The Lady Sleuths MEGAPACK ™: 20 Modern and Classic Tales of Female Detectives

by Catherine Louisa Pirkis

  “Hear him—hear him!” cried one of the rogues, and he added: “We’ll have to duck him for insultin’ us.”

  “Yes, we’ll have to duck him.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  The men leaped forward when one of the most extraordinary scenes that ever occurred followed. As the men leaped forward both Oscar and Cad drew short billies—drew them so quickly that the men did not observe them until they felt them. A complete change had come over the appearance and actions of Oscar and Cad. The former with an ease and quickness that was wonderful to behold dealt the leader of the rogues a smart tap on the head that caused him to lie down in the sand as though stricken with a pain where his digestive organs reside. Cad meantime played a single-note tattoo on the head of number two, and Oscar, after dropping the first man, paid his compliments to number three, who also concluded to lie down without any premeditation whatever. It was, as We have intimated, a most singular, startling and extraordinary scene, and before the men could rise each received to turn a second rap, when Oscar inquired:

  “What shall we do with them, sis?”

  “Drown them,” came the answer.

  “No, no, it would be too bad to toss such mean carcasses into pure water.”

  “But they’ll become salted,” said the girl.

  “I reckon we’ve salted them pretty well; let’s stroll.”

  Oscar and Cad walked away, resuming the same smart girl and dude rôle they had played ere they fell to and downed the burly ruffians.

  It was a sight for a comic paper, after Oscar and Cad had wandered away, to behold the three ruffians rise and look at each other. For a moment none of them spoke. They just looked, until one of the party, who evidently was a sort of humorist, said:

  “Cap, I don’t think we’ll go shopping with their wad to-day.”

  The other man fell to the spirit of the occasion and said:

  “Well, cap, it was easy, yes, very easy for them.”

  The leader looked, yes, looked very blue.

  “Well, did you ever!” he murmured.

  “No, I never,” came the response.

  “What was it we struck?”

  “I feel as though something had struck me,” was the answer.

  “My covies, we got it good.”

  “Did you? Well, I got it bad. Oh, how my head aches!”

  “Who are they?”

  “I’ll never tell you, but it was the gal gave me my rap and she came down on me with the force of a Goliah, and I went down—see? I’m down yet.”

  “I don’t understand,” said the leader as he mopped the blood trickling from the wound in his head with his handkerchief.

  “I’ll never explain it to you,” said the humorist.

  “Hang me, but I can’t think.”

  “Neither can I. My thoughts are wool-gathering, and no wonder, eh? By jiminy! what a settler I got, and I settled.”

  “They were playing us.”

  “Yes, they were playing us, and they had lots of fun rattling on my poor conk.”

  “But who are they?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Giant, I reckon, and it came so quick that for a moment I thought I was in a ship and a squall had blown the mast over on me. But see here, pards, we’d better get up and git, or mebbe some of our misdeeds may rise up in judgment against us. Instead of our putting the dude in jail he may jug us.”

  “Right you are; let’s scatter.”

  “Where will we meet?”

  “In the city, and we’d better lay low. There is more in this little experience than a crack on the head. We’re lucky if we get away.”

  The three men rose to their feet, held a few moments’ talk and then scattered. Each man determined to make his way to the city on his own hook, and they considered it was possibly by hook or by crook that they would get there.

  Oscar and Cad had disappeared. Indeed, the rogues had hardly dared look at each other or speak until the “singulars” had gotten out of sight.

  Once well away Oscar said:

  “All right, Cad, I must leave you now to shift for yourself awhile. I am going to finish up this business. We know where to meet.”

  “Yes.”

  They were standing in a hollow between two sandbanks and it was dark.

  “Change,” said Oscar.

  Immediately there followed a most wonderful transformation. Cad Metti dropped her fine feathers as though by magic, and in her stead appeared a plain-looking country girl, while the dude vanished, and in his stead appeared a regular sporting appearing young fellow. No one would have recognized in either the two who had sat on the piazza of the hotel eating their dinner and cooing like two turtle-doves.

  “Well done,” said Oscar as he gazed at the wonderful girl, Cad Metti, and an instant later he said:

  “Now I will leave you. I must get on the track of those scoundrels.”

  Cad and Oscar did not stop to exchange farewells. The latter moved away rapidly toward the point where he had had the encounter with the three ruffians whom he and his female comrade had served out so well. Oscar desired to follow the leader and he arrived behind a rift of sand in time to watch them, and he was able to discern the fellow he desired to shadow. His man made a roundabout tour toward the depot and then started afoot down the track, not daring to take the train at the Manhattan station. Our hero, however, proceeded to the station, knowing his man would board the train at Sheepshead Bay, and his conclusion was verified, for all three men had arrived at the Sheepshead Bay station and boarded the train as individuals, not exchanging one word. Indeed, all had worked a sort of half-and-half transform.

  Oscar maintained his seat; he did not go to the car boarded by the men. He remained one car behind, but he was on the alert lest at any moment the rascals might desert the train, and so he arrived at Long Island City. The men went to the Twenty-third street boat, the detective followed them, and still they kept apart.

  “Those fellows are scared,” he muttered. “The surprise they got has taken all the life out of them.”

  Once in New York the special chap whom he was following walked up Twenty-third street to First avenue, then he turned down and finally entered a low tenement house. Oscar was at his heels and noted the house he entered, and took up a position directly opposite. There were lights in some of the front rooms, but the windows of the top floor front reflected no brilliance until a few moments after our hero had taken his position, when there shot forth from the small windows a sickly gleam of light.

  “Top floor front,” was our hero’s comment. He had located the room where the man had entered.

  Oscar stood a little time revolving his next move in his mind, and finally he determined upon the old trick played so often and still played daily by officers on a quiet “lay.”

  He entered the tenement house and ascended the creaking stairs, and not a muscle in his sturdy form quivered, although it was a dangerous undertaking to enter that sort of a house on such an errand. There was a possibility that there were a dozen villains scattered around in the several apartments, for as the old saying has it, “Thieves flock together.”

  Oscar, however, was well-armed, cool, strong and agile, and he arrived in front of the door of the room and heard voices. He peeped in, as the keyhole was large and there was no key in the door. He saw the man to whom he had given the sore head, and a woman. The latter was a remarkable-looking person. She was about forty, as it appeared; her complexion was sallow, her features pointed, her eyes large and sunken, and the latter were very expressive, proving that the eagle-nosed woman was bright, alert and cunning. She wore a discontented look upon her face as she eyed the man who had entered her presence, and while Oscar peeped and listened he heard her say:

  “I am tired of this.”

  “Tired of what?”


  “Do you want to know?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I’ll tell you. I am tired of living in these rooms; tired of going hungry; tired of wearing old clothes; tired of slaving for you—a miserable fake.”

  “Hold on, Sarah, don’t talk to me that way.”

  “Yes, I will talk to you that way. When I met you, I had plenty of money. You pretended to love me and I was fool enough to accept your love. I let you have money. I had a good, comfortable home, and now where am I? You have squandered every penny on the races. You don’t know how to gamble, and yet you gamble away every cent you get. You do not come home when you have a stake and say, ‘Here, my dear, is a hundred or two for you.’ No, no, you come in and dole me out a few stamps and say, ‘Make yourself comfortable.’ In fact, when you have a good stake you do not come home at all, if this miserable place can be called a home. Tom, I’ll stand it no longer; you and I will separate.”

  “Hold on, Sarah, do not talk that way.”

  “Yes, I will talk that way, and I will act. I can make plenty of money. No need for me to stay here and play wife to a man who only cares for himself and who hasn’t the courage to start in and make a good haul and give me the comforts I’ve been accustomed to enjoy; and as you can’t do it I’ll start out and win them for myself, and I will not furnish you money to gamble while I starve here in these rooms without food, fire or clothing. I tell you I am through.”

  The man Tom was thoughtful a moment and then said:

  “Sarah, all you say is true, but I’ve had no money.”

  “And you never will have.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Never.”

  “Why do you say so?”

  “You haven’t the courage; you are a coward.”

  “Hold, Sarah, I took a big chance this very afternoon to make a big stake. I showed all the courage, but got the worst of it. I ran up against a cyclone disguised as a gentle sea breeze, but I am going to have a big stake, and all you need is just a little patience and you shall have an elegant home, horses and carriages, and diamonds and servants.”

  “Oh, come off, Tom; no more fairy stories for me.”

  “It’s no fairy story, Sarah. I tell you there is no one on earth that I love as I do you. I’ve felt bad seeing you living this way and I’ve done the best I could; but I am to be let into the greatest gang on earth. I will make money from the start, and you will be let in and we can in a few weeks make a big stake and skip. What I tell you is no fairy story.”

  “Bah! Tom, I’ve heard your wild tales before.”

  “This is no wild tale. I tell you in a few weeks we will be flush.”

  The woman’s eyes glittered as she said:

  “I wish I could believe you, Tom.”

  “You can believe me.”

  “Why are you so secret about it? Why don’t you open up?”

  “I have not been initiated yet. It is the greatest gang that ever got together.”

  “Do you know any of the parties in it?”

  “Certainly I do. All countries are represented. We have the talent of the world in it. The leaders are the smartest men on earth. They have branches in every large city in the United States. They are in with big politicians, judges and millionaires. They have defied the police for eighteen months, and they are all ready to flood the land and get away, and I am to be let in.”

  “Counterfeiters, Tom?”

  “Well, yes, that is a part of their business. They counterfeit currency, metal and bonds, government and bank. They will make a big general sweep. Every man in it will get his share, and a share is a fortune. It’s the most perfect organization ever effected, and I tell you I am to be in it among the big bugs too, and all through you.”

  “All through me?”

  “Yes.”

  “How is that?”

  “They need you.”

  “They do?”

  “Yes.”

  “In what capacity?”

  “To sign the papers.”

  Again the woman’s eyes glittered as she asked:

  “How did they learn about me?”

  “One of our old pals told them about you.”

  “And why did you not tell me about this before?”

  “I have not had my first interview yet with the king-pin. He has been out West. He is to be in New York some day this week. You are to exhibit your skill and we will get a stake immediately.”

  “And you will gamble it away in an hour.”

  “No, I’ve sworn off.”

  “Bah! how many times you’ve told me that!”

  “I mean it this time.”

  “Tom, I am fond of you, but I cannot let you ruin me again. If we make a big stake I am to hold the money. Do you hear?”

  “Yes, I hear.”

  “And you understand that I mean what I say?”

  “I do.”

  “I can beat the world on false signatures.”

  “That is what they have been told.”

  “I’ve long wanted a chance like this.”

  “I know it.”

  “I can make my own terms when they learn what I can do.”

  “I know it.”

  Our readers can readily imagine the feelings of Dudie Dunne as he listened to this wonderful revelation. He realized that he and Cad Metti had made the hit of their lives, or rather had a chance to do so. It seemed wonderful that he had in this most astonishing manner gotten right on to the whole scheme, was peering, as it were, into the very heart of the terrible organization. It was not wholly skill that had brought him to this point; there was a large element of luck in it. Was it not more? Was there not fate in it, that through his ingenious strategy and Cad’s suggestion he had followed the man of all men who under circumstances the most marvelous would bring him in contact with the king of the great criminal confederacy?

  Oscar just reveled in his success. His face was actually radiant. The great special, Wise, had told him the best detectives in the land had been baffled. Wise himself had failed, and he had selected Oscar, and the young man was delighted at the prospect of maintaining the great special’s confidence in his ability. Meantime the conversation continued.

  “When are you to meet these people?”

  “I don’t know exactly. The king-pin is out West. He is liable to return any day.”

  “And then?”

  “You are to give an exhibition of your skill.”

  The woman clasped her hands and casting her eyes to the floor exclaimed:

  “Oh, how I have longed for a chance like this, Tom! I love luxury. I would be a handsome, yes, a splendid woman if I only had money. This is the best chance we ever had in our lives.”

  “Yes, Sarah, and I will be proud to see you dressed like a queen.”

  “Give me the money and I will dress like a queen; I know how to dress. But who is with you in securing this great chance?”

  “I will tell you all about it later on, Sarah. You can be hopeful, and now I will go to meet one or two of the boys. I will not be home again until early in the morning. We have a little job on hand. It may yield a few, bits for us; I can’t tell.”

  “Tom, with the great chance we have, be careful. Do not get nipped just as our fortune is made.”

  CHAPTER IV

  Oscar Encounters a Series of Adventures in Following a Promising Trail and Meets with a Pleasant Surprise.

  Oscar slid down the stairs. His trick had been too good a one for him to take any chances. He did not wish to scare his bird off ere he had him bagged. He walked away and waited for Tom to appear. The man, however, for some reason or other remained in his rooms, and our hero at length muttered:

  “All right, I have him treed. I can pu
t my hand on him any time.”

  Oscar walked away and proceeded to Broadway, and having another matter on hand which he was quietly shadowing he went to a noted private clubhouse. He entered and lounged for some time around the parlor. His keen eyes were wandering around in restless glances—not that he was directly looking for anything, but it was a habit, and as it will be demonstrated it was a useful habit in a man of his profession. He observed two strangers enter the assembly-room and later go with a club member to the café. This was not an unusual incident, and possibly might have passed off as intended by certain parties but for one fatal error. Just as the men passed through a doorway the clubman turned and took a measuring glance at our hero. The keen detective noted the fact which to him was significant, and he muttered:

  “Hello! what does this mean?”

  Oscar’s mind acted rapidly. He reviewed all the facts. He had just entered the club; he had come from a close “shadow;” two men entered immediately after him; he had never seen either of the men in the clubhouse before; they addressed one of the members and the three passed from the general sitting-room, but not until the clubman had taken a suggestive glance at our hero, and this latter fact was very significant—it meant something. Oscar did not recognize the club member. He had seen him, however, several times in the clubhouse, and was satisfied that the man was really a member. But who were the other two men, and why had they directed attention toward him? This was the question at that moment. Oscar retired to one of the private club-rooms. He wrought a marvelous change in his appearance. It was one of the most magical transforms ever attempted, and having worked the change he descended to the café. In the club our hero was not known as a detective. He was registered there as a matter of business, and had adopted but one initial, taking his middle name, so that under no circumstances would Woodford Dunne and Oscar Dunne be recognized as the same person. The club to him was a convenience for “fly” purposes. Once in the café he saw the two men and the club member seated at a table engaged in earnest conversation, and he heard the club member say: