CHAPTER IX.
FLIGHT OF THE GUILTY MAN.
When Ronald Mason saw that the supposed minister was his enemy, OldKing Brady, a tigerish expression leaped to his eyes.
He recoiled a few steps and gasped, hoarsely:
"What! You here?"
"You can see for yourself!" replied the detective.
"What is the meaning of this trickery?"
"I denounce this will as a forgery!" thundered Old King Brady.
For an instant there was a deep, oppressive silence in the room.
The detective's words startled every one and the lawyer finally asked:
"Upon what ground do you make that remarkable statement, Mr. Brady?"
The old detective held up the will.
"In the first place," said he, forcibly, "the provisions of thisinstrument are entirely unnatural. Who ever heard of a kind, indulgentfather disinheriting his only child for not marrying a man whom we allknow he formerly refused to accept as a son-in-law? Who would believeOliver Dalton criminal enough to leave his tenderly-nurtured daughteran absolute beggar, dependent upon the cold charity of the world? Whathas this girl done to forfeit her birthright? What has this man donethat Dalton should leave his daughter penniless, for his sake?"
"It does look rather queer," assented the lawyer.
"Queer? Why, it's utterly ridiculous!" cried Old King Brady, in tonesof supreme contempt. "It's beyond reason. Only an insane father wouldbe guilty of such a deed. Moreover, I have my doubts about thesignature attached to this paper. It looks similar to Mr. Dalton'ssignature which I have appended to a letter now in my pocket. But thereare certain formations in the letters that lead me to suppose thissignature on the will is a rank forgery. I'm going to prove that ideaby giving the will and some of Mr. Dalton's signatures to a handwritingexpert. He will magnify them and throw the image of the enlargedsignatures on a screen by means of a magic-lantern. Any one can thentell at a glance if this signature is a forgery or not."
"You'll do nothing of the kind!" yelled Mason, furiously.
"Won't I? You'll see, sir. I shall."
"That will shall be filed for probate with the surrogate."
"So it shall," grimly answered Old King Brady. "So it shall. And thislawyer will contest it on behalf of Miss Dalton, and baffle your designto rob her. And if it is proven that the will is a forgery, you canrest assured that I'll arrest you for the crooked work the moment I getmy hands on you!"
Mason gave a hollow, mocking laugh.
"Fool!" he hissed. "I don't fear you."
"But you shall----"
"Bah! Shut up! You make me sick!"
And snapping his fingers at the old detective, Mason rushed from theroom, put on his hat and left the house.
When he was gone, Harry hastened after him.
Left alone with the girl and the lawyer, Old King Brady held aconference with them and settled upon a plan of legal action.
In the meantime Mason had gone downtown, with Young King Bradycarefully shadowing him at a safe distance.
He entered Mr. Dalton's office and remained there until long after allthe clerks had gone home.
Harry remained outside the building on the watch for him, and at aboutseven o'clock saw him emerge.
He dropped a letter in a lamp-post letter-box and rapidly strode acrosstown and entered a liquor saloon.
Young King Brady divested himself of his disguise in a hallway.
While waiting for his man to emerge from the saloon, the boy made abundle of the disguise and wrapped it in a newspaper.
Half an hour passed by.
Getting uneasy over the prolonged absence of the man, Harry strode intothe saloon, glanced around and failed to see Mason.
"He must have given me the slip!" thought the boy, ruefully.
"Looking for any one, sir?" queried a bartender who was watching him.
"Yes. What became of a fellow of this description who came in here halfan hour ago?" said Harry, and he minutely described Mason.
"Why, he went out the side door after getting a drink of whisky," saidthe bartender. "He seemed to be in a hurry to catch a train."
"How do you know?"
"Well, he asked me what time the train for Savannah left, and as I toldhim he only had a few moments to catch it, he hurried out."
Harry thanked the man and left.
"The villain is heading for the South again!" flashed across the boy'smind. "I'll see if I can verify this idea."
He went over to the railroad ticket office and closely questioned theagent, who admitted that a man such as the detective described hadbought a ticket for Swamp Angel and gone.
Young King Brady was puzzled over Mason's actions.
He could not understand why the man was running away from New York sosoon after the incident at Dalton's house.
"It looks as if he had a guilty conscience and feared exposure,"muttered the boy, as he made his way home.
Old King Brady was there ahead of him and Harry told him about Mason'sflight to the South.
It made the old detective laugh.
"Guess we've frightened him," he remarked.
The Bradys remained up late that night discussing their plans.
On the following morning a letter reached them from Mason, worded inthe following manner:
"Messrs. Brady: By the time this reaches you I shall be so far from New York that you'll never catch me. I know very well that you are going to find out that Dalton's will is a forgery. If I remain you'll put the screws on me. So I'll baffle you by going in good season. Moreover, you will find out later in the day that all the funds in Dalton's business are missing. I've got the stuff, as I need it to get away. If the time ever comes for me to get even with you for all the trouble you've caused me, I'll make you pay dearly for your accursed interference.
"Ronald Mason."
"So he's gone," said Harry.
"In good season."
"And he left a black record behind him."
"We probably haven't heard the worst yet, Harry."
"Let's go to the office and see how much he stole."
Old King Brady was eager for the facts, and they passed out together.
In half an hour they reached Dalton's office and found a policeman incharge, all the clerks frantic with alarm, and the safe open.
"There's been a robbery here," said the policeman to the detectives.
"How much was taken?" asked Harry.
"Thirty thousand dollars in cash and bonds."
"Well, we know who did the job. The clerks must go, and we must closeand lock the doors after I secure a few papers."
They had a talk with the chief clerk, got all the details, and theplace was then vacated and locked up.
Returning to the street the detectives strode down Broad street towardthe Battery, and the old sleuth remarked:
"He made quite a rich haul."
"As we know about where to find him," answered Harry, "we may be ableto recover the booty when we go after him."
Just then a little old man with a gray beard came waddling out ofBridge street, clad in a blue jumper and an old felt hat.
The moment Harry saw him he sprang forward, clutched him by the arm,swung him around, and said:
"Martin Kelly, the junk man!"
"Gosh!" exclaimed the old fellow. "Ther detectives."
"Yes, and we are going to arrest you, Martin, for your connection withthe case of the drowned man you brought to the morgue."
"What fer?" tremulously asked the old man, beginning to get frightened.
"Oh, we saw you, Ronald Mason and the coon fooling with that corpse inyour boat on the river before you brought it to the morgue, and we wantto know what you were up to."
"I'll tell, if yer don't jail me, Mr. Brady."
"That's a bargain. Out with it, then."
"Well, that there nigger was aboardin' with me. The other night him an'me was on ther river carry
in' some scrap iron from a boat where Ibought it an' we found that dead body. As soon as ther coon saw it, hetied it to ther boat an' said he an' his boss would palm it off forsomebody else. So he went ashore an' telegraphed to Mason to fetch downa suit of Dalton's clothes an' things to make it look as if the bodywas Dalton's. When Mason come, we rowed out on the river, stripped thecorpse, put on him the things Mason brought, chucked him overboard andI set them ashore down the river an' towed the body to the morgue whereI left it. They paid me ten dollars to keep my mouth shut about whatthey done."
The Bradys were amazed.
His story cleared up a great deal of mystery and left the real fate ofOliver Dalton a matter of doubt again.
The Bradys Beyond Their Depth; Or, The Great Swamp Mystery Page 9