by Jack Steele
CHAPTER XXI
REVELATIONS
The fellow whom Garrison had taken into camp had once attempteddetective work himself and failed. He was not at all a clever being,but rather a crafty, fairly reliable employee of a somewhat shady"bureau" with which young Robinson was on quite familiar terms.
He was far from being a coward. It was he who had followed Garrison toBranchville, rifled his suit-case, and been captured by the trap.Despite the fact that his hand still bore the evidence of havingtampered with Garrison's possessions, he had dared remain on the jobbecause he felt convinced that Garrison had never really seen him andcould not, therefore, pick him up.
Sullen in his helplessness, aware that his captor must at last have avery great advantage, he complied with Garrison's command to take aseat in the room, and glanced about him inquiringly.
"What do you want with me anyhow?" he said. "What's your game?"
"Mine is a surer game than yours," said Garrison, seating himself withhis back to the window, and the light therefore all on his visitor'sface. "I'm going to tell you first what you are up against."
The man shifted uneasily.
"You haven't got anything to hold me on," he said. "I've got myregular license to follow my trade."
"I was not aware the State was issuing licenses to burglars," saidGarrison. "Come, now, with that hand of yours, what's the use ofbeating around the bush. If my suit-case had nipped you by the wristinstead of the fingers, I'd have captured you red-handed in the act."
The fellow thrust his hand in his pocket. His face, with two days'growth of beard upon it, turned a trifle pale.
"I'd rather work on your side than against you," he ventured. "A manhas to make a living."
"You've come around to the point rather more promptly than I expected,"said Garrison. "For fear that you may not keep your word, when itcomes to a pinch, I'll inform you I can send you up on two separatecharges, and I'll do so in a wink, if you try to double-cross me in theslightest particular."
"I haven't done anything but that one job at Branchville," said the manin alarm.
"What are you givin' me now?"
"What's your name?" demanded Garrison.
"Tuttle," said the fellow, after a moment of hesitation. "FrankTuttle."
"All right, Tuttle. You furnished Theodore Robinson with informationconcerning my movements and, in addition to your burglary atBranchville, you have made yourself accessory to a plot to commit awillful murder."
"I didn't! By Heaven, I didn't!" Tuttle answered. "I didn't haveanything to do with that."
"With what?" asked Garrison. "You see you plunge into every trap Ilay, almost before it is set."
He rose, went to his closet, never without his eye on his man, searchedon the floor and brought forth the cold iron bomb. This he abruptlyplaced on Tuttle's knee.
Tuttle shrank in terror.
"Oh, Lord! I didn't! I didn't know they went in to do a thing likethat!" he said. "I've been pretty desperate, I admit, Mr. Garrison,but I had no hand in this!"
The sweat on his forehead advertised his fear. He looked at Garrisonin a stricken, ghastly manner that almost excited pity.
"But you knew that two of Robinson's assassins were to meet me in thepark," said Garrison. "You procured their services--and expected toread of an accident to me in the papers the following morning."
He was risking a mere conjecture, but it went very near to the truth.
"So help me, I didn't go as far as that!" said Tuttle. "I admit Istole the letter up at Branchville, and sent it to Robinson at once. Iadmit I followed you back to New York and told him all I could. But Ionly gave him the names and addresses of the dagos, and I never knewwhat they had to do!"
Garrison took the bomb and placed it on his bureau.
"Very good," he said. "That makes you, as I said before, an accompliceto the crime attempted--in addition to the burglary, for which I couldsend you up. To square this off you'll go to work for me, and begin bysupplying the names and addresses of your friends."
Tuttle was a picture of abject fear and defeat. His jaw hung down; hiseyes were bulging in their sockets.
"You--you mean you'll give me a chance?" he said. "I'll doanything--anything you ask, if only you will!"
"Look here, Tuttle, your willingness to do anything has put you whereyou are. But I'll give you a chance, with the thorough understandingthat the minute you attempt the slightest treachery you'll go up inspite of all you can do. First, we'll have the names of the dagos."
Tuttle all but broke down. He was not a hardened criminal. He hadmerely learned a few of the tricks by which crime may be committed,and, having failed in detective employment, had no substantial callingand was willing to attempt even questionable jobs, if the pay werefound sufficient.
He supplied the names and addresses of the men who had done youngRobinson's bidding in Central Park. Garrison jotted them down.
"I suppose you know that I am in the detective business myself," headded, as he finished the writing.
"I thought so, but I wasn't sure," said Tuttle.
"You told young Robinson as much?"
"He hired me to tell him everything."
"Exactly. How much do you expect to tell him of what is going onto-day?"
"Nothing that you do not instruct," said Tuttle, still feelinginsecure. "That is, if you meant what you said."
"I meant it," said Garrison, "meant it all. You're at work for me fromthis time on--and I expect the faithfulness of an honest man, no matterwhat you may have been before."
"You'll get it," said Tuttle. "I only want a show to start off squareand right. . . . What do you want me to do?"
"There is nothing of great importance just at present, except toremember who is your boss," answered Garrison. "You may be obliged todouble-cross Robinson to a slight extent, when he next hunts you up foryour report. He deserves a little of the game, no matter how he getsit. Take his instructions the same as before. Tell him you have lostme for a time. Report to me promptly concerning his instructions andeverything else. Do you know the address of my office?"
"You have never been there since I was put on the case," said Tuttlewith commendable candor.
"All right," said Garrison. "It's down in the----"
A knock on the door interrupted. The landlady, a middle-aged woman whorarely appeared at Garrison's room, was standing on the landing when hewent to investigate, and holding a message in her hand.
"A telegram for you," she said, and halting for a moment, she turnedand retreated down the stairs.
Garrison tore the envelope apart, pulled out the yellow slip and read:
Please come over to 937 Hackatack Street, Jersey City, as soon aspossible.
JERALDINE.
It was Dorothy, across the Hudson. A wave of relief, to know she wasnear and wished to see him, swept over Garrison's being.
"Here," he said to Tuttle, "here's the address on a card. Report to methere at six o'clock to-night. Get out now and go to young Robinson,but not at the house in Ninety-third Street."
"Why not?" inquired Tuttle. "Its the regular place----"
"I've ordered him not to enter the house again," interrupted Garrison."By the way, should he attempt to do so, or ask you to get in there forhim, agree to his instructions apparently, and let me know withoutdelay."
"Thank you for giving me a chance," said Tuttle, who had risen from hischair. "You'll never regret it, I'm sure."
"All right," said Garrison. "Shake!"
He gave the astonished man a firm, friendly grip and bade him "So'long!" at the door.
A few minutes later, dressed in his freshest apparel, he hastened outto gulp down a cup of strong coffee at an adjacent cafe, then headeddowntown for the ferry.
