The Poisoned Pen(Fiscle Part-3) by Arthur B. Reeve (the little red hen ebook .TXT) 📖
- Author: Arthur B. Reeve
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Was Unlocked I Could See, In The Moonlight, A Huge Dog Leap Out
And Lick The Hands And Face Of A Man.
Quickly We Now Crashed Through The Frozen Underbrush. Evidently
Kennedy Was Making For The Station By A Direct Route Across
Country Instead Of The Circuitous Way By The Road And Town. Behind
Us We Could Hear A Deep Baying.
"By The Lord, Walter," Cried Kennedy, For Once In His Life
Thoroughly Alarmed, "It's A Bloodhound, And Our Trail Is Fresh."
Closer It Came. Press Forward As We Might, We Could Never Expect
To Beat That Dog.
Part 3 Chapter 5 (The Confidence King) Pg 51
"Oh, For A Stream," Groaned Kennedy, "But They Are All Frozen--
Even The River."
He Stopped Short, Fumbled In His Pocket, And Drew Out The Bottle
Of Ether.
"Raise Your Foot, Walter," He Ordered.
I Did So And He Smeared First Mine And Then His With The Ether.
Then We Doubled On Our Trail Once Or Twice And Ran Again.
"The Dog Will Never Be Able To Pick Up The Ether As Our Trail,"
Panted Kennedy; "That Is, If He Is Any Good And Trained Not To Go
Off On Wild-Goose Chases."
On We Hurried From The Woods To The Now Dark And Silent Town. It
Was Indeed Fortunate That The Dog Had Been Thrown Off Our Scent,
For The Station Was Closed, And, Indeed, If It Had Been Open I Am
Sure The Station Agent Would Have Felt More Like Locking The Door
Against Two Such Tramps As We Were, Carrying A Tin Box And Pursued
By A Dog, Than Opening It For Us. The Best We Could Do Was To
Huddle Into A Corner Until We Succeeded In Jumping A Milk-Train
That Luckily Slowed Down As It Passed Riverwood Station.
Neither Of Us Could Wait To Open The Tin Box In Our Apartment, And
Instead Of Going Uptown Kennedy Decided It Would Be Best To Go To
A Hotel Near The Station. Somehow We Succeeded In Getting A Room
Without Exciting Suspicion. Hardly Had The Bellboy's Footsteps
Ceased Echoing In The Corridor Than Kennedy Was At Work Wrenching
Off The Lid Of The Box With Such Leverage As The Scanty
Furnishings Of The Room Afforded.
At Last It Yielded, And We Looked In Curiously, Expecting To Find
Fabulous Wealth In Some Form. A Few Hundred Dollars And A Rope Of
Pearls Lay In It. It Was A Good "Haul," But Where Was The Vast
Spoil The Counterfeiters Had Accumulated? We Had Missed It. So Far
We Were Completely Baffled.
"Perhaps We Had Better Snatch A Couple Of Hours' Sleep," Was All
That Craig Said, Stifling His Chagrin.
Over And Over In My Mind I Was Turning The Problem Of Where They
Had Hidden The Spoil. I Dozed Off, Still Thinking About It And
Thinking That, Even Should They Be Captured, They Might Have
Stowed Away Perhaps A Million Dollars To Which They Could Go Back
After Their Sentences Were Served.
It Was Still Early For New York When Kennedy Roused Me By Talking
Over The Telephone In The Room. In Fact, I Doubt If He Had Slept
At All.
Burke Was At The Other End Of The Wire. His Man Had Just Reported
That Something Had Happened During The Night At Riverwood, But He
Couldn't Give A Very Clear Account. Craig Seemed To Enjoy The Joke
Immensely As He Told His Story To Burke.
The Last Words I Heard Were: "All Right. Send A Man Up Here To The
Station--One Who Knows All The Descriptions Of These People. I'm
Sure They Will Have To Come Into Town To-Day, And They Will Have
To Come By Train, For Their Car Is Wrecked. Better Watch At The
Uptown Stations, Also."
After A Hasty Breakfast We Met Burke's Man And Took Our Places At
The Exit From The Train Platforms. Evidently Kennedy Had Figured
Out That The Counterfeiters Would Have To Come Into Town For Some
Reason Or Other. The Incoming Passengers Were Passing Us In A
Steady Stream, For A New Station Was Then Being Built, And There
Was Only A Temporary Structure With One Large Exit.
"Here Is Where The 'Portrait Parle' Ought To Come In, If Ever,"
Part 3 Chapter 5 (The Confidence King) Pg 52Commented Kennedy As He Watched Eagerly.
And Yet Neither Man Nor Woman Passed Us Who Fitted The
Description. Train After Train Emptied Its Human Freight, Yet The
Pale Man With The Concave Nose And The Peculiar Ear, Accompanied
Perhaps By A Lady, Did Not Pass Us.
At Last The Incoming Stream Began To Dwindle Down. It Was Long
Past The Time When The Counterfeiters Should Have Arrived If They
Had Started On Any Reasonable Train.
"Perhaps They Have Gone Up To Montreal, Instead," I Ventured.
Kennedy Shook His Head. "No," He Answered. "I Have An Idea That I
Was Mistaken About The Money Being Kept At Riverwood. It Would
Have Been Too Risky. I Thought It Out On The Way Back This
Morning. They Probably Kept It In A Safe Deposit Vault Here. I Had
Figured That They Would Come Down And Get It And Leave New York
After Last Night's Events. We Have Failed--They Have Got By Us.
Neither The 'Portrait Parle' Nor The Ordinary Photography Nor Any
Other System Will Suffice Alone Against The Arch-Criminal Back Of
This, I'm Afraid. Walter, I Am Sore And Disgusted. What I Should
Have Done Was To Accept Burke's Offer--Surround The House With A
Posse If Necessary, Last Night, And Catch The Counterfeiters By
Sheer Force. I Was Too Confident. I Thought I Could Do It With
Finesse, And I Have Failed. I'd Give Anything To Know What Safe
Deposit Vault They Kept The Fake Money In."
I Said Nothing As We Strolled Away, Leaving Burke's Man Still To
Watch, Hoping Against Hope. Kennedy Walked Disconsolately Through
The Station, And I Followed. In A Secluded Part Of The Waiting-
Room He Sat Down, His Face Drawn Up In A Scowl Such As I Had Never
Seen. Plainly He Was Disgusted With Himself--With Only Himself.
This Was No Bungling Of Burke Or Any One Else. Again The
Counterfeiters Had Escaped From The Hand Of The Law.
As He Moved His Fingers Restlessly In The Pockets Of His Coat, He
Absently Pulled Out The Little Pieces Of Sponge And The Ether
Bottle. He Regarded Them Without Much Interest.
"I Know What They Were For," He Said, Diving Back Into His Pocket
For The Other Things And Bringing Out The Sharp Little Knives In
Their Case. I Said Nothing, For Kennedy Was In A Deep Study. At
Last He Put The Things Back Into His Pocket. As He Did So His Hand
Encountered Something Which He Drew Forth With A Puzzled Air. It
Was The Piece Of Paraffin.
"Now, What Do You Suppose That Was For?" He Asked, Half To
Himself. "I Had Forgotten That. What Was The Use Of A Piece Of
Paraffin? Phew, Smell The Antiseptic Worked Into It."
"I Don't Know," I Replied, Rather Testily. "If You Would Tell Me
What The Other Things Were For I Might Enlighten You, But--"
"By George, Walter, What A Chump I Am!" Cried Kennedy, Leaping To
His Feet, All Energy Again. "Why Did I Forget That Lump Of
Paraffin? Why, Of Course--I Think I Can Guess What They Have Been
Doing--Of Course. Why, Man Alive, He Walked Right Past Us, And We
Never Knew It. Boy, Boy," He Shouted To A Newsboy Who Passed,
"What's The Latest Sporting Edition You Have?"
Eagerly He Almost Tore A Paper Open And Scanned The Sporting
Pages. "Racing At Lexington Begins To-Morrow," He Read. "Yes, I'll
Bet That's It. We Don't Have To Know The Safe Deposit Vault, After
All. It Would Be Too Late, Anyhow. Quick, Let Us Look Up The Train
To Lexington."
As We Hurried Over To The Information Booth, I Gasped, In A Whirl:
"Now, Look Here, Kennedy, What's All This Lightning Calculation?
What Possible Connection Is There Between A Lump Of Paraffin And
One Of The Few Places In The Country Where They Still Race
Horses?"
Part 3 Chapter 5 (The Confidence King) Pg 53"None," He Replied, Not Stopping An Instant. "None. The Paraffin
Suggested To Me The Possible Way In Which Our Man Managed To Elude
Us Under Our Very Eyes. That Set My Mind At Work Again. Like A
Flash It Occurred To Me: Where Would They Be Most Likely To Go
Next To Work Off Some Of The Bills? The Banks Are On, The
Jewellery-Houses Are On, The Gambling-Joints Are On. Why, To The
Racetracks, Of Course. That's It. Counterfeiters All Use The
Bookmakers, Only Since Racing Has Been Killed In New York They
Have Had To Resort To Other Means Here. If New York Has Suddenly
Become Too Hot, What More Natural Than To Leave It? Here, Let Me
See--There's A Train That Gets There Early To-Morrow, The Best
Train, Too. Say, Is No. 144 Made Up Yet?" He Inquired At The
Desk.
"No. 144 Will Be Ready In Fifteen Minutes. Track 8."
Kennedy Thanked The Man, Turned Abruptly, And Started For The
Still Closed Gate At Track 8.
"Beg Pardon--Why, Hulloa--It's Burke," He Exclaimed As We Ran
Plump Into A Man Staring Vacantly About.
It Was Not The Gentleman Farmer Of The Night Before, Nor Yet The
Supposed College Graduate. This Man Was A Western Rancher; His
Broad-Brimmed Hat, Long Moustache, Frock Coat, And Flowing Tie
Proclaimed It. Yet There Was Something Indefinably Familiar About
Him, Too. It Was Burke In Another Disguise.
"Pretty Good Work, Kennedy," Nodded Burke, Shifting His Tobacco
From One Side Of His Jaws To The Other. "Now, Tell Me How Your Man
Escaped You This Morning, When You Can Recognise Me Instantly In
This Rig."
"You Haven't Altered Your Features," Explained Kennedy Simply.
"Our Pale-Faced, Snub-Nosed Peculiar-Eared Friend Has. What Do You
Think Of The Possibility Of His Going To The Lexington Track, Now
That He Finds It Too Dangerous To Remain In New York?"
Burke Looked At Kennedy Rather Sharply. "Say, Do You Add Telepathy
To Your Other Accomplishments?"
"No," Laughed Craig, "But I'm Glad To See That Two Of Us Working
Independently Have Arrived At The Same Conclusion. Come, Let Us
Saunter Over To Track 8--I Guess The Train Is Made Up."
The Gate Was Just Opened, And The Crowd Filed Through. No One Who
Seemed To Satisfy Either Burke Or Kennedy Appeared. The Train-
Announcer Made His Last Call. Just Then A Taxicab Pulled Up At The
Street-End Of The Platform, Not Far From Track 8. A Man Jumped Out
And Assisted A Heavily Veiled Lady, Paid The Driver, Picked
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