Kitobni o'qish: «The Spruce Street Tragedy; or, Old Spicer Handles a Double Mystery», sahifa 10
CHAPTER XXV.
A SURPRISE PARTY
Pete Coffey now took up a kerosene lamp and some matches, but he did not strike a light.
He dropped down on his knees at the back of the cabin, and ran his hand over the boards.
Presently he shoved one aside, and then another, and another.
"Now, one of you come here," he said.
Barney was quickly at his side.
"Let me aim you right," said Pete, "and then crawl ahead on your hands and knees for at least twenty feet before you rise."
Barney started ahead, doing the "baby act" very creditably.
"Come, Bissell, hurry up," said Pete, impatiently, and dropping down beside him, Bissell endeavored to peer into the black darkness beyond.
"What devil's hole is this?" he asked, suspiciously.
"It may be the devil's hole, as you say," answered Pete. "In fact, I have sometimes thought it was myself. At all events, the devil takes better care of his own in there than I've ever known him to do anywhere else; and so, if you really want to escape your enemies, you'd better be getting in, for I don't propose to fool all my time away on you to-night, I can tell you."
Bissell followed after Barney without another word.
Bill Bunce needed no admonition. He had been familiar with dark holes for the better part of his life, and had a particularly friendly feeling for them, and so he followed on after Bissell, keeping close behind him.
Pete, as soon as there was room for him to do so, entered the hole, and having carefully replaced the boards he had slipped aside, lighted his lamp, and holding it up to the roof of the low tunnel, cast its rays ahead, so that Barney could see when it was safe for him to rise.
"Ah!" exclaimed Barney, starting to his feet, "this is something like a hiding place."
The rays of Pete's light had shown him an extensive cavern, hollowed out of the granite rock, of which all that portion of the New England coast is composed.
Speedily he was joined by his companions, and a hasty examination of the chamber took place.
It was large enough to contain twenty or thirty men, and there were accommodations for at least a dozen. The place was also supplied with edibles, and Pete hinted that there was something stronger than water stowed away in one dark recess, "of which, thank God, old Mag knew nothing."
"If she did, I reckon it wouldn't be there long," laughed Barney.
"That's it, the old gal hasn't many failings, but one of 'em is an over-fondness for hard stuff."
After some time spent in talking over the situation, Pete intimated that the travelers might like to get a little rest, and said he would go out and reconnoiter.
The lamp had been placed on a projecting piece of rock that served as a shelf, and with only his knowledge of the place to guide him, Pete started for the entrance.
He could not have had more than time enough to reach the cabin, when the sound of excited voices came back to the fugitives through the tunnel, which served the purpose of a speaking tube.
"Seized? the Bouncing Betsey seized? By whom, in the demon's name?"
It was Pete who asked the question, there could be no doubt of that.
"Yes, Pete, she was taken in less than twenty minutes after you left her," answered another voice.
"That's the fellow he called Clarky," whispered Bissell to his companions.
The others nodded.
"But by whom – by whom was she taken?" demanded Pete, impatiently.
"Revenue officers; and there are three or four detectives with them."
"The deuce! this looks black."
"I guess you'll think so when you know the rest."
"What is the rest? Tell me without any further loss of time."
"Those detectives are sharper than the devil; they went through everything on board the schooner in less than no time, and it didn't take 'em long to find the passengers' duds."
"Ah! I thought it might come to that. Blamed fools, they ought to have brought 'em ashore. But did they recognize 'em?"
"You just bet they did. There was a bean-pole sort of a fellow among 'em, and he says, says he, 'These things belong to Barney Hawks; he wore 'em the night after Margaret Ernst was murdered. And those belong to Bill Bunce; he had 'em on in his saloon the day of the fight there.' 'And these,' said another old fellow, 'are Emory Bissell's: see, here's his name; there's no getting away from that.'"
"Thunder and blazes!" hissed Bissell, "why were we such confounded fools as to leave such evidence of our presence on board the schooner?"
"Simply because we are confounded fools," returned Barney; "nothing more or less. But listen: let us know the worst."
"Come, do get out o' here, an' let an old woman get a little sleep. Into the cavern with you, or outdoors – I don't care which."
It was evident Pete and Clarky had been joined by old Mag.
"Wait a minute, Mag, and then we'll be off," said Pete, in a conciliatory tone. "Have the detectives any idea, Clarky, where the fugitives have gone to?"
"Can't say as to that; but I tell you that thin fellow is an awful knowing chap."
"But, see here, man, how comes it that you know so much about the matter? Did you go aboard the schooner again?"
"Yes, I took those bottles up to the boathouse and hid them as you told me; then I had a few words to say to our boys there, when the cap'n came ashore and wanted us all to help him land his goods, so I took a hand and went aboard with him. Then the officers came, and as soon as I could I slipped out to let you know what was in the wind."
"Come into the cavern, we must talk this over with Barney and his friends," and a little later they were heard crawling through the passage.
The first question Bissell put when they had joined them was:
"Is there any one living who knows of the existence of this place who would give the knowledge away to the detectives?"
"Not one," answered Pete, promptly.
"Then, as the schooner is taken," said Bissell, "we must stay here till you get a chance to ship us on board some other West Indian craft."
"That won't work, so far as Pete is concerned," put in Clarky, abruptly.
"Why not?"
"He is to be arrested to-night himself."
"How do you know?"
"Heard it talked up. They've found out that Way was killed in the station while he was in the act of sending off a telegraph message, that he was struck down from behind, then robbed, and his body placed on the track to be mutilated; they have also found out that Pete was around the station at about that time, with some others, and so they are going to take him, and I reckon if it don't turn out a swinging affair for him, he will at least get boarding accommodations up the river for the rest of his life."
"Hum, it does look a little that way, by Jove!" muttered Pete.
"Well, then," said Bissell, "Pete must stay here with us, and we must depend on you, Clarky, to help us out when the time comes."
"On me? By thunder! I don't know but – "
"But that you are in as bad a box as the rest, eh, young man?"
It was a calm and matter-of-fact voice that uttered these words, and every man in the cavern sprung to his feet as he heard them, with exclamations of consternation on his lips.
Then they saw the tall, thin form of Old Spicer towering over them, and just behind him, four or five more detectives, all thoroughly armed and ready for business!
CHAPTER XXVI.
CONCLUSION
"Take it quietly, gentlemen, I beg," said Old Spicer, in his usual tones. "The jig's up. I acknowledge that you have shown a good deal of skill and made us some trouble; but we've got you now, like so many rats in a trap."
"By Jove! you shall never take me alive, Mark Spicer," exclaimed Bissell, fiercely.
"Very well, I shall take you dead, then, Emory Bissell," was the calm reply. "For, above all, you must not escape. God alone can calculate the evil you have done. You have brought ruin and death upon Charley Way, you have made a miserable woman of his widow for life, you have corrupted and involved in the general ruin Pete Coffey here, and many of his associates, you are responsible for the Ernst murder and for the blasted lives of Henry Chamberlain and Frank Taylor."
"And you'd better add," interrupted Bissell, with savage glee, "that I have had my reward in the knowledge that I have brought eternal misery on one that I'll never name, who has an interest in Hen Chamberlain, and who, with me and one or two others, alone knows the mystery of his life."
"That triumph will yet turn to gall in your memory," said Old Spicer, sternly. "And now surrender quietly, for we have much to do to-night. Seth, you and George go forward and put on the bracelets. If any one of them makes a hostile demonstration we'll shoot him on the spot."
Seth Strickett and George Morgan stepped forward.
"Barney – Bill Bunce – Pete – Clarky, will you be taken and strung up like so many slaughtered hogs? Stand by me, now, and fight to the death!" and whipping out a revolver, he fired point-blank at Old Spicer's heart.
But the attenuated detective was not a very good mark for a weak and excited man to aim at, and so the ball sped by, and the next instant a howl went up, as though all the witches of Macbeth were yelling in concert.
"I'm killed – I'm murdered – I'm done for! Oh, Lord! just let me get at the villain that fired that shot and I'll tear his heart out!" Then, with another yell, Old Mag dashed forward, and with the blood streaming from a wound in her breast, threw herself upon Bissell.
Barney and his friends seeing the confusion, now attempted to escape.
The attempt was useless. But their blood was up and they made a hard fight for it. Pistol reports echoed and re-echoed through the vaulted cavern, and to one standing by it would have seemed as though two regiments were fighting.
At length it was over, and Old Spicer, who, fortunately, had escaped uninjured, began to sum up the results.
Emory Bissell was dead – killed by old Mag, who lay gasping out her life by his side.
Barney Hawks was also dead; no less than three bullets had entered his body, any one of which would have finished him.
Bill Bunce was severely wounded and a prisoner.
Pete Coffey and Clarky surrendered when they saw there was no use in holding out longer.
On the side of the law, one local officer was killed and another badly wounded. Adam Killett and Seth Stricket were also slightly hurt.
Pete Coffey and Clarky were placed in the local lock-up, and the New York reporter, who was on hand in the village, but who had not got an inkling of what was going on at the bay, or up in the cavern, was, at his own request, locked up with Pete as a prisoner, in order to wheedle a full confession out of him.
His efforts were not rewarded with a very brilliant success.
Old Spicer, Stricket, and Morgan returned to New Haven, well pleased with all that had been accomplished.
Killett, after obtaining a requisition from the governor, took his prisoner, Bill Bunce, to New York; but two days later he died in the Tombs.
With almost unprecedented speed the trial of Chamberlain came on, and Cora Bell appeared against him.
Her evidence, and other facts brought out by Old Spicer and the New York detectives, was so overwhelming that he was brought in guilty after a trial of less than five days; but owing to his youth and the fact that the murder was not actually premeditated, he escaped the gallows.
Taylor's trial followed Chamberlain's, and as it was evident he had been led into the scrape by the latter, and had been so ready to confess, he got off much easier than his friend.
Cora Bell conducted herself very well from first to last during the trials, and so worked upon the feelings of a susceptible young man that soon after it was all over, he offered her his heart and hand.
She promptly accepted, and they are now living very pleasantly together as man and wife.
Before the trial came on, Sadie Seaton strangely disappeared from the city, and has never since been heard of. Old Spicer, to satisfy his own curiosity, thinks of looking her up later.
Peter Coffey's trial has not yet been called; but the knowing ones declare that Clarky's prophecy is pretty sure to be fulfilled. Clarky himself has been released without bail.
Most of Mrs. Ernst's property has been recovered, and the heirs under her will, including August Tepley, are likely soon to benefit substantially by her sudden death.
Adam Killett, and his trusty friends, Stark and Rouse, are busy on a new case in New York. While Old Spicer, whose world-wide fame debars him from any rest, has just received orders to ferret out a dangerous gang of smugglers and murderers who, for some time past, have eluded the vigilance of the constituted authorities along the northern shores of Long Island Sound.
Of course his old friend Seth Stricket, and his adopted son, George Morgan, will assist him in his new undertaking.
