To judge by her grace, her friendliness, her feminine charm, you would never have supposed that Ethel King, in the exercise of her profession, frequented the dregs of humanity when necessary and she could, when she had to, accommodate herself to the mores and manners of the most inferior classes.
It was already 7 p.m., but no one among the guests was yet thinking of leaving. The evening parties at the Dooner’s were always so pleasant that they lasted well into the night.
Ethel King was talking with some ladies when a butler came up respectfully.
“A gentleman is asking to speak to Miss King about urgent business,” he said. “He’s waiting for Miss King in Mr. Dooner’s office.”
The servant held out a visiting card on which the young woman read:
Harry Sweed, Police Inspector, Camden.
The great detective didn’t hesitate to answer the visitor’s appeal. When Ethel King went into Dooner’s luxurious office, a slender man with a clean-shaven face, rushed forward to meet her. She had been acquainted with the inspector for a long time. She exchanged a cordial handshake with him and asked:
“What brings you here, Mr. Sweed? You find me very curious.”
“I went to your house, Miss. They told me you were at an evening party at the Dooner house,” answered the policeman. “The case that brings me is so serious that I couldn’t wait there; I’ve come here. Pardon me for having chased you to your friends’ party. You probably know that Camden’s security has been troubled for some time by a gang of scoundrels with incredible daring. A great number of shops have already been pillaged by the criminals. The last one was that of a small jeweler, who, ruined by the burglary, had to file for bankruptcy. But the thieves, not satisfied with breaking into houses, attacked passersby with weapons at night, in the street. The city police are up to their eyeballs in work. We’ve had to double the sentries. The bad neighborhoods are constantly patrolled. Nevertheless, despite my efforts, I haven’t had the slightest success to record; not one of these rascals has fallen into our hands.
“Now, here it is that Browning, the well-known industrialist, has just been murdered, two hours ago, in his yacht, in Camden. The unfortunate man was coming back from a cruise. He was on board alone, with a sailor. The murderers pulled off their job just as the yacht docked. The sailor was struck from behind and lost consciousness. As for Browning, he was found stabbed repeatedly in his cabin. As in the preceding cases, the criminals didn’t leave any clues. Nevertheless, I don’t doubt that this crime must be attributed to the gang that has so long infested Camden. The scoundrels have reached an unheard of impudence. They commit their crime almost under the eyes of the police. There actually is a station on the quay, not 20 paces from the spot where Browning’s yacht was moored. Nevertheless, the police on duty weren’t aware of anything. When the sailor, who had a serious head injury, regained consciousness, he dragged himself as far as the station and made his statement.
“We again find ourselves faced with an enigma. But this time, I’ve had enough. We have to be done with it, whatever the cost. That’s why I’ve come to beg you to take charge of this case. If someone is capable of unmasking the villains and handing them over to justice, it’s you!”
“I’ll try, Mr. Sweed,” Ethel King answered. “So you don’t have a clue that will let you pick up the trail of these rascals?”
“No, the sailor didn’t see anyone. The criminals slid into the boat without making any noise.”
“I want, first of all, to examine the place of the crime,” declared the great detective. “I’ll be down there in an hour, at the latest, Mr. Sweed.”
The inspector, delighted with Ethel King’s consent, thanked her warmly and took leave of her.
The young woman returned to the drawing room and explained to the mistress of the house that she had to leave immediately. She told Mrs. Dooner about Browning’s murder. The news spread immediately among the guests and caused great excitement.
The first thing that Ethel King did was to return to her house on Garden Street and change clothes. She woke up her assistant, Charley Lux, and told him to get dressed and join her as soon as possible in Camden, where Browning’s yacht was moored. As for herself, she got back in her car, had herself driven to the ferryboat on the Delaware River, and embarked for Camden.
Inspector Sweed had pointed out to her the exact location of the yacht’s quay. It was almost 1 a.m. The streets were deserted. Snow fell and a glacial wind whipped the flakes against Ethel King’s face. The young woman could see only several feet in front of her. In the storm, the street lamps were scarcely giving off any light, resembling pale, trembling stars.
Ethel King had been making slow, difficult progress in a southerly direction when she heard hurried footsteps behind her, the sound deadened by the snow. She tried to turn around, but at that same instant she felt herself grabbed by the throat and brutal hands pulled a sort of hood over her head.
She tried to cry out; the heavy material muffled her voice. She estimated that there were at least three of her aggressors. Despite her resistance, the thieves tied her feet and her hands. She was now stretched out on the snow, not even able to see what was happening around her. The sack they had tied over her head made breathing very difficult. The men picked her up and carried her. She tried to orient herself, but that was almost impossible. She was aware that they were carrying her into a house, that they went down a corridor and descended a stairway. Finally, the smell of mold coming to her nostrils, made her conclude that she was in a cellar.
Her captors deposited her on the ground. Ethel King heard the buzzing of voices, but couldn’t understand the words. A little later, they picked her up to place her on a bench, her shoulders leaning against the wall. She was aware that another person was seated next to her.
They finally took off her hood. She looked first of all to her right and recognized Inspector Sweed, bound as she was. The two prisoners found themselves in a spacious cellar where chests and bundles were stacked up. It was probably there that the thieves stashed their loot. A large gasoline lamp fixed with a white metal reflector spread rather bright light into the room. The cellar had no exit except a large door reinforced with iron. There was no window.
Four badly clothed men with menacing faces were watching the captives. The room was furnished with a rickety table and some worm-eaten chairs. Some straw mattresses lined up in a corner served as beds for the thieves.
One of the thieves, a tall, gawky fellow with a brutal expression swaggered in front of the prisoners.
“Good evening, Mr. Sweed; good evening, Miss Ethel King. How do you like it here?”
Sweed tore furiously at his bonds.
“Turn us loose immediately,” he shouted, “or you’ll suffer the consequences of your unspeakable act.”
Four bursts of laughter answered him.
“That would just settle your case, Mr. Sweed, if we untied you and put a revolver in each of your hands. Then you would arrest us and we would all go to prison.”
“You’re villains!”
“…that you’d really like to grab. Since you really wanted to get to know us, we didn’t want to refuse you that satisfaction any longer, because we’re considerate of the police. Unfortunately, you’ll pay dearly for the pleasure of having seen us; you’ll pay for it with your lives. But I think that you wouldn’t want to hold it against us, because we have conducted ourselves toward you as perfect gentlemen.”
Sweed was very pale. He threw desperate looks at Ethel King, who remained impassive.
“Until now, Mr. Sweed, you weren’t dangerous for us, the criminal continued. Your efforts only amused us. The measures you took were too clumsy to frighten us. I can tell you, just between us, that more than once I had a drink with the good policemen that you set on our trail and told them the most outrageous stories. Most of your policemen are as stupid as you are, Mr. Sweed. In spite of everything, we had you watched, because it could happen that you, by chance, might have an idea of gen
ius. You know what they say: ‘Even a blind hen can find a grain of wheat.’ And you’ve found that grain this evening, Mr. Sweed. When you came to the yacht to investigate, you were beside yourself and paced up and down the deck like an enraged tiger. Before long, however, you calmed down and sent your men out in all directions, as you never failed to do in similar cases.
“We didn’t miss any of that. We were watching you. At a certain moment, deep in your reflections, you didn’t move; then you struck your forehead as if you’d just had an idea. You muttered something between your teeth, and you at last went to the embarcadero to arrange the boat’s passage to Philadelphia.”
The prisoners had listened without saying a word, but at that moment Sweed exclaimed with rage:
“May the Devil take you! So you were close to me then?”
“One of us was hidden in the little boat beside the yacht and was watching you with a spy glass. I myself followed you to Philadelphia and saw you enter Garden Street. Now we knew very well who lived at No. 77 of that street. I understood that you had really had a good idea that time. You wanted to solicit Ethel King’s help. Ethel King is an adversary to be taken into account. We’ve always told ourselves that our job would become dangerous the day that spy took up our trail, and in that case, we would need to take the necessary steps.
“The opportunity presented itself. You didn’t find Miss King at home, Mr. Sweed, because she was at Mr. Dooner’s home. I followed you there; I heard you talk to the doorman. You returned to Camden; we were on your heels, and when you had reached the quays to return to Browning’s yacht, we were sure of picking you up tonight to enjoy your nice company. It was the same for Miss King as for you. Her assistant, Charley Lux, was supposed to follow her. He too will soon be ours.”
Sweed gritted his teeth.
“Yes, yes, I understand you,” the thief sniggered, “the surprise isn’t agreeable. It’s really too bad; the one time you have an intelligent idea, to see it made useless like this. It’s sad to think that Ethel King, the master detective without an equal, has let herself be taken so easily.”
“What scoundrels you are! Even so, Ethel King will bring an end to you,” Sweed shouted with indignation.
“Tomorrow, when she’s dead? Her ghost will appear to take us to prison!”
Bursts of loud laughter greeted that outburst. Ethel King, who hadn’t yet said anything, calmly observed:
“Why are you laughing? My revenge will come sooner than you think.”
The gang bombarded her with sarcasms and the leader declared:
“You’ll stay here. We intend to amuse ourselves this evening with a little target practice. You’ll look a little different then. I’ll bet you’ll be crying and begging us to stop.”
“I’ll take that bet,” the young woman answered. And speaking to Sweed, she added:
“Calm down, Mr. Sweed. These rascals aren’t worth the trouble of getting into such a state, because they are of unimaginable stupidity. I have never seen such fools.”
“How dare you talk to us like that?” one of them screamed.
Another pulled out a knife and made as if to jump on Ethel King, but his comrades held him back.
“Not yet,” they shouted, “we first have to make her pay for the insults she’s just thrown in our face. Wait until Glensing and Parrish are here. Then we’ll get to work. I’m going to fetch them; they’re probably at Thornton’s on the other side of the Street and won’t guess that we’ve gotten hold of our most dangerous enemy.”
With these words, the leader started toward the door with one of his accomplices.
“Watch our two prisoners carefully!” he again cautioned the others before leaving.
The door shut noisily. The two thieves who had remained to guard their captives took chairs and sat down beside the bench on which Ethel King and the inspector had been placed, their hands and feet tied. The scoundrels were determined not to stop watching their victims for an instant.
A Surprise
Ethel King pretended not to hear the sarcasms the criminals were hurling at her. She looked at the inspector and smiled.
“Well, Mr. Sweed, what do you think? Shall we stay here?”
The policeman sighed.
“What a question!” he said. “What can we do? We can’t do anything to try to escape. But I’m sure our agents are looking for us. They’ll come here and then too bad for these rascals!”
“They’ll never find this cellar, even if they looked for it until the day of judgment,” one of the criminals continued. “No, no, you’re lost without any hope. In an hour you’ll be nothing but cadavers!”
Ethel King greeted these words with an amused peal of laughter which disconcerted the two criminals. They couldn’t understand how a woman could still laugh in such a desperate situation. Inspector Sweed looked at the great detective with admiration.
“I’m amazed at your calm, Miss King,” he said. “To look at you, you wouldn’t think we were in terrible danger.”
“That’s no longer the case,” Ethel King replied in the most tranquil tone. “I don’t know who could keep us from getting out of here.”
The two criminal exchanged an astonished look and then one of them sneered:
“I believe Miss King has lost her mind. Fear has made her mad.”
“Unless she’s trying to scare us,” the other one noted. “But she won’t succeed. She can’t escape death.”
“We’re all mortal, gentlemen,” the young woman declared in a sarcastic tone. “But if you imagine I’m going to end my existence tonight, in this cellar, you’re committing a huge error.”
“Oh? And so what will you do?”
“I’m going to arrest your gang, and I’m going to begin with you.”
The two scoundrels bent double with laughter.
“You want to arrest us? That’s priceless! We’re really curious to see how you’re going to go about it. Come now, Miss King, the incomparable sleuth, the biggest star in the detectives’ heaven, arrest us!”
“As you like. In the name of the law, I arrest you. Put your hands in the air!”
The young woman had spoken in a sharp, incisive voice. At the same time, she had freed her arms that the thieves had tied behind the back, and was pointing two revolvers at the criminals. They yelled out in fear and rose hastily, turning over their chairs.
“Raise your hands in the air,” Ethel King ordered for the second time.
One of the scoundrels obeyed, but the other swore an abominable oath and reached for a weapon in his pocket. Without hesitating, Ethel King pressed the trigger and a shot echoed from the ceiling. A bullet pierced the hand the bandit had carried to his pocket and wounded him in the stomach. He fell down, moaning.
“The next time I’ll aim for the head,” the young woman said coolly.
She put one of her revolvers in her pocket while keeping the other pointed at the second criminal standing in front of her, his hands in the air and trembling all over. With her knife she cut the cords holding her feet; then she freed the inspector who had watched that rapid scene, mute with astonishment.
“Will you please take care of tying up these two rogues, Mr. Sweed,” she said. “Don’t be afraid to tie them tight.”
While Ethel King continued to watch the bandits, her revolver in her hand, Sweed took care of tying them up and soon the scoundrels were lying beside each other on the floor. Then the young woman looked at the inspector, smiling.
“What do you say about that, Mr. Sweed?”
“I don’t understand it at all; it’s almost as if you were gifted with supernatural power.”
“Is that so? Nevertheless, the explanation is simple!”
Ethel King pointed out the spot on the wall where the thieves had placed her. Just above the bench there was an old rusty nail. While exchanging ironic comments with the criminals, Ethel King had rubbed the cords holding her wrists against that nail and had succeeded in breaking them down. She had done this so cleverly that her
guards hadn’t noticed anything. They also hadn’t seen her take her revolvers out of the secret pocket in her skirt.
“You see, Mr. Sweed, I owe my freedom to that nail. It goes without saying that the thieves, who’ve lodged in this cellar for a long time, knew of the existence of that iron point. Nevertheless, they sat me down in that spot. I was perfectly correct in maintaining that those pigs have no equals for stupidity.”
“You’re indeed right,” the inspector answered. “Miss King, you’re admirable!”
“Let’s leave these scoundrels here, temporarily, and send the police to watch them. As for us, let’s go with some agents to the Thornton bar. We’ll probably nab the rest of the gang there. You see, Mr. Sweed, these people, who thought they were so wicked, made their capture easy.”
The bound thieves shouted with rage; the wounded one writhed in pain; but Ethel King and the inspector didn’t pay any attention. The door wasn’t locked and so they climbed the stairs to the top, where they found a second door, open like the first. They entered a corridor without a window. Ethel King turned on her pocket electric flashlight. This passage measured about 13 feet in length and ended at a battered dirt wall. A ladder was placed under a big trap door which could be seen on the ceiling.
The inspector climbed up the ladder and raised the panel. He looked out cautiously at first and told his companion in a low voice what he saw. The trap door led to a deserted stable. The top of the trap door was covered with hay, which hid it from indiscreet investigation.
There was nothing surprising in the fact that the thieves believed they were safe in this hideout. They left cautiously through the trap door and closed it behind them. The stable opened onto a deserted courtyard. Sweed and Ethel King could reach the street without any trouble. They found that the building was No. 59 on Federal Street in Camden, east of the port. The Thornton Bar the thieves had mentioned was on Cooper Street, a quarter of an hour from there.
The Adventures of Ethel King, the Female Nick Carter Page 15