CHAPTER XXXI
McADAMS BLOWS IN
It was a real fight; they all knew that when it was finished. But it wasthree to one, with Hobart blocking the only open door, and egging themon, and the excited girl, backed into a corner out of the way, therevolver still gripped in her hand, ready for any emergency. Thenarrowness of the hall alone afforded West a chance, as the wallsprotected him, and compelled direct attack from in front. Yet thisadvantage only served to delay the ending. He recognized two of thefellows--"Red" Hogan and Mark--while the third man was a wiry littlebar-room scrapper, who smashed fiercely in through his guard, and finallygot a grip on his throat which could not be wrenched loose. The otherspounded him unmercifully, driving his head back against the wall. Hogansmashed him twice, crashing through his weak attempt at defence, and withthe second vicious drive, West went down for the count, lying motionlesson the floor, scarcely conscious that he was still living.
Yet in a dazed, helpless way, he was aware of what was occurring abouthim; he could hear voices, feel the thud of a brutal kick. Some onedragged him out from the mess, and turned his face up to the light; buthe lay there barely breathing; his eyes tightly closed.
"It's a knock-out all right," Hogan declared. "That guy is good for anhour in dream-land. What's the dope?"
"We got to keep him here, that's all; and there's goin' to be no get-awaythis time."
"How'd he do it before, Jim? did he tell you?"
"Not a damned word; I was fool enough to do all the talking. But thisfellow is too slick to take any more chances with."
"Do you want him croaked?"
"No, I don't--not now. What the hell's the use? It would only make thingsharder. We're ready to make our get-away, ain't we? After tomorrow allhell can't get onto our trail. This guy's life wouldn't help us none, sofar as I can see."
"Getting squeamish, ain't you?"
"No, I'm not. I've got as much reason to hate the fellow as you have,'Red.' He certainly swiped me one. Before we had the swag copped, I waswilling enough to put him out of the running. That was business. You suredid a fine job then, damn you; now I don't think it is your time to howl.Listen here, will you? From all I learn, this bird amounts to something;he ain't just a dago to be bumped off, and nobody care what's become ofhim. This guy has got friends. It won't help us any to be hunted afterfor murder on top of this other job. If we cop the kale, that's all we'reafter. Is that right, Del?"
The girl seemed to come forward, and face them defiantly.
"Sure it's right. I never was for the strong arm stuff, Hogan. This is mygraft, anyhow, and not one of you stiffs gets a penny of it unless Isplit with you. This fellow isn't going to be slugged--that's flat. It isonly because he's fell in love with the Coolidge girl that he is here,and once we've skipped out, I don't wish the guy any bad luck."
"You ought to have caught him yourself, Del," some one said. "The birdnever would have known the difference."
She laughed, quickly restored to good humour.
"You're about right there, Dave," she answered. "That was anothermistake; the only chance I ever had of marrying in high social circles.But hell, I'll be a lady tomorrow, so let's let the poor devil go. Wraphim up, and lay him away out in the garage. The walls are two foot solidstone; he'll stay buried there all right."
Hogan growled in derision, yet it was evident that she and Hobart wouldhave their way. Some one brought a rope, which was deftly wound abouthim, West continuing to feign unconsciousness. He secretly hoped thiscondition might result in some carelessness on their part, in eitherspeech or action. Anyway it would undoubtedly save him from furtherbrutal treatment. He had no reason to suspect that his ruse wasquestioned. The fellows spoke freely while making him secure, but hegained very little information from their conversation--not a hint as towhere Natalie was confined, or how long it was proposed to hold themprisoners. Then "Red" and Dave lugged his limp body through severalrooms, out upon a back porch, finally dragging him down the steps andalong a cement drive way, letting him lie there a moment in the dark,while one of them unlocked a door. The next instant he was carelesslythrown inside, and the door forced back into place. He could hear Hoganswear outside, and then the sound of both men's feet on the drive asthey departed.
With a struggle West managed to sit up, but could scarcely attempt more,as his arms were bound closely to his sides. The darkness about him wasintense, and, with the disappearance of the two men up the steps, alloutside sounds had ceased. He knew he had been flung into the garage andwas resting there on the hard cement floor. He could neither feel nor seeany machine, nor was there probably the slightest prospect of his gettingout unaided. Those fellows would never have left him there without guard,had they dreamed any escape was possible. The girl had affirmed thebuilding was constructed of stone, two feet thick. He stared around atthe impenetrable black wall completely defeated. Undoubtedly they had himthis time. He was weak from hunger, tired nearly to death; bruised andbattered until it seemed as though every muscle in his body throbbed withpain. Yet his mind was not on these things, only incidentally; histhought, his anxiety centred altogether on Natalie Coolidge. What hadbecome of her; where was she now? He had no reason to believe her in anygreat personal danger. If this gang, satisfied of success, were disposedto spare his life, it was hardly probable they would demand her's. Nowboth the desire for murder, and the necessity, had passed. The fellowsfelt supremely confident the spoils were already theirs, and that allthat was needed now to assure complete success was sufficient time inwhich to drop safely out of sight. Murder would hinder, rather than helpthis escape.
But what a blind fool he had been; how strangely he had permitted thisgirl to lead him so easily astray. Why really, to his mind now, shepossessed no real resemblance to Natalie; not enough, at least, todeceive the keen eyes of love. She had the features, the eyes, the hair,the voice, a certain trick of speech, which, no doubt, she hadcultivated--but there were a thousand things in which she differed. Herlaugh was not the same, nor the expression of her lips; she was like acounterfeit beside a good coin. It was easy to conceive how others mightbe deceived by her tricks of resemblance--servants, ordinary friends,even the old lawyer in charge of the estate--but it was inexcusable forhim to have thus become a plaything. Yet he had, and now the mistake wastoo late to mend. He had left Natalie alone on the cliff, and thenblindly permitted this chit to lead him straight into Hobart's set trap.Angered beyond control at the memory, West swore, straining fiercely inthe vain endeavour to release his arms. Then, realizing his utterhelplessness, he sank back on the floor, and lay still.
What was that? He listened, for an instant doubtful if he had reallyheard anything. Then he actually heard a sound. He doubted no longer, yetmade no effort to move, even holding his breath in suspense. There wasmovement of some kind back there--a cautious movement; seemingly the slowadvance of something across the floor, a dog perhaps. West's heartthrobbed with apprehension; suppose it was a dog, he had no means ofprotection from the brute. Cold sweat tingled on his flesh; there wasnothing he could do, no place where he could go. The thing was movingnearer; yet surely it could not be a dog; no dog would ever creep likethat. He could bear the strain no longer; it was beyond endurance.
"What's moving back there?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.
There was a moment of utter silence; then, a man's voice said in low,cautious tone.
"The fellow ain't dead, Mac; anyhow he seems able to talk yet."
"All right, we'll find out what he's got to say--go on along."
West sat up, his heart bounding with sudden remembrance.
"My God! McAdams is that you?"
"You have the name--who's speaking?"
"Matt West. Good God, but this is like a miracle. I'd played my lastcard. Come here, one of you, and cut these strings. I cannot even move,or stand up. Is it really you, Mac? Yes, yes, I am all right; theybruised me up a bit, of course, but that is nothing. Now I have a chanceto pay them out. But who are with you? and how did you come to
be here?"
McAdams ran his knife blade through the lashings, feeling for them in thedark. Neither could see the other, but West realized that another man hadcrept up on the opposite side of him, and crouched there silently in theblackness.
"Need any help, Mac?" the latter questioned in a whisper.
"No, I've got him cut loose. This is the lad I told you about, Carlyn.You go on back, and, as soon as West gets limbered up a bit, and I hearhis story, we join you out there. Then we'll know how the ground lies."
The fellow crept away unseen, and McAdams gripped West's hand.
"Say, but this is mighty good luck, old boy," he blurted out. "I wasafraid you'd gone down in that yacht last night."
"You were! How did you know about it?"
"Stumbled on to the story, the way most detectives solve their mysteries.That is, I stumbled on some of it, and the rest I dug out for myself. Itwon't take long to explain and perhaps you better understand. They toldme at the office when I got back about the _Seminole_ being tied up atthe Municipal Pier, and that you had gone down there. Well, I made it asquick as I could, but the yacht was three hundred yards out in the lakeby the time I arrived. There wasn't a damn thing to take after it in,and, besides, just then, I didn't really know any good police reason forchasing her. First thing I did was to try and find you, so we could getour heads together. But you wasn't there, and so I naturally jumped tothe conclusion you must have got aboard someway. Say I combed that pier,believe me, West, and finally I ran across a kid who put me wise. He sawyou go across the deck, and into the cabin with two other guys. They cameout again, but you didn't. I pumped him until I got a pretty gooddescription of both those fellows, and I decided one of them must be'Red' Hogan, about the toughest gun-man in Chicago."
"It was Hogan."
"I made sure of that afterwards. Then I got busy. If you was in the handsof that guy, and his gang, the chances was dead against you. But therewasn't a darn thing I could do, except to hunt up Hobart, wire every townalong the north shore to keep an eye out for the yacht, and pick up athread or two around town. I got a bit at that to wise me up. We foundHobart hid away in a cheap hotel out on Broadway, and put a trailer onhim. The girl had disappeared; she'd been to a bank, and then to theCoolidge lawyer and signed some papers; after that we lost all trace ofher for awhile. Your man Sexton, out at 'Fairlawn,' reported that shehadn't returned there. Then I got desperate and decided I'd blow thewhole thing to the Coolidge lawyer, and get him to take a hand. I wasafraid they were already for the get-a-way--see? I couldn't round 'em upalone; besides I'm a Chicago police officer, and have to keep more orless on my own beat."
"And you told the lawyer?"
"Everything I knew, and some I guessed at. I thought the old guy wouldthrow a fit, but he didn't. He came through game after the first shock.But say, that dame had sold him out all right. He never had an inklinganything was wrong; no more did the banks. We went over, and talked tothe president of one of them--a smooth guy with white mutton chops--andthe girl had signed up the preliminary papers already, and tomorrow thewhole boodle was going to drop softly into her lap. Say, I felt betterwhen I learned they hadn't copped the swag yet. But just the same Ineeded help."
"And you got it?"
"Sure; those two duffers coughed up money in a stream. Called in adetective agency, and gave me three operatives to work under me. Got thechief on the wire, and made him give me a free hand. Then I had a cinch."
CHAPTER XXXII
A BRIDGE OF LOVE
He paused, listening, but all remained quiet without, and he resumed hisstory. "There is not much else to it, West. A little after one o'clockthe shadow phoned in from the Union depot that Hobart had just purchasedtwo tickets for Patacne. We hustled over, but were too late to catch thattrain, but learned the girl had accompanied him on the trip. We caughtanother rattler two hours later, and got off at Patacne, which is aboutthree miles west of here. It is not much of a job to gather up gossip ina small burg, and, inside of ten minutes, I had extracted all I neededfrom the station agent. It seems this outfit was the summer sensation outhere. We hoofed it for reasons of our own, and came around by way of thelake shore, aiming to keep out of sight until after dark. That is how wediscovered that _Seminole_ boat hauled up on the beach, but with no yachtin sight. One of the fellows with me said Hogan did a boat-sinking jobbefore and got away with it, and that is how I figured that maybe youwas at the bottom of Lake Michigan--see? Well, we crept up here throughthe woods, but nothing happened. Didn't look as if the place had a soulwithin a hundred miles of it--no smoke, no light; not a damn sound. Welaid out and waited, not sure what we were up against. Finally we jimmiedopen the back door of this garage, just to find out whether those guyshad a car out here, or not. They had, but we no more than located it whenthose two fellows came dragging you out of the back door of the house,and flung you in here like a bag of old linen. We lay still, and let themgo back, but we hadn't any notion whether you was dead or alive--orwhether it was really you; so we crawled up to find out. That's thestory. Now what do you think we better do?"
West moved his arms in an effort to restore circulation.
"How many with you?"
"Four altogether--hard boiled, too--five with you. Is there any fightleft in you, old man?"
"I'll say there is; I'd certainly like to get in one clip at 'Red' beforethe fracas is over."
"That sounds vicious. Now who is inside?"
"I saw five, and there may be others. If the crew of the _Seminole_ arehere also, that would make quite a bunch."
"I don't think they are, Captain. The station agent said several menbought tickets to Chicago early this afternoon. It is the real gang we'vegot cornered. Do you know just who they are?"
"Those I saw were Hobart, 'Red' Hogan, the girl, a big fellow they calledMark who was on the yacht--"
"Mark Sennett; he's Hogan's side-kick, and tough as they make 'em."
"And a wiry little black-haired devil by the name of Dave."
"Hell, is he in this too? that must be 'Dago Dave.' That guy would cutyour throat for fifty dollars. Any others?"
"Those were all I saw. No doubt Hobart's wife is in the house somewhere,guarding Natalie Coolidge probably."
"Six altogether, counting the women."
"Yes, and you better count them, for they will fight like tigers. Thegirl held me up at the point of a gun."
"We've got to get the drop first, that's all. They're yellow, the wholeoutfit is yellow. Shootin' in the back is their style. Now, you know thelay inside the house; what is our best chance?"
West studied over the situation, his eyes staring into the darkness, andMcAdams waited.
"Well, Mac," he said finally. "This is a new job for me, but I'd put aman out in front, and then take the others in through the back door. We'dhave to rush it, of course. I know the front door is locked, and itcouldn't be broken down quickly. I listened when those fellows went back,and I heard no click, as though they had locked the door behind them.They don't know anybody has been after them except me, and they believe Iam done for. They feel so safe out here, they are a bit careless. I'llwager something we can walk straight in on the outfit; how does thatstrike you?"
"As the only feasible plan. Let's crawl out of here."
The arrangements were quickly perfected; a short, whispered conferencein the dark; then one man crept silently away through the night towardthe front of the house. McAdams added a few more words of instruction tothe others, and, with West slightly in advance, revolvers drawn andready, the five stole forward in the direction of the rear porch. Thewindows were either heavily curtained, or covered by outside shades, forno gleam of light was anywhere visible. West mounted the back stepssilently, with McAdams close at his heels. A second later the entirebunch of officers were grouped before the door, poised breathless,listening for any sound from within. Nothing broke the impressivesilence, and McAdam's hand closed over the knob, which he turned slowly.The door opened quietly into a darkened interior. For an i
nstant he bentforward, peering through the narrow crack, endeavouring to learn whatlay hidden beyond, the others quivering behind him. There was scarcelythe sound of a breath audible. The detective hesitated; such luck, suchcarelessness on the part of criminals seemed almost uncanny; he halfsuspected some trap. Then he became convinced that this was only theresult of recklessness--the fellows felt so safe in this hidden hole inthe woods as to neglect all precaution. He stepped cautiously inside,leaving the door ajar for the others to follow. Then theypaused--straight ahead a double swinging door divided the kitchen inwhich they were from another room beyond. Through the centre crack shonea single bar of light, barely visible, and forth through that sameorifice came the sound of a voice speaking. McAdams flung up his hand insignal, and then crept silently forward.
It was apparently a quarrel among thieves over the spoils, each fearfullest the other was double-crossing. Hobart and "Red" Hogan were doingmost of the talking, although occasionally others chimed in, and oncethere was a woman's voice added to the debate. Seemingly the whole gangwere present; a strong odour of tobacco smoke stole through the crack inthe door, and both Hobart and Hogan swore angrily. Who was to remain outthere on guard while Hobart and the girl returned to Chicago for themoney was evidently the question, Hogan wishing to accompany them to makesure of his share. The woman sided with Hobart, the other men apparentlyranged up with "Red," and some very plain talking was indulged in.
McAdams listened grimly, the light through the crack showing his lipscurled in a smile of appreciation. He lowered his head, and with one eyeat the slight opening gained a glimpse of the lighted room beyond. Amoment, motionless, he stared in on the scene; then straightened up, and,with revolver in hand, signalled to the others to close in closer. Theystood there for a tense instant, poised and eager; then the doors wereflung crashing back, and they leaped recklessly forward, out of thedarkness into the light. It was a furious fight--sharp, merciless,uncompromising. The thieves, startled, desperate, were hurled back by thefirst rush against the further wall, tables and chairs overturned, theshrieking woman pushed headlong into one corner, and one of the fellowsdowned by the crashing butt of a revolver. But the others rallied,maddened, desperate, rats caught in a trap, fighting as animals fight.Hobart fired, catching an assailant in the arm; Hogan snatched up a chairand struck viciously at West, who leaped straight forward, breaking thefull force of the blow, and driving his own fist into the man's face. Itwas all over within a minute's fierce fighting--the surprise turning thetrick. Hobart went down cursing, the gun kicked out of his hand, his armbroken; Hogan, struggling still, but pinned to the floor by three men,was given a blow to the chin which left him unconscious, while the othertwo threw up their hands and yelled for mercy. McAdams wiped hisstreaming face, and looked around.
It was a shambles, the floor spotted with blood, the table overturned andbroken, a blanket over one of the windows torn down, a smashed chair inone corner. The detective who had been shot was still lying in front ofthe door, "Red" lay motionless, a ghastly cut over his eye, and Hobart,his arm dangling, sat propped up against the wall, cursing, malevolent,but helpless. On the other side stood Sennett and "Dago Dave," theirhands high above their heads; each looking into the levelled barrel of agun. The woman had got to her knees, still dazed from the blow which hadfelled her. The ex-service man smiled grimly, well satisfied.
"Some surprise party, eh, Jim?" he asked pleasantly. "This rather puts acrimp in your little game, I would savy, old boy. Going to cop the wholeboodle tomorrow, was you?"
"Who the hell are you?"
"Well, if I answer your questions, perhaps you will answer mine. I amMcAdams of the City Hall Station, Chicago, and I know exactly what I amhere after. So the best thing you guys can do, is cough up. Who's thatgirl who has been working with you?"
Hobart glared sullenly, but made no response.
"You'll not answer?"
"Oh, go to hell!"
"All right, old top. She is in this house somewhere, and can't get out.Somers, look around a bit; try behind those curtains over there."
The officer stepped forward, but at the same instant the draperiesparted, and two girls stood beside each other in the opening, framedagainst the brighter glare of light beyond--two girls, looking so alike,except for dress and the arrangement of their hair, as to be almostindistinguishable--Natalie white faced, frightened, gazing with wide-openeyes on the strange scene before her; the other smiling, and audacious,her glance full of defiance. It was the voice of the latter which brokethe silence.
"Am I the one you want, Mr. Bob McAdams?" she asked clearly. "Very well,I am here."
McAdams stared at them both, gulping in startled surprise at the visionconfronting him, unable to find words. Then his eyes fixed themselves onthe face of the speaker.
"What!" he burst forth. "You, Del? Great Scott! your name was Hobart,wasn't it? Why I never once connected you two together. Is--is this guyyour father?"
"I don't know about that," she returned indifferently. "It is a matter ofargument I believe. However, Bob, what's the odds now? I am the oneyou're after, Mister fly-cop; and here I am."
She walked forward, almost proudly, her eyes shining, and gazingfearlessly into his. He stepped back, one hand extended.
"No, Del, this must be a mistake. I--I can't believe it of you, you--youare not a crook."
"Oh, yes I am," she insisted, but with a tremor in the low voice."I've never been anything else, Bobby boy--thanks, thanks to thatthing down there."
Natalie still remained poised uncertainly in the door-way, scarcelyrealizing what was occurring before her; she saw suddenly a familiarface, and held out her hands.
"Oh, Matt, what is it?" she cried. "Is--is it all over?"
"Yes, all over, dear; these are police officers."
"And that--that girl? She looks so much like me. Who is she? doyou know?"
West clasped her hands tightly, his voice sunk to a whisper.
"She is your sister, Natalie," he asserted soberly, "Your twin sister."
Her unbelieving eyes swept to his face.
"My sister; my twin sister? But I had none."
"Yes, but you did," he insisted gently. "You never knew it, but PercivalCoolidge did. This was his devilish scheme, plotted years ago when youwere born. Now here is the end of it--the girl is your sister. There isno doubt of that."
"No doubt, you say! My sister!" Her head lifted, and there was a flame ofcolour in her cheeks. "My sister!" she repeated, as though she would thusmake it seem more true. "Then I will go to her, Matthew West."
She loosened the clasp of her fingers and walked forward, unseeing hersurroundings, her eyes misted with tears. Straight across the room shewent, her hands outstretched to where the other shrank back from her inembarrassment--between them still the gulf which love must bridge.
THE END
The Case and the Girl Page 31