CHAPTER XII.
CAUGHT IN A TRAP.
“I want to tell you one thing, Mugsey,” Brockey exclaimed suddenly, sitting bolt upright in his chair. “I’m not as deep in this affair of the Red Dragon Inn as you suspect.”
“Don’ gi’ me any o’ dat,” Carter rejoined, blowing a cloud of smoke up in the air over his head.
“Upon my honor, what I tell you is the truth.”
Carter could not help smiling when Brockey spoke of his honor.
Such a scoundrel as that does not know what honor is!
The detective knew well that Brockey had no honor, that he would lie, steal, and if he found himself in a tight place, he would not hesitate to betray an accomplice, if by so doing he could save himself.
Brockey noticed the smile, and he flared up instantly.
“What are you smiling at, Mugsey?” he demanded.
“Youse,” Carter replied, without moving a muscle, and he puffed away at his cigar, unconcernedly.
“You are laughing at me?”
“Cert.”
“I——”
“Youse gi’ me a pain! Go on wid yer story.”
“I want to know——”
“Drop it.”
“What were you laughing at?”
“When youse talk o’ honor it’s ’nuff ter make a dorg laff.”
“Is——”
“Come, Brockey—we’s understand each udder—speel ahead, neider of us has got any honor, fur dat matter.”
“All right.”
Brockey quieted down. He took several pulls at his cigar, and then he continued:
“As I said, I’m not as deep in that Red Dragon Inn affair as you think.”
“Let it go at dat.”
“I’ll tell you all about the affair, Mugsey.
“Then you and I can put our heads together and decide what to do.”
“We’ll gi’ dem a good song and dance—make no mistake o’ dat.”
“How shall I start?”
“At de beginnin’.”
“How else would I start?”
“Youse might start at de tail.”
“That will do.”
“Youse is wastin’ time.”
“Then keep quiet.”
“I’m mum.”
“Listen.”
Brockey cleared his throat.
“It was the day before New Year’s,” he said.
“I was down on my luck and I hadn’t a cent in my pocket.
“Not in a long time had I been in such a hole.
“I tried to touch a dozen o’ the gang, but every one seemed to be in the same boat.
“No one could show me a cent.
“I was at Samson’s saloon.
“Along about four o’clock a bloke came in.
“It was Sim Rich.
“Darwin had given me a knockdown to him some time before.
“At a glance I saw that he was excited about something.
“He spied me, came up, caught hold of my arm, dragged me after him out of the saloon, pushed me into a cab and ordered the cabby to hurry up and not lose sight of another cab that was just turning into Broadway.
“My breath was taken away.
“I didn’t know what to make of Rich’s actions.
“The cab started, and before I could utter a word, Rich said:
“‘Brockey, I need your assistance.’
“‘You can have it, if you pay for it,’ I replied.
“‘I’ll pay,’ Rich said.
“‘Then what is it you want me to do?’ I asked.
“‘I want you to track a man.’
“Well, Rich pulled out a roll of bills and staked me with a hundred. He told me that in the cab which we were following was a man whom he hated and whom he wanted to locate.
“As soon as I found out where the man was going to put up I was to send him word.
“Rich got out of the cab.
“Before he did so he told me he was going to dine that night at the Knickerbocker Cottage, and I could send him word there.”
“Why didn’t Rich keep in wid youse?”
“He said he wanted to meet Darwin. He was in a very nervous condition, and another thing I saw that he had been drinking heavily.
“Well, he got out, and I kept on the bloke’s trail.
“Finally the first cab stopped at the corner of Broadway and Sixteenth Street.
“My cab stopped on the next corner.
“I got out in a hurry, and I saw an old man get out of the other cab.”
“Wot was de number of de cab youse was in?”
“Number one hundred and forty-seven.”
“All right.”
“As I said, an old man got out of the other cab. I got close up to him when he was paying the driver, and I heard him tell the man that he would not need him any longer.
“As the old bloke walked off I noticed that he had the lock step.”
“You don’t say!” interposed Nick.
“I do. At first I was not sure, but as I followed him and noted every action, I knew that he had been a guest at the big hotel up the river. He looked respectable enough, but there was the stamp of the prison on him.
“I followed the old fellow around all evening. He stopped in at a number of places and he seemed to be looking for some one.
“About ten o’clock he entered a restaurant on Sixth Avenue, and sat down at one of the tables.
“I went to the office of the district messenger company, wrote a note, and sent it to Rich, asking him to meet me at McKeever’s place.
“In a short time he and Darwin met me in the saloon.
“We all had a drink.
“Then Rich listened to what I had to say about the old man.
“When we got outside of the saloon Rich said that he wouldn’t need me any more that night, but he might the next day.”
“And youse went off to blow in de hundred plunks?”
“Of course I did.”
“Den youse don’ know wot Rich an’ Darwin did?”
“I surmise.”
“Wot?”
“Rich and Darwin followed the old cove until they cornered him at the Red Dragon Inn.”
“Yes.”
“Then Rich got into the place and—you can imagine the rest.”
“Youse don’t know fer a certainty?”
“I didn’t see it done.”
“Was Rich familiar with the Red Dragon Inn?”
“Darwin told me that he used to go there years ago.”
Carter had stopped using the tough vernacular, but Brockey did not notice it.
The detective was slightly disappointed. He thought at first that Brockey knew more about the crime. But still, the rascal’s evidence would show that Rich and Darwin had said that they would follow the old man.
“Did Darwin tell you whether he or Rich followed the old man after you left them?” Carter asked.
“He did not,” Brockey replied. “But I guess Rich was the one.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Didn’t you read about what the bartender had to say?”
“You mean about the tall man who entered the barroom after the old man?”
“Yes.”
“Is that all you know?”
“It is, Mugsey.”
“I think you know more.”
“No.”
Carter, while he was talking, rose from his chair, holding one of his hands in the side pocket of his coat.
Brockey did not move.
Even when the detective drew up near to him he did not suspect that he was in any danger. He poured out another glass full of liquor and drank it.
As he was in the act of placing the glass back on the table Carter caught hold of him, and, before he could move or utter a word, the detective had the handcuffs clasped around his wrists.
“What does this mean?” Brockey ejaculated, with a fierce oath, and, as he tried to jump to his feet, he faced the pistol which Carter pointed at him.
The detective pulled off his disguise.
Brockey recognized him. He uttered a cry of terror, his face turned pale with alarm, and he sank down into his chair.
“Carter!” he gasped.
“Yes, and you’re my prisoner,” the detective smilingly replied.
“I’m done for.”
“There is not the slightest room for doubt, my dear Brockey.”
“I never thought I’d be taken in in such a way—curse the luck!”
“There will be no chance for you to escape this time.”
“If I had suspected——”
“You would have tried to have killed me.”
“I would.”
From his pocket Nick pulled out a silk cord.
With it he bound Brockey’s arms and legs so tight that there was no chance for the rascal to escape.
“What are you going to do with me?” Brockey asked, when Carter had finished binding him.
“I am going to let you remain here for the present,” the detective answered.
“Alone?”
“Oh, no!”
Brockey subsided into sullen silence, and glared fiercely at Carter.
Inwardly he cursed him.
The detective walked to the door and unlocked and opened it. Then he stepped out into the hall and gave a peculiar whistle.
In a few minutes Patsy bounded up the stairs from the floor below.
“What do you want, Mr. Carter?” the young man asked as he confronted his chief.
“I have a prisoner in that room,” Carter replied, pointing toward the room. “I want you to guard him.”
“I’ll do it.”
“See that you do, Patsy. If he should escape, my case might be ruined.”
“He won’t get a chance to escape.”
“I hope not.”
“Who is it?”
“Brockey Gann.”
“Gee!”
“You know him?”
“I should say I do.”
“He is a dangerous rascal.”
“I’d like to have the honor of capturing him. I don’t see how you accomplished it.”
“I tricked him.”
The young man entered the room and inspected Brockey.
Carter loitered outside in the hall for a few minutes and then he commenced to descend the stairs. He had considerable faith in his young assistant, and he was confident that Patsy would guard the prisoner as well as he would himself.
In that respect his mind was easy.
In the lower hall he made a few changes in his disguise and then he left the house.
He went up to the Grand Central Station and commenced to inspect the cabmen.
At last he found cab No. 147.
“Hello! How are you?”
The man looked at him for a moment and then exclaimed:
“Hello! How are ye?”
“Pretty well.”
“Did you stick to the trail of that old bloke the other night?”
“Yes.”
Carter had made himself up in such a manner that he looked like Brockey. He was delighted when the cabman recognized him as the thug.
“Who was he?” the cabby asked, after a silence.
“He was the man who was murdered at the Red Dragon Inn.”
“You are joking!”
“I am not,” protested Nick.
“I wouldn’t like to stand in your shoes.”
“Why not?”
“The fly cops’ll get on to your following the old cove.”
“They won’t if you don’t tell.”
“I might make some money by telling.”
“You won’t do that?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“You’ll get an innocent man into a hole.”
“That’s so. But, I say, where’s the tall mug?”
“Who do you mean?”
“I mean the man who employed me.”
“I thought you knew him?”
“No, I don’t,” said the cabman. “He just picked me up here at the depot and he ordered me to follow the other mug.
“I thought he was a detective.”
“You know who he is?”
“Honestly, I do not.”
“Would you call on him if I should give you his name and address?”
“Of course, I would.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll make him come down with the rocks.”
“Will you whack up with me?”
“Of course I will.”
“You’ll play square?”
“I swear it.”
“His name is Simeon Rich, and he lives in the Studio Building, at the corner of Broadway and Thirty-first Street.”
“Gosh!”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get some one to mind my rig and I’m going to call on Mr. Rich.”
“I’ll see you downtown.”
Carter hurried away. He stopped at a saloon and made a change in his disguise in the back room.
When he came out he was just in time to see cabby No. 147 making a bee line down Park Avenue. He started after him.
What object had Carter in view when he gave Rich’s name and address to the cabman?