Aunt Jane's Nieces in Society

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Aunt Jane's Nieces in Society Page 14

by L. Frank Baum


  CHAPTER XIV

  A COOL ENCOUNTER

  On leaving the house Mershone buttoned his overcoat tightly up to hischin, for the weather was cold and raw, and then shot a quick glancearound him. Diana's suspect was still lounging on the corner. Charliehad little doubt he was watching the house and the movements of itsin-mates--a bad sign, he reflected, with a frown. Otherwise the streetseemed deserted.

  He had dismissed the cab on his arrival, so now he stepped out andwalked briskly around the corner, swinging his cane jauntily and lookingvery unlike a fugitive. In the next block he passed a youth who stoodearnestly examining the conventional display in a druggist's window.

  Mershone, observing this individual, gave a start, but did not alter hispace. It was the same pale, red-haired boy he had noticed twice beforeat the hotel. In his alert, calculating mind there was no coincidence inthis meeting. Before he had taken six more steps Mershone realized theexact situation.

  At the next crossing he stopped and waited patiently for a car. Up thestreet he still saw the youth profoundly interested in drugs--a class ofmerchandise that seldom calls for such close inspection. The car arrivedand carried Mershone away. It also left the red-haired youth at his postbefore the window. Yet on arriving at the Bruxtelle some twenty minuteslater Charlie found this same queer personage occupying a hotel chair inthe lobby and apparently reading a newspaper with serious attention.

  He hesitated a moment, then quietly walked over to a vacant chair besidethe red-haired one and sat down. The youth turned the paper, glancedcasually at his neighbor, and continued reading.

  "A detective, I believe," said Mershone, in a low, matter of fact tone.

  "Who? me?" asked Fogerty, lowering the paper.

  "Yes. Your age deceived me for a time. I imagined you were a newsboy ora sporting kid from the country; but now I observe you are older thanyou appear. All sorts of people seem to drift into the detectivebusiness. I suppose your present occupation is shadowing me."

  Fogerty smiled. The smile was genuine.

  "I might even be a lawyer, sir," he replied, "and in that case I shouldundertake to cross-examine you, and ask your reasons for so queer acharge."

  "Or you might be a transient guest at this hotel," the other returned,in the same bantering tone, "for I saw you at breakfast and luncheon.Pretty fair _chef_ here, isn't he? But you didn't stick to that part,you know. You followed me up-town, where I made a call on a relative,and you studied the colored globes in a druggist's window when I wentaway. I wonder why people employ inexperienced boys in such importantmatters. In your case, my lad, it was easy enough to detect thedetective. You even took the foolish chance of heading me off, andreturned to this hotel before I did. Now, then, is my charge unfounded?"

  "Why should you be under the surveillance of a detective?" askedFogerty, slowly.

  "Really, my boy, I cannot say. There was an unpleasant little affairlast night at the Waldorf, in which I was not personally concerned, butsuffered, nevertheless. An officious deputy caused my arrest and Ispent an unpleasant night in jail. There being nothing in the way ofevidence against me I was released this morning, and now I find adetective shadowing me. What can it all mean, I wonder? These stupidblunders are very annoying to the plain citizen, who, however innocent,feels himself the victim of a conspiracy."

  "I understand you, sir," said Fogerty, drily.

  For some moments Mershone now remained silent. Then he asked; "What areyour instructions concerning me?"

  To his surprise the boy made a simple, frank admission.

  "I'm to see you don't get into more mischief, sir."

  "And how long is this nonsense to continue?" demanded Mershone, showinga touch of anger for the first time.

  "Depends on yourself, Mr. Mershone; I'm no judge, myself. I'm soyoung--and inexperienced."

  "Who is your employer?"

  "Oh, I'm just sent out by an agency."

  "Is it a big paying proposition?" asked Charlie, eyeing the diffidentyouth beside him critically, as if to judge his true caliber.

  "Not very big. You see, if I'd been a better detective you'd never havespotted me so quickly."

  "I suppose money counts with you, though, as it does with everyone elsein the world?"

  "Of course, sir. Every business is undertaken to make money."

  Mershone drew his chair a little nearer.

  "I need a clever detective myself," he announced, confidentially. "I'manxious to discover what enemy is persecuting me in this way. Wouldit--er--be impossible for me to employ _you_ to--er--look after myinterests?"

  Fogerty was very serious.

  "You see, sir," he responded, "if I quit this job they may not give meanother. In order to be a successful detective one must keep in the goodgraces of the agencies."

  "That's easy enough," asserted Mershone. "You may pretend to keep thisjob, but go home and take life easy. I'll send you a daily statement ofwhat I've been doing, and you can fix up a report to your superior fromthat. In addition to this you can put in a few hours each day trying tofind out who is annoying me in this rascally manner, and for thisservice I'll pay you five times the agency price. How does thatproposition strike you, Mr.--"

  "Riordan. Me name's Riordan," said Fogerty, with a smile. "No, Mr.Mershone," shaking his head gravely, "I can't see my way to favor you.It's an easy job now, and I'm afraid to take chances with a harder one."

  Something in the tone nettled Mershone.

  "But the pay," he suggested.

  "Oh, the pay. If I'm a detective fifty years, I'll make an easy twothousand a year. That's a round hundred thousand. Can you pay me thatmuch to risk my future career as a detective?"

  Mershone bit his lip. This fellow was not so simple, after all, boyishas he seemed. And, worse than all, he had a suspicion the youngster wasbaiting him, and secretly laughing at his offers of bribery.

  "They will take you off the job, now that I have discovered youridentity," he asserted, with malicious satisfaction.

  "Oh, no," answered Fogerty; "they won't do that. This little interviewmerely simplifies matters. You see, sir, I'm an expert at disguises.That's my one great talent, as many will testify. But you will noticethat in undertaking this job I resorted to no disguise at all. You seeme as nature made me--and 't was a poor job, I'm thinking."

  "Why were you so careless?"

  "It wasn't carelessness; it was premeditated. There's not the slightestobjection to your knowing me. My only business is to keep you in sight,and I can do that exactly as well as Riordan as I could by disguisingmyself."

  Mershone had it on his tongue's end to ask what they expected todiscover by shadowing him, but decided it was as well not to open anavenue for the discussion of Miss Merrick's disappearance. So, findinghe could not bribe the youthful detective or use him in any way to hisadvantage, he closed the interview by rising.

  "I'm going to my room to write some letters," said he, with a yawn."Would you like to read them before they are mailed?"

  Again Fogerty laughed in his cheerful, boyish way.

  "You'd make a fine detective yourself, Mr. Mershone," he declared, "andI advise you to consider the occupation. I've a notion it's safer, andbetter pay, than your present line."

  Charlie scowled at the insinuation, but walked away without reply.Fogerty eyed his retreating figure a moment, gave a slight shrug andresumed his newspaper.

  Day followed day without further event, and gradually Mershone came tofeel himself trapped. Wherever he might go he found Fogerty on duty,unobtrusive, silent and watchful. It was very evident that he waswaiting for the young man to lead him to the secret hiding place ofLouise Merrick.

  In one way this constant surveillance was a distinct comfort to CharlieMershone, for it assured him that the retreat of Louise was stillundiscovered. But he must find some way to get rid of his "shadow," inorder that he might proceed to carry out his plans concerning the girl.During his enforced leisure he invented a dozen apparently cleverschemes, only to abandon them again as unpr
actical.

  One afternoon, while on a stroll, he chanced to meet the bruiser who hadattacked Arthur Weldon at the Waldorf, and been liberally paid byMershone for his excellent work. He stopped the man, and glancinghastily around found that Fogerty was a block in the rear.

  "Listen," he said; "I want your assistance, and if you're quick and surethere is a pot of money, waiting for you."

  "I need it, Mr. Mershone," replied the man, grinning.

  "There's a detective following me; he's down the street there--a mereboy--just in front of that tobacco store. See him?"

  "Sure I see him. It's Fogerty."

  "His name is Riordan."

  "No; it's Fogerty. He's no boy, sir, but the slickest 'tec' in the city,an' that's goin' some, I can tell you."

  "Well, you must get him, whoever he is. Drag him away and hold him forthree hours--two--one. Give me a chance to slip him; that's all. Canyou do it? I'll pay you a hundred for the job."

  "It's worth two hundred, Mr. Mershone. It isn't safe to fool withFogerty."

  "I'll make it two hundred."

  "Then rest easy," said the man. "I know the guy, and how to handle him.You just watch him like he's watching you, Mr. Mershone, and if anythinghappens you skip as lively as a flea. I can use that two hundred in mybusiness."

  Then the fellow passed on, and Fogerty was still so far distant up thestreet that neither of them could see the amused smile upon his thinface.

 

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