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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c0cb383 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68951 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68951) diff --git a/old/68951-0.txt b/old/68951-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 97bdb0a..0000000 --- a/old/68951-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1642 +0,0 @@ -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 *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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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—” 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—Mr. George Mott, the reformer’s friend.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</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—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—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—for everything.”</p> - -<p>Sir Arthur frowned. “I’ve given you the case—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—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—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—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—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?”</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—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—”</p> - -<p>“Putney Steph—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—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—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—Keep Out—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—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—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—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—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—”</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—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—”</p> - -<p>“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.”</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—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—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—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—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—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—”</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—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—not twenty minutes ago; and there she goes uptown—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—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—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—”</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—”</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—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—Sir Arthur—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—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—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—”</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—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—President and General Manager of the Gray Taxi Company—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> - -<p>“That’ll be corking! The Gray Brotherhood has certainly cleared its -name tonight.”</p> - -<p>“And so have you!” said Chester Fay with a smile.</p> - -<div class="tn"> - <p>Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in - the October 1920 issue of <em>The Blue Book</em> magazine.</p> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRAY BROTHERHOOD ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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