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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
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+
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+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #68951 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68951)
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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of The gray brotherhood, by Henry Leverage
-
-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
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: The gray brotherhood
-
-Author: Henry Leverage
-
-Release Date: September 9, 2022 [eBook #68951]
-
-Language: English
-
-Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRAY BROTHERHOOD ***
-
-
-
-
-
-The Gray Brotherhood
-
-by Henry Leverage
-
-
-    An exciting story of Chester Fay, underworld prince, and of one
-    of his most daredevil exploits ... Henry Leverage at his best.
-
-
-A gray taxi was threading the traffic of Fifth Avenue. Up through the
-wealthiest street in the world the driver flashed with all the aplomb
-of a professional “bucker” who knew the elastic limits of the
-automobile laws.
-
-Chester Fay leaned forward now and then and studied the hands which
-shifted the lever at the street intersections like those of an American
-Ace at the “stick” of a biplane.
-
-“Good boy,” he exclaimed when the taxi came to a grinding halt before
-the doorman of the Hotel Rockingham. “Good kid!” he added when he
-extended the fare.
-
-“I thank you,” said the driver of the gray taxi.
-
-Fay paused at the marble steps of the Hotel Rockingham. The taxi turned
-and darted southward.
-
-Wheeling with a pucker of interest on his features, Fay strode through
-an alley of palms and bronze vases and leaned over an onyx-topped desk
-where stood a trim-looking clerk whose collar and tie indicated
-prosperity in subordinate positions.
-
-“Arthur Hilton?” Fay questioned.
-
-“By appointment?”
-
-“Yes. He phoned me at--” Fay glanced up to the gilt clock over the
-clerk’s head. “Exactly twenty minutes ago!” he declared.
-
-The page who responded to the pressure of a button led the way to a
-private elevator, nodded to the pilot and closed the green-grilled door
-when Fay stepped briskly inside the cage.
-
-He was whisked to a silent stop on an upper floor. He stepped out and
-faced a gray-haired English detective of the superior type, who had
-been pacing an ornate hallway.
-
-“Arthur Hilton?” said Fay.
-
-“By Sir Arthur’s consent?”
-
-“Certainly!”
-
-“You may follow me,” drawled the Scotland Yard man.
-
-Fay found himself in the foyer of a splendid suite. He waited, toying
-with his cap, as the detective passed through a rift in the portiéres
-which led in the general direction of Fifth Avenue. He was on the point
-of coughing to attract attention when the curtains parted in
-invitation.
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-Sir Arthur Hilton stood by a long window with the white light of a
-western sky reflected across his furrowed face like the reaching hand
-of a specter.
-
-“You’re Fay?” he said as the Scotland Yard man backed into the shadow
-of an inner room.
-
-“Yes. Chester Fay--Mr. George Mott, the reformer’s friend.”
-
-“Good--good and bad! There’s the old Nick to pay. Putney Stephney of
-Downing Street--a King’s greyhound--with thirty thousand pounds in
-American banknotes, was found dead on top of a goods-train at
-Poughkeepsie this morning.”
-
-Fay pulled out a cigarette.
-
-“Murdered!” declared Hilton with a rising voice. “Killed in cold blood
-somewhere between the steamer dock at West Street and--and
-Poughkeepsie.”
-
-Fay dragged on the cigarette, thrust his hands into his pockets and
-leaned forward. His eyes hardened slightly. They fastened within the
-steady stare of Sir Arthur’s own.
-
-“Facts are these,” resumed the British representative. “Stephney had
-landed at the dock at ten-twenty last night. Was seen by two of the
-steamship company’s detectives who were watching all embarking
-passengers.”
-
-“Was that the _Carpathia_?” asked Fay.
-
-“Yes--the _Carpathia_! Stephney came down the gangplank, turned at the
-customroom, went inside a telephone booth, came out and was observed
-taking a gray taxi at the foot of the dock. That was the last seen of
-him until the chief of the railroad detectives at Poughkeepsie found
-his body on top of a goods-train. Skull was slightly crushed. Pockets
-rifled. Portfolio, with banknotes and memoranda, missing.”
-
-“Quick work!”
-
-“Beastly quick!” shot back Hilton through rigid lips. “Beastly clever,
-too!”
-
-The British representative glanced toward the doorway before which the
-portiéres draped. He strode to Fay’s side and leaned forward as his
-fingers clutched the investigator’s left shoulder in the grip of a
-bulldog.
-
-“Stephney didn’t die from the crushed skull,” he said tersely. “That
-accident came afterward. He was killed by an unknown method. He was
-lured to death in the heart of civilization!”
-
-“An unknown method?”
-
-“Fact! Had the coroner of Poughkeepsie on the wire not an hour ago. A
-surgeon from Plattsburg happened to assist at the autopsy. It was he
-who detected the condition of the lungs. Also, Stephney’s face was
-greenish-black.”
-
-Fay backed away and allowed Sir Arthur’s hand to drop. His eyes glazed
-with speculation. They hardened.
-
-“You have other facts?” he asked.
-
-“Little more! Stephney was last seen alive getting into a gray taxi
-which disappeared soon afterward. He was headed for this hotel. I sat
-up until three o’clock waiting for him.”
-
-“Who else knew he was coming to New York?”
-
-“The Washington Embassy.”
-
-“Who knew it in London?”
-
-“Downing Street.”
-
-“Whom do you suspect?”
-
-“American crooks.”
-
-“Everybody blames them--for everything.”
-
-Sir Arthur frowned. “I’ve given you the case--on account of Mr. Mott’s
-interest in ex-convicts and the Gray Brotherhood.”
-
-“Oh, I’ll take it. I’ll jump! I want all the facts you can allow me to
-have.”
-
-“I’ve given you everything. The body found at Poughkeepsie on top of
-the goods-train was Stephney’s. There’s no doubt of that. He was first
-identified by the tailor’s name in his pockets--Concre, of London, I
-think. We’ve a solicitor up there who made a complete identification.”
-
-“Did Stephney ever visit New York before?”
-
-“Once, two years ago--just after the end of the war.”
-
-“Would he know any women here?”
-
-“Hardly! He was to come right to me!”
-
-Fay moved a chair and lifted his cap. He turned at the portiéres. His
-glance toward Arthur Hilton was one of understanding.
-
-“You and Mr. Mott alone know that I am on this case?”
-
-“It is locked with us!”
-
-“I have carte blanche?”
-
-“Up to ten thousand pounds.”
-
-“Good-by!” said Fay, creasing his checked cap as he parted the curtains
-and strode through the suite to the hallway of the hotel.
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-He jabbed at a pearl button until the private elevator floated up to
-him. He reached the street and turned toward the Avenue. He saw there a
-gray taxi. A young man sat on the driver’s seat. He was moving
-southward close by the right curb.
-
-A swift sprint, a ducking lunge before the silver radiator of a
-polished limousine, a hasty reach for the wind-shield of the taxi, and
-a startled exclamation from the driver--these occurred within seven
-seconds.
-
-“I’m going downtown,” said Fay, settling back in the front seat and
-staring boldly at the driver. “Don’t mind if I ride out here?”
-
-“I certainly do! It’s against the company’s regulations.”
-
-“Set the meter and drive on. I’ve really got something I want to say to
-you.”
-
-“Well, of all the nerve!”
-
-“Certainly--certainly! I’ve always been interested in this new company
-with the gray taxies and the paroled men who drive them. I’m a Western
-newspaper man--come from Chicago. Suppose you tell me all about the
-Gray Taxi Company. How many taxies are there? Who’s the originator?
-How’s business? Do you cover the steamship docks?”
-
-“Say! On the dead, you’ve got nerve. I’m going to call the first
-traffic cop I meet. There’s one!”
-
-Fay reached into his right-hand trouser pocket. His hand appeared with
-a five-dollar bill between his fingers.
-
-“I’ll bet you this you don’t,” he said, pressing the bill into the
-driver’s lap. “Take it and buy a good dinner. There’s another coming to
-you if you answer my questions.”
-
-The driver clutched the steering-wheel with both hands as he brought
-his knees together and pressed a leather toe upon the throttle. The
-taxi leaped by the traffic cop, dodged a bus and roared on down the
-Avenue until an open place was gained.
-
-“Go slow,” said Fay. “Loaf along and let me get some dope for my
-article. Who owns the Gray Taxi Company?”
-
-“James Ponsardin.”
-
-“Proprietor of the morning _Messenger_?”
-
-“Sure! He owns the company.”
-
-“How many taxies?”
-
-“Fifty running now.”
-
-“Who manages it?”
-
-“A girl!”
-
-“What?”
-
-“Sure! Her name is Elsie De Groot. She’s making it pay, too.”
-
-“That’s interesting.” Fay stared into the alert face of the driver at
-the wheel. “Is she an ex-convict?”
-
-“I never heard that said about her!”
-
-“Loyal!” thought Chester Fay, shifting in his position. “You never
-heard,” he repeated aloud. “That’s definite. Do you keep records of
-passengers carried?”
-
-“We make a report out at night. Miss Elsie gets them.”
-
-“Do your taxies cover the steamship docks?”
-
-“Sometimes--if there’s a call.”
-
-Fay saw that he was in the presence of a very matter-of-fact young man
-who was making his own way in the world.
-
-“Mind taking me to the Southampton Line?” he asked.
-
-The driver’s answer was to glance around the right-hand side of the
-taxi, slow to a crawl, then swing the corner with both arms over the
-wheel.
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-Fay braced himself for five blocks of cobbled streets upon the surface
-of which ragged children played ball and dodged death. He stepped down
-from the taxi as it came to a gliding stop before the ornate entrance
-to the great dock.
-
-“Mind waiting?”
-
-The driver glanced at the taxi-meter.
-
-“You’ve paid me for a couple of hours.”
-
-“Stay right here. Ill be back in ten minutes.”
-
-Chester Fay found two English detectives covering the dock. With them
-was a Secret Service operative of slight acquaintance.
-
-“Hello!” he said, drawing this man to one side. “Say, Gardner,” he
-whispered, “who would know down here what happened last night when the
-_Carpathia’s_ passengers came down the planks? I want to trace a man
-who took a Gray taxi. The man is--”
-
-“Putney Steph--Stephney.”
-
-“Yes.” Fay raised his brows. The matter was evidently out.
-
-“Has he been found?”
-
-Fay shook his head. He recalled that Sir Arthur Hilton had not given
-instructions to make public the matter of the finding of the body on
-the railroad train at Poughkeepsie.
-
-“Not found yet, eh?” Gardner said. “Well, I did all I could. Come over
-here. That’s right. Now we can talk. That British team are
-listening-in.”
-
-“What did you find?”
-
-“Stephney came down the plank, showed his passports, went into a
-slot-booth, lugged his bag and a leather case out toward the street and
-there hailed a Gray taxi. That much is settled. The taxi was driven by
-a chauffeur with reddish-brown hair. His nose was slightly turned up.
-He had on a yellow coat and leather leggins. He’d been waiting around
-the dock for over three hours.”
-
-“Must have expected him!”
-
-“Looks that way, Chester. He had plenty of fares offered him. You see,
-them Gray taxies are all the fashion now. They’re gettin’ the
-business.”
-
-“You were here at the time the passenger arrived?”
-
-“No. I got my information from old Harry, who watched the express
-wagons and taxies. He’s positive about the red-haired chauffeur. Said
-he was a bold trick!”
-
-“He’s right. Good-by!”
-
-Fay left the Government operative and darted for a telephone booth.
-Into the slot of this he dropped a nickel and obtained, after a brief
-wait, Mr. George Mott’s secretary.
-
-“This is Chester Fay!” he said briskly. “Say, get about ten of the Gray
-Brotherhood rounded up right away and cover these assignments. Got it?”
-he added, drawing the door shut with caution. “Yes--yes! They’ll do.
-Cover Poughkeepsie and a corpse found there this morning on top of a
-New York Central freight-car. Cover the morgue. Have them see the Army
-surgeon who made the autopsy on the lungs. Have them connect with the
-coroner and the railroad detectives who found the body.”
-
-Fay paused and mopped his brow with his sleeve. It was hot in the
-booth.
-
-“Yes, there’s more!” he snapped. “Cover James Ponsardin of the
-_Messenger_. Put him to bed and get him up in the morning. Find him and
-keep the boys tailing him till I call them off. That’s all ... no, send
-Rake to the corner of the block where the Gray Taxi Company has its
-garage. Tell him I’ll meet him there in fifteen minutes!”
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-It was eleven minutes later when Fay requested the driver of the taxi
-to deposit him on the northeastern corner of the block around which
-Gray taxies to the number of a score or more were scattered. Fay handed
-over a second bill with a polite bow.
-
-“I’m going to visit your boss,” he said with a quick smile. “I’ll pump
-her in private for that write-up of mine. It ought to go big in our
-Western syndicate.”
-
-The driver twisted his wrist and studied the time. He set the meter to
-the off position. “Good-by!” he said, leaning over and releasing the
-emergency brake. “I’m much obliged!”
-
-Fay turned and stared into the broad Irish face of the ex-convict he
-had expected to meet.
-
-“Ah, Rake--on time!”
-
-“Sure, Chester! I was just watchin’ you and that wild-looking driver.
-They’re gettin’ all the high-class business.”
-
-“Come on! Follow me and keep your eyes open. We’re going to look a
-little lady over. Miss Elsie, the manager, is under suspicion.”
-
-Fay led the way along the sidewalk and threaded his steps through a
-group of young men outside the Gray Taxi Garage. He eyed each one for
-possible red hair and turned-up nose. He entered the doorway, dodged a
-fast-flying taxi which was coming out on second speed, then knocked
-upon the ground glass of a door marked _Private--Keep Out--This Means
-You!_
-
-A slip of a girl answered the knock. She glanced from Fay’s face to the
-peering countenance of Rake.
-
-“Well?” she asked.
-
-“I’m looking for a Miss Elsie De Groot,” said Fay, thrusting his foot
-forward. “I’m a newspaper man. I--want to write her up for a Western
-syndicate. It ought to bring some business.”
-
-The girl toyed with a pencil which she jabbed like a bayonet into a
-raven-hued turban. “I’ll see,” she said, turning and gliding through an
-inner door.
-
-Presently her elfin face gladdened the opening as Fay half advanced
-into the outer office.
-
-“Come in, please. Miss De Groot will see you.”
-
-Chester Fay removed his cap, crushed it between his fingers and stepped
-briskly forward. He paused before the edge of a rug. Across this rug
-sat a girl. She swiveled in a businesslike chair and threw one neat
-ankle over the other. She glanced impatiently upward.
-
-“We’d like to see you alone,” Fay said as he noted a mop of reddish
-hair and a freckled nose which seemed to be pressed up by an unseen
-finger. “Alone,” he added, swinging upon the stenographer and jerking
-his chin toward the door.
-
-“Why, certainly!”
-
-The girl slipped out and closed the door. Fay left Rake’s side and
-moved up close to a littered desk which bore some resemblance to order.
-
-“To be brief as time!” he said, drawing a card from his pocket. “To be
-brief,” he whispered, replacing the card, “I want to know just why you
-took a taxi at or about six o’clock last night, went down to the
-Southampton Dock and waited for a passenger who wore a Silver
-Greyhound--indicating that he was on British Government business,
-urgent and pressing.”
-
-The girl’s broad forehead whitened slightly. She recrossed her trim
-ankles. She tapped the desk before her with polished nails. She reached
-and adjusted a hairpin in her reddish knot, which added beauty to a
-resolute, somewhat bold face.
-
-“I don’t know what business that is of yours!” she said.
-
-Fay frowned. “It’s the people’s business! It’s Charles Mott’s business.
-Are you going to help me?”
-
-“I never talk to strangers. You may be Mr. Mott’s representative. You
-may be connected with the Gray Brotherhood. How do I know?”
-
-“You know what happened to your fare last night?”
-
-The girl swung in the chair and glanced at Rake. Her eyes opened to
-brown pools of protest. She brought both feet down on the rug and rose
-with her hand on the back of the chair.
-
-“You both better go.”
-
-“Just a minute. You know Putney Stephney?”
-
-“Perhaps I do.”
-
-“You know what happened to him?”
-
-“No!”
-
-“Do you want to know?”
-
-“See here!” The girl’s voice indicated reserve strength. “See here!
-This is my office. We--I, am obeying the law. Our business is of such a
-nature that we do not talk to strangers. To tell you frankly, I detest
-people who ask too many questions.”
-
-Fay took the thrust with good humor. “They’re not all the same,” he
-said, moving closer to the girl and regarding her with admiration. “Now
-you, for instance, know full well that I didn’t come here without being
-pretty sure of my ground. You’ll have to answer my questions, or you
-will be called to account for a number of nasty accusations. Mr. Mott
-is your friend--he also is my friend!”
-
-The girl turned helplessly toward the closed door. She tapped her foot
-on the rug. She bent her head.
-
-“How came you to know Putney Stephney?” Fay asked, feeling his way for
-a surprise.
-
-“I met him two years ago. He was just a good friend of mine. I can’t
-see your purpose in questioning me concerning him.”
-
-Fay watched her lips tremble. He had conceived a liking for Elsie De
-Groot over the period of minutes. He said through his white teeth:
-
-“Putney Stephney was murdered last night!”
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-The girl swayed. She reached blindly for the arms of the chair.
-
-“Murdered by an unknown method!”
-
-A gasping sob racked the air. The beat of a powerful engine throbbed
-the garage. It was like the roll of a muffled drum.
-
-“Foully murdered! Done to death between the steamship dock and
-Poughkeepsie, where he was found with skull crushed and his lungs empty
-of air. He was last seen getting into your taxicab!”
-
-“Oh, don’t! It isn’t true!”
-
-Fay leaned until his eyes compelled hers to waver. “It’s true,” he
-whispered. “Now, tell me what happened to Putney Stephney? The matter
-is going to do the Gray Brotherhood and the Gray Taxi Company
-considerable harm.”
-
-“Do with him?”
-
-“Certainly! What did you do with him? The truth, and nothing but the
-truth. It’s bound to come out!”
-
-“See here!” The girl braced her shoulders and stared back defiantly.
-“See here!” she flashed with sudden anger. “I can give you no
-information except--”
-
-“Except what?”
-
-“The record of the call. That is all that I will ever give you or
-anybody else. My personal affairs are not to be dragged about by an
-amateur investigator.”
-
-“That’s all I want.” Fay turned and motioned for Rake to leave the
-office. He waited until the door closed with a click.
-
-“We’re going to be frank,” he said. “I’m here to help you out. You met
-Stephney at the dock, after waiting around for hours. I’d judge by this
-action that you knew him. He perhaps wirelessed or telegraphed you from
-Quarantine.”
-
-The girl brushed her hair from her eyes with the back of her right
-hand. She stared at the rug, then into Fay’s keen face.
-
-“I met him by his own appointment.”
-
-“Ah! Now we’re getting on, Miss Elsie. You met him--after waiting a
-long time. He had an enormous sum of money. You alone knew that he was
-coming. He trusted in you so as to be safe in a city comparatively
-strange--to him. He--”
-
-“Trusted me--yes! We stopped at Figaro’s on Forty-second Street. We had
-a club sandwich served to us. I sat outside with him because I--I had
-these clothes on.”
-
-The girl swept her hands over her leggins and short skirt.
-
-“And then?”
-
-“Why, I took him on uptown within six or seven blocks of the
-Rockingham. He said he would walk the rest of the way. I left him on
-the curb. He started north.”
-
-“That’s clear,” said Fay. “He started north. Did you see him any more?”
-
-The girl dropped her eyes and studied the design of the office rug. “I
-did and I didn’t. He got in another cab--I think!”
-
-“What?”
-
-“Yes. There was no reason for him to do that. He had only a few blocks
-to go in order to reach the hotel.”
-
-“What kind of a cab?”
-
-“One of ours--a Gray taxi.”
-
-“Well, don’t you know who was driving it? Was it following you?”
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-A puzzled pucker gathered in a little square upon the girl’s white
-forehead. She reached to the littered desk and lifted a call-sheet. She
-held this out with shaking fingers.
-
-“I’ve questioned every one of my drivers. No one of them admits taking
-Mr. Stephney or anyone else to the Rockingham. I didn’t understand it
-last night; I don’t now. It was certainly a taxi painted like ours that
-he got in. I thought it so strange.”
-
-“Did this other driver call him?”
-
-“I don’t know. I was turning when I looked up the Avenue. Putney was
-running from the curb with one hand raised. He jumped on the
-running-board of the taxi, which disappeared from under an arclight. I
-didn’t see anything more.”
-
-“Didn’t that strike you as a strange proceeding?”
-
-“Yes, it did! I thought a lot about it. I went over the call-sheet and
-asked all of the drivers. Two are out yet, but I know where they were
-at the time.”
-
-“Do you often take representatives of the British Government around?
-Have they a charge-account?”
-
-“I can’t answer those questions. You must ask Mr. Hilton.”
-
-“Do you want to tell me anything about James Ponsardin?”
-
-The girl started. She folded the call-sheet by running it through her
-fingers.
-
-“No, I don’t! You’ll have to see him.”
-
-Fay fished in his pocket and brought forth the same card he had before
-shown to the girl.
-
-“You’ll find me at Mr. George Mott’s office. Please call me up if you
-discover anything. Ask those two drivers whom you didn’t question. Help
-us in every way. This murder is an international matter. Keep thinking
-about what happened last night. We must find the murderer!”
-
-Fay laid the card on the desk, bowed slightly toward the silent girl,
-nodded to the stenographer, and joined Rake in the run-way of the
-garage.
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-The big ex-convict was staring at the group of drivers who were
-awaiting assignments. He smiled broadly as he felt Fay’s hand on his
-shoulder.
-
-“Some bunch, Chester!”
-
-“Any of your old pals here?”
-
-“The only one I remember is that snob-nosed mechanic over there--the
-fellow under that car.”
-
-Fay wheeled. A pair of bright eyes, grease-rimmed and shadowed with
-blond lashes, was peering out at him. A tapping sounded upon the rear
-axle of the taxi as Fay stooped a trifle. The mechanic extended one
-hand and coiled his fingers about a spanner.
-
-“The only one in the place,” said Rake. “I served time with him
-somewhere--maybe in Sing Sing, maybe Joliet.”
-
-“Come on, Rake!”
-
-Fay led the way to the sidewalk, nodded pleasantly to the staring
-drivers, then turned toward the west. It was at the corner of the block
-where he paused and glanced in the direction of the garage.
-
-“The entire case rests there,” he declared without pointing. “Stephney
-was murdered in a Gray taxi. He was suffocated in some way to render
-him unconscious. He was tossed on top of a freight-train after being
-well plucked. This much we know. Now, how was it done?”
-
-“I don’t think a woman was mixed up in it. That girl looked like a
-perfect lady. An old night-hawk, who is as crooked as his whip, might
-do it. He could get a cab an’ turn the trick.”
-
-“But the mysterious way of suffocating a man?”
-
-The ex-convict scratched his head.
-
-“That’s different,” he admitted. “O’Toole, Flynn, Fogarty, Harris an’
-Johnson--they ought to discover something, Chester. Harrigan, Mr.
-Mott’s man, sent them running after you telephoned. He’s called on the
-Harlem Branch for three more of the Brotherhood to cover the case.
-You’ve got nine or ten boys out now.”
-
-“Hardly enough. We’ll get more! Suppose we walk west for a block or
-two. I want to think this puzzle over.”
-
-Rake fell in behind Fay. They crossed the street and took a shady side.
-The last rays of the western sun struck slanting through the cañon of
-tenements. The street resounded with the shouts of urchins playing
-ball. A truck went by as Fay paused and clicked keys in his pocket.
-
-He glanced up at Rake.
-
-“We’ll have to cover the Hudson River homes,” he said. “Looks to me as
-if the body was being taken over the railroad track when it was thrown
-on top of a freight-car. Who is investigating Poughkeepsie and the
-routing of the train?”
-
-“O’Toole an’ Flynn went north, Chester.”
-
-Fay dragged out his watch and studied the dial. “It’s too early yet for
-them to report. It’s too--”
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-He stared open-mouthed toward the Avenue ahead of him. He reached and
-clutched Rake’s arm. He gripped this with fingers of steel.
-
-“Did you see that?”
-
-“See wot, Chester?”
-
-“The Gray taxi that went by?”
-
-“I saw one. I didn’t notice it particularly.”
-
-“It was being driven thirty miles an hour by Elsie De Groot! I’m
-positive it was her. Reddish hair and turned-up nose!”
-
-“That’s the colleen who runs the garage?”
-
-“Yes--the girl of the garage! The same little lady who met Putney
-Stephney at the steamship dock last night.”
-
-“We’re gettin’ on, Chester. It looks bad for the Brotherhood.”
-
-“And for the Sisterhood! We just finished talking to her not a
-half--not twenty minutes ago; and there she goes uptown--full speed and
-more.”
-
-Fay eyed his watch and ran a polished finger-nail over the crystal.
-
-“Twenty-two minutes!” he declared, replacing the timepiece in his vest
-pocket.
-
-“Let’s go back, Chester.”
-
-“No! We’ll go on to the office of the morning _Messenger_. Foley is
-their sporting editor. Perhaps he can tell us something about Ponsardin
-and the taxi-company.”
-
-“Nice name!” blurted the ex-inmate. “Sounds like a doped wine an’
-deep-dyed villainy.”
-
-Fay grasped Rake by the elbow and hurried him in the direction of the
-avenue up which the taxi had flashed. There was no trace of it. Fay
-hesitated a moment, like a keen hound on a scent, then fell into a
-brisk walk northward, which took him to the somewhat unostentatious
-building that housed the uptown offices of the _Messenger_.
-
-Foley, the sporting editor, was in. He greeted Fay with a hand thrust
-over a battered typewriter propped upon a broken desk. He thrust aside
-a bundle of press clippings and cleared off two chairs.
-
-“Sit down!” he welcomed. “Got some dope on the crook game for me?”
-
-Fay leaned back and glanced about the office with slow caution, then
-shot a question at Foley through rigid lips.
-
-“What do you know about Ponsardin--your proprietor?”
-
-Foley tried to wink with lashless eyelids. He upended a huge can of
-cold tea, drank deeply, glanced at the keyboard of his typewriter
-before he set the can down on the corner of a box which had once
-contained ink rolls.
-
-“What do I know? Nothing! He’s a queer stick. Bought the paper about
-three years ago. Hardly ever see him. Goes to Washington quite often.
-The police are investigating the sheet, I guess.”
-
-“Ah!” said Fay.
-
-“Yep! There’s been talk of the actual ownership being in the hands of a
-lot of sure-thing grafters and gamblers. I’m looking for a knockout and
-an upper-cut from the postal authorities any time. You can’t pinch me!
-I don’t write the editorials.”
-
-“They advocate horse-racing and open gambling?”
-
-“They certainly did--a year or two ago. Now we’ve been instructed to
-hit a bunch of contractors and reformers. Take it from me, Fay, I don’t
-think the _Messenger_ is making any money.”
-
-“Bills paid and all that?”
-
-“Oh, sure! James Ponsardin is rated three A’s and a One.”
-
-“Is he French or Swiss?”
-
-“Came from Switzerland, I think. Bright fellow, but--”
-
-“Where does he live? Directory gives an apartment on Riverside Drive.”
-
-“I went up there once with some tickets to a bout. He wasn’t there.
-Butler said he was up-State. I guess he’s dug in, covered up and pulled
-the hole in after him. No one around here or downtown knows where to
-find him.”
-
-“Do you know anything about the Gray Taxi Company?”
-
-“The one with the ex-convict drivers?”
-
-Chester Fay nodded.
-
-“No. I heard the bunch talking about it. Why did you ask?”
-
-Fay rose from his chair and threw back his shoulders. “Your boss is
-supposed to own it,” he said. “Ponsardin _is_ the owner! I’ve got a
-case that’s far from being clear, Foley. I’ll give you first chance
-when I’ve worked it out for Mr. Mott. Good-by!”
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-Rake led the way out and down the steps to the street.
-
-“Where to, Chester?” he asked as they stood on the sidewalk.
-
-“Nearest telephone!” said Fay, thrusting his hands in his pockets in
-search for some change.
-
-Rake waited outside of the cigar-store while Fay entered a booth. Night
-was dropping on the city. The sun had set over the blue barriers of the
-Palisades. The lights of Broadway slashed the purple heavens from south
-to north. Forty-second Street with its sign-clusters marked the center
-of the illumination.
-
-It was a long ten minutes before Fay emerged with his teeth clamping a
-slender Perfecto. He passed one to Rake.
-
-“Smoke up!” he said. “It’s on the British representatives. I’ve got a
-good lead from Arthur Hilton. It’s one I overlooked in my haste this
-morning. I think we get our people tonight!”
-
-“What people, Chester?”
-
-“The crooks who killed Stephney. They were after bigger game. The
-others of Stephney’s suite are due on the _Imparada_. Hilton tells me
-privately that she has been sighted from Sandy Hook.”
-
-Rake examined the cigar, then lighted it and started puffing.
-
-“I don’t get you! What’s due on the ship? What’s it got to do with--”
-
-Fay started toward Broadway. Rake followed with the question still upon
-his mind.
-
-“We’re closing in,” said Fay as he brought a sheet of paper from his
-side pocket and spread it out on the palm of his right hand. “I did a
-lot of phoning. There’s nothing new at Poughkeepsie--except that the
-train upon which Stephney’s body was found was made up on Tenth Avenue,
-New York.”
-
-“That’s Death Avenue!”
-
-“It’s well named. It left at seven o’clock. It passed the Harlem River
-at eight-sixteen. It reached Harmon at nine-three. It rolled into
-Poughkeepsie early in the morning and was shunted on a sidetrack. The
-railroad detectives searched it carefully while looking for tramps. It
-was then they found the body.”
-
-Rake eyed the sheet of paper.
-
-“Did O’Toole get all that?” he asked.
-
-“Yes. He saw the coroner and the Army surgeon. Stephney was suffocated
-and completely out of this life when his body was dropped on top of the
-train. That must have been from some small bridge leading over the
-tracks to the Hudson River. It was either to a boathouse or a private
-estate.”
-
-“Go on,” said Rake.
-
-“Hilton--Sir Arthur--tells me that two members of the same banking
-firm, coming over on the _Imparada_, have considerable money with them.
-This Commission, of which Stephney was a member, came on different
-steamers on account of a secret matter pertaining to pending treaties.
-These two members will dock sometime tonight.”
-
-“At the same pier, Chester?”
-
-“At the Southampton Pier.”
-
-“That looks like business. We’ll be there, eh?”
-
-“Right there! We’ll meet the bankers at Quarantine, substitute
-ourselves for them, and land, all regular and proper, at the
-Southampton dock. I notified Harrigan, at Mr. Mott’s office, to get our
-outfits. They’ll be waiting for us with a valet at the Battery. We will
-have a valet.”
-
-“What, Chester?”
-
-“Joe Yeader will play that part to perfection. Remember his accent? He
-did time in Brixton Jail.”
-
-“I don’t get it all,” blurted Rake. “What is coming off?”
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-Fay furrowed his brow and stared seriously toward the paper in his
-hand. He thrust it into his pocket. “I’ll explain later,” he said.
-“We’re going right into the lion’s den. We’ll bait the trap with more
-banknotes. We’ve got to clear the name of the Gray Brotherhood and the
-ex-inmates working for the Gray Taxi Company.”
-
-“Do you suspect that girl?”
-
-“I have every reason to believe she is guilty.”
-
-“She don’t look the part.”
-
-“Looks and beauty are skin deep!”
-
-“She didn’t talk like a gun moll or a fallen sister.”
-
-“She’s employed by a man who is suspected by the police and Mr. Mott.
-She has sole charge of Ponsardin’s taxicab interests. She was the first
-to meet Stephney on this side of the Atlantic. She was the last to see
-him alive, according to her own admission. What would you think from
-all that?”
-
-“I think a lot, Chester. But appearances are deceiving. She’d never
-admitted takin’ that Stephney from the dock if she was guilty. She’d of
-denied it. The only time my Mary, at home, is lyin’ to me is when she
-says nothing.”
-
-“Illogical logic!”
-
-“Sure--an’ it’s the truth, nine times out of ten, Chester.”
-
-Fay glanced at his watch and quickened his steps. “We’ll take the
-Subway to the Customhouse. From there we go over the Bay.”
-
-Rake scratched his head and followed Fay down the steps, past the
-ticket-chopper, and lunged with him into the warm interior of a subway
-car. They were hurtled southward. Fay said nothing during the quick
-trip. His mind wove the details of the plan which he had to save the
-name of the Gray Brotherhood.
-
-He mounted to the surface of the street, closely followed by Rake. He
-sought a phone-booth before crossing to the Customhouse. Rake heard him
-giving a series of rapid-fire directions to Harrigan, the manager at
-George Mott’s headquarters.
-
-Fay emerged, tossed a dollar across to the cigar-clerk and jerked his
-thumb toward a box of Perfectos. “Eight of those!” he said. “Eight!”
-
-Outside, in the cool evening, the two men drew a long breath of smoke
-for the final plunge. They dodged a flashing taxi, climbed the
-Customhouse steps, and found, after consulting an alert doorman, that
-the harbor master’s assistant was in.
-
-To him Fay showed his card, his authority from George Mott, and other
-identifications. He sealed the matter with a cigar. The assistant to
-the harbor master made out passes in duplicate. He found the sealing
-wax and a well-chewed pen. He passed the finished documents over, after
-a scrawled signature in each corner.
-
-“They’ll take you aboard anything from here to the Hook,” he said,
-leaning and watching Fay.
-
-“Thanks!” said Fay. “I’ll see if they will!”
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-The ferry-house was thronged with passengers as the two ex-inmates
-searched about for Joe Yeader. These passengers thinned. A man stepped
-forward and clucked from the corner of his mouth.
-
-“All right,” said Fay swiftly. “Hop aboard, and we’ll follow.”
-
-Rake trailed Yeader and Fay. The three men secured seats in the
-smoking-cabin. Yeader, crossing his legs over a yellow kit-bag, took
-Fay’s proffered Perfecto, and drawled:
-
-“At your service, sirs. Beastly sultry night.”
-
-The ferry-boat reached St. George. The three rushed for a train which
-would pass Quarantine Station on an inland route. They descended at a
-dark station, walked rapidly through silent streets till they came to
-the gleaming waters of the Narrows.
-
-Fay saluted a man on guard, showed his authority from the Customhouse,
-and received permission to enter the telegraph station.
-
-He turned on the steps and glanced down at Yeader and Rake.
-
-“Stay here!” he said. “Hold the bag. I’m going up and find out when the
-_Imparada_ comes in. Also, I shall send a wireless message to the
-manager of the Gray Taxi Company.”
-
-Rake started. He frowned in perplexity. “How can you do that, Chester?”
-
-“I’ve got authority to do most anything. I want a Gray taxi to meet us
-when we dock with the _Imparada_. Perhaps your nice little blonde with
-the turned-up nose will be driving.”
-
-Rake shook his head when Fay disappeared. He clenched his fists and
-glanced upward at the topmost light in the dark tower. He swung on one
-heel as Yeader touched his shoulder.
-
-“Big ship coming in!”
-
-“The _Imparada_?”
-
-“Looks like it. We’ll have to hurry. Call Chester!”
-
-Fay appeared at Rake’s third shrilling whistle.
-
-“All set,” he said, waving his arm toward the Government dock. “Let’s
-get down to the quarantine boat.”
-
-A dark wharf jutted like a pointing finger from a green, sloping shore.
-Upon this wharf great, rusty cables and buoys were scattered.
-
-Fay led the way through the buoys and presented his passes to a sailor
-on guard before a wire gate.
-
-“Going out to the _Imparada_!” he said authoritatively.
-
-The sailor hitched his trousers, turned, squinted through the sea
-mists, then swung the gate.
-
-“You’ll have to hurry,” he said. “The quarantine boat is casting off
-her shore lines.”
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-Wrapped in the cloak of gray vapor, the three men crouched forward of
-the wheelhouse and stared out across the Narrows to where a great ship
-glided like a glow-worm in a garden.
-
-They heard the quarantine boat’s bells as it maneuvered beneath the
-towering overhang of the giant passenger ship. They mounted a pilot’s
-ladder which had been lowered for the quarantine officers.
-
-Fay whispered into an officer’s ear after he sprang over the rail. He
-motioned aft. Rake and Yeader, with the kit-bag, followed closely.
-
-The two British bankers were seated at the taffrail. To them Fay told
-his mission, and his object of substituting himself and party, in order
-to discover who had slain Stephney. The bankers had already been
-informed of the murder. They were noncommittal. They rose from steamer
-chairs, studied Fay’s credentials, stared keenly at Yeader and Rake,
-then consulted in whispers.
-
-“All right,” they said finally. “Come to our staterooms.”
-
-The transformation which was made while the ship glided to her dock was
-thorough and startling. Fay upended Yeader’s kit-bag and sorted out its
-contents. He changed his appearance before the eyes of the silent
-Britishers. He put on goggles and borrowed a more pronounced checked
-cap than the one he had worn to the ship.
-
-He ran a hand across his face, then tapped a well-bound packet
-suggestively.
-
-“All set,” he said, looking at himself in a glass. “By Jove! George
-Mott or Arthur Hilton wouldn’t know me!”
-
-Wrapping a long mackintosh about his slender form, Fay threw open the
-door and led the way to the boat-deck.
-
-“We’ll stand here,” he said to Rake and Yeader. “The ship is almost in.
-Now play your parts. Look out for a Gray taxi.”
-
-The ship snugged against the dock, under pressure from two snorting
-tugs. Steam plumed aft the giant funnels. A bell clanged its final
-message to the engine-room. A gangplank was raised in the gloom. It
-steadied and swung inboard.
-
-“Come!” cried Fay; “Follow me!”
-
-The way led down through a companion, along a luggage-littered deck and
-past the second officer, who gave the signal that they could descend
-the gangplank.
-
-Fay shaded his face from the Central Office men at the foot of the
-plank. He turned and motioned for Rake and Yeader. They hurried over
-the splintered dock and reached the first of the shore throng to meet
-the incoming passengers.
-
-“Go ahead!” said Fay to Yeader. “Lug the bag and find the taxi. Tell
-the driver you’re from the British Banking Commission. Pile on all the
-Cockney you know.”
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-The throng parted. Fay saw, to one side of the dock entrance, a waiting
-taxi. Upon its seat a form crouched. Yeader waved his hand, opened the
-taxi door, tossed in the bag and assisted Fay and Rake to mount the
-running-board and step inside.
-
-“’Otel Rockingham!” exclaimed Yeader. “Go a’ead!”
-
-The door clicked shut with a strong pressure. The driver lowered the
-taxi-meter flag, released the brake and moved through first, second,
-and into third speed with the cunning manipulation of a professional.
-
-Fay rubbed the thick plate glass at his side, glanced out at the
-flashing lights and street intersections, before he leaned down and
-opened the bag.
-
-“Take these,” he whispered, handing Rake and Yeader two heavy
-automatics. “Plant them on the seat. Now this hatchet.”
-
-Joe Yeader straightened with the package in his hand. He broke the
-string, ripped off the wrapping paper and held out a bright-looking
-hatchet.
-
-“Hold it ready!” said Fay. “We’re turning into Fifth Avenue!”
-
-The taxi swerved, straightened and lunged northward. Rake sputtered and
-swore as he attempted to open a door. Yeader bent over and tried the
-knob on the other door.
-
-“Did you notice our driver?” asked Fay.
-
-“Red hair and turned-up nose,” said Yeader. “What to hell kind of a
-bloody trap did we get into?”
-
-Rake turned and pressed his nose against the front glass of the taxi.
-He turned as Fay reached and jerked down the blind.
-
-“It’s Elsie De Groot!” he blurted. “It’s the dame of the garage!”
-
-“Listen!”
-
-A slight noise like a steam-exhaust sounded. Fay reached close by the
-seat. He pressed one knee against Yeader. He nodded comprehendingly.
-
-“The air’s gettin’ thinner!” exclaimed Rake. “I can’t breathe!”
-
-Fay dropped to his knees, swayed, and ran his hand over the bottom of
-the cab. He curled into a knot with his feet on the seat. He raised a
-hand and indicated for Rake and Yeader to bend down.
-
-“We’re supposed to be dead!” he whispered. “There’s a suction pump on
-the engine that’s exhausting the air from the cab. The driver started
-the pump when she started the cab. The windows and framework are built
-to withstand enormous outside pressure.”
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-The taxi came to a sudden halt at a curb. The driver sprang from the
-front seat, mounted the running-board and pressed a pair of sharp eyes
-against the side glass. Fay, Rake and Yeader lay on the cab floor with
-their faces shielded by their up-thrown arms.
-
-The driver swung into the seat, raced the engine, and clicked through
-the speeds. The taxi darted up Fifth Avenue. It gained Fifty-ninth
-Street and turned into the Park. It swung the dark curves on its swift
-passage uptown.
-
-Fay’s fingers groped along the seat and clasped an automatic. “Get the
-other!” he said into Rake’s ear. “You, Yeader, take the hatchet and pry
-at the bottom of the door. I’ve got my hand over the suction pipe. We
-wont be suffocated.”
-
-The ride seemed endless. The taxi rolled from out the foliage of the
-Park and climbed a long hill. It turned northward along street-car
-tracks.
-
-“Broadway!” said Fay, sensing his position. “We’re going right out
-Broadway.”
-
-Rake gasped and pressed a finger across his mouth. He coughed, pounded
-his chest, and recovered himself. His eyes glared indignantly. He
-waited till the taxi clattered over a bridge, then he protested:
-
-“Let me out, Chester. I’ll wring that damn girl’s neck! I can’t stand
-this much longer. There’s no air.”
-
-“Sisst!” said Fay. “Are you sure Elsie De Groot is driving the taxi?”
-
-“Sure! I’d swear to it!”
-
-Fay chuckled. “We’ll soon know. This is Yonkers. We’ve passed Getty
-Square. We’re turning now. Now we’re going north. Two turns and then a
-straight road. I’d know where we are, blindfolded.”
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-It was twenty minutes later when the taxi slowed, backed, then swung
-toward the left and took a narrow bumpy road. Fay sat up, pressed his
-toe on the sucking exhaust-pipe and clamped his teeth with a suggestive
-grind.
-
-“All ready!” he said nudging Yeader. “See, we’re rising. We’re going
-across a bridge. Listen! That’s the New York Central Railroad below us.
-This is where Stephney was thrown on the freight-train. Now--look out!”
-
-The taxi dropped down a long, sharp incline with its brakes grinding.
-It rounded a lodge-gate, swung by a dark, stone house and came to a
-sudden halt in a sheltered courtyard.
-
-The driver sprang out. Fay braced his feet against the door. He heard
-two voices in whispered conversation. A third joined in with a
-protesting snarl. The handle of the door clicked. A key was inserted.
-The lock snapped open.
-
-Fay bent his knees, aimed at the exact center of the panel and kicked
-outward. He rolled over with the force of his blow. He staggered from
-the cab with Yeader and Rake scrambling after him.
-
-“Get up your hands!” he exclaimed, jabbing forward the automatic. “Up!
-Up! Up! All three of you!”
-
-Rake lunged swiftly and wrapped his arms about the forward figure of a
-startled group. He went down with the man under him.
-
-The two figures in front of Fay’s automatic hesitated, spread, and
-bolted to right and left. Fay lowered his gun, fired once at the
-ground, then dashed in pursuit of the taxi-driver, whose khaki leggings
-were a fair mark to follow.
-
-He gained with each stride. He reached forward, stumbled over a low
-wall, and clutched a coat which was torn from his fingers. He bounded
-across a roadway, dropped the automatic and made a flying tackle which
-brought his quarry to the close-cropped grass.
-
-“Lie still, you!” he ordered as his fingers closed on a pair of
-flailing arms. “Get down! I think I know you!”
-
-                *       *       *       *       *
-
-Fay’s hands gripped with strength. He heard a low moan below him, and
-eased the clutch he had fastened upon a thick throat. He wheeled and
-stared toward the courtyard. Rake had already secured his prisoner. The
-big ex-convict was looking up the road, which merged into gloom and
-dripping trees. A man was bounding along this road, with Yeader close
-behind him. The Cockney raised his revolver in a slow aim. He lowered
-it and dashed on. A taxi with blazing cones of yellow light swung over
-the bridge across the railroad track and began descending the grade. It
-slowed. It stopped with a shriek of metal bands on metal.
-
-Two drivers sprang from the front seat and reached for the man whom
-Yeader was pursuing. He sank to his knees in the roadway as other forms
-scrambled from the taxi. He was surrounded by a resolute group of
-taxi-drivers. Their leader called an order and came running toward the
-taxi in the courtyard.
-
-Fay twisted his fingers in a close collar, ran his hand over the figure
-below him and found, in a pocket, a matted red wig. He sprang erect.
-
-“The mechanic of the garage!” he exclaimed. “You settle one doubt! You
-impersonated Elsie De Groot!”
-
-The leader of the drivers who had arrived in the second taxi ran across
-the courtyard, paused, and stared at Fay’s prisoner. She turned with
-her eyes sweeping the windows of the silent house. She came over the
-grass.
-
-“Just in time, Miss Elsie!” said Fay. “You got a man up the road. Who
-was he?”
-
-“A crook! And this is--”
-
-“This is one of your mechanics. He resembles you. He must have had
-access to your desk. He impersonated you by putting on a wig after you
-set Stephney down on Fifth Avenue. He was Ponsardin’s tool. His taxi
-was equipped with a suction pipe and a set of snap locks on the doors.
-It was death to enter it. They were after big game tonight.”
-
-The girl shuddered. She turned away from Fay and his prisoner.
-
-“I don’t know how it all happened,” she said. “I suspected the mechanic
-after your visit. We followed him tonight. He had a taxi exactly like
-ours. We lost him in the Park. We were close behind you. Then--we found
-the trail again, up above Yonkers. It led here. You see, he had
-different tires than most cars. One was vulcanized on the tread and
-made a different mark in the dust.”
-
-“That was clever!”
-
-The girl trembled slightly.
-
-“Who’s the third man,” Fay asked, “the one you looked at before you
-came over to me?”
-
-“Oh, that’s Ponsardin! He’s the owner of the Gray Taxi Company. I
-wonder what will become of it now? I hate to see the boys lose their
-jobs.”
-
-“They won’t, and you won’t. I’m sure I can fix things so that once in a
-while I can drop around and call upon Miss Elsie De Groot--President
-and General Manager of the Gray Taxi Company--which Mr. George Mott
-will surely take care of, no matter what happens to Ponsardin.”
-
-The girl seized Fay’s extended hand.
-
-“That’ll be corking! The Gray Brotherhood has certainly cleared its
-name tonight.”
-
-“And so have you!” said Chester Fay with a smile.
-
-
-[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the October 1920 issue of
-The Blue Book magazine.]
-
-
-*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRAY BROTHERHOOD ***
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-<!DOCTYPE html>
-<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
-<head>
-  <meta charset="UTF-8" />
-  <title>The Project Gutenberg Ebook of The Gray Brotherhood, by Henry Leverage</title>
-  <link rel='icon' href='images/cover.jpg' type='image/x-cover' />
-  <style>
-    body { margin-left:8%;margin-right:8%; }
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-<body>
-<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The gray brotherhood, by Henry Leverage</p>
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
-are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
-country where you are located before using this eBook.
-</div>
-
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The gray brotherhood</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Henry Leverage</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 9, 2022 [eBook #68951]</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
-  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark</p>
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRAY BROTHERHOOD ***</div>
-
-<h1>The Gray Brotherhood</h1>
-<div style='text-align:center'>by Henry Leverage</div>
-<div class='figcenter' style='width:70%; max-width:1532px'>
-    <img src='images/illus-001.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%;height:auto;' />
-</div>
-
-<p style='margin:1em 15%; font-style:italic; font-size:0.9em; text-indent:0;'>
-An exciting story of Chester Fay, underworld prince, and of one of
-his most daredevil exploits ... Henry Leverage at his best.</p>
-
-<p>A gray taxi was threading the traffic of Fifth Avenue. Up through the
-wealthiest street in the world the driver flashed with all the aplomb
-of a professional “bucker” who knew the elastic limits of the
-automobile laws.</p>
-
-<p>Chester Fay leaned forward now and then and studied the hands which
-shifted the lever at the street intersections like those of an
-American Ace at the “stick” of a biplane.</p>
-
-<p>“Good boy,” he exclaimed when the taxi came to a grinding halt before
-the doorman of the Hotel Rockingham. “Good kid!” he added when he
-extended the fare.</p>
-
-<p>“I thank you,” said the driver of the gray taxi.</p>
-
-<p>Fay paused at the marble steps of the Hotel Rockingham. The taxi
-turned and darted southward.</p>
-
-<p>Wheeling with a pucker of interest on his features, Fay strode
-through an alley of palms and bronze vases and leaned over an
-onyx-topped desk where stood a trim-looking clerk whose collar and
-tie indicated prosperity in subordinate positions.</p>
-
-<p>“Arthur Hilton?” Fay questioned.</p>
-
-<p>“By appointment?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes. He phoned me at&#8212;” Fay glanced up to the gilt clock over the
-clerk’s head. “Exactly twenty minutes ago!” he declared.</p>
-
-<p>The page who responded to the pressure of a button led the way to a
-private elevator, nodded to the pilot and closed the green-grilled
-door when Fay stepped briskly inside the cage.</p>
-
-<p>He was whisked to a silent stop on an upper floor. He stepped out and
-faced a gray-haired English detective of the superior type, who had
-been pacing an ornate hallway.</p>
-
-<p>“Arthur Hilton?” said Fay.</p>
-
-<p>“By Sir Arthur’s consent?”</p>
-
-<p>“Certainly!”</p>
-
-<p>“You may follow me,” drawled the Scotland Yard man.</p>
-
-<p>Fay found himself in the foyer of a splendid suite. He waited, toying
-with his cap, as the detective passed through a rift in the portiéres
-which led in the general direction of Fifth Avenue. He was on the
-point of coughing to attract attention when the curtains parted in
-invitation.</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>Sir Arthur Hilton stood by a long window with the white light of a
-western sky reflected across his furrowed face like the reaching hand
-of a specter.</p>
-
-<p>“You’re Fay?” he said as the Scotland Yard man backed into the shadow
-of an inner room.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes. Chester Fay&#8212;Mr. George Mott, the reformer’s friend.”</p>
-
-<p>“Good&#8212;good and bad! There’s the old Nick to pay. Putney Stephney of
-Downing Street&#8212;a King’s greyhound&#8212;with thirty thousand pounds in
-American banknotes, was found dead on top of a goods-train at
-Poughkeepsie this morning.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay pulled out a cigarette.</p>
-
-<p>“Murdered!” declared Hilton with a rising voice. “Killed in cold
-blood somewhere between the steamer dock at West Street and&#8212;and
-Poughkeepsie.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay dragged on the cigarette, thrust his hands into his pockets and
-leaned forward. His eyes hardened slightly. They fastened within the
-steady stare of Sir Arthur’s own.</p>
-
-<p>“Facts are these,” resumed the British representative. “Stephney had
-landed at the dock at ten-twenty last night. Was seen by two of the
-steamship company’s detectives who were watching all embarking passengers.”</p>
-
-<p>“Was that the <i>Carpathia</i>?” asked Fay.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes&#8212;the <i>Carpathia</i>! Stephney came down the gangplank, turned at
-the customroom, went inside a telephone booth, came out and was
-observed taking a gray taxi at the foot of the dock. That was the
-last seen of him until the chief of the railroad detectives at
-Poughkeepsie found his body on top of a goods-train. Skull was
-slightly crushed. Pockets rifled. Portfolio, with banknotes and
-memoranda, missing.”</p>
-
-<p>“Quick work!”</p>
-
-<p>“Beastly quick!” shot back Hilton through rigid lips. “Beastly
-clever, too!”</p>
-
-<p>The British representative glanced toward the doorway before which
-the portiéres draped. He strode to Fay’s side and leaned forward as
-his fingers clutched the investigator’s left shoulder in the grip of
-a bulldog.</p>
-
-<p>“Stephney didn’t die from the crushed skull,” he said tersely. “That
-accident came afterward. He was killed by an unknown method. He was
-lured to death in the heart of civilization!”</p>
-
-<p>“An unknown method?”</p>
-
-<p>“Fact! Had the coroner of Poughkeepsie on the wire not an hour ago. A
-surgeon from Plattsburg happened to assist at the autopsy. It was he
-who detected the condition of the lungs. Also, Stephney’s face was
-greenish-black.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay backed away and allowed Sir Arthur’s hand to drop. His eyes
-glazed with speculation. They hardened.</p>
-
-<p>“You have other facts?” he asked.</p>
-
-<p>“Little more! Stephney was last seen alive getting into a gray taxi
-which disappeared soon afterward. He was headed for this hotel. I sat
-up until three o’clock waiting for him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Who else knew he was coming to New York?”</p>
-
-<p>“The Washington Embassy.”</p>
-
-<p>“Who knew it in London?”</p>
-
-<p>“Downing Street.”</p>
-
-<p>“Whom do you suspect?”</p>
-
-<p>“American crooks.”</p>
-
-<p>“Everybody blames them&#8212;for everything.”</p>
-
-<p>Sir Arthur frowned. “I’ve given you the case&#8212;on account of Mr.
-Mott’s interest in ex-convicts and the Gray Brotherhood.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, I’ll take it. I’ll jump! I want all the facts you can allow me
-to have.”</p>
-
-<p>“I’ve given you everything. The body found at Poughkeepsie on top of
-the goods-train was Stephney’s. There’s no doubt of that. He was
-first identified by the tailor’s name in his pockets&#8212;Concre, of
-London, I think. We’ve a solicitor up there who made a complete
-identification.”</p>
-
-<p>“Did Stephney ever visit New York before?”</p>
-
-<p>“Once, two years ago&#8212;just after the end of the war.”</p>
-
-<p>“Would he know any women here?”</p>
-
-<p>“Hardly! He was to come right to me!”</p>
-
-<p>Fay moved a chair and lifted his cap. He turned at the portiéres. His
-glance toward Arthur Hilton was one of understanding.</p>
-
-<p>“You and Mr. Mott alone know that I am on this case?”</p>
-
-<p>“It is locked with us!”</p>
-
-<p>“I have carte blanche?”</p>
-
-<p>“Up to ten thousand pounds.”</p>
-
-<p>“Good-by!” said Fay, creasing his checked cap as he parted the
-curtains and strode through the suite to the hallway of the hotel.</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>He jabbed at a pearl button until the private elevator floated up to
-him. He reached the street and turned toward the Avenue. He saw there
-a gray taxi. A young man sat on the driver’s seat. He was moving
-southward close by the right curb.</p>
-
-<p>A swift sprint, a ducking lunge before the silver radiator of a
-polished limousine, a hasty reach for the wind-shield of the taxi,
-and a startled exclamation from the driver&#8212;these occurred within
-seven seconds.</p>
-
-<p>“I’m going downtown,” said Fay, settling back in the front seat and
-staring boldly at the driver. “Don’t mind if I ride out here?”</p>
-
-<p>“I certainly do! It’s against the company’s regulations.”</p>
-
-<p>“Set the meter and drive on. I’ve really got something I want to say
-to you.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, of all the nerve!”</p>
-
-<p>“Certainly&#8212;certainly! I’ve always been interested in this new
-company with the gray taxies and the paroled men who drive them. I’m
-a Western newspaper man&#8212;come from Chicago. Suppose you tell me all
-about the Gray Taxi Company. How many taxies are there? Who’s the
-originator? How’s business? Do you cover the steamship docks?”</p>
-
-<p>“Say! On the dead, you’ve got nerve. I’m going to call the first
-traffic cop I meet. There’s one!”</p>
-
-<p>Fay reached into his right-hand trouser pocket. His hand appeared
-with a five-dollar bill between his fingers.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll bet you this you don’t,” he said, pressing the bill into the
-driver’s lap. “Take it and buy a good dinner. There’s another coming
-to you if you answer my questions.”</p>
-
-<p>The driver clutched the steering-wheel with both hands as he brought
-his knees together and pressed a leather toe upon the throttle. The
-taxi leaped by the traffic cop, dodged a bus and roared on down the
-Avenue until an open place was gained.</p>
-
-<p>“Go slow,” said Fay. “Loaf along and let me get some dope for my
-article. Who owns the Gray Taxi Company?”</p>
-
-<p>“James Ponsardin.”</p>
-
-<p>“Proprietor of the morning <i>Messenger</i>?”</p>
-
-<p>“Sure! He owns the company.”</p>
-
-<p>“How many taxies?”</p>
-
-<p>“Fifty running now.”</p>
-
-<p>“Who manages it?”</p>
-
-<p>“A girl!”</p>
-
-<p>“What?”</p>
-
-<p>“Sure! Her name is Elsie De Groot. She’s making it pay, too.”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s interesting.” Fay stared into the alert face of the driver at
-the wheel. “Is she an ex-convict?”</p>
-
-<p>“I never heard that said about her!”</p>
-
-<p>“Loyal!” thought Chester Fay, shifting in his position. “You never
-heard,” he repeated aloud. “That’s definite. Do you keep records of
-passengers carried?”</p>
-
-<p>“We make a report out at night. Miss Elsie gets them.”</p>
-
-<p>“Do your taxies cover the steamship docks?”</p>
-
-<p>“Sometimes&#8212;if there’s a call.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay saw that he was in the presence of a very matter-of-fact young
-man who was making his own way in the world.</p>
-
-<p>“Mind taking me to the Southampton Line?” he asked.</p>
-
-<p>The driver’s answer was to glance around the right-hand side of the
-taxi, slow to a crawl, then swing the corner with both arms over the
-wheel.</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>Fay braced himself for five blocks of cobbled streets upon the
-surface of which ragged children played ball and dodged death. He
-stepped down from the taxi as it came to a gliding stop before the
-ornate entrance to the great dock.</p>
-
-<p>“Mind waiting?”</p>
-
-<p>The driver glanced at the taxi-meter.</p>
-
-<p>“You’ve paid me for a couple of hours.”</p>
-
-<p>“Stay right here. Ill be back in ten minutes.”</p>
-
-<p>Chester Fay found two English detectives covering the dock. With them
-was a Secret Service operative of slight acquaintance.</p>
-
-<p>“Hello!” he said, drawing this man to one side. “Say, Gardner,” he
-whispered, “who would know down here what happened last night when
-the <i>Carpathia’s</i> passengers came down the planks? I want to trace a
-man who took a Gray taxi. The man is&#8212;”</p>
-
-<p>“Putney Steph&#8212;Stephney.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes.” Fay raised his brows. The matter was evidently out.</p>
-
-<p>“Has he been found?”</p>
-
-<p>Fay shook his head. He recalled that Sir Arthur Hilton had not given
-instructions to make public the matter of the finding of the body on
-the railroad train at Poughkeepsie.</p>
-
-<p>“Not found yet, eh?” Gardner said. “Well, I did all I could. Come
-over here. That’s right. Now we can talk. That British team are
-listening-in.”</p>
-
-<p>“What did you find?”</p>
-
-<p>“Stephney came down the plank, showed his passports, went into a
-slot-booth, lugged his bag and a leather case out toward the street
-and there hailed a Gray taxi. That much is settled. The taxi was
-driven by a chauffeur with reddish-brown hair. His nose was slightly
-turned up. He had on a yellow coat and leather leggins. He’d been
-waiting around the dock for over three hours.”</p>
-
-<p>“Must have expected him!”</p>
-
-<p>“Looks that way, Chester. He had plenty of fares offered him. You
-see, them Gray taxies are all the fashion now. They’re gettin’ the
-business.”</p>
-
-<p>“You were here at the time the passenger arrived?”</p>
-
-<p>“No. I got my information from old Harry, who watched the express
-wagons and taxies. He’s positive about the red-haired chauffeur. Said
-he was a bold trick!”</p>
-
-<p>“He’s right. Good-by!”</p>
-
-<p>Fay left the Government operative and darted for a telephone booth.
-Into the slot of this he dropped a nickel and obtained, after a brief
-wait, Mr. George Mott’s secretary.</p>
-
-<p>“This is Chester Fay!” he said briskly. “Say, get about ten of the
-Gray Brotherhood rounded up right away and cover these assignments.
-Got it?” he added, drawing the door shut with caution. “Yes&#8212;yes!
-They’ll do. Cover Poughkeepsie and a corpse found there this morning
-on top of a New York Central freight-car. Cover the morgue. Have them
-see the Army surgeon who made the autopsy on the lungs. Have them
-connect with the coroner and the railroad detectives who found the
-body.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay paused and mopped his brow with his sleeve. It was hot in the
-booth.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, there’s more!” he snapped. “Cover James Ponsardin of the
-<i>Messenger</i>. Put him to bed and get him up in the morning. Find him
-and keep the boys tailing him till I call them off. That’s all ... no,
-send Rake to the corner of the block where the Gray Taxi Company
-has its garage. Tell him I’ll meet him there in fifteen minutes!”</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>It was eleven minutes later when Fay requested the driver of the taxi
-to deposit him on the northeastern corner of the block around which
-Gray taxies to the number of a score or more were scattered. Fay
-handed over a second bill with a polite bow.</p>
-
-<p>“I’m going to visit your boss,” he said with a quick smile. “I’ll
-pump her in private for that write-up of mine. It ought to go big in
-our Western syndicate.”</p>
-
-<p>The driver twisted his wrist and studied the time. He set the meter
-to the off position. “Good-by!” he said, leaning over and releasing
-the emergency brake. “I’m much obliged!”</p>
-
-<p>Fay turned and stared into the broad Irish face of the ex-convict he
-had expected to meet.</p>
-
-<p>“Ah, Rake&#8212;on time!”</p>
-
-<p>“Sure, Chester! I was just watchin’ you and that wild-looking driver.
-They’re gettin’ all the high-class business.”</p>
-
-<p>“Come on! Follow me and keep your eyes open. We’re going to look a
-little lady over. Miss Elsie, the manager, is under suspicion.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay led the way along the sidewalk and threaded his steps through a
-group of young men outside the Gray Taxi Garage. He eyed each one for
-possible red hair and turned-up nose. He entered the doorway, dodged
-a fast-flying taxi which was coming out on second speed, then knocked
-upon the ground glass of a door
-marked <span style='font-variant:small-caps;'>Private&#8212;Keep Out&#8212;This Means You!</span></p>
-
-<p>A slip of a girl answered the knock. She glanced from Fay’s face to
-the peering countenance of Rake.</p>
-
-<p>“Well?” she asked.</p>
-
-<p>“I’m looking for a Miss Elsie De Groot,” said Fay, thrusting his foot
-forward. “I’m a newspaper man. I&#8212;want to write her up for a Western
-syndicate. It ought to bring some business.”</p>
-
-<p>The girl toyed with a pencil which she jabbed like a bayonet into a
-raven-hued turban. “I’ll see,” she said, turning and gliding through
-an inner door.</p>
-
-<p>Presently her elfin face gladdened the opening as Fay half advanced
-into the outer office.</p>
-
-<p>“Come in, please. Miss De Groot will see you.”</p>
-
-<p>Chester Fay removed his cap, crushed it between his fingers and
-stepped briskly forward. He paused before the edge of a rug. Across
-this rug sat a girl. She swiveled in a businesslike chair and threw
-one neat ankle over the other. She glanced impatiently upward.</p>
-
-<p>“We’d like to see you alone,” Fay said as he noted a mop of reddish
-hair and a freckled nose which seemed to be pressed up by an unseen
-finger. “Alone,” he added, swinging upon the stenographer and jerking
-his chin toward the door.</p>
-
-<p>“Why, certainly!”</p>
-
-<p>The girl slipped out and closed the door. Fay left Rake’s side and
-moved up close to a littered desk which bore some resemblance to
-order.</p>
-
-<p>“To be brief as time!” he said, drawing a card from his pocket. “To
-be brief,” he whispered, replacing the card, “I want to know just why
-you took a taxi at or about six o’clock last night, went down to the
-Southampton Dock and waited for a passenger who wore a Silver
-Greyhound&#8212;indicating that he was on British Government business,
-urgent and pressing.”</p>
-
-<p>The girl’s broad forehead whitened slightly. She recrossed her trim
-ankles. She tapped the desk before her with polished nails. She
-reached and adjusted a hairpin in her reddish knot, which added
-beauty to a resolute, somewhat bold face.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t know what business that is of yours!” she said.</p>
-
-<p>Fay frowned. “It’s the people’s business! It’s Charles Mott’s
-business. Are you going to help me?”</p>
-
-<p>“I never talk to strangers. You may be Mr. Mott’s representative. You
-may be connected with the Gray Brotherhood. How do I know?”</p>
-
-<p>“You know what happened to your fare last night?”</p>
-
-<p>The girl swung in the chair and glanced at Rake. Her eyes opened to
-brown pools of protest. She brought both feet down on the rug and
-rose with her hand on the back of the chair.</p>
-
-<p>“You both better go.”</p>
-
-<p>“Just a minute. You know Putney Stephney?”</p>
-
-<p>“Perhaps I do.”</p>
-
-<p>“You know what happened to him?”</p>
-
-<p>“No!”</p>
-
-<p>“Do you want to know?”</p>
-
-<p>“See here!” The girl’s voice indicated reserve strength. “See here!
-This is my office. We&#8212;I, am obeying the law. Our business is of such
-a nature that we do not talk to strangers. To tell you frankly, I
-detest people who ask too many questions.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay took the thrust with good humor. “They’re not all the same,” he
-said, moving closer to the girl and regarding her with admiration.
-“Now you, for instance, know full well that I didn’t come here
-without being pretty sure of my ground. You’ll have to answer my
-questions, or you will be called to account for a number of nasty
-accusations. Mr. Mott is your friend&#8212;he also is my friend!”</p>
-
-<p>The girl turned helplessly toward the closed door. She tapped her
-foot on the rug. She bent her head.</p>
-
-<p>“How came you to know Putney Stephney?” Fay asked, feeling his way
-for a surprise.</p>
-
-<p>“I met him two years ago. He was just a good friend of mine. I can’t
-see your purpose in questioning me concerning him.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay watched her lips tremble. He had conceived a liking for Elsie De
-Groot over the period of minutes. He said through his white teeth:</p>
-
-<p>“Putney Stephney was murdered last night!”</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>The girl swayed. She reached blindly for the arms of the chair.</p>
-
-<p>“Murdered by an unknown method!”</p>
-
-<p>A gasping sob racked the air. The beat of a powerful engine throbbed
-the garage. It was like the roll of a muffled drum.</p>
-
-<p>“Foully murdered! Done to death between the steamship dock and
-Poughkeepsie, where he was found with skull crushed and his lungs
-empty of air. He was last seen getting into your taxicab!”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, don’t! It isn’t true!”</p>
-
-<p>Fay leaned until his eyes compelled hers to waver. “It’s true,” he
-whispered. “Now, tell me what happened to Putney Stephney? The matter
-is going to do the Gray Brotherhood and the Gray Taxi Company
-considerable harm.”</p>
-
-<p>“Do with him?”</p>
-
-<p>“Certainly! What did you do with him? The truth, and nothing but the
-truth. It’s bound to come out!”</p>
-
-<p>“See here!” The girl braced her shoulders and stared back defiantly.
-“See here!” she flashed with sudden anger. “I can give you no
-information except&#8212;”</p>
-
-<p>“Except what?”</p>
-
-<p>“The record of the call. That is all that I will ever give you or
-anybody else. My personal affairs are not to be dragged about by an
-amateur investigator.”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s all I want.” Fay turned and motioned for Rake to leave the
-office. He waited until the door closed with a click.</p>
-
-<p>“We’re going to be frank,” he said. “I’m here to help you out. You
-met Stephney at the dock, after waiting around for hours. I’d judge
-by this action that you knew him. He perhaps wirelessed or
-telegraphed you from Quarantine.”</p>
-
-<p>The girl brushed her hair from her eyes with the back of her right
-hand. She stared at the rug, then into Fay’s keen face.</p>
-
-<p>“I met him by his own appointment.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah! Now we’re getting on, Miss Elsie. You met him&#8212;after waiting a
-long time. He had an enormous sum of money. You alone knew that he
-was coming. He trusted in you so as to be safe in a city
-comparatively strange&#8212;to him. He&#8212;”</p>
-
-<p>“Trusted me&#8212;yes! We stopped at Figaro’s on Forty-second Street. We
-had a club sandwich served to us. I sat outside with him because I&#8212;I
-had these clothes on.”</p>
-
-<p>The girl swept her hands over her leggins and short skirt.</p>
-
-<p>“And then?”</p>
-
-<p>“Why, I took him on uptown within six or seven blocks of the
-Rockingham. He said he would walk the rest of the way. I left him on
-the curb. He started north.”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s clear,” said Fay. “He started north. Did you see him any
-more?”</p>
-
-<p>The girl dropped her eyes and studied the design of the office rug.
-“I did and I didn’t. He got in another cab&#8212;I think!”</p>
-
-<p>“What?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes. There was no reason for him to do that. He had only a few
-blocks to go in order to reach the hotel.”</p>
-
-<p>“What kind of a cab?”</p>
-
-<p>“One of ours&#8212;a Gray taxi.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, don’t you know who was driving it? Was it following you?”</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>A puzzled pucker gathered in a little square upon the girl’s white
-forehead. She reached to the littered desk and lifted a call-sheet.
-She held this out with shaking fingers.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ve questioned every one of my drivers. No one of them admits
-taking Mr. Stephney or anyone else to the Rockingham. I didn’t
-understand it last night; I don’t now. It was certainly a taxi
-painted like ours that he got in. I thought it so strange.”</p>
-
-<p>“Did this other driver call him?”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t know. I was turning when I looked up the Avenue. Putney was
-running from the curb with one hand raised. He jumped on the
-running-board of the taxi, which disappeared from under an arclight.
-I didn’t see anything more.”</p>
-
-<p>“Didn’t that strike you as a strange proceeding?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, it did! I thought a lot about it. I went over the call-sheet
-and asked all of the drivers. Two are out yet, but I know where they
-were at the time.”</p>
-
-<p>“Do you often take representatives of the British Government around?
-Have they a charge-account?”</p>
-
-<p>“I can’t answer those questions. You must ask Mr. Hilton.”</p>
-
-<p>“Do you want to tell me anything about James Ponsardin?”</p>
-
-<p>The girl started. She folded the call-sheet by running it through her
-fingers.</p>
-
-<p>“No, I don’t! You’ll have to see him.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay fished in his pocket and brought forth the same card he had
-before shown to the girl.</p>
-
-<p>“You’ll find me at Mr. George Mott’s office. Please call me up if you
-discover anything. Ask those two drivers whom you didn’t question.
-Help us in every way. This murder is an international matter. Keep
-thinking about what happened last night. We must find the murderer!”</p>
-
-<p>Fay laid the card on the desk, bowed slightly toward the silent girl,
-nodded to the stenographer, and joined Rake in the run-way of the
-garage.</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>The big ex-convict was staring at the group of drivers who were
-awaiting assignments. He smiled broadly as he felt Fay’s hand on his
-shoulder.</p>
-
-<p>“Some bunch, Chester!”</p>
-
-<p>“Any of your old pals here?”</p>
-
-<p>“The only one I remember is that snob-nosed mechanic over there&#8212;the
-fellow under that car.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay wheeled. A pair of bright eyes, grease-rimmed and shadowed with
-blond lashes, was peering out at him. A tapping sounded upon the rear
-axle of the taxi as Fay stooped a trifle. The mechanic extended one
-hand and coiled his fingers about a spanner.</p>
-
-<p>“The only one in the place,” said Rake. “I served time with him
-somewhere&#8212;maybe in Sing Sing, maybe Joliet.”</p>
-
-<p>“Come on, Rake!”</p>
-
-<p>Fay led the way to the sidewalk, nodded pleasantly to the staring
-drivers, then turned toward the west. It was at the corner of the
-block where he paused and glanced in the direction of the garage.</p>
-
-<p>“The entire case rests there,” he declared without pointing.
-“Stephney was murdered in a Gray taxi. He was suffocated in some way
-to render him unconscious. He was tossed on top of a freight-train
-after being well plucked. This much we know. Now, how was it done?”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t think a woman was mixed up in it. That girl looked like a
-perfect lady. An old night-hawk, who is as crooked as his whip, might
-do it. He could get a cab an’ turn the trick.”</p>
-
-<p>“But the mysterious way of suffocating a man?”</p>
-
-<p>The ex-convict scratched his head.</p>
-
-<p>“That’s different,” he admitted. “O’Toole, Flynn, Fogarty, Harris an’
-Johnson&#8212;they ought to discover something, Chester. Harrigan, Mr.
-Mott’s man, sent them running after you telephoned. He’s called on
-the Harlem Branch for three more of the Brotherhood to cover the
-case. You’ve got nine or ten boys out now.”</p>
-
-<p>“Hardly enough. We’ll get more! Suppose we walk west for a block or
-two. I want to think this puzzle over.”</p>
-
-<p>Rake fell in behind Fay. They crossed the street and took a shady
-side. The last rays of the western sun struck slanting through the
-cañon of tenements. The street resounded with the shouts of urchins
-playing ball. A truck went by as Fay paused and clicked keys in his
-pocket.</p>
-
-<p>He glanced up at Rake.</p>
-
-<p>“We’ll have to cover the Hudson River homes,” he said. “Looks to me
-as if the body was being taken over the railroad track when it was
-thrown on top of a freight-car. Who is investigating Poughkeepsie and
-the routing of the train?”</p>
-
-<p>“O’Toole an’ Flynn went north, Chester.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay dragged out his watch and studied the dial. “It’s too early yet
-for them to report. It’s too&#8212;”</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>He stared open-mouthed toward the Avenue ahead of him. He reached and
-clutched Rake’s arm. He gripped this with fingers of steel.</p>
-
-<p>“Did you see that?”</p>
-
-<p>“See wot, Chester?”</p>
-
-<p>“The Gray taxi that went by?”</p>
-
-<p>“I saw one. I didn’t notice it particularly.”</p>
-
-<p>“It was being driven thirty miles an hour by Elsie De Groot! I’m
-positive it was her. Reddish hair and turned-up nose!”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s the colleen who runs the garage?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes&#8212;the girl of the garage! The same little lady who met Putney
-Stephney at the steamship dock last night.”</p>
-
-<p>“We’re gettin’ on, Chester. It looks bad for the Brotherhood.”</p>
-
-<p>“And for the Sisterhood! We just finished talking to her not a
-half&#8212;not twenty minutes ago; and there she goes uptown&#8212;full speed
-and more.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay eyed his watch and ran a polished finger-nail over the crystal.</p>
-
-<p>“Twenty-two minutes!” he declared, replacing the timepiece in his
-vest pocket.</p>
-
-<p>“Let’s go back, Chester.”</p>
-
-<p>“No! We’ll go on to the office of the morning <i>Messenger</i>. Foley is
-their sporting editor. Perhaps he can tell us something about
-Ponsardin and the taxi-company.”</p>
-
-<p>“Nice name!” blurted the ex-inmate. “Sounds like a doped wine an’
-deep-dyed villainy.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay grasped Rake by the elbow and hurried him in the direction of the
-avenue up which the taxi had flashed. There was no trace of it. Fay
-hesitated a moment, like a keen hound on a scent, then fell into a
-brisk walk northward, which took him to the somewhat unostentatious
-building that housed the uptown offices of the <i>Messenger</i>.</p>
-
-<p>Foley, the sporting editor, was in. He greeted Fay with a hand thrust
-over a battered typewriter propped upon a broken desk. He thrust
-aside a bundle of press clippings and cleared off two chairs.</p>
-
-<p>“Sit down!” he welcomed. “Got some dope on the crook game for me?”</p>
-
-<p>Fay leaned back and glanced about the office with slow caution, then
-shot a question at Foley through rigid lips.</p>
-
-<p>“What do you know about Ponsardin&#8212;your proprietor?”</p>
-
-<p>Foley tried to wink with lashless eyelids. He upended a huge can of
-cold tea, drank deeply, glanced at the keyboard of his typewriter
-before he set the can down on the corner of a box which had once
-contained ink rolls.</p>
-
-<p>“What do I know? Nothing! He’s a queer stick. Bought the paper about
-three years ago. Hardly ever see him. Goes to Washington quite often.
-The police are investigating the sheet, I guess.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ah!” said Fay.</p>
-
-<p>“Yep! There’s been talk of the actual ownership being in the hands of
-a lot of sure-thing grafters and gamblers. I’m looking for a knockout
-and an upper-cut from the postal authorities any time. You can’t
-pinch me! I don’t write the editorials.”</p>
-
-<p>“They advocate horse-racing and open gambling?”</p>
-
-<p>“They certainly did&#8212;a year or two ago. Now we’ve been instructed to
-hit a bunch of contractors and reformers. Take it from me, Fay, I
-don’t think the <i>Messenger</i> is making any money.”</p>
-
-<p>“Bills paid and all that?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, sure! James Ponsardin is rated three A’s and a One.”</p>
-
-<p>“Is he French or Swiss?”</p>
-
-<p>“Came from Switzerland, I think. Bright fellow, but&#8212;”</p>
-
-<p>“Where does he live? Directory gives an apartment on Riverside
-Drive.”</p>
-
-<p>“I went up there once with some tickets to a bout. He wasn’t there.
-Butler said he was up-State. I guess he’s dug in, covered up and
-pulled the hole in after him. No one around here or downtown knows
-where to find him.”</p>
-
-<p>“Do you know anything about the Gray Taxi Company?”</p>
-
-<p>“The one with the ex-convict drivers?”</p>
-
-<p>Chester Fay nodded.</p>
-
-<p>“No. I heard the bunch talking about it. Why did you ask?”</p>
-
-<p>Fay rose from his chair and threw back his shoulders. “Your boss is
-supposed to own it,” he said. “Ponsardin <em>is</em> the owner! I’ve got a
-case that’s far from being clear, Foley. I’ll give you first chance
-when I’ve worked it out for Mr. Mott. Good-by!”</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>Rake led the way out and down the steps to the street.</p>
-
-<p>“Where to, Chester?” he asked as they stood on the sidewalk.</p>
-
-<p>“Nearest telephone!” said Fay, thrusting his hands in his pockets in
-search for some change.</p>
-
-<p>Rake waited outside of the cigar-store while Fay entered a booth.
-Night was dropping on the city. The sun had set over the blue
-barriers of the Palisades. The lights of Broadway slashed the purple
-heavens from south to north. Forty-second Street with its
-sign-clusters marked the center of the illumination.</p>
-
-<p>It was a long ten minutes before Fay emerged with his teeth clamping
-a slender Perfecto. He passed one to Rake.</p>
-
-<p>“Smoke up!” he said. “It’s on the British representatives. I’ve got a
-good lead from Arthur Hilton. It’s one I overlooked in my haste this
-morning. I think we get our people tonight!”</p>
-
-<p>“What people, Chester?”</p>
-
-<p>“The crooks who killed Stephney. They were after bigger game. The
-others of Stephney’s suite are due on the <i>Imparada</i>. Hilton tells me
-privately that she has been sighted from Sandy Hook.”</p>
-
-<p>Rake examined the cigar, then lighted it and started puffing.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t get you! What’s due on the ship? What’s it got to do with&#8212;”</p>
-
-<p>Fay started toward Broadway. Rake followed with the question still
-upon his mind.</p>
-
-<p>“We’re closing in,” said Fay as he brought a sheet of paper from his
-side pocket and spread it out on the palm of his right hand. “I did
-a lot of phoning. There’s nothing new at Poughkeepsie&#8212;except that
-the train upon which Stephney’s body was found was made up on Tenth
-Avenue, New York.”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s Death Avenue!”</p>
-
-<p>“It’s well named. It left at seven o’clock. It passed the Harlem
-River at eight-sixteen. It reached Harmon at nine-three. It rolled
-into Poughkeepsie early in the morning and was shunted on a
-sidetrack. The railroad detectives searched it carefully while
-looking for tramps. It was then they found the body.”</p>
-
-<p>Rake eyed the sheet of paper.</p>
-
-<p>“Did O’Toole get all that?” he asked.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes. He saw the coroner and the Army surgeon. Stephney was
-suffocated and completely out of this life when his body was dropped
-on top of the train. That must have been from some small bridge
-leading over the tracks to the Hudson River. It was either to a
-boathouse or a private estate.”</p>
-
-<p>“Go on,” said Rake.</p>
-
-<p>“Hilton&#8212;Sir Arthur&#8212;tells me that two members of the same banking
-firm, coming over on the <i>Imparada</i>, have considerable money with
-them. This Commission, of which Stephney was a member, came on
-different steamers on account of a secret matter pertaining to
-pending treaties. These two members will dock sometime tonight.”</p>
-
-<p>“At the same pier, Chester?”</p>
-
-<p>“At the Southampton Pier.”</p>
-
-<p>“That looks like business. We’ll be there, eh?”</p>
-
-<p>“Right there! We’ll meet the bankers at Quarantine, substitute
-ourselves for them, and land, all regular and proper, at the
-Southampton dock. I notified Harrigan, at Mr. Mott’s office, to get
-our outfits. They’ll be waiting for us with a valet at the Battery.
-We will have a valet.”</p>
-
-<p>“What, Chester?”</p>
-
-<p>“Joe Yeader will play that part to perfection. Remember his accent?
-He did time in Brixton Jail.”</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t get it all,” blurted Rake. “What is coming off?”</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>Fay furrowed his brow and stared seriously toward the paper in his
-hand. He thrust it into his pocket. “I’ll explain later,” he said.
-“We’re going right into the lion’s den. We’ll bait the trap with more
-banknotes. We’ve got to clear the name of the Gray Brotherhood and
-the ex-inmates working for the Gray Taxi Company.”</p>
-
-<p>“Do you suspect that girl?”</p>
-
-<p>“I have every reason to believe she is guilty.”</p>
-
-<p>“She don’t look the part.”</p>
-
-<p>“Looks and beauty are skin deep!”</p>
-
-<p>“She didn’t talk like a gun moll or a fallen sister.”</p>
-
-<p>“She’s employed by a man who is suspected by the police and Mr. Mott.
-She has sole charge of Ponsardin’s taxicab interests. She was the
-first to meet Stephney on this side of the Atlantic. She was the last
-to see him alive, according to her own admission. What would you
-think from all that?”</p>
-
-<p>“I think a lot, Chester. But appearances are deceiving. She’d never
-admitted takin’ that Stephney from the dock if she was guilty. She’d
-of denied it. The only time my Mary, at home, is lyin’ to me is when
-she says nothing.”</p>
-
-<p>“Illogical logic!”</p>
-
-<p>“Sure&#8212;an’ it’s the truth, nine times out of ten, Chester.”</p>
-
-<p>Fay glanced at his watch and quickened his steps. “We’ll take the
-Subway to the Customhouse. From there we go over the Bay.”</p>
-
-<p>Rake scratched his head and followed Fay down the steps, past the
-ticket-chopper, and lunged with him into the warm interior of a
-subway car. They were hurtled southward. Fay said nothing during the
-quick trip. His mind wove the details of the plan which he had to
-save the name of the Gray Brotherhood.</p>
-
-<p>He mounted to the surface of the street, closely followed by Rake. He
-sought a phone-booth before crossing to the Customhouse. Rake heard
-him giving a series of rapid-fire directions to Harrigan, the manager
-at George Mott’s headquarters.</p>
-
-<p>Fay emerged, tossed a dollar across to the cigar-clerk and jerked his
-thumb toward a box of Perfectos. “Eight of those!” he said. “Eight!”</p>
-
-<p>Outside, in the cool evening, the two men drew a long breath of smoke
-for the final plunge. They dodged a flashing taxi, climbed the
-Customhouse steps, and found, after consulting an alert doorman, that
-the harbor master’s assistant was in.</p>
-
-<p>To him Fay showed his card, his authority from George Mott, and other
-identifications. He sealed the matter with a cigar. The assistant to
-the harbor master made out passes in duplicate. He found the sealing
-wax and a well-chewed pen. He passed the finished documents over,
-after a scrawled signature in each corner.</p>
-
-<p>“They’ll take you aboard anything from here to the Hook,” he said,
-leaning and watching Fay.</p>
-
-<p>“Thanks!” said Fay. “I’ll see if they will!”</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>The ferry-house was thronged with passengers as the two ex-inmates
-searched about for Joe Yeader. These passengers thinned. A man
-stepped forward and clucked from the corner of his mouth.</p>
-
-<p>“All right,” said Fay swiftly. “Hop aboard, and we’ll follow.”</p>
-
-<p>Rake trailed Yeader and Fay. The three men secured seats in the
-smoking-cabin. Yeader, crossing his legs over a yellow kit-bag, took
-Fay’s proffered Perfecto, and drawled:</p>
-
-<p>“At your service, sirs. Beastly sultry night.”</p>
-
-<p>The ferry-boat reached St. George. The three rushed for a train which
-would pass Quarantine Station on an inland route. They descended at a
-dark station, walked rapidly through silent streets till they came to
-the gleaming waters of the Narrows.</p>
-
-<p>Fay saluted a man on guard, showed his authority from the
-Customhouse, and received permission to enter the telegraph station.</p>
-
-<p>He turned on the steps and glanced down at Yeader and Rake.</p>
-
-<p>“Stay here!” he said. “Hold the bag. I’m going up and find out when
-the <i>Imparada</i> comes in. Also, I shall send a wireless message to the
-manager of the Gray Taxi Company.”</p>
-
-<p>Rake started. He frowned in perplexity. “How can you do that,
-Chester?”</p>
-
-<p>“I’ve got authority to do most anything. I want a Gray taxi to meet
-us when we dock with the <i>Imparada</i>. Perhaps your nice little blonde
-with the turned-up nose will be driving.”</p>
-
-<p>Rake shook his head when Fay disappeared. He clenched his fists and
-glanced upward at the topmost light in the dark tower. He swung on
-one heel as Yeader touched his shoulder.</p>
-
-<p>“Big ship coming in!”</p>
-
-<p>“The <i>Imparada</i>?”</p>
-
-<p>“Looks like it. We’ll have to hurry. Call Chester!”</p>
-
-<p>Fay appeared at Rake’s third shrilling whistle.</p>
-
-<p>“All set,” he said, waving his arm toward the Government dock. “Let’s
-get down to the quarantine boat.”</p>
-
-<p>A dark wharf jutted like a pointing finger from a green, sloping
-shore. Upon this wharf great, rusty cables and buoys were scattered.</p>
-
-<p>Fay led the way through the buoys and presented his passes to a
-sailor on guard before a wire gate.</p>
-
-<p>“Going out to the <i>Imparada</i>!” he said authoritatively.</p>
-
-<p>The sailor hitched his trousers, turned, squinted through the sea
-mists, then swung the gate.</p>
-
-<p>“You’ll have to hurry,” he said. “The quarantine boat is casting off
-her shore lines.”</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>Wrapped in the cloak of gray vapor, the three men crouched forward of
-the wheelhouse and stared out across the Narrows to where a great
-ship glided like a glow-worm in a garden.</p>
-
-<p>They heard the quarantine boat’s bells as it maneuvered beneath the
-towering overhang of the giant passenger ship. They mounted a pilot’s
-ladder which had been lowered for the quarantine officers.</p>
-
-<p>Fay whispered into an officer’s ear after he sprang over the rail. He
-motioned aft. Rake and Yeader, with the kit-bag, followed closely.</p>
-
-<p>The two British bankers were seated at the taffrail. To them Fay told
-his mission, and his object of substituting himself and party, in
-order to discover who had slain Stephney. The bankers had already
-been informed of the murder. They were noncommittal. They rose from
-steamer chairs, studied Fay’s credentials, stared keenly at Yeader
-and Rake, then consulted in whispers.</p>
-
-<p>“All right,” they said finally. “Come to our staterooms.”</p>
-
-<p>The transformation which was made while the ship glided to her dock
-was thorough and startling. Fay upended Yeader’s kit-bag and sorted
-out its contents. He changed his appearance before the eyes of the
-silent Britishers. He put on goggles and borrowed a more pronounced
-checked cap than the one he had worn to the ship.</p>
-
-<p>He ran a hand across his face, then tapped a well-bound packet
-suggestively.</p>
-
-<p>“All set,” he said, looking at himself in a glass. “By Jove! George
-Mott or Arthur Hilton wouldn’t know me!”</p>
-
-<p>Wrapping a long mackintosh about his slender form, Fay threw open the
-door and led the way to the boat-deck.</p>
-
-<p>“We’ll stand here,” he said to Rake and Yeader. “The ship is almost
-in. Now play your parts. Look out for a Gray taxi.”</p>
-
-<p>The ship snugged against the dock, under pressure from two snorting
-tugs. Steam plumed aft the giant funnels. A bell clanged its final
-message to the engine-room. A gangplank was raised in the gloom. It
-steadied and swung inboard.</p>
-
-<p>“Come!” cried Fay; “Follow me!”</p>
-
-<p>The way led down through a companion, along a luggage-littered deck
-and past the second officer, who gave the signal that they could
-descend the gangplank.</p>
-
-<p>Fay shaded his face from the Central Office men at the foot of the
-plank. He turned and motioned for Rake and Yeader. They hurried over
-the splintered dock and reached the first of the shore throng to meet
-the incoming passengers.</p>
-
-<p>“Go ahead!” said Fay to Yeader. “Lug the bag and find the taxi. Tell
-the driver you’re from the British Banking Commission. Pile on all
-the Cockney you know.”</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>The throng parted. Fay saw, to one side of the dock entrance, a
-waiting taxi. Upon its seat a form crouched. Yeader waved his hand,
-opened the taxi door, tossed in the bag and assisted Fay and Rake to
-mount the running-board and step inside.</p>
-
-<p>“’Otel Rockingham!” exclaimed Yeader. “Go a’ead!”</p>
-
-<p>The door clicked shut with a strong pressure. The driver lowered the
-taxi-meter flag, released the brake and moved through first, second,
-and into third speed with the cunning manipulation of a professional.</p>
-
-<p>Fay rubbed the thick plate glass at his side, glanced out at the
-flashing lights and street intersections, before he leaned down and
-opened the bag.</p>
-
-<p>“Take these,” he whispered, handing Rake and Yeader two heavy
-automatics. “Plant them on the seat. Now this hatchet.”</p>
-
-<p>Joe Yeader straightened with the package in his hand. He broke the
-string, ripped off the wrapping paper and held out a bright-looking
-hatchet.</p>
-
-<p>“Hold it ready!” said Fay. “We’re turning into Fifth Avenue!”</p>
-
-<p>The taxi swerved, straightened and lunged northward. Rake sputtered
-and swore as he attempted to open a door. Yeader bent over and tried
-the knob on the other door.</p>
-
-<p>“Did you notice our driver?” asked Fay.</p>
-
-<p>“Red hair and turned-up nose,” said Yeader. “What to hell kind of a
-bloody trap did we get into?”</p>
-
-<p>Rake turned and pressed his nose against the front glass of the taxi.
-He turned as Fay reached and jerked down the blind.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s Elsie De Groot!” he blurted. “It’s the dame of the garage!”</p>
-
-<p>“Listen!”</p>
-
-<p>A slight noise like a steam-exhaust sounded. Fay reached close by the
-seat. He pressed one knee against Yeader. He nodded comprehendingly.</p>
-
-<p>“The air’s gettin’ thinner!” exclaimed Rake. “I can’t breathe!”</p>
-
-<p>Fay dropped to his knees, swayed, and ran his hand over the bottom of
-the cab. He curled into a knot with his feet on the seat. He raised a
-hand and indicated for Rake and Yeader to bend down.</p>
-
-<p>“We’re supposed to be dead!” he whispered. “There’s a suction pump on
-the engine that’s exhausting the air from the cab. The driver started
-the pump when she started the cab. The windows and framework are
-built to withstand enormous outside pressure.”</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>The taxi came to a sudden halt at a curb. The driver sprang from the
-front seat, mounted the running-board and pressed a pair of sharp
-eyes against the side glass. Fay, Rake and Yeader lay on the cab
-floor with their faces shielded by their up-thrown arms.</p>
-
-<p>The driver swung into the seat, raced the engine, and clicked through
-the speeds. The taxi darted up Fifth Avenue. It gained Fifty-ninth
-Street and turned into the Park. It swung the dark curves on its
-swift passage uptown.</p>
-
-<p>Fay’s fingers groped along the seat and clasped an automatic. “Get
-the other!” he said into Rake’s ear. “You, Yeader, take the hatchet
-and pry at the bottom of the door. I’ve got my hand over the suction
-pipe. We wont be suffocated.”</p>
-
-<p>The ride seemed endless. The taxi rolled from out the foliage of the
-Park and climbed a long hill. It turned northward along street-car
-tracks.</p>
-
-<p>“Broadway!” said Fay, sensing his position. “We’re going right out
-Broadway.”</p>
-
-<p>Rake gasped and pressed a finger across his mouth. He coughed,
-pounded his chest, and recovered himself. His eyes glared
-indignantly. He waited till the taxi clattered over a bridge, then he
-protested:</p>
-
-<p>“Let me out, Chester. I’ll wring that damn girl’s neck! I can’t stand
-this much longer. There’s no air.”</p>
-
-<p>“Sisst!” said Fay. “Are you sure Elsie De Groot is driving the taxi?”</p>
-
-<p>“Sure! I’d swear to it!”</p>
-
-<p>Fay chuckled. “We’ll soon know. This is Yonkers. We’ve passed Getty
-Square. We’re turning now. Now we’re going north. Two turns and then
-a straight road. I’d know where we are, blindfolded.”</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>It was twenty minutes later when the taxi slowed, backed, then swung
-toward the left and took a narrow bumpy road. Fay sat up, pressed his
-toe on the sucking exhaust-pipe and clamped his teeth with a
-suggestive grind.</p>
-
-<p>“All ready!” he said nudging Yeader. “See, we’re rising. We’re going
-across a bridge. Listen! That’s the New York Central Railroad below
-us. This is where Stephney was thrown on the freight-train. Now&#8212;look
-out!”</p>
-
-<p>The taxi dropped down a long, sharp incline with its brakes grinding.
-It rounded a lodge-gate, swung by a dark, stone house and came to a
-sudden halt in a sheltered courtyard.</p>
-
-<p>The driver sprang out. Fay braced his feet against the door. He heard
-two voices in whispered conversation. A third joined in with a
-protesting snarl. The handle of the door clicked. A key was inserted.
-The lock snapped open.</p>
-
-<p>Fay bent his knees, aimed at the exact center of the panel and kicked
-outward. He rolled over with the force of his blow. He staggered from
-the cab with Yeader and Rake scrambling after him.</p>
-
-<p>“Get up your hands!” he exclaimed, jabbing forward the automatic.
-“Up! Up! Up! All three of you!”</p>
-
-<p>Rake lunged swiftly and wrapped his arms about the forward figure of
-a startled group. He went down with the man under him.</p>
-
-<p>The two figures in front of Fay’s automatic hesitated, spread, and
-bolted to right and left. Fay lowered his gun, fired once at the
-ground, then dashed in pursuit of the taxi-driver, whose khaki
-leggings were a fair mark to follow.</p>
-
-<p>He gained with each stride. He reached forward, stumbled over a low
-wall, and clutched a coat which was torn from his fingers. He bounded
-across a roadway, dropped the automatic and made a flying tackle
-which brought his quarry to the close-cropped grass.</p>
-
-<p>“Lie still, you!” he ordered as his fingers closed on a pair of
-flailing arms. “Get down! I think I know you!”</p>
-
-<hr style='border:none; color:inherit; margin-top:1em;' />
-
-<p>Fay’s hands gripped with strength. He heard a low moan below him, and
-eased the clutch he had fastened upon a thick throat. He wheeled and
-stared toward the courtyard. Rake had already secured his prisoner.
-The big ex-convict was looking up the road, which merged into gloom
-and dripping trees. A man was bounding along this road, with Yeader
-close behind him. The Cockney raised his revolver in a slow aim. He
-lowered it and dashed on. A taxi with blazing cones of yellow light
-swung over the bridge across the railroad track and began descending
-the grade. It slowed. It stopped with a shriek of metal bands on
-metal.</p>
-
-<p>Two drivers sprang from the front seat and reached for the man whom
-Yeader was pursuing. He sank to his knees in the roadway as other
-forms scrambled from the taxi. He was surrounded by a resolute group
-of taxi-drivers. Their leader called an order and came running toward
-the taxi in the courtyard.</p>
-
-<p>Fay twisted his fingers in a close collar, ran his hand over the
-figure below him and found, in a pocket, a matted red wig. He sprang
-erect.</p>
-
-<p>“The mechanic of the garage!” he exclaimed. “You settle one doubt!
-You impersonated Elsie De Groot!”</p>
-
-<p>The leader of the drivers who had arrived in the second taxi ran
-across the courtyard, paused, and stared at Fay’s prisoner. She
-turned with her eyes sweeping the windows of the silent house. She
-came over the grass.</p>
-
-<p>“Just in time, Miss Elsie!” said Fay. “You got a man up the road. Who
-was he?”</p>
-
-<p>“A crook! And this is&#8212;”</p>
-
-<p>“This is one of your mechanics. He resembles you. He must have had
-access to your desk. He impersonated you by putting on a wig after
-you set Stephney down on Fifth Avenue. He was Ponsardin’s tool. His
-taxi was equipped with a suction pipe and a set of snap locks on the
-doors. It was death to enter it. They were after big game tonight.”</p>
-
-<p>The girl shuddered. She turned away from Fay and his prisoner.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t know how it all happened,” she said. “I suspected the
-mechanic after your visit. We followed him tonight. He had a taxi
-exactly like ours. We lost him in the Park. We were close behind you.
-Then&#8212;we found the trail again, up above Yonkers.
-It led here. You see, he had different tires than most cars. One was
-vulcanized on the tread and made a different mark in the dust.”</p>
-
-<p>“That was clever!”</p>
-
-<p>The girl trembled slightly.</p>
-
-<p>“Who’s the third man,” Fay asked, “the one you looked at before you
-came over to me?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, that’s Ponsardin! He’s the owner of the Gray Taxi Company. I
-wonder what will become of it now? I hate to see the boys lose their
-jobs.”</p>
-
-<p>“They won’t, and you won’t. I’m sure I can fix things so that once in
-a while I can drop around and call upon Miss Elsie De
-Groot&#8212;President and General Manager of the Gray Taxi Company&#8212;which
-Mr. George Mott will surely take care of, no matter what happens to
-Ponsardin.”</p>
-
-<p>The girl seized Fay’s extended hand.</p>
-
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-  <p>Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in
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