THE QUAKER'S TRUMPS WIN.

Sharp and clear was the report of Belle Demona's revolver.

The three horses in the street stopped, and one of the riders pitched forward, but did not fall to the ground.

With a cry that welled from the depths of her heart, the woman in the alley stood as one transfixed with horror.

"The wrong man!" she exclaimed.

In another moment a horseman dashed into the alley, and the queen of the ranch, with smoking revolver in her hand, stood undecided.

"You? I thought so," said a voice as a man leaned over the saddle and clutched her arm.

There was no answer, but with a quick recoil Belle Demona broke from the hand and started back.

"Not yet," she said, and then a figure flew down the alley and distanced the horseman, to escape in a small doorway some distance from the scene.

Old Broadbrim, who was the horseman, turned back and looked into the white face of Merle.

For once in her life, at least, her hand had trembled, and Belle Demona, instead of finishing the career of the Yankee, had sent a bullet through Merle's shoulder.

Old Broadbrim and Dick Waters, whom we left with their captive on the way from Round Robin Ranch, had been overtaken by the men of the bush, eager to capture their master.

The Quaker detective had met them with his accustomed coolness, and he and Dick had heroically faced the band.

Broadbrim was not to be baffled even in Australia, and, with a pistol at Merle's head, he coolly informed the guardsmen that if they attempted to enforce their demand he would send a bullet to the murderer's brain.

It was a parley with ready weapons in the open, and the ashen face of Merle looked pitiful while it lasted.

In the early flush of dawn his fate trembled in the balance, and when the detective rode on, he (Merle) cast a longing look at the horsemen moving back.

Old Broadbrim conducted his prisoner to the headquarters of the Perth police and there presented the papers he had brought from America.

Merle looked coolly on.

His wound had been dressed and he was silent while he listened to the detective.

But suddenly his eye caught the old-time fire and he thought of Belle Demona.

She did not intend to shoot him.

No, it was a mistake, and he felt that while she lived and was on the alert in the little town the detective and his new-found friend stood a good chance of failing.

It was found that on the next day a vessel would leave the port for Melbourne, and Old Broadbrim determined to take his prisoner on board and await the sailing.

Meantime the authorities of Perth scoured the town for the ranch queen.

She was not to be found, and no one thought of searching Meg's domicile.

Some thought she had gone back to the ranch, but Broadbrim was equally certain that he had not seen the last of the cool-headed creature.

Nor had he.

The little vessel rocking lightly in the bay of Perth was ready for the voyage of the morrow, and Old Broadbrim stood on the deck with the lights of the town before him.

The night was a beautiful one, and he knew that the arrest of Merle Macray had stirred up the rough populace and that it was the talk in saloon and dance hall all over the port.

Suddenly there came into view a dark, straggling object, which grew larger as it approached, and the detective leaned over the vessel's side and waited.

The Swallow was moored close to the dock, and as she was a vessel of a few tons burden, for she was a coaster, she was at the mercy of almost any mob, however small.

The Quaker detective's face grew sterner as he looked, and watched the crowd of Australians as it came on silently, but with determined mien.

It did not take him long to know what had happened.

The Yankee spotter was not to be permitted to get away with his prey, if the men of Perth could prevent.

Old Broadbrim doubted not that the police of the town stood in with Merle's friends, and they hated the American detective most cordially.

Behind it all stood Belle Demona and her almost unlimited wealth.

Presently the mob made a rush for the dock, and the detective, as yet the only one on the deck, [Transcriber's Note: the final words of this sentence are illegible due to a printing error which affects both copies of the book consulted for this project].

The greater part of the coaster's crew were in town, and the hour was most opportune for an attack.

At sound of his voice the crowd halted, and for a moment seemed on the eve of a retreat.

But the following minute a voice, which the detective had heard before, sang out and urged them on.

Belle Demona was at the head of the party.

The mob rushed to the very edge of the pier, but by this time several figures had reached Old Broadbrim's side, and the captain of the little coaster, with his mates, all determined men who had faced mobs before, stood on deck with repeating rifles in their hands.

It was a moment of suspense, and more than one life hung in the balance.

"Are you cowards, men?" cried the ranch queen. "Shall a Yankee spotter kidnap from under your very eyes the captain of Ranch Robin? Shall the man called Riggs, but who is a New York shadow, take from among us, to be hanged for an imaginary crime, Merle Macray—the open-hearted, brave Merle, my friend and yours?"

A chorus of "No's!" was the answer, but the men on the Swallow's deck only looked at each other and smiled defiance.

The menace of rifle and revolver was too much for the mob.

It was not quite drunk enough to rush to death, and at the suggestion of one of its number the rest adjourned to the wine shops once more.

The woman's figure remained on the dock.

Belle Demona's form was seen in the starlight as she faced the detective.

"I missed you this morning," she exclaimed, her voice having the old-time, silvery ring. "I fired at your heart, Josiah Broadbrim, but your horse saved it. Now I have you at my mercy!"

She finished by throwing up her hand, and the detective looked again into the muzzle of the deadly revolver.

This time her hand did not quiver.

The men of the vessel seemed to lose nerve at the danger that threatened the man from across the sea.

"It is my time, ferret!" said Belle Demona. "This is the end of your trail, and the sun of Australia will shine on your defeat!"

There followed a flash and a report, but not from the six-shooter in the hand of Belle Demona.

The fair-faced witch of two worlds threw up her hands and reeled away as the pistol dropped from her grasp.

"Shot! Retribution!" said the captain of the coaster.

"But look! the avenger is one of her own sex," was the response, as all saw a figure run to Belle Demona's side and stoop over her.

"Stareyes!"

And with the word on his lips Old Broadbrim bounded over the ship's side and dashed forward.

"I have found her. I told you I would some day settle with the queen of the ranch," said the young girl who encountered the detective's gaze from the side of the prostrate woman. "Don't say that Stareyes forgets. Merle is yours, but this woman—this creature who sent him across the sea, and who would have seen me starve, who would have burned me in the sheepsheds—she belongs to Stareyes."

Belle Demona was not dead, nor was she likely to cross the bar from Stareyes' weapon.

The girl was led away, and the queen of the ranch was afterward found by Meg, her friend, who took her home.

Long before daylight, and before the mob could again muster its motley spirits, the little Swallow spread her wings and once more stood out to sea.

And when Merle looked out upon the water he realized that the first stages of the journey back to doom had begun.

As for Belle Demona, that same day she rode homeward, but in her wake was the same implacable shadow destined in time to settle the old score forever.

There was a wait of a week in Melbourne, but at the end of that time Old Broadbrim and his prisoner, accompanied by Dick Waters, stepped on board a United States man-of-war, and the sea trail stretched once more toward the New World.

One bright morning while Clippers was in the act of opening his little house near the famous alley in New York, a footfall greeted his ear, and the next moment he fell back with a cry of astonishment.

Old Broadbrim stood before him.

"Back!" cried Clippers. "I'd given you up, and Hargraves and Irwin are still at fault. They declare that the mystery of Fifth Avenue is as dark as ever, and no one can throw any light upon the death of Jason Marrow."

"Wait, Clippers," smiled the detective. "Wait till you see Merle, the murderer——"

"What, did you find him?"

"What did I start out to do, Clippers, my boy?"

"I see—I see! You are back with the man who killed the two that night—the strangler of the millionaire and the recluse. Mr. Broadbrim, you are invincible!"

That same day the Quaker stood face to face with a young girl whose eyes sparkled with delight, and when he placed his hand on a four-leaved clover she could not keep back her enthusiasm.

"It brought you luck, Mr. Broadbrim!" cried Nora Doon. "I knew when I placed it in your keeping that it would make certain your triumph, and at the same time become your protector. You kept it through thick and thin."

"Through the perils of land and sea, Miss Nora. In the midst of London it was my talisman, in the heart of the Atlantic, and even in the shadow of death in the Australian bush."

The law dealt terribly, but justly with Merle Macray.

Weeks and even months had elapsed since the double murder of the night of the 12th of April; but from across the ocean, whither he had tracked his man with the persistence of the bloodhound, Old Broadbrim handed him over to the mercies of the noose.

Both the detective and Dick Waters were rewarded by Foster Kipp, who soon afterward became Nora's husband, and the young Briton remained in America.

As for Belle Demona, she found her ranch plundered when she returned, and, rather than remain in the shadow of desolation, she fled from the avenging hand of Stareyes, and never again set foot within the boundaries of Ranch Robin.

A year later she was found dead in one of the darkest districts of London, and the young girl who was seen in her shadow a few moments before was arrested and discharged.

No one followed her, and no one saw Stareyes step from a vessel in the Bay of Perth a few weeks later, with the secret of the end of the ranch queen's life known only to her and Deity.

Danny, of Melbourne, was discharged, after the arrest of Merle, and he went back to his den with the broken stairs.

Old Broadbrim was received in New York with profuse congratulations, but he took all with his usual modesty, feeling that he had kept his promise with Nora to find the murderer of Custer Kipp, even though he were compelled to track him around the world.

He had virtually done so, for he caught him in the bush, and, under guard, had brought him back across the ocean to expiate his terrible crimes within a few blocks of the spot where he had perpetrated them.

"It's just like Josiah Broadbrim," said Clippers, in an outburst of enthusiasm. "He always gets his game, no matter where it hides, nor how long the trail is. Old Broadbrim is as certain as death and taxes. You can bank on that."

THE END.

Think what it must be to have a hidden hand ever ready to do you injury, never to know when or where it is about to strike! This was the ordeal which the great Quaker detective had to undergo, when he was called into the famous Stark case, a case which created an unparalleled sensation at the time. What it was and how Broadbrim worked it up, in the face of extraordinary difficulties and dangers, will be found splendidly told in the next issue, No. 33, entitled "Old Broadbrim Doomed by an Invisible Hand; or, The Victims of the Vial of Death."