Out of a labyrinth
• V i lib •X>' v-,."..-^. • •'.' ;•**: -.>.•••<>•,. g&tg S^V 11BRARY UNIVCKsn Y OF •CALlfOKNtA SAN DIEGO !&£/x? 'H^fer iMSfe <&• — < » — S*tr^V_J?K.<J_' »l^;.K^^C^{C^' r *;^ I s^ ^ §v? ?,.^ -l^ . .•'v'x "j ' / •' f'\".. b(^j^p§l^Mfa^MsSML»? '^.A • ^^ ^^ ;. ^^' *s^|Sfe? ^v^TO:^;y^:^^;'^ PM^i d,.tlplg^^ "®S Fxi^Fw^P-v^^v^' /•ffF^P^/,^'^ ;/^jj^^;.; HP M^A'/i^l.K«ii!i«S HillglHHI: J'^.L *djsM dP^§i^^fe^n^^irS^\M^Mp *£-., ^*1- ^,^i^--.;^ .;:**^^V« '=£^1^0 u^k? : ' Slfvpll -1^^; -«»— £=a=sf^S •^//J ^s5aifesiai5 ^i^^tf^M^^ . 7\^(jt S!M@lg8Tp - r o— --.. a-ro1 " »-' ~A '5? ii^i®iSi ^^^^^K^%K;l ' ^ :'^^ N;/ /. U Q b j) •A ^^17 J v ? ' • <s ~r " Then the vigilants post themselves as a wall of defence about the building."— page 423. 425 OUT OF A LABYRINTH BY LAWRENCE L. LYNCH, (OF THE SECEET SEKVICE.) Author of " Shadowed by Three," " Madeline Payne,1 " Dangerous Ground," " The Diamond Coterie," etc., etc. CHICAGO: ALEX. T. LOYD & CO. 1885. Copyright, 1885, by ALEX. T. LOYD & CO., CHICAGO.. Copyright, 1882, by DONNELLEY, LOYD & CO. OUT OF A LABYRINTH. CHAPTER 1. A BAD BEGINNING. It was a June day ; breezy, yet somewhat too warm. The slow going old passenger train on the slow going mail route, that shall be nameless in these chronicles, seemed in less of a hurry than usual, and I, stretched lazily across two seats, with my left arm in a sling, was beginning to yield to the prevailing atmosphere of stupidity, when we rumbled up to a village station, and took on board a single passenger. I was returning from a fruitless mission ; and had stepped on board the eastward-bound train in anything but an enviable frame of mind; and no wonder! I, who prided myself upon my skill in my profession ; J, who was counted by my chief the " best detective on the force, sir," — had started, less than a week before, for a little farming settle- ment in one of the interior States, confident of my ability to unravel soon, and easily, a knotty problem. 9 10 OUT OF A LABYRINTH. I had taken every precaution to conceal my identity, and believed myself in a fair way to unveil the mystery that "Kad brought grief and consternation into the midst of those comfortable, easy-going farmers ; and I had been spotted 9t the very outset ! I had been first warned, in a gentle- manly but anonymous fashion, to leave the neighborhood, and then, because I did not avail myself of the very first opportunity to decamp, had been shot from behind a hedge ! And this is how it happened : Groveland, so called, doubtless, because of the total absence of anything bearing closer resemblance to a grove than the thrifty orchards scattered here and there, is a thriving township, not a town. Its inhabitants reside in the midst of their own farms, and, save the farm buildings, the low, rambling, sometimes picturesque farm houses, or newer, more imposing, " im- proved" and often exquisitely ugly, white painted dwell- ings ; the blacksmith shop, operated by a thrifty farmer and his hard-fisted sons; the post-office, kept in one corner of the "front room" by a sour-visaged old farmer's wife ; and the " deestrict" school-house, then in a state of quies- cence,— town institutions there were none in Groveland. The nearest village, and that an exceedingly small one, was five miles west of Groveland's western boundary line; and the nearest railroad town lay ten miles east of the on stern boundary. So the Grovelanders were a community unto themselves, A BAD BEGINNING. ll • ami were seldom disturbed by a ripple from the outside world. It was a well-to-do community. Most of its inhabitants had " squatted" there when the land was cheap and uncul- tivated, and they were poor and young. Time, railroads, and the grand march of civilization had mcreased the value of their acres ; and their own industry had reared for them pleasant homes, overflowing granaries, barns "good enough to live in," orchards, vineyards, all manner of comforts and blessings. Strong sons and fair daughters had grown up around them ; every man knew his neighbor, and had known him for years. They shared in their neighborhood joys and griefs, and made common cause at weddings, funerals, threshings, huskings, cider makings, everything. One would suppose it difficult to have a secret in Grove- land, and yet a mystery had come among them. 'Squire Ewing, 'squire by courtesy, lived in a fine new white house on a fine farm in the very center of the town- "ship. His family consisted of his wife, two daughters, the eldest, eighteen, the younger, fifteen, and two sons, boys of twelve and ten. The daughters of 'Squire Ewing were counted among the brightest and prettiest in Groveland, and they were not lacking in accomplishments, as accomplishments go in such communities. Much learning was not considered a necessity among the Groveland young ladies, but they had been 12 OUT OF A LABYRINTH. • smitten with the piano-playing mania, and every Winter the district school-house was given over, for one night in the week, to the singing school. The Misses Ewing were ranked among the best "musicians" of Groveland, and they had also profited fora time by the instructions of the nearest seminary, or young ladies' school. One evening, just as the sun was setting, Ellen, or Nell Ewing, as she was familiarly called, mounted her pony and cantered blithely away, to pass the night with a girl friend. It was nothing unusual for the daughters of one farmer to ride or drive miles and pass the night or a longer time with the daughters of another, and Nellie's destination was only four miles away. The night pa.Bsed and half of the ensuing day, but the eldest daughter of Farmer Ewing did not return. However, there was no cause for alarm in this, and 'Squire Ewing ate his evening meal in peace, confident that his daughter would return before the night had closed in. But a second night came and went, and still she did not come. Then the good farmer became impatient, and early on the morning of the second day he dispatched his eldest son to hasten the return of the tardy one. But the boy came back alone, and in breathless agitation. Nellie had not been seen by the Ballous since the night she left home. She had complained of a headache, and had decided to return home again. She had remained at Mrs. Ballou's A BAD BEGINNING. 13 only an hour; it was not yet dark when she rode away. Well, Nellie Ewing was never seen after that, and not a clue to her hiding-place, or her fate, could be discovered. Detectives were employed ; every possible and impossi- ble theory was " evolved" and worked upon, but with no other result than failure. Groveland was in a state of feverish excitement ; con- jectures the most horrible and most absurd were afloat ; nothing was talked of save the mysterious disappearance of Nellie Ewing. And so nearly three months passed. At the end of that time another thunderbolt fell. Mamie Rutger, the only daughter of a prosperous German farmer; wild little Mamie, who rode the wickedest colts, climbed the tallest tress, sang loudest in the singing-school, and laughed oftenest at the merry-makings, also vanished. At first they thought it one of her jokes, for she was given to practical joking; but she did not come back. No trace of her could be found. At twilight one June evening she was flitting about the door-yard, sometimes singing gayly, sometimes bending over a rosebush, sometimes snatching down handfuls of early cherries. After that she was seen no more. Then ensued another search, and a panic possessed that once quiet community. The country was scoured. Every foot of road, every acre of ground, every hedge or clump of trees, every stream, every deserted or shut-up building for miles around was faithfully searched. 14 OUT OF A LABYRINTH. And then Farmer Rutger and 'Squire Ewing closeted themselves together, took counsel of each other, and decided to call in the aid of a city detective. They came together to our office and laid their case before our chief. "If any man can clear up this matter, it's Bathurst," said that bluff old fellow. And so I was called into the consultation. It was a very long and very earnest one. Questions were asked that would have done credit to the brightest lawyer. Every phase of the affair, or the two affairs, was closely examined from different standpoints. Every pos- sibility weighed; copious notes taken. Before the two men left us, I had in my mind's eye a tolerably fair map of Groveland, and in my memory, safely stowed away, the names of many Grovelanders, to- gether with various minute, and seemingly irrelevant, items concerning the families, and nearest friends and neigh- bors, of the two bereaved fathers. They fully perceived the necessity for perfect secrecy, and great caution. And I felt assured that no word or sign from them would betray my identity and actual busi- ness when, a few days later, I should appear in Grove- land. It was a strange case ; one of the sort that had a won- derful fascination for me; one of the sort that once entered upon, absorbed me soul and body, sleeping or waking, day and night, for I was an enthusiast in my profession. A BAD BEGINNING. 15 After waiting a few days I set out for the scene of the mystery. I did not take the most direct route to reach my destination, but went by a circuitous way to a small town west of the place, and so tramped into it, coming, not from the city, but from the opposite direction. My arrival was as unobtrusive as I could make it, and I carried my wardrobe in a somewhat dusty bundle, swung across my shoulder by a strap. I had assumed the character of a Swede in search of em- ployment, and my accent and general ensemble were per- fect in their way. Perseveringly I trudged from farm to farm, meeting sometimes with kindness, and being as often very briefly dismissed, or ordered off for a tramp. But no one was in need of a man until I arrived at the widow Ballou's. This good woman, who was a better farmer than some of her male neighbors, and who evidently had an eye to the saving of dollars and cents, listened quite indifferently to my little story while I told how long I had looked for work, and how I had been willing to labor for very small wages. But when I arrived at the point where I repre- sented myself as now willing to work for my board until I could do better, her eyes brightened, she suddenly found my monotone more interesting, decided that I "looked honest," and, herself, escorted me to the kitchen and dealt me out a bountiful supper, for I had reached the Ballou farmhouse at sundown. 16 OUT OF A LABYRINTH. CHAPTER II. THE ENEMY MAKES A MOVE. Three days passed, and of course during that time I heard much about the two girls and their singular disap- pearance. At night, after work was done, and supper disposed of, Mrs. Ballou would send some one to the post-office. This duty had usually fallen to Miss Grace Ballou, or been chosen by her, but since the night when Nellie Ewing rode away from the door, never again to be seen, Mrs. Ballou had vetoed the evening canters that Grace so much loved, and so the post-office was attended to by Master Fred, the spoiled son and heir, aged thirteen, or by the "hired man." On the evening of the third day of my service, I saddled one of the farm horses, and rode to the post-office to fetch the widow's mail, and great was my surprise when the grim postmistress presented me with a letter bearing my assumed name, Chris Ollern, and directed to the care of Mrs. . Ballou. Stowing away the widow's papers and letters in a capa- t THE ENEMY MAKES A MOVE. 17 clous coat pocket, and my own letter in a smaller inner one, I rode thoughtfully homeward. Who had written me? Not the men at the office; they were otherwise instructed ; besides, the letter was a local one, bearing only the Groveland mark. Could it be that Farmer Kutger or 'Squire Ewing had forgotten all my in- structions, and been insane enough to write me? I hurriedly put my horse in his stable, unburdened my pocket of the widow's mail, and mounted to my room. Locking my door and lighting a tallow candle — the widow objected to kerosene in sleeping rooms, — I opened my letter. It was brief, very, containing only these words: CHRIS OLLERN — Asyou call yourself, unless you wish to disappear as effectually as did Nellie Ewing and Mamie Rutger, you will abandon your present pursuit. A word to the wise is sufficient. Here was an astonisher, and here was also a clue. I was betrayed, or discovered. But the enemy had 'showed his hand. I had also made a discovery. There was an enemy then ; there had been foul play ; and that enemy was still in the vicinity, as this letter proved. It was a wily enemy too; the letter would betray nothing as regarded identity. It was printed; the letters were smooth and even, but perfectly characterless. It was a wily enemy, but not quite a wise one, as the sending of such a letter proved. 18 OUT OF A LABYRINTH. 4 I did not leave my room again that night, but sat for hours thinking. The next morning as I came from the barn-yard with a pail of milk, I encountered Miss Grace Ballou. She was feeding a brood of chickens, and seemed inclined to talk with me. "Did you ever see such fine chicks, Chris?" she asked ; " and they are only two weeks old." I stopped, of course, to admire the chickens and express my admiration in broken English. Suddenly she moved nearer me, and said, in a lower tone : " Chris, did you bring any letters for any one except mother, last night?" Promptly and imblushingly, yet somewhat surprised, I answered, " Xo." Her eyes searched my face for a second, and then she said, falling back a step : " Well, don't say anything about my asking you, Chris. I — I expected a letter." That night I went to the post-office as usual, and the next morning Miss Grace repeated her question : " Did you bring no letters for any one, positively ?" " No, there were only papers that night." The third night after the receipt of my mysterious warn- ing, however, there came a letter for Grace, which, a little to my surprise, was promptly handed over by her mother. "Chris, did you bring any letters for any one, except mother, last night?" — page 18. 19 THE ENEMY MAKES A MOVE. 21 Whether this was the expected missive or not it threw the young lady into unmistakable raptures. Amy was coming ! Amy Holmes ; she would be at the station to-morrow, and Grace must go in the carriage to meet her. Everybody was pleased except Fred Ballon. Mrs. Ballon heartily expressed her satisfaction, and announced that I should drive with Grace to " the station ;" and Ann, the " help," became quite animated. But Fred scornfully declined his mother's proposition, that he should ride to town with his sister and myself. "Catch me," he sniifed, "for that stuck-up town girl; she was always putting ideas into Grace's head ; and — he hated girls anyway. Arid hoped some one would just carry Amy Holmes off as they did Nellie Ewing." Whereupon Grace turned, first pale, then scarlet, and lastly, flew at her brother and boxed his ears soundly. The next day we went as per programme to the town, ten miles distant, where Miss Holmes would be. She had arrived before us, and was waiting. She was a handsome, showy-looking girl, stylishly dressed, and very self-possessed in manner; evidently a girl who knew something of town life. We found her beguiling the time of waiting by conver- sation with a well-dressed, handsome young fellow, who was evidently a prime favorite with both young ladies. He accompanied them while they went about making certain 22 OUT OF A LABYRIXTH. purchases that Mrs. Ballon had charged her daughter not to forget, and then he assisted them into the carriage, while I stowed away their bundles, shook their hands at parting, and stood gazing after them as the carriage rolled away, the very model of a young Don Juan, I thought. I had hoped to gain something from my ten-mile drive with the two young ladies sitting behind me. I had learned that Miss Holmes was a friend of the Ewings, and also of Mamie Rutger, and as she had not been in the vicinity since these young ladies had vanished, what more natural than that she should talk very freely of their mysterious fate, and might not these girl friends know something, say something, that in my hands would prove a clue? But I was disappointed; during the long drive the names of Nellie Ewing and Mamie Rutger never once passed their lips. Indeed, save for a few commonplaces, these two young ladies, who miglit be supposed to have so much to say to each other, never talked at all. I had driven the steady old wrork horses in going for Miss Holmes, and so when night came, a feeling of human- ity prompted me to buckle the saddle upon a young horse scarcely more than half broken, and set oft' upon his back for the post-office. It was a little later than usual, and by the time I had accomplished the first half of my journey, stowred away the usual newspapers, and remounted my horse, it was fully dark; and I rode slowly through the gloom, think- ENEMY MAKES A MOVE. '2'3 ing that Groveland was ambitious indeed to bring the mail every day from a railway ten miles dista? t, -ind wonder- ing what it would be like to be the mail boy, and jog over that same monotonous twenty miles of fetching and carry- ing every day. I had now reached a high hedge that assured me that my homeward journey was half accomplished, when, from an imaginary inland mail boy, I was suddenly transformed into an actual, crippled John Gilpin. From out the black- ness of the hedge came a flash and a sharp report ; my horse bounded under me, my left arm dropped helpless, and then I was being borne over the ground as if mounted upon a whirlwind ! It was useless, to command, useless to strive with my single hand to curb the frightened beast. It was a miracle that I did not lose my seat, for at first I reeled, and feeling the flow of blood, feared a loss of consciousness. But that swift rush through the dewy evening air revived me, and rallied my scattered senses. As we dashed on, I realized that my life had been at- tempted, and that the would-be assassin, the abductor or destroyer of the two missing girls, had been very near me; that but for the unruly beast I rode I might perhaps have returned his little compliment; at least have found some trace of him. My horse kept his mad pace until he had reached his own barn-yard gate, and then he stopped so suddenly as to very nearly unseat me. 24 OUT OF A LABYRINTH. I quickly decided upon my course of action, and now, dismounting and merely leading my horse into the inclosure, I went straight to the house. I knew where to find Mrs. Ballou at that hour, and was pretty sure of finding her alone. As I had anticipated, she was seated in her own room, where she invariably read her evening papers in soli- tude. I entered without ceremony, and much to her surprise. But I was not mistaken in her ; she uttered no loud ex- clamation, either of anger at my intrusion, or of fright a-t sight of my bleeding arm. She rose swiftly and came straight up to me. Before she could ask a question, I motioned her to be silent, and closed the door carefully. After which, with- out any of my foreign accent, I said : " Mrs. Ballou, a woman who can manage a great farm and coin money in the cattle trade, can surely keep a secret. Will you bind up my arm while I tell you mine?" "What!" she exclaimed, starting slightly; "you are not a—" "Not a Swede? No, madame," I replied ; "I am a de- tective, and I have been shot to-night by the hand that has struck at the happiness of 'Squire Ewing and his neighbor." The splendid woman comprehended the situation in- stantly. "Sit there," she said, pointing to her own easy chair. "From out the blackness of Ihe liedne rnme fi flash and a sharp report; my horse bounded under me, my left arm dropped help- less."— page 23. *2 25 THE EXEMY MAKES A MOVE. 27 " And don't talk any more now. I shall cut away your sleeve." " Can yon ?" I asked, deprecatingly. "Can I?" contemptuously; "I bleed my cattle." I smiled a little in spite of myself; then — " Consider me a colt, a heifer, anything," I said, resign- edly. " But I feel as if I had been bled enough." "I should think so," she replied, shortly. "Now be still ; it's lucky that you came to me." I thought so too, but obedient to her command, I " kept still." She cut away coat and shirt sleeves; she brought from the kitchen tepid water and towels, and from her own es- pecial closet, soft linen rags. She bathed, she stanched, she bandaged ; it proved to be only a flesh wound, but a deep one. "Now then," she commanded in her crisp way, when all was done, and I had been refreshed with a very large glass of wine, "tell me about this." " First," I said, " your colt stands shivering yet, no doubt, and all dressed in saddle and bridle, loose in the stable- yard." " Wait," she said, and hurried from the room. In a few moments she came back. " The colt is in his stable, and no harm done," she an- nounced, sitting down opposite me. "How do you feel?" "A little weak, that is all. Now, I will tell you all about it." 28 OUT OF A. LABYRINTH. In the fewest words possible, I told my story, and ended by saying: "Mrs. Ballon, yon, as a woman, will not be watched or suspected; may I leave with yon the task of telling 'Squire Ewing and Mr. Ilntger what has happened to me?" "Yon may," with decision. "And I must get away from here before others know how much or little I am injured. Can your woman's wit help me? I want it given out that my arm is broken. Do you comprehend me?" " Perfectly. Then no one here must sec you, and — you should have that wound dressed by a good surgeon, I think. There is a train to the city to-morrow at seven. I will get up in the morning at three o'clock, make us a cup of coffee, harness the horses, and drive you to Sharon." "You?" I exclaimed. " Yes, I ! Why not ? It's the only way. And now, would you mind showing me that letter?" I took it from my pocket-book and put it in her hand. She read it slowly, and then looked up. " Why did you not heed this warning?" she asked. " Because I wanted to find out what it meant." "Well, you found out," sententiously. "Now, go to bed, but first let me help you remove that coat." " Mrs. Ballon, you are a woman in a thousand," I ex- claimed, as I rose to receive her assistance. "And I don't see how I can ever repay you. You are your own reliance." Why did you not heed this warning?" she asked — page 28. 29 THE ENEMY MAKES A MOVE. 31 As I spoke, the coat fell from my shoulder and my hand touched the weapon in my pistol pocket. She saw it, too, and pointing to it, said : " I have never owned a pistol, because I could not buy one without letting Fred know it; he is always with me in town. If you think I have earned it give me that." " Gladly/' I said, drawing out the small silver-mounted six-shooter; " it is loaded, every barrel. Can you use it?" "Yes; I know how to use firearms." "Then when you do use it, if ever, think of me." I laughed. " I will," she said, quite soberly. And little either of us dreamed how effectively she would use it one day. The next morning, at half-past three, we drove out of the farm, yard, en route for the railway station. During our drive, we talked like two men, and when we parted at Sharon we were very good friends. . I dropped her work-hardened hand reluctantly, and watched her drive away, thinking that she was the only really sensible woman I had ever known, and feeling half inclined to fall in love with her in spite of the fact that she was tweiity- five years my senior. 32 OUT OF A LABYKiNTH. CHAPTER III. SCENTING A MYSTERY. That is how I chanced to be rolling city-ward on that phlegmatic, oft-stopping, slow going, accomodation train, and that is why I was out of temper, and out of tune. My operation had been retarded. Instead of working swiftly on to a successful issue, this must be a case of wait- ing, of wit against wit, and I must report to my chief a a balk in the very beginning. Nevertheless, as I said in the outset, fifty miles of mon- otonous rumble, together with the soothing influence of a good cigar, had blunted the edge of my self-disgust; my arm was quite easy, only warning me now and then that it was a crippled arm; I was beginning to feel phlegmatic and comfortable. I had formed a habit of not thinking about my work when the thinking would be useless, and there was little room for effective thought in this case. My future move- ments were a foregone conclusion. So I rested, and fell almost asleep, and then it was that the single passenger of whom I made mention, came on board. I had not noticed the name of the station, but as I roused SCENTING A MYSTERY. S3 myself and looked out, I saw that we were moving along the outskirts of a pretty little town, and then I turned my eyes toward the new passenger. He was com ing down the aisle to wards me, and was a plain, somewhat heavy-featured man, with a small, bright, twink- ling eye. Certainly it was not a prepossessing countenance, biit, just as certainly, it was an honest one. He was dressed in some gray stuff, the usual "second best" of a thriving farmer or mechanic, and might have been either. By the time I had arrived at this stage in my observa- tions, there was rustle and stir behind me, and a man who had been lounging, silent, moveless, and, as I had supposed, asleep, stretched forward a brown fist, exclaiming : " Hallo, old boy ! Stop right here. Harding, how are ye ?" Of course the "old boy" stopped. There was the usual hand shaking, and mutual exclamations of surprise and pleasure, not unmixed with profanity. Evidently they had been sometime friends and neighbors, and had not met before for years. They talked very fast and, it seemed to me, unnecessarily loud; the one asking, the other answering, questions con- cerning a certain village, which, because it would not be wise to give its real name we will call Trafton. Evidently Trafton was the station we had just left, and where we took on this voluble passenger. They talked of its inhabitants, its improvements, its business ; of births, and deaths, and marriages. It was very uninteresting; I 34 OUT OF A LABYRINTH. was beginning to feel bored, and was meditating a change of seat when the tone of the conversation changed some- what, and, before I could sufficiently overcome my laziness to move, I found myself getting interested. " No, Trafton ain't a prosperous town. For the few rich ones it's well enough, but the poor — well, the only ones that prosper are those who live without work." "Oh! the rich?" "No! the poor. 'Nuffsaid." "Oh! I see; some of the old lot there yet; wood piles suffer?" " Wood piles !" " And hen roosts." "Hen roosts!" in a still deeper tone of disgust. "Clothes lines, too, of course." " Clothes lines!" Evidently this was the last straw. "Thunder and lightning, man, that's baby talk; there's more deviltry going on about Trafton than you could scoop up in forty ordinary towns." " No ! you don't tell me. What's the mischief?" "Well, it's easy enough to tell what the mischief is, but where it is, is the poser ; but there's a good many in Trafton that wouldn't believe you if you told them there was no such thing as an organized gang oi marauders near the place." "An organized gang!" ' "Yes, sir." SCENTING A MYSTERY. 35 "But, good Lord, that's pretty strong for Trafton. Do you believe it ?" " Rather," with Yankee dryness. " Well, I'm blessed ! Come, old man, tell us some of the particulars. What makes you suspect blacklegs about that little town?" " I've figured the thing down pretty close, and I've had reason to. The thing has been going on for a number of years, and I've been a loser, and ever since the beginning it has moved like clock-work. Five years ago a horse thief had not been heard of in Trafton for Lord knows how long, until one night Judge Barnes lost a valuable span, taken from his stable, slick and clean, and never heard of after- wards. Since then, from the town and country, say for twenty-five miles around, they have averaged over twenty horses every year, and they are always the very best ; picked every time, no guess work." The companion listener gave a long, shrill whistle, and I, supposed by them to be asleep, became very wide awake and attentive. "But," said the astonished man, "you found some of them?" "No, sir; horses that leave Trafton between two days never come back again." "Good Lord!" There was a moment's silence and then the Traftonite said: '36 OUT OF A LABYRINTH. " But that ain't all ; we can beat the city itself for bur- glars." " Burglars, too !" "Yes, burglars!" This the gentleman emphasized very freely. "And cute ones; they never get caught, and they seldom miss a figure." "How's that?" "They always know where to strike. If a man goes away to be absent for a night or two, they know it If a man draws money from the bank, or sells cattle, they know that. And if some of our farmers, who like to go home drunk once in a while, travel the road alone, they are liable to be relieved of a part of their load." "And who do the folks suspect of doing the mischief?" " They talk among themselves, and very carefully, about having suspicions and being on the watch ; but very few dare breathe a name. And after all, there is no clear reason for suspecting anyone." "But you suspect some one, or I miss my guess." "Well, and so I do, but I ain't the man to lay myself liable to an action for damages, so I say nothing, but I'm watching" Little more was said on the subject that interested me, and presently the Traftonite took leave of his friend, and quitted the train at a station, not more than twenty miles east of Trafton; the other was going to the city, like my- self. " But that ain't all; we can beat the city itself for burglars." — page 36. 37 SCENTING A MYSTERYo 39 When quiet was restored in my vicinity, I settled myself for a fresh cogitation, and now I gave no thought to the fate of Mamie Rutger and 'Squire Ewing's daughter. My mind was absorbed entirely with what I had just heard. The pretty, stupid-looking little town of Trafton had suddenly become to me what the great Hippodrome is to small boys, I wanted to see it; I wanted to explore it, and to find the mainspring that moved its mystery. The words that had fallen from the lips of the Trafton man, had revealed to my practiced ear a more comprehen- sive story than lie had supposed himself relating. Systematic thieving and burglary for five years ! System- atic, and always successful. What a masterful rogue must be the founder of this system ! How secure he must be in his place, and his scheming, and what a foeman to en- counter. It would be something to thwart, to baffle, and bring to justice a villain of such caliber. After a while my thoughts turned back to Groveland. Certainly the mystery there was quite as deep, and the solu- tion of it of more vital importance. But — Groveland was the mystery that I had touched and handled ; Trafton was the mystery unseen. So my mind returned to the latter subject, and when, hours later, we ran into the city, Groveland was still ab- sent, and Trafton present, in my thoughts* 40 OUT OF A LABYRINTH. CHAPTER IV. CHARTERING A DUMMY. By the time I reached the c'ity my arm, which needed fresh bandages, began to pain me; and I went straight to the office of a surgeon, well-known to fame, and to the de- tective service. He had bound up many a broken bone for our office, and we of the fraternity called him "Our Samari- tan." Some of the boys, and, let me confess it, myself among the number, called him "Our old woman," as well, for, while he bandaged and healed and prescribed, he waged continued warfare upon our profession, or rather the dan- gers of it. Of course, the country needed secret service men, and must have them, but there was an especial reason why each one of us should not be a detective. We were too young, or too old; we were too reckless, or we were cut out for some other career. In short, every patient that came under the hand of good Dr. Denham, became straightway an object of interest to his kindly old heart; and — strange weakness in a man of his cloth — he desired to keep us out of danger. "So ho!" cried "our old woman/' when I appeared be-- "So! Got shot again ? Go on. go on, sir! I'll have the pleas- ure of dissecting you yet." — page 43. 41 CHARTERING A DUMMY. 43 fore him with my bandaged arm, "here you are! I knew you'd be along soon. You've kept out of my clutches a good while. Arm, eh ? Glad of it ! I'll cut it off; I'll cut it off! That'll spoil one detective." I laughed. We always laughed at the talkative soul, and lie expected it. " Cut it off, then," I retorted, flinging myself down in a chair and beginning to remove my sling. "I don't need a left arm to shoot the fellow that gave me this, and I'm bound to do that, you know." "So! Got shot again? Go on, go on, sir! I'll have the pleasure of dissecting you yet. You'll come home dead some day, you scoundrel. Ah! here we are. Urn! flesh wound, rear of arm, under side ; close, pretty close, pret-ty close, sir!" All this was jerked out in short breaths, while he was undoing and taking a first look at my arm. When the actual business of dressing commenced, "our old woman" was always silent and very intent upon the delicate task. "Pity it wasn't a little worse," he sniffled, moving across the room and opening a case of instruments. " You chaps get off too easy ; you don't come quite near enough to Death's door. There's Carnes, now; got a knife through his shoulder, and fretting and fuming because he can't put himself in a position to get another dig." "Is Carnes in?" "Yes. And was badly cut. 44 OUT OP A LABYRINTH. " Poor fellow ! I'm sorry for that, but glad of the chance to see him; he's been on a long cruise." " Well, I'm not so sure about his going on another. Now then." And the doctor applied himself to business, and I sat, wincing sometimes, under his hand, but thinking through it all of Games. He was the comique of the force ; a man who was either loved or hated by all who knew him. Xo one could be simply indifferent to Carnes. He was a well-educated man, although he habitually .spoke with a brogue. But I knew Carnes was not an Irishman ; although he professed to have "hailed from Erin," he could drop the accent at pleasure and assume any other with perfect ease, — a feat rather difficult of accomplishment by a genuine Irishman. Nobody knew much about Carnes; he had no confidants, although he had his favorites, one of whom I chanced to be. He was older than myself by ten years, but when the mood seized him, could be younger by twenty. He had been absent from the office for nearly a year, and I mentally resolved that, after making my report and attending to business, I would lose no time in seeing him. Under the skilled hand of Dr. Denham my arm was soon dressed and made comfortable. It would be well in a fortnight, the good doctor assured me, and then as soon as I could, I withdrew from his presence and his customary fire of raillery and questions, and stopping only to refresh CHARTERING A DUMMY. 45 myself at a restaurant by the way, hastened on toward our office, where I was soon closeted with my Chief. As usual, he made no comments, asked no questions, when I dawned upon him thus unexpectedly. He never made use of unnecessary words. He only turned out one or two of the force who- were lounging there, waiting his pleasure to attend to less important business, saw that the doors were closed and the outer office properly attended, and then seating himself opposite me at the desk, said quietly: "Xow, Bathurst?" I was well accustomed to this condensed way of doing things, and it suited me. In a concise manner matching his own, I put him in possession of the facts relating to the Groveland case, and then I made a discovery. After re- lating how I had received the anonymous letter I produced my pocket-book, where I supposed it to be, and found it missing! It was useless to search; the letter was not in my pocket-book, neither was it on my person. "Well !" I said, when fully convinced that the letter was certainly not in my possession, "here's another complica- tion. I've been robbed and — I know who did it !" My companion made no comment, and I continued : "The letter was of no vital importance; I will finish my story and then you will know what has become of it." I told the rest ; of my ride upon Mrs. Ballou's colt, of the pistol shot, my runaway steed, and my subsequent in- 46 OUT OF A LABYRINTH. lerview with Mrs. Ballon. How she had dressed my wound, how the circumstances had compelled me to confide in her, and how she had risen to the occasion, and driven me to the station at half-past three in the morning, and 1 finished by saying: " Now it looks to me as if Mrs. Ballon had stolen my letter, and if so, one might take that fact and the one that Nellie Ewing was never seen after leaving her house, and count it as strong circumstantial evidence; but, that kind * o * * of evidence won't convince me that Mrs. Ballon is impli- cated in the crime or the mystery. AVhen 1 told her of the printed letter, I saw her eyes gleam; and when she asked to see the document I read anxiety in her face. I am siite she took the letter, and I think she has a suspicion of some sort; but if she has the letter she will return it." My chief made no comment on all that I had told him; he picked up a paper weight and laid it down again with great precision, then he put all my story "on the shelf," as we were wont to express it, by asking abruptly: "What are you going to do next?" The question did not surprise me. He was not in the habit of offering much advice to such operatives as he trusted with delicate cases, for he never trusted a man until he felt full confidence in his skill and integrity. But when we desired to consult with him, he entered into the study of the case with animation and zeal ; and then, and then only, did he do a full share of the talking. CHARTERING A DUMMY. 47 " Going to send them a 'dummy/ if we can find one with the grit to face the chances. They must suppose me en- tirely out of the business." " Yes." "I want an extraordinary dummy, too; a blusterer." " Wait," interrupted my companion, beginning to smile, "I have got just the animal. When do you want to see him ?" "As soon as possible; I want him in the field at once." "Very good. This fellow came here yesterday, and he's the greatest combination of fool and egotist I ever saw. Knows he was born for a detective and is ready to face a colony of desperadoes; there is no limit to his cheek and no end to his tongue. If you want a talkative fool he'll do." "Well," I replied, " that's what I want, but the man must not be quite destitute of courage. I don't think that the party or parties will make another attack upon a fresh man, and yet they may; and this dummy must remain there quite alone until the rascals are convinced that he has no confederates. There is a keen brain at the bottom of this Groveland mischief. I mean to overreach it and all its confederates, for I believe there must be confederates; and, sir, I don't believe those girls have been murdered." "No?" "No. But I want our dummy to act on the supposition 48 OUT OF A LABYRINTH. that they have been. This will ease the vigilance of the guilty parties, and when they are off their guard, our time will come. AVhere is Carnes?" My companion was in full sympathy with my abrupt change of the subject, and he answered, readily: "At his old rooms. Carues had a bad cut, but he is getting along finely." "Is he? The doctor gave me the idea that he was still in a doubtful condition." "Stuff," giving a short laugh, "some of his scarey talk; he told me that Carnes would be about within two weeks. Carnes did some good work in the West." "He is a splendid fellow; I must see him to-night. But about our dummy: when can you produce him?" "Will to-morrow do? say ten o'clock." " It must be later by an hour; the doctor takes me in hand at ten." "Eleven, then. I will have him here, and you'll find him a jewel." "Very good," I said, rising, and taking up my hat, "any message to send to Carnes? I shall see him to- night." "Look here," turning upon me suddenly, "you are not to go to Carnes for any purpose but to see him. You must not talk to him much, nor let him talk; the doctor should have told you that. He is weak, and easily excited. It's bad enough to have two of my best men crippled and off at CHARTERING A DUMMY. 49 once ; you must not retard his recovery. Carnes is as unruly as a ten-year old, now." I laughed; I could see just how this whimsical comrade of mine would chafe under his temporary imprisonment. " I won't upset the old fellow," F .-aid. and took my leave. 4 *3 50 OUT OF A LABYRINTH. CHAPTER V. EN ROUTE FOR TRAFTON. Over the minor events of my story I will not linger, for although they cannot be omitted altogether, they are still so overshadowed by startling and thrilling after events that they may, with propriety, be narrated in brief. I saw Carnes, and found that the Chief had not exag- gerated, and that the doctor had. Carnes was getting well very fast, but was chafing like a caged bear, if I may use so ancient an illustration. We compared notes and sympathized with each other, and then we made some plans. Of course we were off duty for the present, and could be our own masters. Carnes had been operating in a western city, and I proposed to him a change. I told him of the conversation I had overheard that morning, and soon had him as much interested in Trafton as was myself. Then I said : " Now, old man, why not run down to that little paradise of freebooters and see what we think of it ?" "Begorra and that'll jist suit me case," cried Carnes, who was just then in his Hibernian mood. "And it's go we will widen the wake." But go "widen the wake" we did not. "Now, old man, why not run down to that little paradise of freebooters and see what we think of it?" — pace 50. 51 EN ROUTE FOR TRAFTON. 53 We were forced to curb our impatience somewhat, for Carnes needed a little more strength, and my arm must be free from Dr. Denham's sling. We were to go as Summer strollers, and, in order to come more naturally into contact with different classes of the Traftonites, I assumed the role of a well-to-do Gothamite with a taste for rural Summer sports, and Carnes made a happy hit in choosing the character of half companion, half servant; resolving himself into a whole Irishman for the occasion. It was a fancy of his always to operate in disguise, so for this reason, and because of his pallor, and the unusual length of his hair and beard, he chose to take his holiday en naturale, and most unnatural he looked to me, who had never seen him in ill-health. As for me, I preferred on this occasion to adopt a light disguise. In spite of the warning of our Chief, but not in defiance of it, I talked Carnes into a fidget, and even worked my- self into a state of enthusiasm. Of course I made no men- tion of the Groveland case; we never discussed our private operations with each other; at least, not until they were finished and the finale a foregone conclusion. After bidding Carnes good-night, I sauntered leisurely homeward, if a hotel may be called home, and the ring of a horse's hoofs on the pavement brought to my mind my wild ride, Groveland, and Mrs. Eallou. 54 OUT OF A LABYRINTH. 