CHAPTER XIII.
THE DETECTIVE'S LAST STRUGGLE.
Perry Jounce uttered a grunt of satisfaction when he saw that thedetective was beyond power to know him for the time.
Jounce had been thoroughly posted by Andrew Barkswell, and knew that inthe disguised man before him the noted detective was presented.
"So," muttered Jounce, as he touched a spring with his foot that sent theweight back to its place in the ceiling, "I reckon you won't trouble usgents agin."
Then he went over to the side of the stunned detective, secured his armsand removed his beard and gray hair. "Thought you was sharp enough tofool me," chuckled the villain. "I reckin you'll l'arn ef you ever gityer mind agin, that two kin play at ther game o' twist."
After these movements the tramp left the room. He was gone but a shorttime when he returned, accompanied by Billy Bowlegs.
"So you've thumped him?" muttered the saloon proprietor. "How much didyou find?"
"Notting."
"See here, chum, that's too gauzy."
"Didn't ther boss pay yer a good hundred fer this room?" questionedJounce, turning upon Bowlegs.
"He hasn't paid it yet. I'm not going to permit any snap games. Thisfellow doesn't go out of here till you pay the full price."
"That's ther snap!" returned Jounce. "You jest hang onter ther cuss, willyer? He ain't no good to me," and then the tramp chuckled audibly.
"But I can make you trouble."
"Kin yer?"
"Yes, I can."
"All right; heave ahead."
The saloon-keeper found that he was dealing with a man who was not to befrightened or deceived into paying over money unnecessarily.
"Never mind," he said, finally. "It's all right. You wish to dispose ofthis fellow effectually?"
"In course."
"I've never permitted bloodshed in my house," proceeded Billy Bowlegs,"but I'll tell you what we will do. We will drop the fellow down to thelower room, and leave him until the boss comes; then his fate will bedecided upon."
"That suits me."
Bowlegs touched a spring with his foot, and the chair containing thestunned detective sank from sight.
The tramp stared at the opening in the floor wonderingly.
"I declare!" he finally exclaimed, "you've got this thing in shape towork to perfection, pardner."
The saloon-keeper smiled without reply.
"Where's the chap gone ter?"
"He is safe," answered Bowlegs. "I'll excuse you now."
"Wal, I swar, that are's cool."
Nevertheless the tramp departed. At the bar he swallowed a huge glass ofbrandy, and then passed upon the street.
From this it will be seen that Billy Bowlegs was in league with thenotorious scoundrel who is known to the reader as Andrew Barkswell.
This, it will be remembered, was on the same night that the robbery wascommitted at the Alstine mansion.
When the detective returned to consciousness he found himself in a small,dark room, with solid walls of masonry about him, a close prisoner.
There was an awful pain in his head, indicating that he had been struck asevere blow.
He felt over his person, to discover that his weapons had been taken fromhim.
Then, with an effort, he came to his feet, and began groping about theroom. Solid walls on every side met his touch.
"Well," he finally muttered, "I have learned one thing at leastto-night--the fools of this world are not all dead. One of them, however,came pretty close to it."
It seemed an age to the imprisoned detective before the creaking of adoor announced the coming of some one.
The door opened and closed, and a light filled the room, proceeding froma lantern in the hand of a man. This did not prove a brilliantilluminator, yet it served to reveal the countenance of the new-comerfairly well.
"So you are safely caged at last, my dear Keene," said the visitor, in asarcastic voice.
"And this is your work, August Bordine, after all the confidence I placedin you," uttered the detective, in a rebuking voice.
"It was merely a game of wits, Mr. Keene. I was too smart for you, inspite of the fact that you're reputed to be the sharpest man-tracker inGotham. I think it would pay you to hire me for a spell."
"This, then, was a put-up job?"
"That's about the size of it."
"That runaway and injury to yourself that the papers speak about was onlya blind?"
"Only a blind, my dear Keene."
The villain smiled and stroked his mustache complacently. "I don't mindtelling you, seeing you're not likely to give me any further trouble,that I shall marry the heiress to the Alstine estates and quit theprecarious work that I have all along been following, and hereafter livea gentleman."
"Indeed!"
The detective could not help admiring the villain's coolness, even whiledespising his villainy.
"You congratulate me on my plan?"
"No. You cannot carry it out."
"And why not, pray? You won't be there to interfere, Mr. Keene. I haveprovided against such a contingency."
"You have a wife living."
"So you imagine, so _she_ imagines; but it is a mere show. Iris is not mywife."
"You deceived her with a mock marriage?"
"That is about the size of it."
"What a consummate scoundrel."
"Don't use such pet expressions, my dear Keene, you hurt my feelings, youreally do, I assure you."
"I expect to hurt your neck some time," retorted the detective, curtly.
"Oh, you do? Let me tell you, Mr. Keene, that that time will never cometo you, never."
"It may come sooner than you imagine."
"I'll risk that."
"I would like to ask you a question."
"Go on."
"How about that old lady who occupies your house on ---- street? Is sheyour mother?"
"Yes."
"Does she know what a scoundrel she has for a son?"
"She has no knowledge of my private affairs," returned Barkswell, notseeming to notice the offensive manner of putting the question used byKeene.
"And Iris is not your wife?"
"That's what I said."
"And Miss Alstine knows nothing of this, of your plans, your scheming towin a fortune through her?"
"Certainly not. I haven't been fool enough to give myself away."
The detective remained silent for a moment. Then he looked sharply intothe face of Barkswell and said:
"I am puzzled to know why you saved me from the tramp last night, andtook me to your home and nursed me so tenderly. Since you are so anxiousto have me out of your way, why did you not leave me to die on the vacantlot, or give the finishing stroke there. It would have been the wisestplan, it seems to me, for such a reckless villain as you are, to pursue."
A low laugh fell from the lips of Barkswell.
"You do not understand me yet, Mr. Keene. Truth to tell I am one of themost tender-hearted creatures in the world. I haven't the heart to strikea man when he's down. I sympathized with you, and what is more, I wishedto blind your eyes to my true intentions. You had put the bracelets on meand proclaimed that you were going to lead me to prison. I wanted toprove to you that you had made a mistake."
This to the detective seemed a lame explanation. He felt certain that thevillain before him had not stated the case as it actually was.
"It seems I made no mistake after all," uttered Keene. "You are the rightperson, and I never ought have permitted you to go free an hour after Imade the discovery of your villainy."
"What discovery do you refer to?"
"The murder of Victoria Vane."
"Then you still hold to the opinion that I committed that deed?"
"Certainly I do."
"Well, see here, Mr. Keene, I have you completely in my power, and do notintend that you shall ever again see the light of day. Under suchcircumstances I have no reason for utter
ing a falsehood. I solemnlyassure you that I did not harm that poor girl. I am as innocent of thatas you are. I did flirt with her a little I admit, but there was nothingserious took place, I would be willing to swear to this."
Of course the detective did not believe a word of this, althoughBarkswell uttered it in a solemn and apparently sincere manner.
"I believe you will yet swing for that murder," was Keene's sharp reply.
That Barkswell was the forger who was wanted in New York the detectivewas assured. He judged this from a photograph that he had in hispossession the subject of which, however, had a full beard, and this hadprevented Keene's recognizing the likeness when he was first introducedto Barkswell, alias Bordine, by young Ransom Vane.
It will be seen that the detective still believed that the young engineerand Barkswell were one and the same, which goes to prove that the two menresembled each other as twin brothers might. It was this resemblance thatwas to produce no end of trouble to all concerned in our story, which, bythe way, has more of truth in it than most of the fictions of the presentday.
"Well, you and I cannot agree if we talk all night," said the man withthe lantern, "so I suppose this interview may as well come to an end atonce."
From the tone of the man's voice, Keene judged that he meant toperpetrate a murder. With hands and limbs free, though weak from the blowhe had received on the head, Silas Keene was not the man to give up lifewithout a struggle.
The moment the last word fell from the lips of Barkswell Keene dartedforward, full at the throat of the villain before him.
"Thunderation!"
With this exclamation Barkswell dropped his lantern and clinched with thedetective.
Both went to the floor in a terrible struggle for the mastery.
Weakened though he was, the detective proved no mean adversary, and hemight have conquered had not a third party appeared upon the scene, whoat once went to the assistance of Barkswell, and by beating Keene overthe head with the butt of a revolver he succeeded in quieting him so thathe could be secured.
Keene, nearly senseless, was rolled upon the damp floor, upon his face,and his hands secured with a cord at his back.
"There, I reckon he won't give no more trouble," said a voice that thedetective recognized as that of Perry Jounce, the tramp.
"Confound his picture," grated Barkswell. "I believe the scamp would havebeen too much for me if you hadn't come just as you did."
"Even the service of a brother-in-law hain't allus to be despised; eh,Andrew?"
"No. You did me a good turn just now, and I'll not forget it."
Detective Keene heard these remarks, and tried to profit by them.
"This man is fooling you, Mr. Jounce," cried Keene, faintly.
"Shut up."
This from Barkswell.
"I tell you that this man is fooling you. He is not--"
A blow on the head from the fist of Barkswell effectually silenced thetongue of the helpless detective. His senses reeled, and for a fewminutes he was oblivious of his surroundings.
"What was the feller tryin' to git through him, Andy?"
"Nobody knows. Bear a hand and we'll put him where the hogs won't bitehim."
Both men laid hold of the bound detective and dragged him to one side ofthe room.
The lantern, that had been overturned in the struggle, still burned,giving a faint light. Jounce hung it on a pin in the wall, and thenturned to his companion, who had lifted a small trap door not far fromthe center of the room.
A gust of damp air, full of a moldy smell, came up.
"What's that?" questioned Jounce.
"An old well. They say it's forty feet down to the mud and water. Ithasn't been used in years."
"What'll you do--?"
"Drop our friend into it. Nobody'll ever be the wiser."
"Good heavens, what a doom!"
Even the tramp shuddered at the thought of consigning a human being tothat awful tomb. Nevertheless he assisted Barkswell to lift Keene andbear him to the mouth of the well.
An instant later and Detective Keene shot from sight. A hollow cry cameup, then solemn silence, as Barkswell closed the trap and turned away.
Five Thousand Dollars Reward Page 13
