"Vhy?"
"They have picked up the broken pieces of the bottle, which, like a blasted fool, you left on the track near the dead body, and now they're trying to find the man who sold the whisky."
"They von't find him, then."
"Why not?"
"Pecause nopody never sold dot visky."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean dot I don't vos puy a tollar's worth uv visky in den years."
"Thunder! I might have known that."
"Of course."
"But where did you steal it, then?"
"I can't dell. In Shake Mann's, may pe."
"Can't you be sure?"
"Yes, Parney, it vos there. I remember now."
"All right, then. The place was crowded when we were in there, and among so many he'll never remember you."
"I'm villin' to pe forgotten, Parney."
"I should say so! And now about Way's revolver: you got that, didn't you?"
"Yes, Parney, I got dot."
"Where is it?"
"Right here in this vault."
"Where?"
"In my punk."
"Well, then, when we leave, you'd better take it away and hide it in a safer place."
"Why so, Parney?"
"Because, they're hunting for that weapon sharp, and it wouldn't do to have it found here, or on your person."
"All right, I'll dake it vith me, und hide it as soon as I get home."
"See that you do, Jake."
"I vill, Parney, so 'elp me gracious."
"Now, one thing more," said Barney, after a moment's pause, "and then we must be off. Have you seen Sadie Seaton since we parted last?"
"Yes," admitted Jake, somewhat reluctantly.
"She sent word to Hen about the old woman's money, didn't she?"
"Yes."
"How much does she claim the old gal had by her?"
Jake Klinkhammer hesitated.
Barney regarded him for a moment with stern displeasure, and then, in a threatening voice, said:
"None of that, Jake. It won't do, you know. You remember who first put us on the track of this affair, and it don't make any difference if Hen and his pal did get in ahead of us, they've got to divide; and you and I are going to divide whatever they pay us, mind that, my boy."
"Vell, vell, Parney, dot vos all right; we'll divy."
"Then answer my question. How much of a haul is it likely they made?"
"Sixteen t'ousand, sure, and maype twenty t'ousand."
"Hum, well, say sixteen thousand, that ain't so very bad."
"No, dot vos not so wery pad."
"It'll be four thousand a piece, you know."
"Und if it vos twenty t'ousand, vot then?"
"Why, then, I suppose we ought to give each of them an extra thousand, as they've had all the risk."
"Vell, dot vos all right, for then they vould hav' five t'ousand, und ve would hav' each five t'ousand, too."
"Hum, that's so; and five thousand ought to satisfy them."
"Py gracious, yes!"
"Where can we find 'em, Jake?"
Again the Hebrew hesitated. But a threatening look from Barney speedily brought him to his senses.
"Hen vos sthoppin' somevhere on Sixth Avenue, mit a girl," he said, hastily. "I don't vos remember her name. I vill ask Sadie."
"She wrote to him there, did she?"
"Yes, I dink so."
"Ain't you sure?"
"Not quite."
"How's that?"
"Dere vos von odder blace he had letters sent to somedimes. I vill find out dot blace."
"See that you do. And look you, Jake, may be it will be as well for us to pay New York a visit in company to-morrow. This town is getting a little hot for us, and we want money—want it badly; and we can see Hen and his pal, and make Emory meet us there at the same time—kill two birds with one stone, you understand."
"Yes, Parney, I dink ve petter go to New York."
"Well, then, that's settled. Now get your little gun and come along."
Jake started to his feet, crossed to the tier of bunks behind which the detectives were concealed, and began searching under the pillow of the middle bunk.
Presently he became greatly excited, and pulling up the bed itself, felt eagerly all over the bottom of the bunk.
"What in thunder's the matter?" demanded Barney, at last, impatiently.
"Py Father Abraham! dot pistols vos gone!" gasped Jake. "Dot vos vhat vos der matter."
"Gone? The devil!"
"Yes; und some uv my bapers vos gone, too."
"Papers? What papers?"
"Noddings put some leetle memorandums."
"Memorandums of what?"
"Of some moneys und jewels I hid in der leetle vault beyond."
"Have you got any wealth concealed in the little vault?"
"Schust a leetle, Parney—not much. It vos schust my share in der last boodle und der von pefore dot."
"Well, whatever it is, you'd better go and get it at once. If that revolver is gone, it isn't at all likely we'll want to visit this place again in a hurry."
"Dot vos so, Parney."
"Come on, then. Move the bunks aside. That's right—go ahead. I'll hold the light."
Jake squeezed his way behind the bunks, and throwing open the door, entered the inner vault, closely followed by Barney, bearing the light.
They took a step forward; but only to have the muzzles of two revolvers thrust into their faces, and to hear a voice, in stern and threatening tones, exclaim:
"You were looking for poor Charley Way's revolver a moment ago. Here it is! Will you have the contents now? You have only to move hand or foot, and they are yours, I swear it!"
"Old Spicer, by Jove!" ejaculated Barney, in a tone of chagrin.
"It vos, so 'elp me gracious!" groaned Jake, in a voice of despair.
THE SITUATION CHANGED—OLD SPICER STARTS FOR NEW YORK.
Barney Hawks stood just behind Jake Klinkhammer, and a little to the right of him.
As he uttered the great detective's name, the light he carried dropped from his hand and almost instantly expired, leaving the place in total darkness.
The next moment he grasped Jake by the arm, and whispering the single word "burrow" in his ear, slipped around the bunks and disappeared.
Old Spicer fired two shots and Morgan one.
At the second shot, Jake Klinkhammer fell, with a dismal groan. And hastily calling upon George to light their own lamp, the old detective stooped down to raise up the supposed wounded man.
To his surprise, he could not find him, and the lamp which George by this time succeeded in lighting, revealed the fact that he too had disappeared.
An earnest and vigorous search for the murderers was now begun; but after a quarter of an hour had passed, not the slightest signs of them had been discovered.
"Where can they have escaped to so suddenly?" exclaimed George, impatiently. "Surely they did not get through the Ernst basement."
"No, nor by the other tunnel either," returned Spicer. "There must be a secret passage we have not found yet."
"Well, what shall we do? They're gone clean enough by this time, that's certain."
"I'm not so sure of that," said Spicer; "but whether or no, there's one thing we'd better do while we're here."
"What's that, sir?"
"Find the Hebrew's stolen treasure, and in fact, everything else we may have overlooked in our previous search. Now that they have got away from us, and know we have discovered their secret, they won't leave anything here that we may pass over."
"That's true enough. But do you really think they may yet be in one or the other of these vaults?"
"I think it's quite possible."
"Then suppose only one of us hunts for the treasure, while the other searches for the murderers."
"Very good, which task do you prefer?"
"To hunt for the villains."
"Very good again. Only let me warn you, don't let them get a shot at you from some dark recess."
"I'll look out for that;" and Morgan recommenced his search for the fugitives, while Old Spicer began looking for Jake Klinkhammer's treasure.
He soon found it, and, to his utmost astonishment, found that it consisted of $13,782 in gold and national bank notes, and watches, diamonds and jewelry to the value of at least $5,000 more.
"A big haul!" he exclaimed, "and with the memoranda I found, I shall be enabled to return by far the greater portion of it to its rightful owners."
He then went over the two vaults, inch by inch, but discovered very little more of importance.
Then, as Morgan had found no traces of the murderers, he decided to return to the outer world, and, after a conference with Stricket, and perhaps with the coroner, to put in operation a plan that he had been maturing in his mind for the past half hour.
Morgan followed the old detective with some reluctance. He could not bear to think that such consummate villains as the two who had so cleverly eluded them, should be allowed to make their escape. But he was forced to admit that he could give no good reason why they should remain longer under ground, and so, slowly, he followed Old Spicer through the tunnel into the sub-cellar, and from thence into the coal-vault and through the coal-hole, and so into the upper world.
On emerging from the passageway into York Street, they saw a cab passing. Old Spicer immediately hailed it, and, when they were seated inside, requested the jehu to drive as fast as his horse could go down Chapel Street.
"Where to?" asked Jehu, curiously.
"Go till I tell you to stop," was the reply, and the horse started.
In front of the Western Union Telegraph Company's office, Old Spicer gave the signal to stop; and, springing from the cab, he rushed into the office, scratched thirteen words on a blank, and, handing it to the operator, said:
"Get that off at once. It's on a matter of life and death."
The operator took the dispatch, and this is what he read:
"Adam Killett, 300 Mulberry Street, New York:
"Meet me at Grand Central depot on arrival of four-eleven morning train.
"Spicer."
"All right, sir," said the operator, "it shall go this minute."
"And mind!" said Old Spicer, "if he isn't at the office, as it's hardly likely he will be at this hour, have it taken to him wherever he may be; understand?"
"All right, sir; but I shall have to charge for sending the instructions."
"Charge what you have a mind to, but see to it that Mr. Killett gets that dispatch, that's all I care about it."
"He shall surely get it, sir."
"Thanks. It will greatly oblige me. Good-night," and hurrying from the office, he leaped into the cab, and calling out "Home Place," sank into his corner, and never spoke again till they arrived before his door.
"Wait," he said to the driver, as they alighted, "I shall want you to take me to the depot in ten minutes—come in, George, I want to talk with you and Seth," and he led the way straight to the back parlor.
Seth Stricket was still fast asleep on the lounge.
"Wake up, Seth!" said Old Spicer, giving him a vigorous shake. "You've had a long nap."
"What! back already?" demanded Seth, slowly raising himself to a sitting posture.
"Already? Why, man, it's all of three hours and a half since we left you."
"Is it possible!"
"It is indeed. And now, Seth, I want to talk to you. I have only time to say a few words, for I take the next train for New York—must start in ten minutes."
"The deuce! What's up?"
"We have learned that Mrs. Ernst's murderers came up from New York. Doubtless they have returned to the city again, and I must find them before they receive warning of my coming from two of their friends, whom George and I disturbed to-night."
"But did not capture?"
"As to that, George will explain when I am gone. But listen: While I am away, you are to bend all your energies toward retaking Barney Hawks and Jake Klinkhammer, and to find out who a certain Beach and a certain Emory may be, who camped out on the Madison sea-shore six summers ago. George will explain the rest."
"All right, sir."
"This treasure, George," continued Old Spicer, producing the Jew's boodle, "I wish you would place in the vaults of the Safe Deposit Company, as soon as they open in the morning."
"I'll attend to it, sir."
"Thanks. And now I must be off," and he started for the door.
"Stay!" exclaimed Stricket. "Supposing we should want to communicate with you, where will a letter or dispatch reach you?"
"Care of Inspector Byrnes, 300 Mulberry Street. If you want to get word to me, use the wires, and use them freely. Time is everything to us, you know. And now good-bye."
"Good-bye, sir, and good luck."
"Thanks, the same to you," and Old Spicer hurried from the house.
"Now, then, driver," he said, as he sprung into the cab, "I can ride as fast as your horse can go."
"All right, sir," and they were off.
Eight minutes later the indefatigable detective had taken his seat in the train, which was moving from the Union depot on its way to New York.
ON THE EVE OF A TERRIBLE CRIME.
Old Spicer and Morgan had hardly passed out of the tunnel into the sub-cellar, when the little flight of five steps, leading from the trap under the table to the entrance of the tunnel, was thrown forward, revealing a hole about two and one-half feet high by nearly three feet wide—a veritable burrow.
Out of this hole first crawled Jake Klinkhammer, and when he had raised himself to the floor of the vault, Barney Hawks followed him, carefully restoring the steps to their place, however, before he crawled out from under the table.
"Where is there another light, Jake?" asked Barney, "I broke the one we had, you know."
"Lemme see," mused Jake. "Oh! dere vos some candles in der lower punk, on dot side. You find 'em?"
"Yes," answered Barney, after feeling in the place indicated, "here they are. Now, have you a match?"
"Yes," and, lighting one, the Jew came forward and communicated the flame to the candle.
"Now," said Barney, "let's see if they have found your little boodle," and the two hurried into the inner vault.
A single glance was sufficient to inform Jake of his heavy loss, and a more unhappy Jew never cut a throat or relieved a poor widow of her hard earnings.
"Oh, Father Abraham!" he groaned, "I vos a ruined man. Vot schall I do? Oh, holy Moses! schust help me to catch dot tamned Old Spicer, und I vill not ask uv you one odder favor so long as I live.
"Great Aaron! all der hard earnings uv a life-time gone. I vos schust ready to lay me town und die. Yes, dere vos no use living any more."
"It is mighty hard, Jake, to lose all your honest earnings in this way," said Barney. "But cheer up, my boy; you've escaped with a whole skin, and we may live to get even with Old Spicer yet."
"I vould schust like to r-r-r-ring his tamned neck!" hissed Jake. "I vould schust like to trink his l-l-l-life blood!"
"You would like that, eh?"
"So 'elp me gracious, dot vould make me feel happy."
"Well, we will lay low for him one of these days, but just now we must see Sadie, and after we have seen her we must be off to New York."
"I vos ready for anyting now," sighed Jake; "I vos desperate!"
"That won't do, old fellow; brace up! There are plenty more yellow boys to be had where those came from. Pshaw! in another week we shall both be rotten with wealth."
"Maype so; I don't care."
"But you want to get even with that long, thin church-spire of a detective, don't you?"
"Yes, yes; und with der odder von, too."
"All right. Come on, then."
They descended into the tunnel, carefully closing the trap-door after them.
Just before reaching the sub-cellar, Barney came to an abrupt halt.
"Suppose," said he, "they have placed a watch at both of the outlets?"
"Dot vos schust vhat dey hav' done, ov course," responded Jake, in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Then, in the demon's name, how are we going to get out?"
"Give it op," returned Jake, indifferently.
Barney regarded his companion with a look of surprise.
"Thunder!" he exclaimed, "do you let the loss of a little money affect you in that way? Are you willing to die—to be hanged, just because a little bad luck has overtaken you?"
"Might schust as vell die as to pe vidout gold," answered Jake, doggedly.
"Well," said Barney, resignedly, "I see I've got the thinking to do for both of us, and I take it I can put you in the way of getting at least a part of your wealth back again in short order."
Jake pricked up his ears.
"How vos dot, Parney?" he asked, with some show of interest.
"You've got your shooting-irons about you, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"And that bloody knife of yours?"
"Yes."
"Then follow me and keep your eye open."
"I'm vith you, Parney, vherever you lead, so long as dere vos gold at der end uv der journey."
To this Barney did not reply; but starting on, he opened the door into the sub-cellar, and instead of turning either toward the coal vault or opening into the disused sewer, conducted his companion to the stairs leading to the basement of the house.
These stairs they ascended, but found the door at the top locked.
Barney at once took a pair of key-nippers from his pocket, and fastening them to the key which was in the lock, turned it, and immediately opened the door.
They then, cautiously, ascended to the principal floor, and from thence to the second floor, and so on, to the roof of the house.
Crouching down, they crawled along the roof until they had reached the particular house Barney had in mind, and here they stopped before the scuttle and attempted to raise it.
It was firmly fastened on the under side.
Barney promptly took two jimmies from an inside pocket of his coat, and passing one to Jake, directed him to insert it under one corner of the scuttle door, while he did the same at the opposite corner.
"Ready?" he presently asked.
"All ready," was the answer.
"Up with her then!" and both bearing down on the jimmies at the same time, the staples underneath gave way with the utmost ease, and the scuttle-door flew open.
"Dot vos all right," exclaimed Jake. "Now what next?"
"Listen," said Barney, "I have learned that in the room I am going to take you to there is a strong safe, containing at this present moment $33,500."
"Dhirty-dree t'ousand and 'vive hundred tollars! Vos der really so much as dot, Parney?"
"Possibly there is a little more or a little less; but you'll find I am not very far out of the way."
"Whose money vos it?"
"It belongs to the Eastern stock-holders of the Eagle Gold Mining Company, of Arizona, and has been sent on here to their treasurer and agent, Mr. John Marsden, to be used by him in paying their next quarterly dividend."
"So 'elp me gracious! I dink dey vill hav' to pass dot next dividend, Parney, eh?"
"It strikes me that way."
"Vhere vos dot safe?"
"Ah! there's the rub, and that's what I must fully explain."
"Of course."
"Well, you see Marsden and his wife occupy a sleeping-apartment on the second floor. Beyond this sleeping-room is another and smaller apartment, which is used by Marsden as a sort of study and private office, the only means of access to which is through the sleeping-room."
"Und in this inner room vos der safe, eh, Parney?"
"Exactly."
"Then ve hav' to go right py Mr. Marsden's ped, and run der risk uv wakin' him und his vife?"
"Yes."
"Vell, dot vos all right, if ve vos sure dere vos dhirty dousand tollars in dot safes."
"There's not the shadow of a doubt of it. The money was paid to Marsden at noon to-day, or rather yesterday, as it is now past midnight."
"Put vhy didn't he put it in der pank?"
"He's a queer fellow—rich and very eccentric; has had a row with every bank president in the city, and swears that not one of them shall ever handle another dollar that he controls. He expects to take the greater part of the money to Meriden and Hartford to-morrow."
"Py gracious, Parney! ve vill safe him dot trouples, ha, ha!"
"We will try to, at any rate. And now come on."
"One moment, Parney. Suppose they should vake up."
"Hum, I wish we had a little chloroform with us."
"Yes, put ve ha'n't got von trop."
"No, and so——"
"Und so if either uv dem underdake to make trouples, vhy——"
"Why, you must silence them in the easiest way you can."
"Dot vos all right Parney—you shust leave dot to me."
"Very good. And now come on. I'm mighty glad to see you in a more cheerful mood, Jake."
"Ha! ha! Der brospects uv handling dhirty-dree dousand tollars vas enough to make any man cheerful. Vosn't dot so, my tear Parney?"
"Well, there is a cheering sound in the clinking of gold, I must confess. Now, then, I'll go ahead, and you keep close to my heels."
"All right."
"Better close the scuttle, Jake."
"Dot's schust vot I am a-doin'," and Jake closed and fastened the scuttle while Barney waited for him on the attic floor below.
Not having a lantern, Barney now lighted a piece of candle he had brought with him, and the two burglars descended the attic stairs to the third story.
Treading cautiously and lightly, they traversed the hall and descended to the second floor.
Here Barney paused before a closed door and listened intently.
Then, after a rapid signal to Jake, he put out the light and turned the knob.
The door was locked on the inside.
Once more he had recourse to his nippers, and speedily the door was opened.
Evidently Barney knew exactly where the door to the inner room was situated; for, without the slightest hesitation, he started across the sleeping-apartment in a diagonal direction.
Jake essayed to follow him, but mistaking the course, brought up against the foot of the bed, which he struck with such force as to startle the sleepers from their dreams, and cause a red-hot oath to burst from his own lips.
"Who's there?" came in a stern and determined voice from the bed. "Speak! or by the great Eternal! I'll fire!"
A DOUBLE MURDER—AN UNCEREMONIOUS VISIT.
There was the slightest possible movement at the foot of the bed, and then, just as the mining company's treasurer was about to pull the trigger, a blow descended on his breast, and he fell over dead, bathed in his own heart's blood.
His wife heard the blow, heard the revolver drop from his hand, and felt the jar as her husband fell dead by her side.
A cry of fear and agony arose to her lips; but ere she could give it utterance, a hand closed about her throat, and speedily she lost all consciousness.
"It vos all right now, Parney. You can sthrike a light as soon as you vant to," whispered Jake cheerfully. "These two von't give us no more trouple."
Barney hastened to light a candle, and then, having cautioned Jake to lock the bedroom door, entered the inner room, and began a careful examination of the safe.
It had not a combination lock, and he had only to find the key to be able to open it with the greatest ease.
An instant's reflection satisfied him that the key would most probably be in one of the dead man's trousers pockets.
Hurrying back, therefore, into the bedroom, he looked around for that useful article of wearing apparel.
He soon found it, and in the right-hand pocket found the key on a bunch with a dozen others.
In another moment he was back to the safe, and had the door open.
By this time Jake was at his side, and as Barney opened drawer after drawer, and brought forth packages of bank-notes and bags of specie, his excitement was intense and his happiness almost complete.
At length the safe was stripped, and the treasure had been carefully stowed away in the capacious pockets of the two burglars.
Barney was just shutting the safe door, and Jake was making sure that not a single gold piece had been dropped upon the floor, when a deep and hollow groan from the next room startled them both.
"Great Cæsar! what was that?" gasped Barney.
"Father Abraham! but it vos der dead man's ghost," muttered Jake, with a shiver.
"Did—did you kill the woman?" Barney at length managed to stammer forth.
"No, Parney; I only schust choked her a leetle."
"Oh, ah! that's it, then," exclaimed the other, greatly relieved. "Go back and gag her, or she'll be coming to and having the whole house roused before we can get out of it, confound her!"
Jake readily undertook this mission, and seizing a bed-sheet, endeavored to stuff it into the woman's mouth.
But she had already recovered consciousness; and clinching her teeth tight together, resisted all his efforts to gag her.
At length, growing impatient and desperate, he once more grasped her by the throat, and when at last he released his hold, there was no longer any necessity for filling her mouth with the sheet. Her spirit had gone to join that of her murdered husband.
"Have you fixed her, Jake?" asked Barney, approaching the bed.
"Schust hold der light here till ve see."
Barney advanced with the candle.
"Yes, dot vos all right," said the Jew, complacently. "She von't make no more noise ter-night, I pet you."
"By Jove, Jake," exclaimed Barney, with some show of compunction, "I'm afraid we've carried this thing a little too far—further, in fact, than there was any necessity for."
"Schust look you, Parney. If I hadn't done for der man, he would have finished me, you pet, pesides rousing der bolice vid his tamned bistols. Und as for der old gal, she wouldn't open her mouth, und so, as it vos growin' light, and ve hadn't no time to tarry here, vy, I schust choked her a leetle und dot vos der last uv her. How vos I to know dot she would schlip her vind so easy?"
"Well, well, we've no time to dispute about the matter now. Let's get to Sadie's place the easiest way we can, and then settle how we shall get down to New York."
"All right, I'm villing," and unlocking the bedroom door, and locking it again from the outside, they hurried down to the main hall, taking the key with them.
Cautiously Barney unlocked the outside door and peered into the street. There was not a living soul in sight.
"Vos it safe to venture out?" asked Jake in a whisper.
"I don't know; I see no one," was the answer.
"Vait a minute!" exclaimed Jake, approaching the hat-rack. "Schust you put on dot great coat and blug hat, and I vill put on dese."
"The very thing!" cried Barney, in a tone of satisfaction; and seizing the murdered man's overcoat and hat, he put them on, while Jake appropriated a smaller coat and a Derby.
Their own soft hats they thrust into their pockets, knowing too much to leave them behind.
"Now," said Barney, "we may venture forth," and noiselessly opening the door, they stepped outside, closing the door behind them.
After listening for a moment in the shadow of the porch, they glided down the steps, and hurried up the street, Jake a dozen feet or so in advance of Barney.
They met no one; and in less than ten minutes were before Sadie Seaton's door.
Jake rang the bell, but was quickly satisfied that the peal had not roused the slumbering Sadie.
He was about to ring again, when Barney exclaimed, warningly:
"Hold up! here comes some one. We'd better not be seen here."
"Dot vos so," assented Jake. "Come round to der pack door."
"Good, we'll do that. There's only a lock there—no bolts, and if the door's fastened, I'll soon open it."
"Put ve'd petter know who's coming," suggested Jake.
"You're right, my boy; we'll hide round the corner of the house here, and see who passes."
They had hardly concealed themselves, when two men arrived in front of the place and slowly passed.
"Seth Stricket!" exclaimed Barney, as soon as they were out of hearing.
"Und dot meddlin' George Morgan, confound him!" added his companion.
"Well, let 'em go," said Barney. "If they are looking for us, I fancy they won't find us."
"No, not schust yet, anyvay. Come," and they hurried round to the back door.
This time they did not wait to ring or knock, but using his nippers, Barney speedily opened the way for them to enter the house, and they entered accordingly, closing and locking the door after them.
Jake, as one familiar with the premises, led the way to the second story; and entering a sitting-room, lighted the gas, and then approaching a bedroom door, knocked.
After the knocking was repeated, a little more impatiently, a voice demanded in no very pleasant tone:
"Who's there, and what do you want?"
"It vos me, my tear," answered Jake; "und I vont your own sweet self, und dot tamned quick, too."
"What! is it you, Jake? How did you get in?"
"Yes, it vos me, I told you, und I valked in."
"I'll be out in a minute," and sure enough in less than a minute a very pretty girl, not more than nineteen years of age, clothed in a dressing-gown and slippers, made her appearance.
"Ah! you are not alone!" she exclaimed, starting back at sight of Barney.
"No, my tear, dis vos my friend, Parney Hawks; you know him, I pelieve?"
"Yes, I have seen him before, and am very glad to see him now. What can I do for you, gentlemen?"
"Vos dere any whiskey in der house, my tear?"
"I think there is a little. I will go and see. Take seats, please."
"Vid der greatest bleasure, I assure you. Put first, my tear, how vos der vinders?"
"All right, the blinds are tightly closed, and, as you see, the curtains are drawn."
"Dot vos goot. Now hurry up vid der whiskey."
The girl went out, and soon returned with a bottle and three glasses on a salver.
"Dot vos right, my tear, you will trink vid us."
"Of course;" and setting the salver down on a center-table, she took a chair near the Jew.
He filled the three glasses, and handed her one.
"Your health, my tear," he said, taking a swallow of his own.
"And yours," she replied. Then in another tone:
"What's the news, Jake? What brings you here at this time of night?"
"Vhat should pring me here put der desire to see your own sweet face."
"Get out, I know better than that. Besides, if you had only come to see me, you wouldn't have brought your friend with you."
"Vell, dot vos apout so, Sadie."
"Then what's up? Why don't you tell me?"
"You vos still feelin' a leetle interest in your old lover, I suppose?"
"Do you mean Hen?"
"Yes, I mean Hen."
The girl blushed slightly.
"Of course I feel some interest in his welfare," she said; "that's but natural."
"Quite natural, my tear—quite so. Und you vould like to see him brosper, eh?"
"What do you mean? What are you driving at, Jake?"
"You know you dold me you gave him some hint of der old voman's gold."
Sadie started, and cast a glance of apprehension toward Barney.
"Oh, dot vos all right, Sadie. Parney was Hen's barticular friend, und he schust heard to-night dot der bolice hav' tumbled to his leetle racket, und are goin' ter arrest him in New York, so he vos awful anxious to see him und put him on his guard."
"Why don't he see him, then?"
"For a very goot reason; he ain't quite certain where to find him."
Sadie became very thoughtful.
At length she turned to Barney, and asked:
"What do you want—what do you expect of me?"
"You know where Hen is most likely to be found?" he said.
"I suppose so."
"Tell us, then; it may be the means of saving him from the gallows."
The girl started.
"Is there any danger of that?" she asked.
"Danger?" exclaimed Jake. "I should schust say so!"
"Do you think so?" she demanded, turning once more to Barney.
"I reckon Old Spicer's on his track," he answered; "and if that's so, his only chance is my getting to him before that old rat can find him."
The girl looked distressed.
"I don't know what to do," she said. "Hen made me take an oath that I would give his address to no one, and that I would not let even his best friend know the places he frequents in New York."
"Well, my dear, of course you can do exactly as you have a mind to about it; but if you don't tell us, his chances of escaping the hangman are pretty slim, I can assure you that." Then turning to his friend, with a solemn air:
"Come, Jake, we must be going; it won't do to linger here any longer."
"Dot vos so!" exclaimed the wily Jew, starting to his feet.
BARNEY AND JAKE START FOR NEW YORK.
"Oh, dear! oh, dear! What shall I do? What shall I do?" moaned the poor girl in great distress.
"Do?" exclaimed Jake. "Why, put us on der fellow's drack, und so, if you care anything apout him, save his life."
"I will tell," she exclaimed, taking a sudden resolution—"at least I will put you in the way of finding him."
"All right, my tear, drive on, und pe quick apout it, for ve must get out of this pefore tay-light."
"That's so," said Barney.
"Do you know where Hudson Street is?" asked Sadie.
Barney nodded.
"Yes," said Jake, "ve know."
"Well," continued Sadie, "at No. 515 there is a saloon."
"Who keeps it?"
"A fellow named Taylor."
"Hain't been there long, I reckon?"
"Not so very long, I believe."
"Is he a young fellow?"
"Yes, not more than twenty-one or twenty-two."
"Is he Hen's pal?"
"And we can hear of him at this saloon?"
"Yes."
"He's got a lady friend in New York, hasn't he?"
"I—I believe so," faltered poor Sadie.
"Know her name?"
"I believe it's Bell."
"Bell what?"
"No! no! Bell is her last name."
"Oh! is it Cora Bell?"
"Yes, that's it."
"Does she live on Sixth Avenue?"
"I believe so."
"Know the number?"
"I—I—there! I mustn't tell you any more."
"No matter, I can find her if I should happen to want to see her. But one question more: Hen isn't Hen when he travels in New York, I'm told?"
"No, not always, I believe."
"How do you address your letters when you write to him?"
She considered for a moment.
"Of course you are really his friends," she said at last, "and I will tell you."
"Well, we are somewhat anxious to know."
"In New York he goes by the name of Frank Clark."
"Frank Clark! Ah! of course. I ought to have remembered that. Come, Jake, one more drink, and then we must really tear ourselves away from this lovely young lady."
They filled their glasses, drained them, and prepared to go.
"What! are you both going?" asked Sadie, regarding them with a look of disappointment.
"We must go," said Barney. But understanding her look, he quickly turned to his companion and added:
"Come, Jake, you wouldn't drink the lady's liquor and leave nothing in its place, I hope. Come! come! old fellow, be generous for once in your life, and give her a yellow boy."
Jake looked annoyed; but with the best grace possible, pulled out one of the Eagle Gold Mining Company's ten-dollar gold pieces, and throwing it into Sadie's lap, said:
"There, my tear, don't never say I vos gif you noddings."
"And there, my beauty," added Barney, tossing another gold piece to her. "Please, hereafter set me down among your friends."
"Oh! thank you—thank you both," she exclaimed, fervently. "God knows I needed this," and bursting into tears, the poor girl fled from the room.
"Come," said Barney, hurriedly, "we'd better get away while we can," and slipping down-stairs, they went out at the side door.
"Vell, vhich vay now?" asked Jake, as they hurried down the street.
"I've been thinking," responded Barney, "and if the thing can be managed, we ought not to take the train anywhere this side of Milford."
"I can manage it," said Jake, quietly.
"How?"
"I know a livery-stable keeper vot vos all right."
"Who is he?"
"Isaac Rosenwasser."
"Where's his place?"
"On George Street; und, so 'elp me gracious, dere vos vun uv his carriages now, on dot corner."
"Do you know the driver?"
"I vill run und see. He vos in dot saloon, I guess."
Jake hurried across the street and peered into the saloon.
The driver was there, and he knew him.
He called him out, beckoned to Barney, and sprung into the carriage.
"Where to, Jake?" asked the driver.
"Go out Congress Avenue, und then I vill told you."
The driver took the direction named, and in due time had crossed West Bridge and entered the town of Orange.
"Where now?" he asked.
"Old Milford," was the brief reply.
"The devil!" exclaimed the driver, "you're giving me a pretty job at this hour in the morning."
"Never mind, my tear fellow," said Jake, encouragingly, "ve vill make it all right vid you."
"All right it is, then," cried the driver, cheerfully, and he started his horses toward the Milford turnpike.
Slowly they ascended the long hill, passed the old toll-gate, and then were fairly on the way to the station from whence they hoped to start for New York.
In due time they reached the place, dismissed the driver with a liberal fee, and when the local express came along sprung aboard.
Two hours later they landed in the Grand Central Depot, and without loss of time started for Hudson Street.