CHAPTER V.
AT A VILLAIN'S MERCY.
The smuggler's wife leisurely left the pier, crossed the street and went inthe direction of Sixth avenue, on foot.
It did not seem to occur to her that she might be followed, for she neveronce glanced back in the direction she came from.
Old King Brady and his partner did not know much about the woman.
Whether she was actually concerned in La Croix's smuggling games or not,they had not the faintest idea.
She was a fine-looking woman, tall and stately, with brown hair, blue eyesand handsome features. But she seldom laughed.
Hers was one of those set, inscrutable faces, hard to read, for she seldomshowed the emotions preying upon her mind.
"She don't seem to fear detection," commented Harry, as they walked along."She hasn't made the slightest effort to conceal her actions."
"Well," replied the old detective, as he thoughtfully took a fresh quid oftobacco, "you must not forget that the woman isn't aware of the fact thatwe are on her trail."
"She certainly must be interested in her husband's crooked work or shewould not see her daughter off to Europe in this manner. In fact, if shewere not so greatly interested, I doubt if she would allow her child tomake such a long, dangerous trip alone."
"Your reasoning is very sensible," commented Old King Brady, "but you mustrecollect that the girl smuggler is very smart. She is used to danger. Thismay not be her first voyage abroad alone. In fact, she has probably beenmaking many trips to the other side, bringing back jewels to be smuggledashore."
"Judging by what that letter said," remarked Harry, "the man and his wifeare likely to go to Canada now and wait there for the girl's return withthat large consignment of precious stones. We shall be obliged to followthem there. We can't arrest them now on suspicion, nor can we pull La Croixin for trying to murder us in the Fifth Avenue Hotel elevator. If we do, itwill interfere with our capturing the girl when she returns with thosejewels."
"I'm sorry to say your view of the matter is correct, Harry."
"There goes the woman up Sixth avenue. She's a good walker. It looks to meas if she were heading for the French district in the neighborhood of Thirdstreet. Queer she didn't ride."
They tracked her to West Broadway.
Here she suddenly turned into the hall of a very old house across the frontof which hung the sign of an artificial flower maker.
Old King Brady passed into the hall after her and Harry remained on guardat the door.
Going up a flight of stairs, the woman knocked at a door and when it wasopened, she passed into a room, closing the door after her.
The detective glided over to the door and listened.
Voices were heard inside, a man crying out eagerly:
"Well, Lena, ees ze child gone?"
"Yes, Paul," Mrs. La Croix replied, in sad tones. "The Champagne justdeparted with our daughter. We shall not see her for a month."
"Ah, but when she return we make ze largest stake of our lives."
"I wish this risky business was ended, Paul. I'm getting sick of it. We donot lead the peaceful lives of other people. It is a constant excitementand fear of police interference."
"Do not complain, Lena. Zees ees ze last treep ze child make. Eef eet eeswong success, we make so much dollaires zat we can retiaire an' leeve zelife of ease for ze rest of our days, by gar!"
He laughed and the woman replied, resignedly:
"Well, I hope your dream will come true, Paul."
"Take zees seat an' 'ave your suppair, my dear. You need ze rest, forto-night we leave New York by rail for Canada, for I have sold all zestones I had, an' mail my draft to Paris."
Old King Brady smiled and muttered:
"I'm glad you've told me your business, old fellow."
The shadows of twilight had fallen by this time and the hall was gettingdark.
Hearing some one coming downstairs from an upper floor, the old detectiveretreated along the hall and crouched back in a doorway.
He pressed himself back flat against the door hoping the person who wascoming would pass him in the gloom without observing his presence.
Unfortunately the door behind him was not shut tight.
As he pressed his back against it, it flew inward all of a sudden andpitching over backward, the detective fell sprawling upon the floor of asmall room adjoining the one occupied by La Croix and his wife.
He heard the Frenchman utter a startled cry.
Like a tiger he sprang into the room and saw the detective.
"_Parbleu!_" he hissed, a look of rage and hate upon his dark face. "Zesecret police. Watching me, eh? I show you, Monsieur."
He seized an iron bar standing in the corner and as the old detective wasupon the point of scrambling to his feet, he dealt the officer a fearfulblow that knocked him senseless.
He just had time to bang the door shut to prevent the person who was comingfrom upstairs from seeing what was going on.
Just then his wife rushed in.
"What is the matter, Paul?" she demanded.
"Old King Brady!" he replied, pointing at the old detective excitedly.
"Ah;" was her cool reply. "He has found our refuge, eh?"
"Yes. An' probable he has been listen to our talk."
"That is very dangerous for us, Paul."
"Not since I 'ave him at my mercy. _Sacriste!_ When I geet through wiz heemnow, he not weel trouble us again een wong hurry."
Fearing the detective might recover he got a piece of rope and bound andgagged Old King Brady.
When this was done an idea suddenly flashed across his mind, and he boundedto his feet and exclaimed, hoarsely:
"Where ees ze othair?"
"I don't understand you," his wife replied.
"Young King Brady."
"Do they always travel together?"
"Sairtainly."
"Then the boy must be lurking near here."
"Wait. I find heem eef I can."
He hastened from the room and made a search of the hall. Then he quietlypassed downstairs and there caught view of the young detective keepingguard outside the street door.
The Frenchman was greatly excited.
He retreated into the hall and went upstairs again, muttering:
"I must geet zat boy een my powair just as queek as possible. So long as zeBradys ees on my track, I may go to ze preeson at any moment. It makes menairvous, by gar!"
He took up a position at the head of the stairs, wondering how he could getthe best of the detectives.
Convinced that they knew all about his smuggling business and would arresthim at the first opportunity, it made him so desperate that he would nothave hesitated to kill both of them.
He had not been standing at the head of the stairs long before he saw Harryglide into the hall as quietly as a shadow.
The boy was becoming impatient over his partner's long absence and made uphis mind to find him.
Searching the lower hall, he failed to see anything of Old King Brady andthen cautiously made his way upstairs.
The Frenchman saw him coming.
He slipped into the room where the old detective lay.
Raising his finger to his wife, he hissed:
"Hush! He coming up ze stair! Put out ze light--hurry!"
Keeping the door open on a crack when darkness fell upon the room, hepeered out and listened intently.
It was too dark to see anything.
But he heard the young detective's soft footfalls passing the door and hestepped out into the hall behind Harry.
Slight as the noise was which he made, the boy heard him and turned around,striving to pierce the gloom with his sight.
La Croix had the boy located.
He suddenly sprang forward with both hands extended, struck against theboy, clutched him by the throat and knocked him over backward.
A stifled cry escaped Harry.
He was knocked down and struck the floor with a crash.
As his head went back, with the Frenchman's grip on his windpipe, his skullbanged against the door-casing.
He was stunned.
"Lena! Lena!" roared La Croix.
"What is it, Paul?" asked the woman, appearing in the doorway.
"Breeng a light--queek!" he panted.
She struck a match and he saw that Harry was senseless.
With a look of evil triumph on his dark face, the man seized the boy,dragged him into the room and his wife locked the door.
La Croix bound and gagged Harry.
"Got zem both!" he chuckled.
"What are you going to do with them, Paul?" demanded his wife.
"Do wiz zem? Put zem out of ze way, my dear. Dispose of zem so effectuallyzat we not weel be trouble wiz zem again."
The woman met his evil glance and shuddered.
She saw what murderous thoughts were filling his mind.
The Bradys and the Girl Smuggler; Or, Working for the Custom House Page 5
