The man beat a retreat, blustering. He went across the little garden in front of the pretty villa of the famous detective and went through the gate of the wrought iron fence onto Garden Street.
Ethel King had observed that scene with surprise and amusement. She turned toward John Light.
“Since I don’t have Charley at hand, Mr. Light, and you have nothing to do at the moment, would you do me a favor. Follow that man, try to find out his name and address, and what he wanted with me.”
A few seconds later, Light fell in behind the importunate man’s footsteps, while Ethel King congratulated Sara, still overexcited, for the courage she had shown in defending her door.
Bandits’ Hideout
Light knew his job of following a suspected person without being noticed rather well. He followed the visitor he was shadowing, a young man dressed in cheap elegance, to the corner of a wide avenue.
The individual seemed very annoyed by the scarcely friendly reception Sara had given him. He was talking to himself, brandishing his cane, pushing his hat back, and stopping occasionally as if to argue with invisible antagonists. He hesitated a moment, as if to take a tramcar, then continued his way on foot through a labyrinth of small streets and paths. Light didn’t lose sight of him. During that shadowing, the detective changed disguises twice with the help of false beards and wigs, exchanging his soft hat for a helmet, turning his reversible hat and coat inside out. A halt of a few seconds under a doorway or in a corner was enough to bring off these superficial metamorphoses.
The unknown man finally stopped in a deserted little street in front of a narrow, dilapidated two-story house. He looked to the right and left as if to be sure that he hadn’t been followed. He didn’t see anyone for the excellent reason that Light had crouched behind a flight of steps which hid him completely.
The man took a key out of his pocket, went into the house and closed the door behind him.
The detective hesitated a moment about what to do. He finally decided to go into the building to spy on the suspect. The appearance of the house inspired him with serious distrust. Without having any reason to confirm it, he vaguely suspected that the intruder who had been so mauled by Sara was an accomplice of Hard.
The ex-convict was an even more dangerous criminal because of his perspicacity and his audacity. Ethel King’s energetic behavior might have helped him guess the identity of Miss Newborn’s lady companion. If such was the case, the scoundrel was very capable of sending an accomplice to the house of the great detective to set a trap.
Imbued with that idea, Light inspected the house to find a way in. Finally, he went around to a parallel street and jumped the fence to get into a muddy courtyard. He wasn’t running any great risk of being seen because he had noticed a shed which he could hide behind as soon as he entered.
The detective huddled up in his corner for some time to observe. All the shutters on that side of the house were closed. There was no one to be seen. Light became confident, left his shelter, went across the little courtyard and reached a door on the lower level that opened onto a basement. A minute later the detective was in a vaulted corridor which was totally dark. He turned on his pocket flashlight for a second to get oriented and noticed the stairs to the first floor in front of him. He mounted the stairs, listened at the door, and passed noiselessly into the vestibule.
What he did was extremely daring. If anyone had surprised him there, he would have been unable to explain his presence, and the inhabitants of the house would have had the right to treat him as a burglar. But Light had daring that bordered on rashness. He sometimes did things that were not prudent, that detectives more able and more experienced than he, would have avoided.
Half of the vestibule was filled by a stairwell. There were two closed doors in front of the detective. He listened to each of them in turn. Having heard the sound of voices behind the second one, he looked through the key hole. His lips tightened in a grimace of satisfaction. What he saw was certainly made to excite his interest.
Some men were seated around a table in a little sitting room with faded wallpaper and dilapidated furniture. Two of them had their shoulders turned to the door and Light couldn’t make out their features. Another, seated to the right, was the one the detective had followed. There was a fourth one on the left and a fifth one facing him. That one Light had recognized at first glance as Hard, the Sing Sing escapee, the fake Jack Hawfinch with his gigolo head and hair well slicked down and symmetrically parted, his impeccable frock coat, his glaring red tie ornamented with a big solitaire, his fingers filled with rings and his monocle, that at the time he was letting hang down on his embroidered waist coat.
Hard struck the table and said forcefully:
“I don’t want to let such a beautiful situation escape. What gave that foolish little Eva the idea to take on such a silly goose as a lady companion! It’s too bad Jimmy wasn’t able to see Ethel King at her house! Since he had seen Ethel Briar on one of her outings, he was able to give me an exact description. I know Ethel King! I’ve had the opportunity twice since I’ve been in Philadelphia to observe her, and you can well imagine that I profited by it. Ethel King is a dangerous person for fellows like us. That afternoon, when Ethel Briar stood in front of me, a revolver in her hand, her behavior for a woman somewhat surprised me. Then I looked at her carefully. I at first wondered if it wasn’t a man in disguise; then I saw she had a remarkable resemblance to Ethel King.”
“So, in your opinion,” said Jimmy, the puny looking little man that Light had followed, “in your opinion Eva Newborn has called in a detective to study you and protect her from you, if need be.”
“Yes, I could see very well that she was hesitating. People found it strange that Eva Newborn, an orphan 50 times over a millionaire, was marrying some unknown person. Our engagement wasn’t official, but everyone was already talking about it. Naturally, certain gossip, very little flattering to me, reached Eva’s ears. It caused Eva to begin to distrust me. I can’t explain that rupture any other way, because I had played my part well.”
One of the men, whose shoulder was turned toward Hard, nodded and observed:
“Your plan was daring, Jack. But you would never have been able to marry Eva Newborn. Your identity would have had to be verified when the contract was signed.”
“I had taken my precautions, Bob. My papers in the name of Jack Hawfinch are in order. However, I might not have gone all the way to the end. A week before the marriage I would have arranged to draw off two or three million from the little girl; then I would have disappeared as if by magic.”
“That wasn’t badly put together,” Jimmy declared, “but the job is bungled. We have to find something else.”
“Yes, we have to find something else…and I already have.”
“Well, we’re here to listen to it. Explain it to us.”
“Understand, first of all, that I intend to get revenge on Eva and that Ethel, whether she’s Briar or King. As for Eva, I could kidnap her and force her to become my mistress.”
“That would be amusing but damn dangerous!”
Light, behind the door, shivered with horror.
“As for Ethel,” Hawfinch continued, “I intend to open up her stomach to see what’s inside. That will teach her to meddle in what doesn’t concern her!”
“Scoundrel!” murmured the detective, gritting his teeth.
Hard’s accomplices received the exposé of his criminal projects somewhat coldly. They remained silent a few moments as if they were thinking. Then one of them said:
“I don’t like to work with you, Jack. You don’t have enough self-control. In my opinion, to succeed in our profession, you have to be very calm, put aside all question of ego, never let yourself get wrapped up in passion…You think you’re very wicked because you speak of getting revenge! And supposing that you succeed, how far does that get you? What does that bring you? The rope!”
“You have no blood in your veins, Ralph! Revenge is divine voluptuo
usness. Well! People like you who don’t have a grain of the ideal in their heads, exasperate me! You never see anything in it but the practical side. I’m not like you. I have passion, enthusiasm, and the joy I get from them is immense. Danger itself doesn’t displease me. And if I must die at the end of a rope, I’ll die proudly.”
“Whatever pleases you… But if you have only danger to offer us, you can keep it for yourself.”
“You don’t know me very well. Aside from that, you should know that I pay generously for the services of friends.”
“That’s true,” Jimmy said.
“So there it is. I’ve decided to burglarize the townhouse of the little Newborn girl.”
“When?”
“Tonight. It’s 6 p.m. now. We still have time to make our arrangements. I know the house like the inside of my pocket and it will really be a superb job to pull off. I know that Eva has, right now, in her safe about $2,000,000 in cash and in jewels.”
“Madness!” Ralph said. “Even so, it’s tempting.”
Hard stood up.
“Wait for me a minute,” he said. “I’ve drawn a map of Eva Newborn’s townhouse. I’m going upstairs to my bedroom to look for it.”
Light had just enough time to go across the vestibule and hide in the cellar stairway. He had hardly closed the door silently than Hard left the sitting room.
The detective remained perplexed for a moment. He wondered if he wouldn’t do well to listen to the remainder of the bandits’ conversation. But he reflected that he knew enough and that by remaining in the house any longer he risked getting caught.
He therefore left as he had entered, ran to the first telephone office, and was connected with 77 Garden Street. Ethel King was no longer at home. It was Charley Lux who answered the telephone.
“Ethel is at Eva Newborn’s, disguised as Ethel Briar,” the young man said.
“Well, Charley, get in touch with her there immediately. Hard and four accomplices are getting ready to burglarize Miss Newborn’s townhouse tonight. Your cousin’s life and Eva Newborn’s honor are threatened.”
Light repeated to the young man what he had heard the bandits say and added:
“I’m going to alert the police and ask that they send me the necessary authorization and reinforcements to go ahead with the arrest of the scoundrels. We’ll try to take the gang in their hideout.”
A Murderous Encounter
“This is all they send me! Two men to arrest five determined criminals! Ah! Where’s the Chief of Police? Wasn’t Mr. Golding there?”
It was 7 p.m. and the twilight of a beautiful autumn day was turning into night. The street lamps lit the little street badly. John Light crossed his arms in indignation, reproaching the two plainclothes policemen they had sent him to go ahead with the arrest of Hard and his accomplices.
“No,” said one of the agents, “the Chief wasn’t there. It was Inspector McNiff who replaced him. He gave us our instructions, saying that he had no one else to send with us and that strong fellows like us shouldn’t be afraid of a gang of cowards capable of murdering women, but not of standing up against armed men.”
“Cowards? That’s easy enough to say,” John Light grumbled. “There are some in the game who aren’t without courage, Hard most of all. This is a mistake, a serious mistake on the part of Inspector McNiff. It might even cost us our lives.”
“That’s what I told him, but he laughed in my face and asked me if, by chance, I hadn’t drunk too much gin with my dinner.”
“You see, John,” the second policeman observed sententiously, “all you private detectives think alike. You imagine that all the forces of the regular police are at your service. I’m not saying that about you, but about others. You’re a brave fellow for whom I have a great deal of respect. I’m speaking in general. Those who aren’t in the regular police force would do better to let us take care of things by ourselves. If we had discovered Hard ourselves, we would have arranged to take him in quietly, without danger to anyone. We would have been careful to get in touch with our superiors before having everything stacked against us. As for you, you put your foot in it. You telephone the office of the great Manitou. You’re given the order to go ahead and you have to obey willy-nilly. It’s too bad if there’s some breakage!”
“Should we give Hard time to disappear?”
“Bah! If he disappeared that would be only one more scoundrel at liberty. There are so many of them! That would be better than risking the skin of good people who have wives and children.”
“Still, if we were paid like you! You have, perhaps, a $5000 or $6000 honorarium to take care of Hard. For that price, you might be willing to spend six months in the hospital. But us, with our measly $60 a month!”
Light, impatient, interrupted him.
“I wish you weren’t right, George, but this isn’t the time to talk about it. Come on! Let’s go! Let’s get into the house.”
“Through which way?”
“Through the little courtyard. Let’s go around.”
“Well! If they surprise us, we’ve had it!” George grumbled, but even so he and his comrade followed the detective.
We owe it to the truth to admit that Light wasn’t a policeman with a great deal of talent. He gave in too much to his impulses and didn’t calculate the consequences of his actions enough. Masters like Ethel King, Nick Carter, or Pinkerton would never have thrown themselves, uselessly, in this way into the mouth of the wolf with hesitating companions. Light should have been content to guard the exits of the house and gather up the criminals in the streets, one by one, when they left their hideout, or shadow them while waiting for a favorable opportunity to arrest them, letting one or two of the suspects escape to be picked up later. But he thought he was doing the right thing in attacking the band in its stronghold.
The three representatives of the law entered the house in the same way John Light had done the first time. The night was absolutely black; the vestibule was completely dark.
Light, first of all, partially opened the door to the sitting room, then that of the room next door which was a dining room. There was no one on the first floor.
“Let’s go up to the second floor,” the detective whispered to his comrades.
The men, tip toeing, climbed the stairs together. That was yet another mistake. Instead of all three of them going up together, they should have left one of them on guard in the vestibule to guarantee a line of retreat.
They were scarcely halfway up when the entry door opened, then quickly closed. Almost immediately a band of light appeared on the second floor landing and a voice from above demanded:
“Is that you, Edgar?”
“Yes,” another voice answered from below. “The errand took longer than I thought.”
Saying these words, the man who had just entered turned on the light switch and bright light filled the vestibule. A second later, the second floor landing was lit in its turn. While the policemen, dazzled, were blinking their eyes, the voice from down below began to shout:
“Who are those people there? Jimmy! Bob! Come to me!”
It was John Light who first recovered his presence of mind.
“In the name of the law, I arrest you! Don’t try to resist!” he roared.
He drew his revolver.
“Shoot! Shoot!” screamed Hard, whose accomplices were quickly joining him. “They’re cops! No quarter! Come to us Edgar, shoot!”
A veritable fusillade broke out. The two policemen fell, riddled with bullets, without having time to defend themselves. John light fell in his turn and tumbled to the foot of the stairs. He was wounded in the stomach. He still had the strength to raise himself and find himself face to face with Edgar, who brandished his revolver at him. In his fall, the detective hadn’t dropped his weapon. He fired point blank at the criminal, who fell dead immediately.
He ran to the entry door, but tried in vain to open it. The other criminals were already coming down the stairs yelling. Two shots greeted the p
oliceman’s flight, but didn’t hit him. Light went like lightning through the dining room, which was beside the street, opened a window, jumped to the sidewalk, took a few steps and stopped in a corner to take a breath. He examined himself. His wound wasn’t causing him to suffer, and he did not appear to be losing a lot of blood.
He waited a few minutes, leaning against the wall of a house. The criminals hadn’t dared to leave the house to chase the detective into the street.
“Ah! the scoundrels,” Light said, gritting his teeth. “I must warn Ethel King and the police.”
He stood up straight and walked in the direction of the telephone office. At the end of a few steps, he was overcome by violent nausea, his head swam, and he had to sit down on some steps. The wounded man wiped his forehead, bathed in sweat.
“The rogue really hit me,” he murmured. “Poor Maud!”
Light got up once more, climbed the steps with a last effort, rang the bell and remained clinging to the balustrade, holding himself erect with great effort. A maid came to answer the door and by the light of the street lamp looked with astonishment at the unknown man who, without saying anything, fixed his haggard eyes on her.
“What do you want, sir?” she finally asked.
The detective tried to gesture. His lips moved, then he articulated weakly:
“Warn Ethel…”
He didn’t finish. His clenched hand let go of the balustrade and the unfortunate man collapsed across the doorway. He was dead.
A Test
“I’ve thought about what you told me this afternoon, Ethel. Edward Outburn sincerely loves me.”
“I’m persuaded of it, Eva,” Ethel King answered. “I closely observed the Chief Engineer of your steel mills when he came to lay out his plans to you. He’s a loyal man with a superior mind who would be the spouse worthy of a woman like you. It’s true he has no fortune, but isn’t intelligence wealth? Managed by a man like him, your millions would double in ten years, while in the hands of a lazy wastrel like Hawfinch, they would be exhausted in a few years.”
The Adventures of Ethel King, the Female Nick Carter Page 5
