently in plain view—but - they were clenching and unclenching now, the knuckles white. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk reached behind him, took the key from the lock, listened, opened - the door slightly, and, still facing into the room, still covering the - other with his automatic, reached around the door and fitted the key into - the outside of the lock. - </p> - <p> - “When you get out,” said the Hawk, as though it were an afterthought, “I'm - sure the Butcher will be glad to see you—I am afraid he is not as - comfortable as he might be!” - </p> - <p> - The black eyes, with a devil's fury in them, had never left the Hawk's. - And now the other lifted one of his clenched hands above his head. - </p> - <p> - “I'd give five years—<i>five years</i> of my life—for a look - at your face!” he whispered hoarsely. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was backing through the door. - </p> - <p> - “It's not enough, Parson,” he said softly. “Make it another—pocketbook.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XIV—THE CLUE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WO days had passed—two - days, and a night. The Hawk's fingers drummed abstractedly without sound - on the table top; his eyes, in a curiously introspective stare, were fixed - on the closely drawn window shade across the room. From the ill-favoured - saloon below his unpretentious lodgings, there came, muffled, a chorus of - voices in inebriated and discordant song—an over-early evening - celebration, for it was barely seven o'clock. - </p> - <p> - The finger tips drummed on. At times, the strong, square chin was doggedly - outthrust; at times, a frown gathered in heavy furrows on the Hawk's - forehead. The net at last was beginning to tighten ominously—every - sign pointed to it. He would be a blind fool indeed who could not read the - warning, and a fool of fools who would not heed it! - </p> - <p> - His eyes strayed from the window, and rested upon the trunk that stood - between the table and the foot of the bed; and his fingers abruptly ceased - their restless movements. Within that trunk, concealed in its false lid, - was the loot, totalling many thousands of dollars, obtained through his - knowledge of the Wire Devils' secret code, which had enabled him to-turn - their elaborately prepared plans on more occasions than one to his own - account. But it was no longer a question of outwitting them in order to - add to that purloined store; it was a question of outwitting them in order - that—in very plain English—he, the Hawk, might <i>live!</i> - </p> - <p> - Nor was it the Wire Devils alone who threatened disaster. There were other - factors; and, even if these factors were less imminent, as it were, less - in a measure to be feared, they were by no means to be ignored. The police - were showing increasing activity. The police circular, which he had once - torn down from the station wall, was now replaced by another, only with - this difference that, where the reward for the Hawk's capture had then - stood at five thousand dollars, it now stood at ten. Also, last night—quite - inadvertently!—while crouched under the window of the turner's - “cubbyhole” at the rear of the roundhouse, the chosen spot for Lanson's - and MacVightie's confidential conferences, he had overheard a conversation - between the division superintendent and the head of the railroad's - detective force that was certainly not intended for his ears. According to - MacVightie, a man by the name of Birks, the sharpest man in the United - States Secret Service, had been detailed by the Washington authorities to - the case. MacVightie had even taken a generous share of the credit for - this move to himself. Thefts there might be until the country rang with - them, murders might add their quota to the reign of terror, yet all this - was outside the province of the Secret Service. It was, so MacVightie had - said, through MacVightie's insistence that the systematised thefts and - murders were inseparable with the counterfeit notes then flooding the - country that had induced Washington to act. The Hawk and his gang, - according to MacVightie again, were at the bottom of both one and the - other—and counterfeiting <i>was</i>, very pertinently, within the - province of the Secret Service! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk permitted a twisted smile to flicker across his lips. MacVightie, - the police in general, and Birks of the Secret Service in particular, - might be classed as complications, even decidedly <i>awkward</i> - complications, but his immediate peril lay, not in that direction, but - from those whose leadership MacVightie so blandly credited to—the - Hawk! - </p> - <p> - The smile twisted deeper—into one of grim irony. While MacVightie - placarded the country with circulars offering rewards for the capture of - the Hawk and his gang, the “gang” was moving heaven and earth to capture - the Hawk for its own exclusive purposes—which purposes, in a word, - were an intense desire to recover the proceeds of the robberies that he, - the Hawk, had filched from under the gang's nose, and thereafter, with - such finality as might be afforded by a blackjack, a knife thrust, or a - revolver bullet, to expedite the Hawk's departure from this vale of tears! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's hand curled suddenly into a clenched fist, and his face grew - set. He was facetious—and he had little enough warrant for - facetiousness! They had already shown their teeth. They had shown the - grim, ugly <i>deadliness</i> of their challenge in the thrust with which - they had opened their attack upon him. He had parried the thrust, it was - true—but there would be another—and another. There was - something of remorseless promise, that would stop at nothing, in the - extravagantly laid plans with which they had just attempted to lure him - into the open and trap him. They had failed, it was true, and he had even - scored against them again—but their cunning, their power, their - resources, their malignity remained unimpaired. They would try again. It - was like two adversaries in a dark room, each conscious of the other's - presence, each striving to <i>place</i> the other, each conscious that the - death of one was life for the other. That was the pith of the situation. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's teeth clamped together. It was quite certain that they would - run him to earth—unless he were first at the same game! An - organisation as widespread as the one against which he had elected to pit - his wits and play a lone hand, an organisation clever enough to have - seized and put to its own use the entire divisional telegraph system of a - railroad, an organisation callous enough to have counted a score of - murders but incidents in its schemes, and, above all, an organisation - guided by an unknown brain that was a master of cunning and unhampered by - scruples, was an antagonist as sinister as it was powerful. For days now, - in the great majority of cases, he, the Hawk, had turned their plans to - his own account, skimmed, as it were, the cream from their milk—and - there could be but one answer. And they <i>had</i> answered—and in - the opening attack they had just launched against him it was obvious - enough that every resource at their command was to be thrown into the - balance to settle scores with him. They might, and did, laugh at the - police, but to have their prizes pocketed and carried off by a competitor - admitted of but one solution—the annihilation of the competitor! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk rose abruptly from his seat, stepped over to the trunk, opened - it, and in an instant had removed the secret tray from the curvature of - the lid. He laid the tray down upon the table; and his fingers, brushing - aside a certain magnificent diamond necklace whose thousand facets - glittered in the light, delved swiftly in amongst pile after pile of - banknotes, and secured a package of papers. - </p> - <p> - He pushed the tray to one side, sat down again at the table, removed the - elastic band from the package, and began to examine the papers. It was not - the first time he had done this—he did it again now in a sort of - desperation, and simply because it presented the one possibility at which - he might grasp in the hope of obtaining a clue. There were many papers - here, loose sheets, documents in envelopes, and, careful as he had been - before, there <i>was</i> a chance that he had missed the one thing—in - a sentence, in perhaps only a word, or a pencilled note-on the back of an - envelope—that would save him from disaster now. - </p> - <p> - It was the night before last that Parson Joe, with his fake tube of - radium, had headed the gang in the attempt upon his, the Hawk's, life. The - twisted smile returned to the Hawk's lips, as he turned first one paper - and then another over in his hands. He had been fool enough to imagine - that, besides failure, they had left a well-marked and clearly defined - trail behind them—in the shape of that very comfortably, very cosily - furnished house just on the outskirts of the city, where the Butcher had - proposed to play the rôle of spider to his, the Hawk's, rôle of fly! It - had even seemed a childishly simple matter to pick up such a thread and - follow it. A house was neither rented nor furnished out of thin air. But - the next morning the house was closed and deserted. It had been sublet—furnished. - The subtenant, whose name was of no consequence, since it was of course - assumed, had vanished—that was all. As far as the gang was concerned - the house had lost its usefulness, and, having lost its usefulness, had - simply been evacuated, and, together with the furniture, left to its own - resources! - </p> - <p> - And it had been the same, on a previous occasion, with Isaac Kirschell's - office. The morning after he, the Hawk, had appropriated the contents of - Kirschell's cash box and had recognised Kirschell as one of the gang, the - suite of rooms in the office building had been vacant. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk withdrew the last paper in the pile from its envelope, and read - it with a sort of miserable realisation that its perusal, like the others, - was foredoomed to futility. It was an alleged mortgage, spurious, of - course, for these were Kirschell's papers that had been in the cash box, - and, in the very nature of things, Kirschell's business had been only a - blind to cover a sort of branch headquarters for the gang. He read it - through, however, doggedly—and for his pains the printed words in - their precise legal phraseology seemed to mock at him and chuckle with - devilishly perverted humour. - </p> - <p> - He tossed the document upon the table, and, his face strained, pushed back - his chair, got up, and began to pace the length of the room with a tread - that, in its quick, nervous litheness and its silence, was like the pacing - of a panther in its cage. - </p> - <p> - Nothing! And yet there must be something—somewhere! It was his move - now, and there was little time to spare. It had become simply a question - of which of the two, he or the gang, would win this game of - blindman's-buff. It no longer sufficed that he should intercept those - secret code messages in the former haphazard way, for, consistently as he - had haunted the telegraph sounders, he was well enough aware that he must - of necessity have missed many of the messages. He could afford to miss <i>none</i> - of them now. Formerly, a message missed meant but a lost opportunity to - thwart their plans, to add a little more to the contents of the trunk's - false lid; now, since they had shown that they would stop at nothing to - trap him, his life was dependent on having, with certainty, foreknowledge - of their every plan. His defense lay in attack. He must trace those - messages to their source, and trace them quickly before the Wire Devils - should strike again, or leave the field to the Wire Devils—in other - words, quit and run for it! - </p> - <p> - “Quit!” It was the first sound the Hawk had made, and it was only a - whisper—but the whisper was gritted out through set teeth. Quit! He - laughed a little, low, with menace, without mirth. It was not an - alternative—it was the sting of a curling whip-lash to spur him on. - </p> - <p> - Well? What was he to do then? It was his move—and there was no time - to spare. He approached the table again, and began to rearrange the papers - into a pile, preparatory to replacing them in the tray. It was veritably a - game of blindman's-buff! They knew him through personal contact, but only - as a man who had always been masked; he knew many of them, and knew them - personally—but only in the play-off of their schemes, when he had, - as it were, snatched the plunder from their hands as he made his own - escape, had he ever seen any of them. Well—the question came again, - more insistent, more imperative, more vital—well, his life was in - the balance, what was he to do? Go out again to-night and haunt a - telegraph sounder, trust to—— - </p> - <p> - He turned suddenly, the spurious mortgage, and the long envelope that had - contained it, in his hand. The document, for some reason or other, refused - to fit into the envelope as neatly or as readily as it had previously - done. He held the envelope up to the light—and the next instant, - flinging the document down on the table, he had ripped the envelope apart, - and from under the inner flap, where it had undoubtedly been forced by the - document itself and afterwards, as he had handled the envelope, had - obviously worked its way partially out again, he extracted a small, thin - slip of yellow paper. - </p> - <p> - And then for a moment the Hawk stood motionless, but into the dark eyes - there leaped a triumphant flash. In his hand was the return portion of a - railroad ticket that read: - </p> - <p> - Conmore to Selkirk City. - </p> - <p> - He whipped the ticket over to scrutinise the date stamp on the back—it - was that of the day prior to his visit to Kirschell's office. And he - laughed a little again, but there was no bitterness in the laugh now. The - clue that he had sought, the clue that Lanson's men had in vain patrolled - and scoured the division's right of way to obtain, was in his possession. - </p> - <p> - “It fits—like a glove!” muttered the Hawk, with grim complacence. - “Kirschell had the envelope in his pocket, of course, and in putting his - return ticket in his pocket it slipped into the envelope without his - knowing it, got crowded under the flap, and he thought he had lost it!” - The Hawk turned sharply to the table. “Conmore—eh?” He was working - with feverish haste now, replacing the papers in the tray, and fitting the - tray back into the curvature of the trunk lid. “Number Thirty-Eight, if - she's on time, is due at seven-thirty.” He pulled out his watch. - “Seven-twenty! Conmore—eh?” The light was out, the door locked - behind him. “That's twenty-miles east of here, and <i>between</i> here and - Bald Creek.” He was out of the house now, and running along the lane that - gave on the station street. “Yes,” said the Hawk again, and there was - suppressed elation in his voice, “it fits! It fits—like a glove!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk reached the station, and purchased a ticket; but, as usual, the - ticket did not indicate his destination—it read, not to Conmore, but - to several stations farther along the line. The local pulled in on time. - As it pulled out again, the Hawk, having appropriated the rear seat of the - smoker, lighted, though he inclined little toward that particular form of - tobacco, a cigar. - </p> - <p> - His slouch hat was jerked a little forward over his eyes. He settled back - in his seat. Like links in a chain, the keen, alert brain was welding the - events of the days gone by into a concrete whole. The headquarters of the - gang, the heart of the web from which the Wire Devils operated was, - logically, as he had known, as MacVightie had known, <i>outside</i> the - city, where the telegraph line could be tapped without observation and at - will. MacVightie's initial and only attempt to “ground out” the “tap” had - indicated that the wire was being tampered with <i>between</i> Selkirk and - Bald Creek. Conmore was between Selkirk and Bald Creek. And what interest - could Kirschell, a New York crook, have in a place like Conmore, that was - little more than a hamlet? What, then, had prompted Kirschell's trip to - Conmore and return? The Hawk smiled whimsically. - </p> - <p> - It was not proof absolute, but in his own mind it was proof quite - sufficient. Kirschell's visit to Conmore had been a visit to the - headquarters of the gang. Also, material proof apart, he sensed - intuitively that he had struck the right trail. Those messages, keeping - the unknown brain that schemed and plotted each move in instant touch with - every unit of the widespread organisation, making it possible for them to - strike at a moment's warning at any point over a hundred miles of country, - emanated—from Conmore. - </p> - <p> - The train stopped at a station, and went on again. The Hawk nursed his - cigar sedulously, and stared out of the window. Twenty minutes went by. - And then the train stopped again—at Conmore. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk did not move, save that his eyes rested casually on a passenger - who was making a hurried and belated dash for the door. It was quite - possible that the man was not one of the gang, and equally possible that - the man was—he, the Hawk, did not recognise the other. But he would - do the Wire Devils less than justice to credit them with lack of interest - in passengers for Conmore—or in any occupant of any car who might - have left his seat and found the platform attractive, say, just <i>before</i> - Conmore was reached! If the man was a spy, then—well—the Hawk - smiled at his now burned-to-the-butt cigar—the man would have little - to report! - </p> - <p> - The train jerked forward into motion again. The station was on the same - side as the Hawk's seat—the Hawk did not look out of the window, but - he was far from being oblivious to the fact that <i>no</i> platform lights - had shown through the car windows on the opposite side of the aisle. The - speed increased a little, but still the Hawk did not stir. The train - rattled over the east-end siding switch of the Conmore yard. And then the - Hawk rose languidly, tossed his cigar butt into the cuspidor, brushed a - very noticeable quantity of cigar ash from his vest, paused for a drink at - the water-cooler, and, as though, his smoke finished, he was seeking the - clearer atmosphere of a rear car, opened the door, and stepped out on the - platform. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk dropped to the right of way from the side of the train opposite - to that of the station, landed as sure-footed as a cat, flung himself - instantly flat down at the edge of the embankment, and lay still. The - local racketed its way past—the red tail-lights winked, and vanished—and - there fell a silence, a drowsy night silence, broken only by the chirp of - insects and the far-distant mutter of the receding train. The Hawk raised - his head, and looked about him. A few hundred yards away glinted the - station semaphore and window lights; the siding switch light, nearer, - showed green like a huge glowing emerald in the black; there was nothing - else. There was no sign of habitation—nothing—the little - hamlet lay hidden in a hollow a mile away on the station side of the - track. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XV—THE LADYBIRD - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk rose, and - began to move forward. Conmore was certainly an idealistic spot—from - the Wire Devils' standpoint! He frowned a little. There was no doubt in - his mind but that in a general way he had solved the problem, that - somewhere in this vicinity the right of way held the wire tappers' secret; - but, as he was well aware, his difficulties were far from at an end, and - that particular spot might be anywhere within several miles of Conmore, - and it might, with equal reason, be east or west of the station. And then - the Hawk shrugged his shoulders. The night was early yet, early enough to - enable him to cover several miles of track on both sides of the station, - if necessary, before daylight came. If he had luck with him, he was on the - right side now; if not, then, by midnight, he would start in on the other. - It required the exercise of a little philosophical patience, nothing more. - </p> - <p> - It was black along the track—a black night, no moon, no stars. And - it was silent. A half hour passed. Like a shadow, and as silent as one, - the Hawk moved forward—from telegraph pole to telegraph pole. A pin - point of light showed far down the right of way, grew larger, brighter, - more luminous—and the Hawk-sought refuge, crouched beneath a - culvert, as a big ten-wheeler and its string of coaches, trucks beating at - the fishplates, quick like the tattoo of a snare drum, roared by over his - head. - </p> - <p> - Still another half hour passed. It was slow work. He was perhaps, at most, - a mile and a half from the Conmore station. And then, suddenly, the Hawk - dropped to his hands and knees and crawled down the embankment, and lay - flat and motionless in the grass—faint, almost inaudible, a footstep - had crunched on the gravel of the roadbed ahead of him. The Hawk's only - movement now was the tightening of his fingers around the stock of his - automatic, as, out of the blackness, a blacker shape loomed up, and a man - sauntered by along the track. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's lips compressed into a grim smile. His caution had not been - exaggerated! The Wire Devils' guard! Luck, at least initial luck, was with - him, then! The “tap” was here <i>east</i> of the station, and at the next - pole probably. But it was more than likely that there was another guard - patrolling on the other side. They would certainly take no chances, either - of surprise, or of being unable to dismantle their apparatus instantly at - the first alarm—and it would almost necessarily require more than - one man for that. He crept forward again, and again lay still. The man on - the track returned—passed by—and, close to the telegraph pole - now, two blurred shapes showed; and then, low, there came voices, and a - laugh. - </p> - <p> - But now the Hawk was wriggling swiftly away from the track. There was no - longer any need to examine the telegraph poles—the sense of touch - guiding him, he was following an insulated wire, two wires, that lay along - the ground, and, following these wires, he reached the barbed-wire fence - that enclosed the right of way, worked his way through, and here paused. - The wires had apparently disappeared abruptly into the ground. - </p> - <p> - For perhaps a minute the Hawk lay still, save that his fingers worked and - dug at loose earth; and then, his coat extended on either side of him, he - raised himself an inch or two from the ground, and, beneath his body, his - tiny flashlight glowed for a brief instant, and was restored to his - pocket. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk began to crawl forward again. He was on the edge of a ploughed - field—a piece of farm land. It was all very simple, and it was very - clear now. In the loose earth there was embedded a small, rough, wooden - box. In this receptacle was a junction box, and from the junction box, - through holes bored in the outer wooden casing, the wires continued on - into a small, flexible conduit. The Hawk smiled grimly. Lanson, and - Lanson's section men might search a thousand years and never solve the - problem. The Wire Devils were not limited to any one single or particular - telegraph pole. They were limited only in the radius of their operations - by the length of the “tap” wires they used. They had only to tap the line, - run their “tap” back, brush the loose earth away from the top of the - wooden casing, open the latter, connect with the junction box, and their - “tap” became an integral part of the railroad's telegraph system. It was - very simple! When they were not operating—they reversed the process. - They disconnected from the main line, coiled their “tap” wires up, hid - them in the wooden casing, restored the loose earth over the latter's - surface, and, save for one of those thousands of splices on the main line - incident to years of service and differing in no way from any of its - fellows, no sign or vestige of their work remained. It required, of - course, a lineman's outfit and the necessary appliances for work at the - top of the telegraph pole—but that the Wire Devils were adequately - equipped in this respect was so obvious as to make any consideration of - that detail absurd. For the rest, the little conduit laid in a ploughed - furrow with the earth spread back over it completed in perfection and - simplicity the unholy little scheme! - </p> - <p> - On the Hawk crawled across the field. All this premised a house, a farm - house probably, in the immediate vicinity. The ploughed field must, of - course, never be disturbed, therefore the tenancy of the land - axiomatically was for the moment vested in the Wire Devils, and——ah! - The Hawk, far enough from the railroad now to be secure from observation, - had risen from his hands and knees, and, in a crouched position, was - moving forward more rapidly. A small, wooded tract of land was showing a - little way in front of him; the house undoubtedly was there. - </p> - <p> - He gained the trees, made his way through what appeared to be an open - grove of pines, and, on the other side, at the edge of the clearing, - halted, and listened intently. He could just make out a little group of - buildings—the house itself, a barn, and one or two smaller - structures, probably wagon and implement sheds. No light showed from - anywhere, nor was there any sound. Cautiously, silently, the Hawk crossed - the clearing, and began to circuit the house. It was a little strange! The - place seemed absolutely deserted. Had he made a mistake? Naturally, he - could not follow the direction of the buried conduit! Was there another - house in the neighbourhood? He shook his head. There might be another - house, many of them for that matter, but the ploughed field, from its - location, surely belonged to this one. And yet—he halted once more, - and, listening again intently, looked sharply about him. - </p> - <p> - He was around on the other side of the house now, and now his eyes were - fixed on one of the lower windows. It was not the window of a lighted - room, yet still a faint glow seemed to emanate most curiously from it. He - crept toward it, crouched beneath it, listened again, then partially - straightening up—the window sill was but breast high—peered - in. Of the room itself he could see nothing—only the dull glow of - light, extremely faint, that came, he now discovered, from an open door - across the room. He tried the window; and then, finding the catch - unfastened, with a deft pressure of his fingers upon the sash, he began to - raise it slowly, silently. - </p> - <p> - And now into the Hawk's dark eyes there leaped for the second time that - night a triumphant flash. Yes, beyond doubt, beyond question, beyond - cavil, here was the heart of the spider's web at last! Muffled, low, - indistinct, barely audible, but equally unmistakable, there came the - clicking of a telegraph instrument. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk drew his mask from his pocket, slipped it over his face, swung - noiselessly over the window sill, and began to creep across the room - toward the opened door and the glow of light. And, as the clicking of the - sounder grew more distinct and there mingled with it now a murmur of - voices, the Hawk's lips compressed into a thin, straight line. If he were - caught, if a single inadvertent sound betrayed his presence; it needed no - effort of the imagination to picture what would follow. Death, if it were - sudden, would be a very merciful ending—but it would not be death, - if the Wire Devils could prevent it, until they had exhausted every means, - torture ingenious and devilish, for instance, to extort from him the - whereabouts of the plunder taken from them, and which they knew to be in - his possession. He knew much now, he knew their lair at last, and for a - moment, as these thoughts flashed across his mind, he was prompted to - retreat again while he had the chance. An inner voice called him a fool to - persist; another bade him go on. But the latter voice was right. He knew - much—but he did not know enough. - </p> - <p> - If his life was in peril in the one sense, it was equally in peril in the - other. He did not know <i>enough</i>. Who, for instance, was the master - brain behind the organisation? Where and how, for instance, was the next - trap they would set for him to be laid? - </p> - <p> - Brief snatches of conversation now began to reach the Hawk, as he drew - nearer to the door: - </p> - <p> - “... Twenty-five thousand dollars... Traders' National Bank... - superintendent's car... dummy package... counterfeit seals... that's all - right, but MacVightie says the Secret Service is sending a man by the name - of Birks out here....” - </p> - <p> - And then a voice at which the Hawk involuntarily held his breath, and to - which, at the door now, he listened in a sort of stunned incredulity, as - though he were indeed the sport of his own ears. It was a very quiet - voice, very soft, a velvet voice, a voice whose tones were cultured tones—and - whose language was the language of a pirate of the Spanish Main. - </p> - <p> - “Time enough to attend to this Birks personage—what I want is the - Hawk!” came in limpid tones. “And if I were not tied down here in this - damned and double-damned wheel chair, I would have twisted his throat for - him long ago. I furnish brains—and I am cursed with a miserable, - crawling mob of gnats upon whom they are wasted! That's it—gnats! - Gnats—insects—moths—anything that, if shown the light, - knows nothing but to singe its own wings!” The voice was not raised; it - was like a mother's, like a woman's voice, talking plaintively to a - spoiled child—but there was something absolutely deadly in its - inflection. - </p> - <p> - “The Ladybird!” The Hawk's lips framed the words without sound, and in a - sort of numbed hesitant way. “I—I thought he was dead.” - </p> - <p> - The telegraph sounder kept on spluttering at intervals, but it was only - stray stuff, routine railroad business, going over the wires. The Hawk, - flat on the floor and at one side of the jamb now, stared through the - doorway. It was the doorway leading to the cellar. The stairs, halfway - down, turned abruptly at right angles. The Hawk was rewarded with a view - of the stone foundation wall of the house, nothing more. But for the - moment the Hawk was lost to his immediate surroundings. The Hawk's - criminal acquaintanceship was wide, varied and intimate, and his mind was - still not entirely recovered from the startled amazement which the - recognition of that voice had brought him. He was quite fully conversant - with the Ladybird's record—only he had thought the Ladybird dead! - </p> - <p> - The Ladybird was not an ordinary criminal; instead of having spent twenty - years in Sing Sing, as was very justly his due, the police had spent those - twenty years in trying to put him there—and the Ladybird was still - to know the restrictions of a cage! Clever, fearless, cunning, Napoleonic - in the scope and breadth of his operations, the biggest scoops on the - blotters of the New York police, and, higher up, on the Federal records, - were laid to the Ladybird's door; but always, somewhere, the thread of - evidence broke—sometimes not till the door itself was reached—but - always it broke; the thread had never crossed the threshold. The man - himself was highly educated, a man now well on toward fifty. In the - underworld there were a thousand different stories of his early life—that - he had been a professor of science in a great university; that he came of - a rich family high up in the social scale; that he had been, in fact, - everything that the spice of imagination could supply to enhance the - glamour that surrounded him in the sordid empire of Crimeland, where so - many were his followers and worshippers. But here, too, the thread was - broken. None knew who he had been; none knew where he had come from. They - knew him only as one who was invulnerable against the attacks and efforts - of the police, as a peer of their own unholy realm, as one whose name was - a name to conjure with—for in the name, the “moniker” they - themselves had given the Ladybird on account of his effeminate voice and - manner, derision was neither intended nor implied. There were limits and - bounds to even the underworld's temerity, and none knew better than the - underworld the sinister incongruity of those effeminate characteristics. - Where another might bellow and roar his rage, and threaten, the Ladybird - lisped his words—and <i>struck</i>. - </p> - <p> - But he, the Hawk, had thought the Ladybird dead! The man had been badly - hurt a year ago in a railroad accident somewhere in the East, and the - report had spread, and had been credited even in the inner circles of the - underworld, that he was dead. The Hawk's lips twisted grimly. The Ladybird - had seen to it evidently that the report was not denied! And so, instead, - the man was a cripple now, weaving his plots, and scheming with that - black, cunning brain of his from a wheel chair! Well, he—— - </p> - <p> - The Hawk reached quickly into his pocket for pencil and paper—there - would be just light enough to enable him to see. The sounder was rattling - a brisk, tattoo, but it was no longer stray stuff. The message, in quick, - sure “sending,” was coming in the Wire Devils' secret code. Letter by - letter the Hawk jotted it down: - </p> - <p> - “pikxtfbmez byqetbqfsl kgqmbokufec srfijojeremb sthfgsbk bnfebvwq - jduuvsfpq xwfsnlipb ouflmnfsbg jeborr ettjupuj ohllsppn.” - </p> - <p> - The sounder ceased abruptly. There was silence. The Hawk replaced pencil - and paper in his pocket. The minutes passed—the message was - evidently being decoded. Then the Ladybird's voice: - </p> - <p> - “Very well! Code a message to Number One, and tell him Number Seven has - completed his work. Tell him again to take no chances by hurrying things; - that he is to wait until they are asleep. And warn him again that under no - circumstances is our hand to show in this to-night.” - </p> - <p> - A slight confusion followed from below—the scuf-, fling of feet, the - murmur of voices mingling with curious, indefinable metallic sounds. And - then suddenly the Ladybird's voice again: - </p> - <p> - “No—never mind that message! Damn my cursed, useless legs!” A flow - of unbridled oaths followed—the sacrilege the more horrible, the - menace the more ghastly for the languid, conversational tones in which the - blasphemy rolled so smoothly from the man's lips. “I'll trust to no - message tonight! Curse my legs! If I could only get there myself! Failure! - Failure! Failure! Gnats! But I will not have my plans ruined to-night by - any fool! Here, you, Dixer! Where's Dixer?” - </p> - <p> - “I'm here,” a voice answered. - </p> - <p> - “Listen, them!” murmured the Ladybird. “You haven't got any more brains - than any of the rest of them, but you're so cautious you wouldn't take a - chance on swapping a Mexican dollar for a gold eagle unless you had a - bottle of acid in your pocket—for fear the eagle was bad! I want - caution tonight, and I want orders obeyed to the letter, and that's all I - want. You take the runabout and go down there. You've lots of time. Tell - Number One you're in charge. I'll wire him to that effect. And now pay - attention to me so you won't have ignorance for an excuse! It's time the - police and the rags they call newspapers around here had a little - something to divert their attention—from us. They're getting to be - pests, and I want a lull in which to devote a little more attention to—the - Hawk. It's about time they understood we are modest enough not to hog all - the lime-light!” He laughed a little, a low, modulated, dulcet laugh, that - rippled like a woman's—but in the ripple there was something that - was akin to a shudder. “Twice in the last month, the Traders' National has - made remittances to its banking correspondent at Elkhead for the mine - country pay rolls and on account of general business. They did it very - neatly, they fooled us completely—because the remittances were only - piker amounts, and because it was only a question of letting them get fed - up enough with their own cleverness to pull a good one! They're pulling a - good one to-night!” The Ladybird's laugh rippled out again. “To outwit us, - and paying us the compliment of not daring to trust to ordinary means of - shipment, they've had a little arrangement in force with Lanson, the - division superintendent. It was very simple. Lanson, in his car, making a - trip over the division, could never interest us—certainly not! Why - should it? Only they did not count on Number Eleven <i>inside</i> the - bank. Very well! They wrapped their banknotes up in small packages, sealed - them with the bank's seal, wrapped these small packages up again into an - innocent looking parcel <i>without</i> a seal, and handed it over to a - trusted young employé by the name of Meridan—Paul Meridan. On both - the former occasions, Meridan left the bank at the usual closing hour, - took the parcel with him, and went home; but, later on, in the evening, he - slipped down to the railroad yard, boarded Lanson's private car, locked - the parcel up in a small cupboard at the bottom of the bookcase with which - the main compartment of the car is equipped, smoked a cigar with Lanson, - turned in, the car was coupled to the night express, and in the morning - Meridan delivered his package in Elkhead. - </p> - <p> - “That was the way it was done before, Dixer”—the Ladybird's voice, - if anything, grew softer—“and that's the way it is being done this - time—only there are <i>more</i> little sealed packages in the parcel - to-night. And to-night Meridan will sneak out of his home again, and go - down to the private car with the money as usual. <i>Your</i> way, yours - and the Butcher's, and that of the rest of you, would be to lay a - blackjack over Meridan's head on the way to the railroad yard, and snatch - the parcel. It's not <i>my</i> way. It's too hot, as it is, around here - now, and there's got to be a big enough noise made to attract attention to - the other side of the fence and give us a breathing spell. <i>Paul Meridan - stands for this to-night</i>. There's nothing new about one of those - ubiquitous 'trusted employés' going wrong, but everybody sucks in their - breaths just the same every time it happens, and the splash is always just - as big. Understand? Number One has got a dummy package identical in - appearance with Meridan's—each of the small packages is sealed with - the bank's seal in dark-green wax, and the whole is wrapped up with the - bank's special wrapping paper and tied precisely as is the one Meridan has - in his possession. Number Eleven did his work well. There was, of course, - no opportunity to effect the exchange in the bank itself, and the dummy - parcel had to be made up outside, but there was no difficulty in carrying - away enough wrapping paper and wax for the purpose—and, as far as - the seal was concerned, it was you, Dixer, who engraved it a week ago, - wasn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Dixer. “You took me off the new twenty-spot plate for that.” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly!” lisped the Ladybird. “Well, though this exchange could not be - effected in the bank, there was no great ingenuity required to get Meridan - to handle, perhaps only to lift, say, a pile of the bank's wrapping paper - from one position on a table or desk to another. If the under sheet - happened to be slightly smeared, and so left a not too evident, but still - well-defined finger print, it was, I am afraid, our friend Meridan's great - misfortune! That was one of the sheets Number Eleven took away with him. - Very good! Meridan delivers his package to his bank's correspondent in - Elkhead to-morrow morning. When the seals are broken, the little packages - are found to contain—piles of blotting paper, neatly and carefully - cut to the size of banknotes! There could be no reason for suspecting - Meridan, the trusted employé—no one would think of such a thing. He - had simply been the victim of a clever substitution. He was entirely - blameless. Naturally! That would be the way Meridan would reason, and that - would be the way they would figure <i>he had reasoned</i> when they read - the letter from 'a friend' that we are sending to-night, and which they - will receive in the morning. Meridan <i>did</i> have an ample opportunity - to effect the substitution himself. The letter simply suggests a close - inspection of the wrappers for finger prints, and directs attention to - Apartment B, on the ground floor of The Linden—a rather fashionable - abode for a young and newly married bank clerk—where there might - possibly be found certain articles such as, say, a counterfeit of the - bank's seal, a quantity of the bank's special dark-green wax, and some <i>superfluous</i> - sheets of the bank's particular wrapping paper!” - </p> - <p> - There was utter silence from the cellar below for an instant, then there - came a callous guffaw. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Some</i> plant, all right!” applauded a voice hoarsely. “And it was - twenty-five thousand dollars, you said, wasn't it, chief?” - </p> - <p> - Again that rippling laugh, soft, low and silvery. - </p> - <p> - “Twenty-five thousand dollars is correct,” corroborated the Ladybird. “And - now, Dixer, if you fail, you'll talk to me—you've seen all the - cards. Number One has a duplicate key to the private car, and a duplicate - key to the bookcase cupboard. Don't enter the car until you are sure - Meridan, Lanson and the porter are asleep. I want <i>caution</i>—and - I will settle with the man until he will wish he had never been born who - lets our hand show in this tonight. The car won't be moved from the siding - until the Eastern Express is made up at midnight, but don't touch the car - while it is on the siding at all if it means taking any chances; in that - case you and Number One can get berths in the Pullman, and, with the - private car right behind you, you can then make the exchange sometime - during the night. You'll find Number One and the rest of them in the old - freight shed near the roundhouse, and, with the private car right behind - you, you can then make the exchange sometime during the night. You'll find - Number One and the rest of them in the old freight shed near the - roundhouse, and——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was wriggling silently back across the floor. There was no scheme - on foot to-night that was aimed at him; there was, instead, twenty-five - thousand dollars—<i>in cash</i>. He gained the window, and swung to - the sill. Footsteps, hurried, sounded from the direction of the cellar - stairs. The Hawk dropped to the ground, stole noiselessly around the rear - of the house, and reached the shelter of the grove of trees. Here, he - paused, slipped his mask into his pocket, and, for a moment, a look of - puzzled hesitation was in his face; then, running again, but making a wide - detour to avoid the guarded section of the track, he headed for a point - that would intercept the right of way quite close to the Conmore station. - And, as he ran, he jerked his watch and flashlight from his pockets. It - was a quarter past nine. It was early yet, very early, and they certainly - would not make any attempt on the car much before midnight, but, for all - that, the Hawk, who was intimately conversant with the train schedules, - shook his head impatiently, as he sped along—there were twenty miles - between himself and Selkirk, and the quickest, as indeed the only way to - get there, since, unlike Dixer, he was not possessed of a runabout, was - slow at best. There were no westbound passenger trains scheduling Conmore - for two hours or more, and he would scarcely have dared to risk boarding - one at the station if there had been—there remained, then, not by - choice, but by necessity, the way freight. The way freight “made” Conmore - at about ten o'clock, and Selkirk at about eleven-thirty. - </p> - <p> - It would serve admirably, of course, if——He shook his head - again, and then laughed shortly. There were no “ifs”—he would be a - passenger on the way freight. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XVI—AN EVEN BREAK - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T took the Hawk - some twenty-five minutes to reach the spot he had selected as his - objective, a spot some fifty yards east of the Conmore siding switch, and - here he lay down in the grass under the shelter of the embankment. It was - very quiet, very still, very dark; there was nothing in sight save the - winking station lights in the distance, and the siding switch light nearer - at hand. - </p> - <p> - “Twenty-five thousand dollars!” said the Hawk very softly to himself. He - rolled the words like some sweet morsel on his tongue. “Twenty-five - thousand dollars—<i>in cash!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk spread out one side of his coat, and under its protection, in a - diminutive but steady little glow of light, the tiny flashlight played its - ray upon the sheet of paper across which he had scrawled the Wire Devils' - code message. - </p> - <p> - “Key letter—x. One-two-three—stroke at four,” muttered the - Hawk—and in parallel columns set down the letters of the alphabet, - one column transposed. - </p> - <p> - It took the Hawk much longer to decode the message than it had taken those - in the house to perform the same task. The Hawk was working under - difficulties. A stone, none too flat, served to rest his paper upon, and - he had only two hands with which to manipulate pencil, flashlight and - coat. At the expiration of perhaps half an hour the result of his work - looked like this: - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0242.jpg" alt="0242 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0242.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - And then the Hawk looked up—the throb and mutter of a distant train - was in the air. Pencil, paper and flashlight were restored to his pockets, - and he drew further back from the right of way. Far down the track the way - freight's headlight flashed into view. A minute passed, another, and still - another. And now, where the Hawk had lain, the ground was ablaze with - light—then black again; there was the roar of steam, a grind and - clash and shatter ricochetting down the string of cars, the scream and - shriek of brake-shoes, and then, a panting thing, as though the big mogul - were drawing in deep breaths after great exertion, the way freight came to - a standstill a few yards from the siding switch. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk crept forward, his eyes sweeping down the length of the train in - a keen, tense gaze. There was a flat car—it showed in a curious open - space, like a break in the black thread stretched along the track—but - it was too far away, and too perilously close to the caboose. His eyes - travelled back; and, being nearer to the train now he discerned a boxcar, - empty, its door open, almost in front of him. He crawled forward until he - was abreast of it, and until he lay close up against the rails, looked - cautiously up and down the length of the train, sprang to his feet, and in - an instant lay stretched out far back in the interior of the car. - </p> - <p> - The train moved forward, stopped again at the station, and again moved - forward. The Hawk reverted to his pencil, paper and flashlight. The code - message now read: - </p> - <p> - seal waxp aper plan tedb ehin dlar gefr amed pict ureo verm ante lmer idan - ssit ting room - </p> - <p> - It was now simply a matter of grouping the letters properly, and the Hawk - wrote out the message at the bottom of the sheet: - </p> - <p> - Seal, wax (and) paper planted behind large framed picture over mantel - Meridan('.s sitting room. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk stared at it grimly. - </p> - <p> - “'Yea,” said the Hawk, “I guess that's right! I guess the job is wished on - the young fellow to a finish; he wouldn't have a hope, and MacVightie - would never look any further.” The Hawk was silent for a moment. - “Twenty-five thousand dollars—in cash!” murmured the Hawk again. - </p> - <p> - The way freight ran slowly, very slowly—and it had already been from - ten to fifteen minutes late in reaching Conmore. At the next station the - train crew seemed possessed of a perversity infernal for shifting, - shunting and lifting cars. The Hawk, fuming with impatience, consulted his - watch, as they finally pulled out into the clear again. It was twenty-five - minutes of eleven. - </p> - <p> - The train rattled, bumped and jerked its way along—and at the - remaining intermediate stations there was more delay. And when, - approaching Selkirk at last, the Hawk consulted his watch again as the - train whistled, he was conscious that his impatience was tempered with a - sort of sullen, philosophical expectation of defeat. His luck had been too - abundant during the early part of the evening! It was now ten minutes of - twelve. He leaned out of the doorway, peering ahead. They were just - rolling into the Selkirk yard. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk swung himself out from the car, dropped to the ground, darted - quickly to one side over several spur tracks, and stood still. The way - freight, like a snail, dragged past him, opening, as it were, a panorama - of the scene in the yard: the low switch lights, red, green, purple and - white, like myriad and variegated fireflies hovering everywhere over the - ground; the bobbing lantern of a yardman here and there; the dancing gleam - of a headlight, as the little yard engine shot fussily away from a string - of lighted coaches—the Eastern Express—which it had evidently - just made up and backed down on the main line beside the station; while to - his right, up the yard, on one of the spurs, perhaps a hundred yards away, - its platform showing in the glow of the dome light, stood the - superintendent's car; and to his left, not quite so far up the yard, and - therefore nearer to him than the private car, the Hawk could make out the - black, irregular outline of the old freight shed. - </p> - <p> - The yard engine wheezed its way importantly up past the station, stopped, - a switch light winked, changed colour, and the shunter began to puff its - way back. The Hawk shrugged his shoulders resignedly. The game was up and - he was too late, unless Dixer had been forced to defer his attempt until - some time during the run that night, which was hardly likely. The yard - engine was backing down now to take the superintendent's car up to the - main line, preparatory to running it back and coupling it to the string of - coaches beside the station platform. The Hawk smiled in the darkness - without mirth, as he lost sight of the little switcher on the other side - of the private car. Well, at least, he could gamble on the one chance that - was left! There was only one thing to do—go over to the station and - get a Pullman berth. If Dixer and the Butcher—the Butcher was - “Number One”—were on the Pullman, the money was still in the private - car, and—— - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes narrowed suddenly. A man, crouched and running swiftly, - circled the end of the private car, and headed in the direction of the - freight shed—and like a flash the Hawk whirled and leaped forward, - running silently toward the same goal. The Hawk's brain, stimulated, keen, - alert, worked with lightning speed, and suddenly a strange low laugh was - on his lips. Their courses were convergent, his and that black running - shape's, and the other had not noticed him, and there appeared to be - something, a package, under the other's arm. The Hawk, as he ran, slipped - his mask over his face. Was it the dummy package—or the twenty-five - thousand in cash? Had the man succeeded, or had the yard engine, backing - down to couple on, disturbed him in his attempt just at the psychological - instant? Again that strange low laugh, in a panting breath, was on the - Hawk's lips. It did not matter! There was a way now. He was not too late. - If he got <i>both</i> of the packages he could not lose—and there - was a way to accomplish that, a wild, dare-devil way, but a <i>sure</i> - way! - </p> - <p> - It was black, pitch black, in near the shed, and the Hawk, with the - shorter distance to cover, reached the edge of the freight shed platform, - and crouched down on the track. Came the faint crash and bump of the yard - engine coupling to the private car; then the short, quick gasps of a - runner out of breath, and a flying form bounded across the tracks, sprang - to the platform, and dashed for the freight shed door—and the Hawk, - his muscles, rigid, taut as steel, released suddenly, as a coiled spring - is released, leaped and hurled himself upon the other. - </p> - <p> - There was a yell of dismay, of surprise and fury, that seemed to echo from - one end of the yard to the other. The man went down in a heap from the - impact. The package, from under his arm, rolled off along the platform—and - the Hawk in a swoop was upon it. He snatched it up, and running like a - deer now, headed for the yard engine and the private car. - </p> - <p> - Came another yell from behind him. He heard the freight shed door flung - violently open; and then, in grim emphasis of a sudden chorus of wild, - infuriated shouts from Dixer's waiting companions, the vicious tongue - flame of a revolver split the black, and the roar of the report - reverberated through the yard like a cannon shot. - </p> - <p> - And now from the yard itself, the roundhouse and the station came - answering shouts. On the Hawk ran—he was alongside the private car - now, which was already in motion—and now he was opposite the cab of - the yard engine. The fireman, at the sudden pandemonium, head thrust out, - was hanging in the gangway. The Hawk's automatic swung to a line with the - other's head. - </p> - <p> - “Get out!” gritted the Hawk coldly. “Both of you—you and your mate! - Get out—<i>on the other side!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The man, with a dazed oath, retreated, and the Hawk sprang through the - gangway. The engineer, jumping from his seat, hesitated, and in the yellow - light of the cab lamp looked for the fraction of a second into the muzzle - of the Hawk's automatic, and into the hard, uncompromising black eyes - behind the mask—and followed the fireman in a hasty exit through the - opposite gangway. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk snatched at the throttle, pulled it wider—and, like a beast - stung to sudden madness under the spur, the yard engine quivered, and in a - storm of exhausts, coughing the red sparks skyward from the stack, the - drivers racing, spitting fire as they sought to bite and hold the steel, - plunged forward. Ahead the way was clear to the main line, but behind——The - Hawk dropped his package on the floor of the cab, leaned suddenly far out - through the gangway, and as suddenly fired, his automatic cutting a lane - of flame through the darkness. He had fired at the ground, but his shot - had been effective. The engineer or the fireman, he could not distinguish - which, leaping to board the private car by the rear platform, leaped back - instead, and with a series of wild gesticulations, in which arms and fists - waved furiously, vanished in the darkness. - </p> - <p> - The yard engine, as though playing snap-the-whip with the private car - behind it, took the main line switch with a stagger and a lurch, and - straightened away into the clear. There was speed now, and the speed was - increasing with every second. The shouts, the yells, the cries, the - pandemonium from the yard was blotted out in the pound of the drivers and - the belch of the exhaust; and the station and switch lights were lost to - sight as engine and car flew on, heading west into the foothills. The Hawk - chuckled to himself. There would be wild confusion in the dispatcher's - office, and wild confusion all along the line west of Selkirk, as - regulars, extras and traffic of all sorts scurried for safety to the - sidings—but there would be no interference with <i>him!</i> Where - they would otherwise have ditched him, given him an open switch at the - first station and sent him to destruction without compunction, he - possessed, as it was, a most satisfactory hostage in the person of the - division superintendent, whom they would hesitate about sending to - eternity at the same time! - </p> - <p> - Possibly a minute and a half, two at the outside, had passed since he had - jumped through the gangway. He eased the throttle a little now, reducing - the speed to a rate more nearly commensurate with safety; and, placing the - package on the driver's seat, ripped off the outside wrapper. There was a - queer, hard smile on the Hawk's lips, as his fingers tore at the covering - of one of the small sealed packets within. Was it the dummy parcel—or - the twenty-five thousand in cash? Had Dixer succeeded—or was the - money still behind him there in the private car? - </p> - <p> - The cab lamp above the dancing gauge needles seemed to throw its meagre - yellow glow with strained inquisitiveness over the Hawk's shoulder—and - then the Hawk laughed softly, and laughed again. In his hands were - banknotes. He riffled the stack through his fingers. It was here, in his - possession—<i>twenty-five thousand dollars in cash!</i> - </p> - <p> - And he laughed again, and glanced around him—through the cab glass - at the white ribbons of steel glistening under the headlight's glare, - around the murky cab that in its sway and jolt seemed to endow a legion of - shadowy with movement, vitality and life, at the platform of the private - car, which he could see by looking along the edge of the tender, and - which, like its fellow at the rear, was bathed in the soft radiance of a - dome light. Well, he might have known from the fact that the occupants of - the car had not made any move as yet, at least from the forward end, that - they had been in bed and asleep when the disturbance began; and he might, - on that count, if he had stopped to think, have known that Dixer had - succeeded even before he, the Hawk, had put it to the proof by opening the - parcel. - </p> - <p> - A lurch of the cab sent him against the seat, and scattered the sealed - packages. He gathered them together again hurriedly. He had only to slow - down the engine a little more, jump to the ground, let the engine and car - go on, make his own way back through the fields, and he would be safe - unless—that strange, queer smile, half grim, half whimsical, was - flickering across his lips—unless he cared to risk his life for that - dummy package back there in the car behind, that contained nothing more - valuable than neatly trimmed pieces of blotting paper! - </p> - <p> - The smile lost its whimsicality, and the grimness gathered until his lips - drooped in sharp, hard lines at the corners of his mouth—and, - abruptly, lifting up the seat, he swept the packages of banknotes into the - engineer's box, leaped across the cab, and began to claw his way up over - the coal, making for the back of the tender. - </p> - <p> - “Twenty-five thousand in cash for me, and twenty years in the 'pen' for - the kid, doesn't look like an even break,” muttered the Hawk, as he clawed - his way up. “Maybe I'm a fool—I guess maybe I am—but it - doesn't look like an even break. You see,” said the Hawk, continuing to - commune with himself, “they'll know, of course, that some one who wasn't - Meridan tried to get the package, but with the package still there they'll - think that the 'some one' made a bull of it, and to-morrow morning when - they open the package and spot the finger prints, and get that bank seal - in Meridan's home, they'll hold him for it cold, because what's happened - around here to-night'll only look like somebody making a try for the goods - without knowing they were already gone. The kid wouldn't have a hope—the - Ladybird wasn't dealing any aces except to himself—the kid would go - up for having <i>previously</i> stolen the goods on his own account. Yes, - I guess he would—wax, seal and paper in his house to make dummy - packages with—yes, I guess the kid would stand a hot chance!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk rose to his feet at the rear of the tender, preparing to - negotiate a leap down over the ornamental brass platform railing of the - private car—and instantly flung himself back flat on his face on the - coal. The car door was flung open, and Lanson, the superintendent, in - pajamas, a revolver in his hand, stepped out on the platform. He was - closely followed by a young man—Meridan, the bank clerk, obviously—also - in pajamas, but apparently unarmed; and, behind Meridan again, came the - negro porter. - </p> - <p> - Lanson's voice, raised excitedly, carried to the Hawk: - </p> - <p> - “Damn it, there's no one in the cab! What the devil sort of a game is - this!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk edged up to the top of the coal again—and the next instant, - with catlike agility, he launched himself forward. Lanson, clambering over - the platform railing, with the very evident intention of making his way - via the tender to the throttle, gasped audibly over the racket of the - beating trucks, and in a sort of stunned surprise and irresolution - remained poised inertly on the railing, as the Hawk, clinging now with one - hand to the rear handrail of the switcher, his feet planted on the buffer - beam, thrust the muzzle of his automatic into Lanson's face. - </p> - <p> - “Drop that gun!” invited the Hawk in a monotone. - </p> - <p> - The weapon, from Lanson's hand, clattered down, struck the coupling, and - dropped to the track. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk spoke again—with unpleasant curtness: - </p> - <p> - “You—Sambo! Move back, and stand in the doorway! Yes—there! - Now, you, young man, you stand in front of Sambo—your back to him!” - And then, as Meridan too obeyed, though more slowly than the porter and - with a sort of defiant reluctance, the Hawk addressed the superintendent: - “Now, you—your name's Lanson, isn't it?” he snapped. “You, Lanson, - back up against the young fellow. Yes—that's it! Sambo, put your - hands on the young fellow's shoulders—and you, young fellow, do the - same on Lanson's!” The Hawk swung over to the' car platform—and then - the Hawk smiled uninvitingly. “It's the lock-step backwards,” he explained - insolently. “You get the idea, don't you? If either of you two behind lift - your hands, Lanson in front here pays for it. Now—back with you!” - </p> - <p> - They shuffled backward into the observation compartment of the car, - through this, and through a narrow side corridor, and emerged into the - main compartment of the car. The Hawk, guiding their movements by the - simple expedient of prodding the muzzle of his automatic none too gently - into Lanson's body, here ranged the three along the side of the car; and, - backing over to the opposite side himself, halted in front of the - bookcase, and stood surveying his captives with his former insolent stare. - The porter was patently reduced to a state of nervous terror; Meridan, - young, clean-cut, was white to the lips, and his lips quivered, but his - eyes, a hard, bitter light in them, never left the Hawk's face; Lanson, - too, was white, but there was a stern composure in his face that was - absent from the younger man's. - </p> - <p> - It was Lanson who spoke. - </p> - <p> - “I presume,” he said evenly, “that you are the abandoned scoundrel, known - as the Hawk, whom one of these days we are going—<i>to hang</i>.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk shrugged his shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “I haven't a calling card with me, but we'll let it go at that,” he - answered flippantly. - </p> - <p> - The car swayed and lurched suddenly; the trucks beat a louder tattoo as - they clattered over a switch; lights, a row of them from without, - scintillated through the car windows—and were gone. They were not - running perilously fast, but fast enough to prohibit the possibility of - any one, even an acrobatic brakeman from a stalled train, swinging aboard. - The Hawk laughed low. Also, he had been quite right—they had just - passed a station, and, thanks to the superintendent's presence, no attempt - had been made to interfere with the train. - </p> - <p> - From one of the Hawk's pockets—with his left hand—the Hawk - produced a small steel jimmy. He knelt down, and, still covering the three - men, inserted the jimmy in between the cupboard doors. There was a creak, - the rip and split and tear of rending wood and lock, and the doors flew - apart. The Hawk reached in, laughed again, as, with the dummy package - under his arm, he stood up and began to back away toward the corridor - leading to the forward end of the car—and the laugh died on his - lips. In the winking of an eye Meridan had swung his hands from Lanson's - shoulders, and was springing forward. - </p> - <p> - “You'll never get it!” The boy's voice was a hoarse whisper. “Not while I——” - </p> - <p> - “Keep away, you fool!” snarled the Hawk, and fired—at the floor. His - brain seemed instantly in a riot of ironical mockery. He could not fire at - the boy—it was the boy who had brought him here—and now the - other was upon him—like a wild cat—snatching at the automatic. - </p> - <p> - It was only another step backward to the opening of the corridor, and the - Hawk gained it; but still the boy clung on, fighting furiously. He saw - Lanson and the porter leap forward, but for the moment that mattered - little—no more than one at a time could get at him in the confined - and narrow space here. To hold the package rendered his left arm useless. - He dropped the package to the floor, and kicked it deftly back behind him, - as the boy, with both hands, wrenched and battled madly for possession of - the automatic. - </p> - <p> - They were swaying now, the two of them, bumping their shoulders and their - arms and elbows against first one side of the corridor and then the other. - There was the crash of splintering glass as they lunged into a window—another - crash, louder, more ominous, and with it a tongue of flame, as the - automatic went off in their hands—and something like a red-hot iron - seared the Hawk's side, and a blur came before his eyes. - </p> - <p> - He reeled, recovered himself, and, massing all his strength for the - effort, as, with a cry of triumph, Meridan closed again, he tore himself - free from the other's grasp. There was one way—he was still in - possession of the automatic—only one way now. - </p> - <p> - With a lightning swing he whipped the hutt of the weapon to the other's - head, backed rapidly away as the boy slid a limp thing to the floor, and, - picking up the package as he moved backward, holding the narrow corridor - with his automatic, though Lanson was kneeling now at Meridan's side, he - reached the observation compartment, whirled, ran for the door, opened it, - and stepped out on the platform. - </p> - <p> - He stood panting here, a little dizzy, a sort of nauseating weakness upon - him, as he fumbled in his pocket. He was not as quick as usual in his - work, not as expert now in the use of his skeleton keys, but, swiftly for - all that, he locked the car door. - </p> - <p> - The car and the engine seemed to sway and lurch and pitch and toss as they - had never done before. Was the speed greater? What was it? He stumbled and - nearly fell as he climbed to the tender. He fell, unable to maintain his - footing in the shifting coal, as he reached the cab. There was something - hot and wet that seemed to be working its way down his leg; his side was - giving him intolerable pain. - </p> - <p> - He looked at the package in his hands, looked at it queerly for a moment, - and then his drawn lips parted in the old whimsical smile, as he lurched - forward and opened the fire-box door. The red glow filled the cab and - spread upward, tinging the sky with a rosy light—and the Hawk thrust - the package into the fire, and, swaying unsteadily, watched it burst into - flame. - </p> - <p> - He glanced at the gauge now. The steam was dropping rapidly. He swept his - hand across his eyes. He had two things to do, and it seemed as though his - brain clogged in its decision as to which he should do first—he had - to get more coal on the fire, or else the engine would run down, and he - did not want it to run down, for it must keep on going a long way, a very - long way if possible, after he left it; and he must stop the flow of blood - from his wound somehow, or else—— - </p> - <p> - He put coal into the fire-box. It was painful, dizzy work, and he spilled - a great deal of it, and the lumps rolled over the floor of the cab, and he - stumbled over the lumps. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's teeth were biting into his bloodless lips, as he finally shut - the fire-box door, and, staggering to the side of the cab, lifted up the - engineer's seat again. Here, under the packages of banknotes, he found a - bunch of waste and some cord; and then, reeling with the lurch of the cab, - reeling with his own weakness that only an iron nerve held back from - mastering him, he examined his wound, found it, though painful and - bleeding profusely, to be only a bad flesh wound, and, making a thick pad - of the waste, he laid it against his side, and bound it there by passing - the cord tightly several times around his body. It was a crude bandage, - but it should, at least, check the flow of blood—afterwards, if he - had luck, there would be opportunity for a better one! - </p> - <p> - His mind reverted, seemingly without volition of his, to the fight in the - car, and he spoke aloud. - </p> - <p> - “I guess,” said the Hawk, “I didn't hit him as hard as twenty years in the - 'pen' would have hit him—I guess I didn't hit him that hard.” - </p> - <p> - He rested for a moment, sitting on the floor of the cab; then from the - engineer's box he removed the sealed packages, the torn outside wrapper, - and likewise an evening newspaper which he found there. He wrapped up the - banknotes in the newspaper, tied the bundle securely with the remainder of - his cord, replaced the seat, and, crouched low enough on the floor to be - protected by the tender from, say, a shot fired through the observation - window of the private car, kept his eyes fastened on the right of way - ahead. - </p> - <p> - The next station must be close at hand, and there was but one way in which - he could get back to Selkirk—and he <i>must</i> get back. There was - that letter—the Ladybird's letter—that would be received in - Elkhead in the morning! His brain was clearer now. He must be on Extra No. - 92, the eastbound fast freight's, running time, and she must be somewhere - very near here, must have taken to the siding at the next station probably - to avoid him, and to give clearance to what was, undoubtedly now, coming - behind him—a detective's special, with MacVightie, naturally, in - command. - </p> - <p> - He straightened up painfully. Ahead, he had caught the glint of switch and - station lights. The siding was on the left-hand side. He moved to the - left-hand side of the cab, and lay on the cab floor by the gangway. That - letter! It seemed to obsess him now. If, when the letter was read, the - bank seal, the wax, and the wrapping paper were <i>found</i> hidden in the - boy's home, the fact that some one—he, the Hawk—had stolen the - package from the car in no way changed anything. The boy's apparent prior - guilt was as glaring as ever. On the other hand, with the package gone, - and if the seal and those other things were <i>not</i> found, the letter - became simply the expression of some practical joker's perverted sense of - humour, or the irresponsible work of some fool or crank. He frowned in a - sort of dazed irritation. He had known that all along, hadn't he? He had - known when he started after that dummy package in the first place that he - would have to go <i>all</i> the way—so why was his mind dwelling now - on useless repetitions! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk raised his head slightly—a deafening racket was in his - ears. The freight was here—on the siding. He was roaring past it - now. He could not hope for an open boxcar on the fast freight. His eyes - were searching eagerly for a flat car—a flat car loaded with - anything that would afford him shelter. Yes—there was one—two - of them—loaded with steel girders. - </p> - <p> - The roar subsided; he was past the station and into the clear again—and - now the Hawk was at the throttle, easing the speed craftily. He did not - dare to “shut off” entirely, for, behind there at the station, they would - know, if the sound of the exhaust ceased, that he had stopped. He checked - a little with the “air” now. And now, calculating the speed reduced enough - to risk a jump, he opened the throttle to its former notch, took up his - newspaper package, lowered himself to the bottom gangway step, and swung - off. - </p> - <p> - He rolled down the embankment. The switcher and private car went by, and, - gradually gaining speed again, racketed on up the right of way. With a - groan, the Hawk readjusted his displaced and makeshift bandage, and began - to make his way back toward the station. If he had slowed enough to allow - of a safe landing for himself, he had, of course, given Lanson the same - opportunity—but he had no fear of that. Lanson might have jumped, - but Meri-dan, whom he had left unconscious, <i>couldn't</i>, and Lanson - would stick to Meridan. As for the porter—the Hawk shrugged his - shoulders, as he looked about him—the porter had <i>not</i> jumped. - </p> - <p> - He stumbled on. If he were right, if they had started a posse on a special - in pursuit, he had plenty of time. The fast freight could not pull out - until the special had gone by. It seemed a long way, an interminable way, - an immeasurably greater distance than he had covered coming up on the - switcher. And then, at last, the tail-lights of the stalled freight came - into sight around a bend, and grew brighter. And then, too, there came - from the eastward the rumble of an approaching train. He grew cautious - now, and, creeping far out from the side of the track, passed the caboose, - crept in again toward the line of cars, located the position of the flat - cars, climbed aboard one of them, and crawled in under the shored-up - girders. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk lay very quiet. He was weak again, and his head swam, and he was - dizzy. An engine and car—MacVightie and his posse presumably—passed - by on the main line; and then, presently, the freight, with a clatter and - bang echoing from one to another down the length of cars, drew out of the - station. - </p> - <p> - When the Hawk moved again, it was as the train whistled and slowed for the - Selkirk yard. Perhaps twenty minutes had passed—the fast freight, - with no stops and already late, had made time. He put his mask in his - pocket, wormed his way out from under the girders, and peered ahead and - behind. They were just crawling into the upper end of the yard. He slid to - the ground, found himself a little more steady on his feet, slipped across - the spur tracks, dodged in between two buildings that flanked the side of - the yard, and came out on the street. - </p> - <p> - Under a street lamp the Hawk looked at his watch. It was one o'clock. He - swayed a little again, but his lips set hard. There was not very much - time. Somewhere up the line the switcher and the private car would come to - a stop, and they would bring Meridan home—and once that happened, - with its consequent stir in Meridan's apartment, it would be impossible to - get in there, and the game, as far as the boy was concerned, would be up. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk, as he forced himself along the street, “I guess - maybe that's right—I guess maybe I'm a fool—but it wasn't an - even break.” - </p> - <p> - A street car at the next corner took him across town; and fifteen minutes - more found him standing in the unlighted vestibule of the Linden - Apartments. The tiny flashlight swept the ground floor apartment doors—and - an instant later the door of Apartment B yielded noiselessly to the deft - manipulation of a skeleton key. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk closed the door, and stole forward. It was a rather fashionable - apartment, as the Ladybird had said, but it was also a very small one, - small enough to warrant the presumption that the young couple did not keep - a servant, and that there would probably be no one there except Meridan's - wife. A door at his right, as he felt out in the darkness, he found to be - open. He listened—for the sound of breathing. There was nothing. The - flashlight winked—and the Hawk stepped forward into the room. It was - the sitting room. The flashlight was sweeping about now in an inquisitive - little ray. A door, closed, leading to an inner room, was on his right; - facing him was a heavily portièred window, the portières drawn; and a - little to the left of the window was the mantel. - </p> - <p> - The flashlight's ray wavered suddenly, unsteadily—and the Hawk - caught at the nearest thing to him, the table in the centre of the room, - for support, a sense of disaster upon him, a realisation that, lashed on - as it might be by force of will, there was a limit <i>to</i> physical - endurance, and that the limit had well nigh been reached. His hand brushed - across his eyes, and brushed across them again to clear his sight, as he - tried to follow the flashlight's ray to where it played jerkily on a - massively framed picture over the mantel. He bit his lips now, bit them - until they bled—and moved forward—and laid his parcel of - banknotes on the floor that he might have the use of both hands—and - climbed upon a chair, and felt in behind the picture. Yes—it was - there! His fingers closed on a roll of paper, twitched and shook a little - as they pulled it out—and a small package from inside the roll fell - with a slight thud to the mantel, and from the mantel bounded off to the - floor. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk caught his breath, as he listened, and descended from the chair. - </p> - <p> - “Clumsy fool!” he gritted fiercely, as he knelt on the floor. “I—I - guess I'm pretty near the count to do a thing like that.” - </p> - <p> - The flashlight came into play again, and disclosed a metal seal and - several pieces of dark-green wax peeping through the paper wrapper that - had been split apart in the fall. He picked them up, and put them in his - pocket; then, loosening his vest, he tucked the roll of wrapping paper - inside his shirt. Well, it was done now; he had only to get back to his - room, and there was surely strength enough left for that. Again his hand - swept across his eyes, and pressed hard against his temples—and - then, stooping swiftly, he clutched at his package of banknotes on the - floor beside him, and stood up, rigid and tense. - </p> - <p> - Out of the darkness, almost at his elbow, with a startling clamour that - clashed and shattered through the silence, and seemed to set a thousand - echoes reverberating through the room, came the ringing of the telephone. - </p> - <p> - Some one in the inner room stirred. The Hawk drew back hurriedly into the - window recess behind the portières. The telephone rang again. There came a - step now, and now the room was flooded with light, and a woman, a dressing - gown flung hastily over her shoulders, crossed from the inner doorway to - the table, and picked up the instrument. - </p> - <p> - “Yes?... Hello!... What is it?” she asked, a little sleepily. “Yes, this - is Mrs. Meridan... <i>What?</i>... My husband!” Her voice rang out in - sudden terror. “What did you say?” she cried frantically. “Yes, yes—the - Hawk—my husband—unconscious... You are not telling me all the - truth—you are trying to keep the worst from me—for God's sake - tell me the truth!... Not dangerous?... You are sure—you are <i>sure?</i>... - Yes, yes, I understand!... At the station in half an hour... I will be - there.” - </p> - <p> - Mechanically she hung the receiver on the hook, and clung for a moment to - the table's edge, her face grey and bloodless; and then her lips moved, - and one hand clenched until the tight-drawn skin across the knuckles was - an ivory white. - </p> - <p> - “I pray God they get this Hawk!” she whispered. “I pray God they do! And I - pray God they <i>kill</i> him! The coward! The miserable, pitiful coward!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's fingers were digging at the window sill, because somehow his - knees were refusing to support his weight. What was she saying? He did not - quite understand. Well, it did not matter, she was gone now into that - other room—only she had left the light on. It was very strange the - way his hand on the window sill seemed to keep pulling his body around in - circles! - </p> - <p> - Time had lost concrete significance to the Hawk. She appeared again, fully - dressed now, and, switching off the light, went out into the hall, and the - front door closed behind her. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk parted the portières, and staggered across the room—and, a - moment later, a dark form, a newspaper parcel clutched under its arm, - emerged stealthily from the vestibule, and, reeling like a drunken man, - disappeared in the darkness down the street. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XVII—A HOLE IN THE WALL - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE wound was - healed—partially, at least. If the Hawk had unduly shortened his - period of convalescence, he was perhaps justified, and not wholly without - excuse! He stood now in the black shadows, hugged close to the wall of the - roundhouse. And now he moved stealthily forward, until, from a crouched - position, he straightened up against the wall at the side of one of the - few windows which were lighted. Lanson had strolled aimlessly across the - tracks from the station some ten minutes before, and, five minutes later, - MacVightie had followed Lanson—to their chosen spot for secret - conferences, this little “cubbyhole” of a turner's office in the - roundhouse, as the Hawk, from more than one experience in the past, had - very good reason to know. They were in there now, and, as the Hawk was - likewise exceedingly well aware, the events of the next few hours, and - incidentally his own particular movements, depended very pertinently upon - the movements of MacVightie and Lanson. - </p> - <p> - Lanson's voice in quietly modulated tones reached the Hawk: - </p> - <p> - “Yes, both trains are on time to the minute; I've taken care of that. And - so far there doesn't seem to be a hitch anywhere, and with your men - boarding the trains west of here at different stations along the line, and - mixing quietly with the passengers, I don't see how any one could be the - wiser on that score. Yes, it looks as though everything were all right—eh, - MacVightie?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know; I hope so,” MacVightie's deep growl came in reply. “Anyhow, - we've carried out instructions from Washington, and it's up to the Secret - Service crowd as to how it pans out.” - </p> - <p> - “No, it isn't!” declared Lanson, still quietly. “It isn't up to a soul on - earth except those of us who have got the responsibility of this division - on our shoulders! I believe the plan is a good one, but because it came - from Washington doesn't let us out—not for a minute! What about - Birks; has he shown up yet?” - </p> - <p> - “Not yet,” MacVightie answered—and swore suddenly under his breath. - “And I don't mind admitting that the crowd down there in Washington make - me tired! It's over two weeks ago that I put it up to them. They said they - would take the matter under consideration, and in any case would send one - of their men, this Birks, out here to make an investigation. But nothing - doing! Then, as you know, I wrote them again a week ago, when we knew this - Alaskan gold shipment was coming through, and you know their reply; they - outlined a plan for us, and stated definitely that Birks would be on deck - to-night. Maybe he will—in time to tell us what we <i>should</i> - have done!” - </p> - <p> - “The Secret Service isn't a police force,” said Lanson tersely. “The only - excuse they would have for acting at all would be if your pet theory were - correct—that the Hawk and his gang, apart from their systematised - murders and robberies, were also the ones who have been flooding the - country with those counterfeit ten-dollar notes. You had no actual proof - to offer, and Washington evidently hasn't felt quite so sure about it as - you have. However, there's no use discussing that to-night. If Birks shows - up, all right; if he doesn't—well, I don't see that he could make - any difference one way or the other now.” - </p> - <p> - There was silence for a moment, then Lanson spoke again. - </p> - <p> - “What worries me as much as anything,” he said slowly, “is the express - company making a shipment of money at the same time—forty thousand - dollars in the car's safe. Of course, it's logical enough with a half - million to guard anyway, but it's an added incentive to those, devils, - that's all. A half million In raw gold isn't any easy thing to pick up and - walk off with, and there's more than an even chance that the Wire Devils - might pass it up on that account; but with banknotes alone in so large an - amount——” - </p> - <p> - “If they know about it!” interrupted MacVightie brusquely. “And it's not - likely they do! You can't send a heavily guarded express car on from the - coast and keep it mum that gold is going through, especially when the - papers print pictures of the cases being swung out of the steamer's hold - on arrival from Alaska—but the other's different. I'm not banking on - them passing up the gold on any account, though they may, at that; but in - any case they'll be welcome to open the safe now, won't they?” - </p> - <p> - Again there was an instant's silence; and the Hawk now, as though fearful - of losing a word that might be spoken, strained forward closer still to - the side of the window. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that's right!” Lanson laughed now in a grimly humorous way. “It's in - the biggest case of all! Yes, I guess it's all right, MacVightie; anyway, - another hour or two will tell the story. The shift should have been made - at Mornleigh without any trouble, and the Limited will come through here - without a thing in the express car except the guards! If they hold her up - anywhere on the division, that's all they'll find—the guards, and - one of your posses. Yes, it ought to work.” Lanson's voice took on a - curiously monotonous drone, as though he were checking over the details in - his own mind, and unconsciously doing so audibly. “The Limited takes water - at Mornleigh, and No. 18 always takes the siding there to let the Limited - pass, so there's nothing in that to arouse suspicion. In the darkness, - with the door of the Limited's express car only a foot or so away from the - door of No. 18'. baggage car, and a picked crew to transfer the gold, I - don't see how there could be any 'leak.' The Limited pulls in here with - its guarded express car—everything looks just as those Wire Devils - would expect it to look—and they know the gold left the coast on - that train, and in that car. Yes, I think we win to-night. If they hold up - the Limited they'll catch a Tartar, and without any risk on our part as - far as the gold is concerned. How many men in the posse scattered through - the cars on that train?” - </p> - <p> - “Twenty,” said MacVightie tersely. - </p> - <p> - “Good!” said Lanson approvingly. “That ought to be enough to round them up—if - they nibble at the bait at all. And if they don't, if they let the Limited - go through unmolested, it will be pretty nearly safe to assume, as I said - before, that they figure gold in the bulk is too awkward a thing to - handle, and too hard to get away with. But even there we are not taking - any chances; they <i>might</i> have discovered that it had been - transferred. How many men in the posse on No. 18?” - </p> - <p> - “The same number,” replied MacVightie—and then MacVightie's fist - crashed down into the palm of his hand. “I hope they start something!” he - exclaimed savagely. “I'd give a year's salary to get to grips with them, - and if I ever do I'll clean 'em out! And I'll see that some of them, and - particularly that damned Hawk, swing for it! I haven't forgotten the - murder of old Mother Barrett's boy in the express car that night, or a - dozen others, or——” - </p> - <p> - “That's your end of it, MacVightie,” said Lanson grimly. “Mine's to see - five hundred thousand dollars' worth of bullion and forty thousand in cash - over this division and safely on its way East. If the plan——” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, slipping silently out of the shadows, began to cross the - railroad yard, heading for the station. - </p> - <p> - “Forty thousand dollars,” said the Hawk softly to himself—and - chuckled suddenly. “Forty thousand dollars in a big packing case! The <i>biggest</i> - case of the lot, he said, wasn't it?” The chuckle died away, and the - Hawk's face grew hard. “I don't know!” muttered the Hawk. “It's no cinch! - I guess there'll be something doing to-night!” - </p> - <p> - A glance at the illuminated dial of the clock on the station tower showed - it to be half past eight, as the Hawk stepped to the platform. He - hesitated an instant in indecision, then went on into the general waiting - room. There was ample time. The Limited was not due for another hour; and - No. 18—in which alone he had now any concern—did not schedule - Selkirk until forty minutes after the Limited. Nearly two hours! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, standing in the doorway of the waiting room, ostentatiously - consulted a time-table which he drew from his pocket, frowned, glanced - about him, and, finally, approaching the news-counter, which appeared for - the moment to be minus an attendant, helped himself to a newspaper, tossed - a copper on top of the pile, and appropriated the nearest seat. The Hawk - opened his paper in front of him—and over the top of the paper - inspected with some interest the view afforded by the open doorway of the - news-counter, which was directly facing him and but a few feet away. The - news-counter was a long, narrow affair, glass enclosed, with big sliding - windows, making one corner of the waiting room, and at its further end - boasted a little office of its own. The door of this private domain was - closed, but it, too, was glass panelled, and the apparent absence of any - attendant was explained. The Hawk permitted a curious smile to flicker - across his lips behind his newspaper. Inside the little office a man, - sprawled forward in a chair, his head resting on his arms, which were - outflung across the desk in front of him, appeared to be sound asleep and - magnificently oblivious to anything so grossly material as business. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk shifted his glance, this time for a more critical survey of the - waiting room. He found himself, strangely enough, quite sheltered from - observation. True, it was “between trains,” and there were very few people - in the room—he had noted several women and an elderly man with a - little boy, as he had come in—but these were now screened from his - view by the large, boxed-in posts, or pillars, that, in the remodelling - and enlargement of the station some years before, had sought to combine, - evidently, ornamentation with stability. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes, under cover of his newspaper, reverted to the man at the - desk. The minutes passed—five, ten of them. The man's hours were - long undoubtedly, and usually there were two in charge of the - news-counter, which might perhaps account for the man's weariness, and the - profound slumber that was possible even in such an uncomfortable position! - The Hawk turned to the editorial page of his newspaper. There were almost - two hours before No. 18 was due, and, though he had a little business of a - purely personal and intimate nature to transact before then, there was - time in abundance and to spare, and it might possibly be utilised as - profitably here as anywhere else. In any case, there was usually an - editorial diatribe, interesting principally for the virulent language in - which it was couched, anent the Hawk and the Wire Devils, with whose - leadership he, the Hawk, was universally credited. The Hawk smiled thinly. - If leadership was vested in the lion's portion of the spoils, then - MacVightie, and Lanson, and the newspapers, and the public generally were - unquestionably right—but, since those spoils had been snatched from - under the noses of the Wire Devils, thanks to his possession of their - secret code, the Wire Devils and the Ladybird in particular, that peer of - the underworld who, as he had discovered a few nights ago, was the moving - spirit of the gang, held a very different and even more decided opinion on - the subject! - </p> - <p> - He folded the paper over, and sprawled himself out lazily on his seat—but - if the editorial in question was on the sheet before him, he did not see - it. The man at the desk raised his head, yawned, stretched himself, and, - as though wearily resuming his work, reached into a small drawer that - stood open in the upper section of the roll-top desk, took out a pad of - paper, and began to write. - </p> - <p> - Still another five minutes passed; and then the man tossed his pencil away - from him, and reached out for the telephone at his elbow. But now he - seemed to hesitate, then evidently changed his mind. He pushed back his - chair, stood up, tore the sheet of paper on which he had been writing from - the pad, replaced the pad in the drawer, closed the drawer, and, turning - quickly, opened the office door. He came down the narrow space behind the - news-counter itself, stepped out into the waiting room, glanced hurriedly - about him, and, breaking suddenly into a run, disappeared through the - waiting room door in the direction of the platform. - </p> - <p> - The Hawks lassitude seemed suddenly to have vanished. In a flash he had - covered the few feet of space that separated his seat from the doorway of - the news-counter, and now, crouched low, hidden by the counter itself, he - darted silently for the little office, gained it, wrenched open the drawer - of the desk—and over the Hawk's set, tense features there flickered - again that curious smile. Faint, muffled, but none the less distinctly, - there came from the interior of the drawer, which, as he reached in his - hand, he found was open through to the wall, the clicking of a telegraph - sounder. But, while he listened, the Hawk was working with breathless - haste. His fingers closed on the pad of paper, and tore off the topmost - sheet. Without folding or crushing the paper, he laid it carefully inside - his vest, buttoned his vest over it again, closed the drawer of the desk - noiselessly—and in another instant was lolling again in his seat in - the waiting room, apparently immersed once more in his newspaper. - </p> - <p> - It had taken the Hawk a matter of less than a minute to go and come, but - for all that his margin of safety had been small. The man returned almost - instantly, and again entered the office. The Hawk, finding that for once - the editorial which might have afforded him a genuine, if passing, - interest, was absent, turned another page of the paper, spent a few - minutes in the somewhat unprofitable perusal of what proved to be massed - columns of “Help Wanted” and “Situations Vacant” advertisements, and, - finally, throwing the paper down on the seat beside him, got up leisurely, - and strolled out through the main entrance of the station to the street. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk crossed the road, and slipped into the lane that was almost - opposite the station. This being accustomed ground to the Hawk, he made - his way quickly along in the blackness, reached the first intersecting - street, dove through the doorway of the dirty and squalid three-story - building, the ground floor of which was occupied by a saloon, and, - mounting the narrow staircase, entered the room that was directly over the - saloon on the first landing. The Hawk locked the door behind him. If his - temporary abode in Selkirk City could be so designated, the Hawk was at - home. - </p> - <p> - He switched on the electric light, drew a chair up to the cheap and - somewhat dilapidated table that stood against the wall opposite the door, - and from under his vest took out the sheet of paper he had purloined a few - minutes before. He spread it out eagerly before him on the table, scanned - it closely, and into his dark eyes there came a half mocking, half - triumphant gleam. - </p> - <p> - “I thought so!” murmured the Hawk. “He didn't dare telephone it. I thought - the messages must be coming in pretty hot to-night—the other fellow - must have gone up to the East End to shoot some mighty important reply - back, or else he'd never have left his pal short-handed. It's no wonder I - never tumbled to that lay until the Ladybird opened the bag! I didn't - recognise those news-counter fellows, did I? Why should I? They're new - ones just breaking into the game, or they'd never have pulled a fool stunt - like this!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk bent over the paper. In places the impression left by the pencil - was faint and, indeed, illegible, and had not come through from the upper - sheet at all; but the Hawk patiently and painstakingly settled himself to - his task. The first few lines were but a confused and, to all outward - appearances, meaningless jumble of letters run together—one of the - Wire Devils' code messages. And here, if this had been all, the Hawk would - have been hopelessly astray; but lower down on the sheet the man had - decoded the cipher, and here, where letters and words were too faintly - impressed on the paper or were missing altogether, the Hawk was able to - supply them by following the general sense of the message. He began by - tracing over the impressions carefully with a sharp lead pencil, and at - the expiration of a few minutes was staring, a grim smile on his lips, at - the following: - </p> - <p> - “Gold transferred to No. 18 at Momleigh. Keep away from Limited. Probably - big posse on No. 18. Every man will join Number One on Train 18 to-night. - Those boarding No. 18 at Selkirk must on no account excite suspicion. All - other details to stand.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's remark, as he reached into his inside coat pocket and brought - out several small slips of paper, which he laid on the table in front of - him, was seemingly quite irrelevant. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk. “I've been curious ever since yesterday to get a - look at that desk—yes, I guess the Ladybird's no fool!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk arranged the slips of paper in what appeared to be a sort of - chronological order, and studied them for a moment. Prefacing the message - he had just obtained, these others, messages that he had intercepted at - intervals during the preceding few days, made a complete and decidedly - enlightening record. The first one, decoded, read: - </p> - <p> - “Reported movement of half million in gold to be made from coast. Number - Three will proceed to coast, verify, and secure details.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk nodded shortly. Number Three was the Bantam. He passed on to the - next message: - </p> - <p> - “Gold coming through on Limited on Thursday night. Express car well - guarded. Numbers One, Seven, Eight, Six and Four will board Limited at - different stopping points west of Mornleigh; all others to hold themselves - in readiness at Selkirk.” - </p> - <p> - Again the Hawk nodded. This was Thursday night! Mornleigh was the - Limited's last stop west of Selkirk. Number One was the Butcher, and the - others were—he shrugged his shoulders. As he had once facetiously - remarked, somebody must have left the door of Sing Sing open! - </p> - <p> - There was still another message: - </p> - <p> - “Hold up train three miles East of Echo Rock. Detach express car, and run - to Willow Creek bridge. Load gold on wagon, and disperse.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk consulted his watch. It was a quarter past nine. He took out his - pipe, lighted it, put his feet up on the table, and gathering together the - various slips of paper abstractedly began to tear them into shreds. - </p> - <p> - Pieced together, the whole affair was quite simple. In a word, every move - that had been made by Larson and MacVightie at the instigation of the - Secret Service men, and, presumably, in particular by one Birks, was known - to the Ladybird and the Wire Devils. Lanson and MacVightie had waited - until the last moment before making the transfer at Mornleigh, the final - stop before Selkirk, but the Bantam was already accompanying the gold east - on the Limited, and, added to the Bantam by that: time, there would have - been those others who were detailed to board the Limited at the various - points still further west of Mornleigh. - </p> - <p> - It was very simple. The Bantam had not been asleep at Mornleigh, and it - was not the contents of the express car alone that had been transferred - there—the Bantam and his companions had likewise transferred - themselves to No. 18! Also, either because the Bantam had spotted some of - MacVightie's men, or because logical deductions in the Ladybird's very - shrewd brain had led to that conclusion, it was known that No. 18 - harboured a posse. It was evident, however, that this in no way dismayed - the Ladybird; and it was equally evident that both Lan-son and MacVightie - were very far astray, in their estimate of the nerve and resourcefulness - of the brain behind the Wire Devils' organisation, to have, even - considered it as a possibility that the physical difficulty in the way of - handling a half million in raw gold would have caused the Ladybird to - hesitate an instant in an effort to get his hands upon it. A half million—was - a half million! That was the answer! The only change the Ladybird had seen - fit to make was to mobilise, as it were, the entire, strength of the Wire - Devils to offset MacVightie's posse. Apart from that, according to the - final message, the prearranged plan was to stand. - </p> - <p> - It was not a plan that was markedly original, paralleling very closely, as - it did, the Wire Devils' removal of the safe from the express car of the - last Mail on a certain night not very long since, but this could hardly be - held up against the Ladybird—there were limitations to originality, - and originality was a secondary consideration as compared with feasibility - and success. Echo Rock station was two stations east of Conmore, the Wire - Devils' headquarters—just far enough distant to preclude the - immediate search from spreading to the neighbourhood of Conmore, and yet - not too far away to make the transport of the gold to the isolated old - farmhouse impractical before daylight. The details of the holdup itself - required little elucidation. In whatever manner they might elect to bring - the train to a stop, all that was necessary, once that was accomplished, - was to keep MacVightie's men from No. 18'. baggage car while the car - itself, into which the Wire Devils would naturally retreat, moved off down - the line to the Willow Creek bridge some two or three miles further on. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk took his pipe from his lips, polished the bowl by rubbing it - along the side of his nose, and inspected the result critically. And then - the Hawk smiled pleasantly to himself. In none of the messages had the - Wire Devils given the slightest evidence of any knowledge of a fact that - was very near to his, the Hawk's, heart. It was quite possible, even - probable, that on one point, at least, Lanson and MacVightie were right—that - the Wire Devils were ignorant of the presence of that forty thousand - dollars in bills—but even supposing that they <i>did</i> know, they - would scarcely give him, the Hawk, credit for being in possession of the - knowledge as well. Therefore, bitter as was the feud between them, the - Ladybird would be almost certain to ignore his, the Hawk's existence in so - far as this night's work was concerned. The Hawk's smile broadened. It was - quite true, single-handed he would have no excuse on earth for attempting - the impossible feat of carrying away a half million in gold—but - forty thousand dollars in banknotes was not as prohibitory in its weight! - His problem, therefore, simplified itself into an intimate investigation - of No. 18'. baggage car before Echo Rock was reached, and before either - MacVightie's posse, or the Butcher and his ungentle crowd in the cars - behind, should have started anything on their own account. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk confidentially to the toe of his boot, “yes, I guess - I'll sit in for a hand in the game myself; yes, I guess it looks pretty - good—if the luck holds.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk relapsed into silence, still studying the toe of his boot. His - last remark seemed suddenly to have obsessed him, and he frowned. If the - luck still held! It wasn't altogether luck—indeed, it was far from - luck. The Ladybird, and, for that matter, a half dozen others of the Wire - Devils whom he could name, were not to be lightly reckoned with. He had no - delusions on that score! Since the day he had begun to trespass on the - Wire Devils preserves, listening when and where he could, he had - intercepted enough of their cipher messages as they came over the wires to - enable him to pull from the fire and pocket for himself the chestnuts they - had been so carefully roasting for themselves, to turn in fact the entire - labour and effort of their organisation to his own account—and in - their turn they had sought by every means within their power to trap him. - And they had nearly caught him, very nearly caught him once, and he had - realised that the haphazard method in which, not knowing their source, he - had been able to obtain the cipher messages would no longer do. It was - through those messages alone that he could hope to get a hint of, and - thereby forestall, the <i>next</i> trap they might set for him. And then - the way had seemed to clear a little when he had at last discovered that - source in the old farmhouse near Conmore, and had discovered that the - Ladybird, thought dead and mourned by the underworld as one of its - greatest, from a wheel chair now, a maimed thing in all save brain, moved - and guided what MacVightie had been pleased to call the most powerful and - dangerous criminal organisation that had ever known existence. Only on the - night that he, the Hawk, had made those discoveries he had been wounded! - That was a week ago. For three days, not daring to let it be known that a - <i>wounded</i> man was in the house, he had remained here in his room, - nursing his hurt as best he could. It had only been a flesh wound, and - those three days were all he had allowed himself to remain inactive; for - in those three days, temporarily blindfolded as to any move against him - that the Ladybird might make, he had lived like a hunted man, wary of - every passing moment, of every sound without his door, his automatic never - for an instant out of reach. After that, during the past four nights, he - had resumed his vigil at the farmhouse again. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk smiled grimly. No, he laboured under no delusions as to the - craft, the cunning, and the power of those against whom he had elected to - play a lone hand! The four nights just past had resulted in something more - than the mere accumulation of those code messages he had just read, in - something besides a more intimate acquaintanceship with the farmhouse and - its surroundings, even including the underground passage, for instance, - that led from the wagon shed to a trapdoor in the cellar—it had - resulted, last night, in a still further insight into the ingenuity and - the sort of remorseless mastery of detail through which the organisation - attained its ends. The method by which they tapped the wires, - commandeering the telegraph system of the railroad, the primary purpose of - which was undoubtedly to supply them with the vital information that must - of necessity pass over the wires and on which they based their own plans, - this gold shipment to-night, for example, or the shipment of diamonds from - New York of a few weeks back, was ingenious enough; but still more - ingenious, when using their secret code and putting the wires to another - purpose, that of enabling the Ladybird to direct his operations and send - his orders as he had done to-night, was the method by which those messages - were received. Every sounder on the line carried them, of course, and - when, in isolated cases, the gang was working at smaller places along the - line, they could readily enough, if expecting a message, as he, the Hawk, - had often done, keep within sound of an instrument by the simple expedient - of occupying a waiting room, or of lounging on the platform outside the - operator's window; but the vast majority of the messages were for those of - the gang who maintained a sort of branch headquarters in Selkirk, and such - a method was neither practical nor possible, since the first essential in - making the scheme of value was that, without the chance of a single - message being missed, the messages should reach their destination at any - hour of the day and night. - </p> - <p> - Again the Hawk smiled grimly. It had puzzled him a good many times—but - it puzzled him no longer! Last night the Ladybird, quite unconscious of a - rapt audience, had, by a chance remark, disclosed the secret; and to-night - he, the Hawk, had seen the plan in operation! The news-counter! It was - simple enough; but it held a deadly significance in its proof of the fact - that there were no obstacles too great, no details too minute to stand in - the way between the Ladybird and the end he sought. The news-counter was - directly beneath the operator's room upstairs. In the old days, before the - station had been enlarged and modernised, it had been a somewhat - diminutive affair, and where the news-counter now stood had been the - superintendent's office. This had connected with the room above by means - of an old-fashioned speaking tube. When the alterations had been made, the - mouthpieces, both above and below, had been removed, the room above had - been papered over, and the waiting room had been plastered; but, as the - wall had been left intact, the speaking tube had remained embedded—in - the wall. Yes, it was very simple! Say, a dint in the wall in the - operator's room above, and a slight tear in the paper that, if it - attracted any attention at all in surroundings where the call boys backed - their chairs against the wall and kept their hair on end with nickel - thrillers, would at least never excite suspicion! And below, with the desk - in the little office of the news-counter backed up against it, who was to - know that a hole had been punched in the wall, or, for that matter, in the - back of the desk itself behind the convenient little drawer, so that one - could sit there and listen to the sounder upstairs! Also, it was quite - obvious now why, several months ago, the old lessee of the news-counter - had been bought out by some newcomers! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's lips tightened. The game to its full extent was wide open now. - The news-counter ran day and night, operated by four of the gang in pairs, - one always on duty at the desk; while, should there, by any chance or at - any time, be an unwelcome intruder in the office, the drawer had only to - be shut and the sound was thereby eliminated. When a message “broke” over - the wires above, the man on duty had only to decipher it and telephone it - to what the Ladybird had referred to as the “boarding house”—the - disguise, it appeared now, under which the gang maintained its - headquarters in the city. That was all there was to it! To-night, it was - true, the operation had been a little different; but the reason for that, - as the Hawk had already decided in his own mind, was obvious enough. With - MacVigh-tie, Lanson, and the authorities generally, on the alert, due to - the gold shipment coming through, the man had not dared to take the risk - of telephoning any such message as he had received, but had taken it - outside to where one of the gang, undoubtedly, in view of the importance - of the night's work, was on additional duty and in readiness to receive - and transmit it on the instant, say, to the local headquarters. As for the - absence of the second man at the news-counter, who ordinarily preserved - the pretence of catering to the public, it was quite possible, and indeed - likely, that he had gone on a similar errand with a previous message; or, - if one of the rare occasions when it was necessary to telegraph a cipher - message <i>from</i> Selkirk had arisen, he might have gone—according - to the Ladybird again—to the little suburban station at the East End - of the city, which was closed at night, but to which an entry and the - subsequent use of the wire would present little difficulty, since - MacVightie had finally given up as impossible the task of guarding all the - numerous stations of that description on the division. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Hawk suddenly, under his breath, “I guess they'd go a long - way to get their hands on what I've got off their bat; and I guess, after - that, I'd go out—like a pricked bubble!” He sucked meditatively at - his brier for a moment; then a mirthless smile parted his lips, and he - spoke again. “Forty thousand dollars,” whispered the Hawk. “Yes, I guess - that's the play—and the last one! If I win out to-night, and I guess - I will, this is where the curtain drops, and the Hawk makes his fade-away - for parts unknown!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XVIII—THE HAWK PACKS HIS VALISE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Hawk looked at - his watch again, removed his feet from the table, knocked the ashes from - the bowl of his pipe, stood up, and crossed leisurely to the window. The - window gave on the fire escape. He lifted aside the shade, and stood there - for a moment staring out into the darkness, then drew the shade very - carefully back into place again. From the window he crossed to the door, - reassured himself that it was locked, and, as an extra precaution, draped - his handkerchief on the door handle, completely screening the keyhole. - </p> - <p> - He returned now to the other side of the room, and from under the bed - pulled out a large, black valise. He laid this on the bed, and opened it. - It was quite empty. - </p> - <p> - Between the bed and the table stood his trunk. He unlocked the trunk, and - threw back the lid. - </p> - <p> - “It's quite possible,” muttered the Hawk, as his fingers worked deftly and - swiftly around the edges of the lid, “that I may not return. I've - forgotten just how I stand on my rent, though, I fancy I've paid up for a - week in advance! In any case, there's the trunk for old Seidelberger - downstairs, and likewise its contents, with the exception, scarcely worth - mentioning—of this!” There was a grim chuckle on the Hawk's lips, as - the false tray came away in his hands. “Yes,” said the Hawk, as he laid - the tray on the bed beside the valise, “I hardly think that I'll be back! - I guess they're pretty peeved as it is, and after to-night I've a notion - their sentiments aren't going to improve any!” - </p> - <p> - He stood looking down at the tray, that bulged to repletion with the - proceeds of a dozen robberies that were almost country-wide in fame, and - which, more pertinent still as far as the Hawk was concerned, represented - the loot that the Wire Devils had already counted their own—when he, - the Hawk, instead, had helped himself to the prize at their expense! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk began to transfer the contents of the tray to the valise. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know how big the lot would size up, but it looks like a garden - villa at Palm Beach—which is going some!” observed the Hawk softly. - “Yes, just one more little play to-night, and I guess I retire!” - </p> - <p> - He held the magnificent diamond necklace up to the light, causing its - thousand facets to leap and gleam and scintillate in fiery flashes, then - laid it in a curiously caressing sort of way in the bottom of the valise. - The Hawk seemed peculiarly entranced with diamonds, as though in their - touch and in their responsive life and fire he found a pure and unalloyed - delight. From their little box he allowed the score or two of unset stones - to trickle into the palm of his hand, and again he brought the light to - flash and play upon them. And for a moment he held them there—then a - sudden hardness set his jaws and lips, and impulsively he thrust the - stones back into the box, and tossed the box into the valise. - </p> - <p> - “Damn it!” said the Hawk through compressed lips. “They make me think of - the kid—and old Mother Barrett.” - </p> - <p> - He laughed harshly, and shrugged his shoulders as though literally to - throw off the weight of an unpleasant memory—and reached again into - the tray. He worked more quickly now. Into the valise he packed away in - rapid succession a very large collection of valuables, amongst them the - ten thousand dollars in banknotes that he had taken from the paymaster's - safe, the contents of the cash box, amounting to some three thousand - dollars, of which he had once relieved one Isaac Kirschell, and, still in - its newspaper wrapper, the Trader's National Bank's twenty-five thousand - dollars, likewise in banknotes, which had been his last venture, and which - he had appropriated on the night he had been wounded. - </p> - <p> - The tray was empty now, save for a black mask, a steel jimmy, and a neat - little package of crisp, new, ten-dollar counterfeit notes. The two former - articles the Hawk laid aside on the table; and the latter, after an - instant's hesitation, was added to the horde in the valise. He closed and - locked the valise. There remained now but the empty tray. He stared at - this ruefully. - </p> - <p> - “I hate to lose that trunk, upon my soul, I do!” he muttered. “But I can't - afford to take any chances of spilling the beans by trying to get it out - of here!” - </p> - <p> - He took out his knife, and slashed away the canvas bottom of the tray, - then broke the framework into a dozen pieces. The lid of the trunk itself - was innocent of fastenings, or of any evidence that it had ever concealed - a tray; and the tray itself, when the Hawk was through with it, was an - unrecognisable debris of splintered wood and ribbons of torn canvas. He - made a bundle of this, tying it together with a strip of the canvas. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk now emptied his pockets, and proceeded to change his clothes. If - he were destined to sacrifice the greater part of his wardrobe, he at - least need not linger long in indecision over the choice of what should be - preserved! There was an exceedingly useful and ingeniously devised pocket - concealed in the back lining of a certain one of his coats. The suit, of - which this coat was an integral part, was a trifle worn and threadbare, - not in quite as good repair as any of the rest of his clothing, and for - that reason he had not worn it of late; but one could not at all times - afford to be fastidious! What he left behind would be minutely searched - and examined. The secret of that pocket, a little invention of his own, - was worth preserving from the vulgar eye, even at the expense of - sacrificing a better suit of clothes for the sake of it! He resurrected - the suit in question from the bottom of the trunk, and put it on. And into - the concealed pocket he tucked away his mask and his bunch of skeleton - keys. A side coat pocket, more instantly accessible, served for his - automatic—the other pockets for his various other belongings, - including the steel jimmy. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk made a final and comprehensive survey of the room, then closed - and locked the trunk, and again consulted his watch. It was five minutes - after ten, and No. 18 scheduled Selkirk at ten-twenty. The Hawk nodded. It - was time to go—just time. He took from his pocket his automatic, - tested and examined its mechanism critically, and restored it to his - pocket. He crossed the room, turned out the light, unlocked the door - without opening it, and took his handkerchief from the keyhole. Without a - sound now the Hawk moved back to the bed, picked up the valise, tucked the - bundle of what had once been the tray under his arm, returned to the door, - opened it silently, and stood peering out into the dark hallway—and - the next instant, the Hawk, stealing like a shadow down the stairs, gained - the street, and in another had swung around the corner into the lane. - </p> - <p> - It was only the length of a block to the station, but here in the lane the - Hawk found means of disposing of the irksome bundle under his arm by the - simple expedient of dropping pieces of the wreckage in the various refuse - barrels as he went along. Nor had the Hawk, evidently, any intention - either of hampering his movements with the care of the valise, or of - risking the valise's contents in the night's work that lay ahead of him. - The Hawk was, perhaps, possessed of a certain ironical sense of humour. - Since his possession of the loot which the valise contained was due in a - more or less intimate degree to the railroad, it seemed eminently fitting - that it should be restored to the railroad for safekeeping temporarily. - The Hawk, as he entered the station, nonchalantly exchanged his valise for - a parcel-room check, paid down the dime for the service to be rendered, - and passed on into the general waiting room. - </p> - <p> - He glanced at the news-counter on his way through to the platform. Its - full complement of two attendants were present now; but, contrary to all - precedent, it being an all-night stand, obvious preparations for closing - it for the night were in progress—the two men were engaged in - removing the magazines, newspapers, and various small wares from the - outside ledge of the counter, and in pulling down the large sliding - windows that enclosed the place. The Hawk's dark eyes flashed a gleam of - grim appreciation. It was then literally a mobilisation of the Wire Devils - to the last man to-night! A half million in gold—was a half million - in gold! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk bought a mileage book in lieu of a ticket to any specific - destination, both because his immediate destination was peculiarly his own - private concern, and because in the very near future he expected to put a - considerable quantity of mileage to excellent use. He strolled out to the - platform, and along to the east end of the station. - </p> - <p> - Here, quite unobtrusively, he awaited the arrival of No. 18. The platform - was fairly well crowded—but not unusually so, or rather, perhaps, - not noticeably so. A half dozen, or even a dozen, extra men circulating - amongst the ordinary press of traffic would hardly be expected to make any - appreciable difference. The Hawk, back under the shadows of the building, - surveyed the lighted stretch of platform narrowly. They were there, the - Wire Devils' reserve, he knew; but he recognised none of them. He smiled a - little whimsically. His acquaintanceship with the gang so far had been - with its more prominent members, as it were, and these, as likewise - Mac-Vightie's posse, had already boarded the train far west of Selkirk—that - each might not excite the other's suspicion! Nor was MacVightie himself in - evidence. Not that this surprised the Hawk! He was interested, that was - all. It was simply a question of whether MacVightie had elected to stay - with the gold, or had gone on with the first posse on the Limited on the - assumption that the Limited was the more likely to be attacked. It made - little difference, of course, as far as he, the Hawk, was concerned, - whether it was MacVightie or some one else who was in command of the posse—his - own plans would in no way be affected on that account. - </p> - <p> - There was a stir along the platform. Up the yard, past the twinkling - switch lights on the spurs, the glare of a headlight flashed into sight - around the bend. Came the roar and rumble of a heavy train, and a moment - later No. 18, its big mogul panting like a thing of life from a breathless - run, its long string of coaches behind it, rolled into the station. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk did not stir. By coincidence, perhaps, the baggage car had come - to a stop directly opposite the position he had chosen. The rearmost - sliding door of the car was slammed back, and the baggageman, a powerfully - built, muscular fellow of perhaps thirty, appeared in the doorway. The - Hawk, from his place of vantage, eyed the other appraisingly, and then his - glance travelled on into the interior of the car—what he could see - of it. What he saw was a mass of trunks, some of which the man now - unloaded on the waiting trucks, and in turn piled others, as they were - heaved up to him from the platform, into the formers' places. The Hawk - nodded his head shortly. True, the forward door of the car had not been, - opened, but MacVigh-tie had done his work well. There was no hint of - concealment, the baggage car of No. 18 was as frankly innocent in - appearance on its run tonight as it had ever been. - </p> - <p> - The train was starting into motion again when the Hawk finally moved. He - crossed the platform, and swung himself on the forward steps of the - smoker, that was immediately behind the baggage car. His slouch hat pulled - a little over his eyes, he opened the door, stepped into the car, - sauntered down the aisle, and out of the rear door to the vestibuled - platform of the first-class day coach behind. But here, the Hawk paused a - moment, and his face, impassive before, was stamped now with a twisted - smile. His reconnaissance of the train so far had proved fruitful. The - four men in the forward double seat of the smoker, a lap board across - their knees, and apparently engrossed in their card game, were the - Butcher, Whitie Jim, the Cricket and the Bantam! And further down the - aisle, unwittingly rubbing shoulders quite probably with some of - MacVightie's men, Parson Joe occupied a seat, and the keen, pale, thin - face of Kirschell peered out from another. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, they're all here,” decided the Hawk, his voice drowned in the rattle - of the train. “Counting those who got on at Selkirk, they're all here to - the last man—except the Ladybird and his wheel chair!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk moved forward, reached out for the handle of the day coach door—and - sucked in his breath, as he drew sharply back again. Through the glass - panel he had caught sight of two men he had not expected to see. Sitting - together on the right-hand side about a quarter of the way down the aisle - were MacVightie and Lanson. The Hawk frowned. He had waited until the - train was in motion, and he had not seen them get on; and <i>they</i>, as - witness that little conference in the roundhouse of a while back, had not - been amongst those who had boarded the train west of Selkirk. And then the - frown gave place to a sort of self-commiserating expression. Where were - his wits to-night! It was simple enough! They had boarded the car from the - yard side of the train, and not from the platform, of course! - </p> - <p> - Well, that put an end to any further reconnaissance through the train! In - one sense it was not altogether true that it made no difference whether - MacVightie was aboard or not. He and MacVightie were not altogether - strangers. They had met once in his, the Hawk's, room, and on that - occasion, the night, to be precise, he had cleaned out the paymaster's - safe of that ten thousand dollars, MacVightie had been in a decidedly - suspicious frame of mind. MacVightie, it was quite certain, had not - forgotten that night; nor, it was quite equally safe to assume, had - MacVightie forgotten his, the Hawk's face—and at that exact moment - the Hawk had no desire that MacVightie should recognise him again! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk turned, re-entered the smoker, found the always unpopular - crosswise seat behind the door vacant, and appropriated it. His eyes - straying forward over the car located two more acquaintances in the person - of Crusty Kline and French Pete, and came back to fix musingly on the worn - nickel faucet of the water-cooler. No. 18'. first stop was at Barne's - Junction, fifteen miles out from Selkirk, and some five miles this side of - Conmore; the next stop was Lorraine, and Lorraine was on the <i>other</i> - side—in fact a good many miles on the other side—of Echo Rock - and the Willow Creek bridge. The deduction was obvious; and the Hawk's - destination, in so far as his occupancy of a seat in the smoker was - concerned, was therefore quite plainly—the Junction. - </p> - <p> - “Three miles east of Echo Rock,” repeated the Hawk to himself. “No, I - don't think so! This is where the Ladybird has another guess! Maybe I - couldn't get away with a half million—but maybe I'm not the only - one! There's one or two guys in this car that haven't got the high-sign to - my lodge! It seems to me I promised the Butcher something the night he - tried to shoot me through his pocket, and it seems as though I promised - Parson Joe something too—yes, it seems to me I did!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XIX—BIRDS OF A FEATHER - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T took twenty - minutes for the run to the Junction. And at the Junction, as far as the - Hawk could tell, since, yielding to what had become a sort of habit with - him, he descended to the ground on the opposite side from the station, he - was the only passenger for that stop. It was dark here; strangely silent, - and strangely lonely. Barne's Junction owed its existence neither to a - town site, nor to commercial importance—it existed simply as a - junction, and for purely railroad operating purposes only. It was, in - fact, the other extreme as compared to Selkirk with its lighted and busy - platform, its extensive yard, and its ubiquitous and, perhaps, too - inquisitive yardmen! - </p> - <p> - The Hawk dropped on all fours and began to creep along the side of the - smoker toward the forward end of the train, his eyes strained warily - through the darkness against the possibility of one or other of the engine - crew descending from the cab. He passed the smoker and kept on along the - length of the baggage car, still crawling, moving without a sound. When he - rose from his knees finally, he was crouched down in between the tender - and the forward end of the baggage car; and a moment later, as the train - jerked forward into motion, he was crouched again—this time on the - end beam of the baggage car which, in lieu of platform, served as a sort - of wide threshold for the door. - </p> - <p> - The train was beginning to gain momentum now, and against the jolt and - swing of the increasing speed the Hawk steadied himself by clinging with - one hand to the iron handrail at the side of the door—with the other - hand he tried the door cautiously, and found it locked. - </p> - <p> - From the pocket in the back lining of his coat he produced his mask, - fingered it speculatively for an instant, then slipped it over his face. - True, this was to be his last venture in the Wire Devils' preserves, but - he had always worn a mask, and—there came a twisted grin—they - perhaps would not recognise him <i>without</i> it. And it was quite - necessary that they should recognise the Hawk—if he was to keep that - promise to the Butcher! It might be a farewell, as far as he was - concerned, but he intended that it should be a memorable one, and that no - doubt should be permitted to linger in their minds as to the identity of - the parting guest they had so lavishly, if ungraciously, entertained! - </p> - <p> - From the same pocket came his skeleton keys. The Hawk now felt tentatively - with his finger over the keyhole, nodded his head briskly, and from the - bunch of keys, still by the sense of touch, selected one without - hesitation. The Hawk, however, for the moment, made no effort to open the - door. The rush of the wind was in his face now; like some black, - monstrous, uncanny wall confronting him, the tender clashed and clattered, - and swayed in dizzy lurches before his eyes; while heavenward the sky was - tinged with a deep red glow, and the cab was ablaze with light from the - wide-flung fire-box door, and the top of the baggage car door, and the - individual particles of coal on the top of the tender's heap stood out in - sharp relief against the background of the night. - </p> - <p> - And then the darkness fell again. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's hand shot forward to the keyhole, lingered there an instant, as - he crouched again swaying with the lurch of the train, then the skeleton - keys were returned to the pocket in the back lining of his coat—and - the Hawk was in action. In a flash he had opened and closed the door - behind him, and, with his back against it, his automatic flung - significantly forward in his hand, he stood staring down the length of the - car. - </p> - <p> - There was a hoarse, startled yell, that was lost in the roar of the flying - train, and the baggageman, from his chair at one side of the car and in - front of a shelf-like desk topped with a rack of pigeonholes, leaped to - his feet. - </p> - <p> - “Sit down!” invited the Hawk coldly. - </p> - <p> - The man hesitated, but the next instant dropped back into his chair, as - the Hawk moved suddenly forward to his side. - </p> - <p> - “What do you want?” he demanded sullenly. - </p> - <p> - “This—to begin with!” The Hawk's voice was an insolent drawl now, as - his deft fingers, like a streak of lightning, were into the other's pocket - and out again with the man's revolver. “How long since they've been arming - the baggagemen on this road? You needn't answer—I'm only talking to - myself. Those are the cases up there by the forward door, aren't they? And - the big one's got the green boys—eh?” He was backing away from the - man now. “Don't move, my bucko—understand? That chair you're sitting - in is the only health resort in this car!” - </p> - <p> - The man's hands clenched, as his eyes narrowed on the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “You damned thief!” he rasped out. “I—I'd like to——” - </p> - <p> - “Quite so!” said the Hawk softly. “I know how you feel about it, and if it - helps any to get it off your chest, go to it! Nobody'll hear you but me, - and I'll try and make the best of it!” - </p> - <p> - Piled along the side of the car from the doorway were a number of solidly - made, heavy-looking cases that obviously contained the gold shipment. In - front of these, between them and where the baggageman sat, and acting too - perhaps as a screen when the rear sliding door was open, as, for instance, - it had been at Selkirk, was a large, innocent-appearing, - flimsily-constructed packing case. The Hawk, beside this now, moved it - slightly. It was very light, so light as to warrant the presumption that - it might even be empty. - </p> - <p> - The baggageman had relapsed into a scowling silence, his eyes still on the - Hawk. The Hawk took his steel jimmy from his pocket, shifted his automatic - to his left hand, and inserted the jimmy under the cover of the case. - There was a rip and tear of rending wood; the operation was twice repeated—and - the Hawk threw the shattered cover on the floor. He glanced inside. At the - bottom of the case lay a large paper package, strongly tied, and heavily - sealed with red wax. - </p> - <p> - Under his mask, the Hawk's lips parted in a smile, as, his eyes on the - baggageman again, he noted that the other was watching his every movement - now with a sort of intense expectancy. The Hawk, however, made no effort - to reach down into the four-foot depth of the packing case; he canted the - box over, and picked up the package from the floor of the car. With the - point of his jimmy he tore a rent in the paper wrapper—and his smile - broadened. - </p> - <p> - “I apologise,” said the Hawk, with an engaging nod to the sullen figure in - the chair. “They're not green boys—they're yellow backs!” - </p> - <p> - “You damned thief!” said the man, in a choked voice. - </p> - <p> - The roar and sway of the train seemed suddenly to increase, as the wheel - trucks, jolting and beating at a siding switch, set up a sort of infernal - tattoo. They were passing the first station after the Junction—Conmore. - </p> - <p> - The smile left the Hawk's face. A little further along, and <i>they</i> - would stop the train. There came a sort of dare-devil set to the Hawk's - clamped jaws. - </p> - <p> - He was taking chances, but he had already weighed those chances well. The - Wire Devils, the Butcher and his crowd, would be on the alert; but equally - so would be MacVightie—and the posse that must far outnumber the - gang. And there was that promise to the Butcher! With their plans awry, - and taken by surprise, instead of profiting by surprise themselves, their - chances, rather than of securing a half million in gold, were most - excellent of securing quite as generous a reward, though of another nature—at - the hands of MacVightie! - </p> - <p> - “I'm going to get off here,” said the Hawk coolly to the figure in the - chair. “And the only way to get off without cracking my bean is to let - that guy there in the engine know that he's infringing the speed laws! You - remember what I told you—the only healthy place in this car for you - is where you're sitting now. Something may crack loose around here—keep - out of the wet!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk reached above his head for the bell cord, and pulled it sharply. - The engine crew, too, were evidently on the alert! The shrill blast of the - whistle answered the signal instantly. There was a sudden jerk that almost - threw the Hawk from his feet, the pound and slam of buffer plates, and the - vicious shriek of the “air.” The Hawk recovered himself, and, cool and - quick in every movement now, thrust his jimmy into his pocket to free his - hands, flung the package of banknotes up the aisle made by trunks and - boxes behind him, and began to retreat toward the forward door, pulling - the empty case along as a shield between himself and the other end of the - car. - </p> - <p> - The rear door of the car smashed inward. The Hawk caught a blurred glimpse - of faces and forms surging through the doorway, and streaming across the - platform from the smoker behind—and, in the lead, the Butcher's - crafty face, with its little black, restless, ferret eyes fixed down the - trunk-made aisle of the car on <i>him!</i> - </p> - <p> - “<i>The Hawk!</i>”—it came in a scream of abandoned fury from the - Butcher—then a headlong rush—a flash, the roar of the report, - as the Butcher fired—another, as the Hawk's automatic answered—and - the <i>spat</i> of a bullet splitting the panel of the forward door. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk, stooped low behind the packing case now, still edged backward - toward the door, still dragging the case after him. A smile that was - deadly grim and far removed from mirth curved his lips downward in hard, - merciless lines. He had, at least, attained his object! There was no doubt - concerning their recognition of him as the Hawk! Well, he had weighed the - chances. They would be on him now, but only one at a time; there was not - room for more, with the packing case blocking the way—and it would - be the Butcher first. After that—well, after that, he counted on - MacVightie creating a diversion from the rear, and—— - </p> - <p> - The Butcher had flung himself against the packing case. It toppled to one - side, and the Hawk, like a crouched tiger, sprang and closed, making of - the Butcher's body, as a substitute for the packing case now, a shield - from the onrush behind. There was a furious oath from the Butcher; a - lurch, a stagger, as the train jerked and jerked again—and both men, - gripped and locked together, went to the floor. - </p> - <p> - For an instant they rolled over and over, the Butcher snarling like a mad - beast, wrenching and twisting for an opening at the Hawk's throat—and - then suddenly the car was in an inferno. A voice, MacVightie's, rang out - sternly from the rear door. It was echoed by a yell from one of the Hawk's - companions, then a shot, another, a fusillade of them—and then a - voice above the uproar: - </p> - <p> - “It's MacVightie, an' de bulls!” - </p> - <p> - There was a scurrying of feet, a stampede for cover behind trunks and - boxes by the Butcher's men—and the Butcher's grip was tense upon the - Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “Cut it out!” he whispered hoarsely. “My God, we're trapped—the lot - of us! Make a break for the door—get me? Crawl—that's the only - chance!” Blue eddies of smoke hung in queer, wavering, hesitant suspension - up and down the length of the car; the air was full of the acrid smell of - powder. The firing broke out again. The Hawk released his hold. - </p> - <p> - “All right!” he panted. “I'm with you!” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher was right, it was the only chance—and a chance that was - theirs alone, for, as they lay on the floor, the packing case hid them, - and it was barely two yards to the door. The train was almost at a - standstill now. MacVightie's men had gained an entrance and a position for - themselves behind the trunks at the lower end, firing as they crept - forward, while back on the smoker's platform, through the baggage car's - open door, others commanded the sweep down the center of the car. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk snatched at the package of banknotes, snuggled it under his coat, - and, with the Butcher beside him, began to wriggle toward the door. - </p> - <p> - MacVightie's voice rang out again from the rear of the car: - </p> - <p> - “Marston, take ten men, and surround the car! And——” His voice - rose suddenly in a bull-like roar. “The forward door, there—two of - them! Watch which way they jump—not a man of them gets away - to-night! <i>Quick!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had wrenched the door open, and, with the Butcher behind him, - flung himself out, and leaped to the ground. With the Hawk leading, - running like hares, the two men dashed down the embankment, and hurled - themselves over the barbed-wire fence that enclosed the right of way. - Shouts, the crackle of shots, echoed from behind them—the short, - vicious tongue-flames of the revolvers, a myriad of them, it seemed, - stabbed yellow through the blackness. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk glanced back over his shoulder. He could just make out perhaps a - half dozen dark forms in pursuit—and perhaps fifty yards away. The - darkness and the distance made the shooting at best uncertain. It was only - a chance shot that would get either the Butcher or himself, and ahead, - unless he was mistaken, for the train must have come to a stop at just - about that distance from Conmore, must be the wooded tract of land that - surrounded the old farmhouse. Yes—there it was! The old dare-devil - set clamped his jaws again. Yes, and so was the Ladybird—there! - Well, it was obvious enough that there was no other cover! He glanced at - the Butcher's face that he could just discern in the darkness. The Butcher - might decide against it, but the Butcher evidently had not recognised his - surroundings. The man's lips were working, and he was cursing in abandon - as he ran. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk spoke in short, gasping breaths: “There's some trees over there—to - the right—a little—make for them—cover!” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher swerved automatically in the direction indicated. - </p> - <p> - “Curse you!” he wheezed out. “This is all your infernal, nosey work! What - did you want to butt in for to-night—you fool—you couldn't - have got that gold, anyway!” - </p> - <p> - “You close your face!” snapped back the Hawk. “I'm running my own show! - There was a little cash—forty thousand bucks along with that gold, - that maybe you didn't know about. That's what I was after—see? And - that's what I got—see?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes”—the Butcher's voice broke in infuriated passion—“yes, - and you got them all pinched, every last one of them—blast you! I——” - </p> - <p> - “You save your breath, and put it into running,” retorted the Hawk - savagely, “or else maybe you'll get pinched yourself! It's their lookout! - I don't owe any of you any candy, do I!” - </p> - <p> - MacVightie himself was evidently one of those in pursuit behind, for again - the Hawk recognised the other's voice: - </p> - <p> - “Spread out there to the right! And try and shoot a little straighter—before - they get into that belt of trees!” - </p> - <p> - A renewed outburst of firing came in response—and the Hawk measured - grimly the few yards that still separated him from the trees, as a bullet, - drumming the air venomously, seemed to miss his cheek by but the fraction - of an inch. MacVightie's presence was evidence that the detective was so - well satisfied that the gang penned up in the car could not escape, that - he obviously counted his temporary absence from the scene well warranted - if thereby the clean-up were made complete in the capture of——-The - Hawk's mental soliloquy came to an abrupt end. There was a low cry from - the Butcher, and the man, as they ran shoulder to shoulder, lurched - against him. - </p> - <p> - “What's wrong?” flung out the Hawk sharply. - </p> - <p> - “They got me!” gasped the Butcher—and lurched again. “They got me—in - the leg.” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk glanced backward again. They were still those fifty yards behind, - those dark, flitting, oncoming forms, those vicious yellow stabs of flame - in the blackness—it had been a dead heat so far, here to the fringe - of the trees. - </p> - <p> - The Butcher stumbled. The Hawk swung his free arm around the other's - waist, and plunged in amongst the trees. It was slower work now, - desperately slow. He clutched at the package of banknotes beneath his - coat, and with his other hand tightened his grip upon the Butcher. The man - was evidently badly hit, and was beginning to sag limply. Came the - thrashing and branches, and the rush of feet behind them. The fifty yards - was ten now—the Hawk, with his burden, struggled on—and then - there came a cry again from the Butcher—they had gained the edge of - the clearing, and the old farmhouse and its outbuildings loomed up before - them. - </p> - <p> - “It's—it's——” the Butcher's voice choked weakly. - </p> - <p> - “I—I know where we are—my God, <i>quick!</i> They'll search - the house! I got to warn him now—quick!” The man, as though under a - stimulant, with new strength, had sprung forward alone into the clear, - making for the farmhouse door. It was only a few yards, but halfway there - he stumbled again—and again the Hawk pulled him to his feet. - </p> - <p> - A yell went up behind them. MacVightie and his men, too, were now in the - clearing, and the ten yards' lead was cut to five, to three—and then - the door before them was flung suddenly open, and a voice challenged - hoarsely from within: - </p> - <p> - “Who's there? What's——” - </p> - <p> - The Butcher pitched across the threshold, dragging the Hawk down with him - in his fall. - </p> - <p> - “The door, Jim—quick—slam it!” screamed the Butcher. “We're - done—the cellar!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had leaped to his feet. The room was dark, unlighted, but from - across it came, as there had come that other night, the faint glow from - the open door of the cellarway. The Butcher had staggered up again, and - was making in that direction—and then the Hawk, too, was across the - room—but the next instant, turning to meet the rush from without, as - the front door, evidently before the man whom the Butcher had addressed as - Jim could fasten it, burst inward and crashed against the wall, he was - borne backward, and, losing his balance, half pitched, half rolled down - the cellar stairs. - </p> - <p> - The fall must have stunned him for a moment. He realised that as he - struggled to his feet—to find himself staring into the muzzle of - MacVightie's revolver, and to find that the bulging package of banknotes - was gone from under his coat, as, too, were his automatic, his jimmy and - the baggageman's revolver that had been in the side pockets of his coat. - He raised his hand dazedly toward his eyes—and MacVightie, reaching - out, knocked his hand away. - </p> - <p> - “I'll do that for you—we were just getting around to it!” said - MacVightie roughly—and jerked the Hawk's mask from his face. And - then MacVightie leaned sharply forward. “O-ho!” he exclaimed grimly. “So - it's <i>you</i>—is it? I guess you put it over me the night that ten - thousand was lifted at the station—but I've got you now!” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk made no answer. He was staring, still in an apparently dazed way, - about him. The cellar was a veritable maze of work benches and elaborate - equipment—for counterfeiting work. A printing press stood over in - one corner; on the benches, plates and engravers' tools of all - descriptions were scattered about; and, near the wall by the stairway, he - made out a telegraph set. But the Hawk's glance did not linger on any of - these things—it fastened on a bent and twisted form that craned its - neck forward from a rubber-tired wheel chair; on a livid face, out of - which the coal-black eyes, narrowed to slits, smouldered in deadly menace, - and from whose thin lips, that scarcely moved, there poured forth now a - torrent of hideous blasphemy in that soft, silken voice that had earned - the Ladybird his name; on the hand, crooked into a claw, that, pushing - away the man who stood guard over him, reached out toward where the - Butcher lay upon the floor. - </p> - <p> - “You ape, you gnat, you brainless pig! And you led them here—here—<i>here!</i>” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't know where I was until I was right on the house,” mumbled the - Butcher miserably. - </p> - <h3> - “I——” - </h3> - <p> - “Shut up—both of you!” ordered MacVightie gruffly. “What do you say, - Lanson? Is this the Hawk?” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk had not seen the superintendent, and he turned now quickly. - Lanson's steel-grey eyes were boring into him coldly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Lanson evenly, “I think I could swear he was the man who held - us up in the private car the other night—but it's easily proved. If - he is the Hawk, he has got a wound in his right side. I saw him clap his - hand there when the pistol went off in his fight with Meridan.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, we'll soon see!” snapped MacVightie. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk licked his lips. - </p> - <p> - “You needn't look,” he said morosely. “It's there.” - </p> - <p> - “So you admit it, do you?” MacVightie's smile was unpleasant. “Well, then, - since you seem to be so thick with that pack of curs back there in the - train, perhaps you'll admit to a hand in this little counterfeiting plant - as well?” - </p> - <p> - “No; I won't!” said the Hawk shortly. “I never had anything to do with - this! I don't admit anything of the kind! Ask him!”—the Hawk jerked - his hand toward the Ladybird. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, all right!” MacVightie smiled unpleasantly again. “Let it go at that - for now, if you like it that way. It doesn't much matter. You're birds of - a feather, anyway, and there's enough on all of you to go around!” He - reached behind him, and picked up the package of banknotes from where he - had evidently laid it on the nearest bench. “How did you know this was on - the train, and how did you know where it was in the car—and tell the - truth about it!” - </p> - <p> - “I heard you and Mr. Lanson talking about it tonight,” said the Hawk. - </p> - <p> - “Where?” - </p> - <p> - “In the roundhouse. I was outside the window. And”—the Hawk's voice - thinned in a sudden snarl—“you go to the devil with your questions!” - </p> - <p> - The Ladybird was craned forward again in the wheel chair listening - intently, he sank back now and scowled murderously at the Hawk. MacVightie - shrugged his shoulders, handed the package to one of his three men who - were with him in the cellar, and drew a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Get that cash down to the train, and put it back with the gold where it - will be under guard, MacGregor!” he ordered brusquely. “And you two carry - this fellow”—he rattled his handcuffs in the Butcher's direction—“down - there, too. Tell Marston to let you have three or four more men. The chap - that Williams has got upstairs there will have to be carried, too, I - guess; and our friend here, in the invalid buggy, with the thanksgiving - expression on his face, will have to have somebody to push him along over - the ruts. Yes, and I'll want a couple to put in the night here—tell - Marston to make it four. And now, beat it! You run ahead, MacGregor, and - get back as soon as you can—we don't want to tie up the traffic all - night!” - </p> - <p> - The two men picked up the Butcher, and, preceded by their companion with - the package of banknotes, went up the stairs. MacVightie caught the Hawk's - arm roughly, snapped one link of the steel cuffs over the Hawk's right - wrist, and yanked the Hawk ungently over to a position beside the wheel - chair. - </p> - <p> - He snapped the other link over the Ladybird's left wrist, and smiled - menacingly. - </p> - <p> - “I guess there's dead weight enough there to anchor you for a few minutes - while I take a look around here!” he said curtly—and turned to - Lan-son. - </p> - <p> - The Hawk was licking at his lips again. Upstairs, the tramp of feet was - dying away: There would be no one there now but the other member of the - gang who, it seemed, had been hurt when the house was rushed, and the one - man who was guarding the prisoner. The Ladybird's cultured voice at the - Hawk's side poured out an uninterrupted stream of abandoned oaths that - were like a shudder in the nonchalant, conversational tones in which they - fell from the twitching lips. MacVightie and Lanson were moving here and - there about the place. Snatches of their conversation reached the Hawk: - </p> - <p> - ...Well, I reckon I called the turn, all right, when I said it was the - same crowd that was turning out the phony stuff, eh?... Yes, the telegraph - set. - </p> - <p> - ... Can't trace the wires until daylight, of course. - </p> - <p> - ... Sure, a clean-up....” - </p> - <p> - The Hawk's eyes travelled furtively around the cellar. They rested - hungrily on a spot in front of him, where, in the centre of the floor, but - partially hidden by one of the workbenches, was the bolted trapdoor of the - underground passage that led out to the wagon shed. He circled his lips - with his tongue again, and furtively again, his glance travelled on—to - the door at the head of the cellar stairs that had a massive bolt, and - that, evidently swinging back of its own accord after the men had passed - through, now hung just ajar—to a long, narrow window, most - tantalising of all because it was wide open, that was shoulder high, just - above the stonework of the cellar and evidently on a level with the ground - outside. - </p> - <p> - And then suddenly the Hawk's lids drooped—to hide a quick flash and - gleam that lighted the dark eyes. MacVightie had stooped, and throwing - back the bolt, had lifted up the trapdoor. - </p> - <p> - “Hello!” he ejaculated. “What's this? Here, Lanson! It looks like a - passage of some sort.” He was leaning down into the opening. “Yes, so help - me, that's what it is!” He lowered himself hurriedly through the trapdoor, - and his voice came back muffled into the cellar. “Come down here a minute, - Lanson; they certainly had things worked out to a fine point!” - </p> - <p> - Lanson's back, as, following MacVightie, he lowered himself through the - opening, was turned to the Hawk—and in a flash the Hawk's free hand - had swept behind him under his coat to the concealed pocket in the back - lining, and his eyes were thrust within an inch of the Ladybird's as he - lowered his head. - </p> - <p> - “You understand?”—the Hawk's lips did not move, he was breathing his - words, while a skeleton key worked swiftly at the handcuff on his wrist—“you - understand? It's you or me! You make a sound to queer me, and I'll get you—<i>first!</i>” - </p> - <p> - The livid face was contorted, working with impotent fury, but, perhaps for - the first time that it had ever been there, there was fear In the - Ladybird's burning eyes. The Hawk's hand was free now. Lanson's shoulders - were just disappearing through the opening, and with a lightning spring - the Hawk reached the trapdoor, swung it down, bolted it, and, running - without a sound, gained the head of the cellar stairs, pulled the door - gently shut, slid the bolt silently into place—and the next moment - the Hawk, returning, darted to the window, swung himself up to the ledge, - and vanished. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XX—“CONFIDENTIAL” CORRESPONDENCE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WO days later - MacVightie received a letter that had been posted the day before from a - city quite a number of miles nearer the East than Selkirk was. In the - left-hand, lower corner of the envelope, heavily underscored, was the - word: “Confidential.” What MacVightie read, when he opened the letter, was - this: - </p> - <p> - “Dear Mr. MacVightie:— - </p> - <p> - “I feel that you are entitled to an explanation—I will not call it - an apology, for I am sure you will recognise with me the unavoidable - nature of the circumstances existing at the time—of my somewhat - informal leave-taking of you two evenings ago; and I am afraid that my - actions on that occasion have not enhanced your opinion of—the Hawk. - I shall try and redeem myself. You have, I make no doubt, already searched - that room where I first had the pleasure of making your acquaintance—and - have found nothing. Let me begin, then, by saying that the diamond - necklace belonging to His Excellency the Governor's wife, a certain - well-known shipment of unset stones, and cash in varying amounts derived - from sources with which you are acquainted, are in a black valise which - you will find in the parcel room of the Selkirk station—and for - which I enclose herewith the parcel-room check. - </p> - <p> - “I imagine that you are sceptical. I wonder, then, if it would also - occasion you surprise to know that Birks of the Secret Service was, after - all, 'on deck' the night that the Wire Devils fell into your hospitable - hands? Yes, it is quite true—I am Birks. The newspaper biographies - of the Hawk, the apparent authenticity of his prison record and release - from Sing Sing was but 'inspired' fiction supplied from 'authoritative' - sources. The East was being swamped with one of the cleverest counterfeit - notes that the Federal authorities, popularly called the Secret Service, - had ever had to deal with; and it was evident at once that the gang at - work possessed an organisation against which ordinary methods would be of - no avail. Facts in the possession of the Federal authorities indicated - that the headquarters of the gang was in the West, and, indeed, as you - later concluded yourself, that the so-called Wire Devils, who were just - beginning to operate over the wires around Selkirk, were the men we - wanted. That, because of my knowledge of telegraphy, I was detailed to the - case, and how, almost at the outset, I was fortunate enough to secure the - key to their cipher, need not be gone into here. Knowing their code, then, - it would have been a simple enough matter to have run one or two of them - to earth at almost any time, but that was not enough; it was necessary - that the entire organisation, and especially its head, should be caught. - The rôle of the Hawk furnished the solution to the problem. It enabled me - to frustrate their plans, while at the same time I was working on the - case, and it enabled me to do this without arousing their suspicions that - the Secret Service was on the track of their counterfeiting plant. 'Birds - of a feather,' you called us, Mr. Mac-Vightie; and 'birds of a feather' I - am going to ask you to allow us, in the public's eyes, and particularly in - the eyes of those you now have behind the bars, to remain. - </p> - <p> - “I am sure you will readily acquiesce in this. You will instantly see that - my usefulness would be destroyed if the Hawk became known and recognised - as Birks of the Secret Service by every crook in the country, as would - result if he now figured in the case in his proper person. And this leads - to a word of explanation in reference to the final act in our little drama - of two nights ago. I had discovered the headquarters of the gang, and I - had found that cleverest of unhung crooks, the Ladybird, to be in command. - The plan outlined to you from Washington was at my suggestion, and was - simply a trap to collect them <i>all</i> into one net; a trap, I might - add, which they walked into, as they believed, with their eyes wide open, - for they were well aware of every move <i>you</i> had made. The purpose of - the money in banknotes accompanying the gold shipment was to supply the - Hawk with a <i>reason</i> for his appearance on the scene. It was not - altogether a question of coincidence that the train was stopped just - outside Con-more; nor that the chase led you to the farmhouse and the - Ladybird. The rest you know. It was necessary that I should be captured - and arrested in their presence, be caught in fact with the 'goods,' and - also that my escape should in their eyes appear equally genuine, if I was - to preserve the Hawk's identity. As for this last point, things turned out - a little differently than I had planned, for I had expected to be taken to - jail with the common herd, and there had intended to arrange some sort of - an escape to keep up appearances. As it turned out, however, I am sure you - will agree with me that there are worse things at times than a trapdoor in - a cellar floor! - </p> - <p> - “I think that is all—save for one little detail. I would suggest - that you account for the recovery of the 'swag' and the black valise - through the fact that, dissatisfied with your first search of that room - over our friend Seidel-berger's saloon, you searched it again more - minutely, found a parcel-room check ingeniously hidden, say, behind the - wall bracket of the electric-light fixture—and by so doing permit me - to remain, - </p> - <p> - “Ever and most sincerely yours, - </p> - <p> - “The Hawk.” - </p> - <h3> - THE END - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wire Devils, by Frank L. 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