Old Sleuth

DUDIE DUNNE STARTS OUT ON A QUEST AND ENCOUNTERS SOME VERY CURIOUS ADVENTURES, TOGETHER WITH SEVERAL RUN-INS WITH MEN WHO TAKE HIM FOR A CHAPPIE.

The girl Alice appeared to be greatly relieved and retired to her room while our hero lay down on the sofa and slept. He needed some rest and was glad of the opportunity to secure it.

On the following morning he saw Mrs. Frewen. That good lady had slept along undisturbed while the exciting incidents we have recorded were transpiring. Our hero related to her all that had occurred, and she said:

"Well, you are a very faithful man, and I desire a confidential talk with you."

Mrs. Frewen and the detective were in the rear sitting-room. The old lady closed the door and said in a low tone:

"What I say to you is purely confidential."

"All right, madam."

"You captured the burglars?"

"I did."

"You saw their faces?"

"I did."

"Plainly enough to identify them in case you had known them?"

"Yes."

"Did you recognize any of them?"

"I recognized them all."

"You did?"

"I did."

"Well?"

"What is it you want to know?"

"Was he among them?"

"Who?"

"The young man Alphonse Donetti?"

"No."

There came a disappointed look to the old lady's face and she said:

"I am sorry."

"You are sorry, madam."

"Yes, I am sorry."

"Why?"

"I have no confidence in that young man."

"Do you know that he is in New York?"

"I do not know, but I suspect that he is."

"And you wanted him captured as a burglar?"

"Yes."

"After he sent you the warning note?"

"Yes."

The detective was silent, but there came a curious expression to his face.

"It may appear strange to you."

"Yes."

"I can trust you?"

"Yes."

"Yesterday I made a discovery, or rather you made one for me."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"By the finding of that photograph in that album. I have long suspected a certain fact, now I have evidence that there are grounds for my suspicions."

"Will you speak plainly, madam?"

"I will."

"Do so."

"Again I ask, can I trust you?"

"You can."

"In a matter purely personal?"

"Yes."

"Then I will declare that I have reason to suspect that the rascal, Alphonse Donetti, has fascinated my niece, and I fear the girl has been deliberately deceiving me."

Our hero made no comment, and the old lady continued:

"At the terror of fearing that my own flesh and blood has been fascinated by a thief—in my opinion a born thief—the son of a thief—a low, vile, reckless scoundrel, yes, that is what I fear. It was this suspicion that caused me to leave Paris. And now, Oscar Dunne, you can make your fortune. I am a very rich woman; I can pay a great price. I want you to aid me to save my niece, even if she is compelled to gaze on the dead face of her lover."

"Madam, what do you mean? Can you believe that money will tempt me to commit a murder?"

"No, sir, I am not a murderess, but I believe money will induce you to bring a murderer to justice, and have him hung as he deserves."

"Well," thought the detective, "here is a pretty kettle of fish right in one family."

"Madam, are you sure you have made a discovery?"

"Yes, I have other evidences. What I learned yesterday was only confirmatory."

"I see you are disposed to trust me."

"Yes."

"Let me say for myself that your confidence is not displaced, and if you have reason to believe that your niece is in love with a criminal, and if we prove the man to be a criminal, I will aid you in removing the human toy beyond her reach. I will send him up to the gallows."

"Well, now, you are assuming that he is a murderer."

"I have every reason to believe that he is, and I think the evidence can be secured to convict him; but why should he seek to marry your niece?"

"He knows she is an heiress—yes, a great heiress. She is heir to millions, and will have the money in her own right without any restraint upon her use or misuse of it whatever."

"When?"

"When she becomes of age."

"How old is she now?"

"In about three years she will come into absolute possession of her fortune."

"And this man, you think, has bewitched her?"

"I do."

"And yet she denied ever having met him."

"I know it, and I will say this in her favor; she is a noble and truthful girl. She believes that wretch innocent. She thinks I am unwarrantably prejudiced, and that under the circumstances it is not wrong to deceive me. She thinks he is a wronged young man. She has been assailed on a woman's weakest side—her sympathies."

"Have you positive evidence that the young man is the villain you believe him to be?"

"Not positive evidence, not convicting evidence; that is what I want you to obtain."

"Is it not possible that your niece is right?"

"Right!" almost screamed Mrs. Frewen.

"Yes."

"Right, how?"

"Is it not possible that the young man has been wronged and is innocent?"

"No, she is not right. He is guilty, and you must obtain the proofs, and I will pay you an enormous reward."

"Madam, I will try and earn the reward, and in order to do so you must tell me what evidence you have of this young man's guilt."

"I have no evidence."

"You have no evidence?"

"No actual evidence."

"On what do you found your suspicions?"

"His general character."

"What is his general character?"

"I don't know positively. All I know is what I have heard and general rumor."

"One more question. Have you any evidence that he is in America?"

"Here again I have no evidence, but there are certain circumstances that point conclusively to the fact that he is in New York."

"And do you believe he sent you the warning note?"

"I do."

"What could have been his object?"

"Oh, it was a cunning trick on his part. He is making evidence, that's all."

"Making evidence?"

"Yes."

"To establish what?"

"That he is a pure young man and has been wronged. I really believed he would be with the burglars. You are to establish the fact that he instigated the robbery, that these men are his pals, as you detectives call them, and you are to follow him up and establish his career as a professional thief and criminal."

"I must find him first."

"Yes, you must find him, and I think you will succeed. You have his photograph; it is an excellent picture; when she got it I don't know, and I tell you it was hard for me to dissimulate yesterday, but I do not desire her to know that I suspect, even when we have all the proofs, and want it to come as a revelation to her. I never wish her to know that I ever suspected the truth."

"Madam, I will undertake to establish the fact that this young man is a criminal, or the victim of cruel suspicions."

"He is a criminal, I am sure of it."

"One moment; do you wish it to be established that he is a criminal, whether he is or not?"

The detective fixed a keen look on Mrs. Frewen's face as he asked the question. A moment the old lady hesitated and then said:

"Yes."

Promptly the detective answered:

"Under these circumstances, madam, you will have to secure the services of another person."

"But do not forget your reward."

"Madam, all your wealth would not induce me to manufacture evidence making it appear that an innocent man was a criminal."

There came a pleased look to the old lady's face and she said:

"I said that to try you. I know now I can trust you—yes, trust your honor and your judgment. I will amend my answer. It will please me very much to learn that the young man is innocent. All I ask of you is to prove his guilt if he is guilty, his innocence if he is innocent."

"With that understanding I will undertake the case, and I will say here that at present evidences point to the suspicion that he is a guilty man, possibly guilty of the crime of murder."

The old lady dropped her voice and her utterance was husky as she asked:

"What evidence have you?"

"No evidence yet, but I have a suspicion. I propose to follow it up."

"Tell me about it."

"I can tell you nothing at present. My first object will be to establish the fact that Alphonse Donetti is in America, and that he wrote the note to you. I will communicate with you later."

The detective went straight to the Tombs. He was admitted to the cell of one of the burglars. He was under a new disguise and he played a great game for information. His object was to identify Alphonse Donetti with the burglars. He did not succeed, but by skillful maneuvering he got a hint that caused him to pay a visit to an outlying district on Long Island, where there is located quite a colony of Italians. It was a warm and pleasant afternoon; our hero was gotten up as Dudie Dunne, and he attracted considerable attention as a genuine chappie. Indeed, on the car when riding to his destination he was made the subject of considerable merriment by a number of men in the car. He paid no attention, but he marked one of the men pretty well. This latter individual was particularly insulting, and there was no occasion for his insults. Simply because our hero had done nothing and had a perfect right to dress as a chappie if he so elected, that fact did not warrant actual insult. As the car stopped and our hero alighted the man who had made himself conspicuous as an insulter said:

"Let's get off, fellers, and I'll give you an exhibition."

The men were under the influence of liquor and the whisky had made "Smart Alecs" of them, as it frequently does with men who have little brain and reason even when sober. The men all appeared to think it would be a good joke to see the exhibition and they left the car. Oscar had heard the man's invitation, and having made up his mind that it was an opportunity to teach one ruffian to mind his own business he took a course favorable for the exhibition, and started to go across an open lot; the men followed, and just as our hero arrived near a quagmire the man who was to give the exhibition ran forward and grasped Oscar.

The latter appeared to be terribly scared and exclaimed:

"Don't; let me alone; I have not harmed you."

"I think I know you."

"Oh, no, you don't know me—hee, hee, hee! I am a stranger around here. You are mistaken; you never saw me before."

"Yes, I have seen you before."

"You have?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Around here."

"Oh, no, you are, you are mistaken."

"Yes, I recognize you, mister. I saw you insult a lady—yes, I saw you insult a lady."

"Oh, no, never, never! What! I insult a lady! No, no, I admire the ladies."

"But I saw you insult one, and I am going to punish you."

"You are mistaken, my friend—yes, you are mistaken, if you saw me speak to a lady. It was a bit of gallantry, that is all. Yes, I am very gallant to the ladies, I am a sort of defender of the ladies—their champion—yes, sir, their champion."

Dudie Dunne rather spunked up in manner as he spoke, and the men all laughed merrily.

"You did insult a lady, and I challenge you to fight me."

"Ou! ou! my dear friend, you are mad!"

"Yes, I am mad enough to knock you into the middle of next week, but I am going to give you a chance. You must fight me."

"Fight you, my friend?"

"Yes, fight me."

"You had better be careful. Don't challenge me to fight you. I am a gentleman, I am, and an athlete. You are only a common man; you can't fight me."

The men all laughed at the idea of the dude's being an athlete.

"I know you are an athlete, but you must fight me all the same."

"I beg your pardon, my friend, I cannot fight you here on the public street."

"You need not fight me here."

"But I don't wish to fight you at all."

"But you must fight me."

"Where can I fight you?"

"Oh, we can go right over there in the grove—no one will see us—but you must fight."

"You do not want me to thrash you, do you?"

"Yes, I do."

"You are not seeking for a fight, are you?"

"Yes, I am."

"Why, my friend, you'll get a surprise if you fight me. I am a regular fighter, I am—hee, hee, hee! I don't want to take advantage of you."

Little did those fellows dream as they laughed that the supposed chappie was telling the truth. Indeed he had a surprise for them and he intended to work up to the climax for all it was worth.

"Come on, I am going to make you fight me."

The challenger was quite a lusty fellow, and on appearances one would have thought he would knock the chappie over with a mere side-swing of his arm.

"Say, you fellows are foolish. Don't provoke me; I am a terror—yes, I am—hee, hee, hee!"

"All right, I am looking for a terror."

"And you want me to go over to the grove?"

"Yes."

"And you insist upon it?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, I'll go over with you."

The party, full of glee, walked over to the grove.

There was the challenger and two friends and our hero, and he amused his friends by a display of his agility, his muscle and sinew. When they reached the grove the fellow who was to fight threw off his coat and Oscar said:

"See here! It's a good deal of trouble for me to thrash you; it's like work—I don't like work. I'll give you fellows fifteen cents to go to get your beer and call it off."

The men guffawed.

"Come on," said the challenger, walking up and squaring for Oscar. The latter stood with his hands at his sides, a picture of effeminacy, but when the man tapped him on the nose a most singular and astonishing result followed. Seemingly without an exertion the dude let drive, caught his assailant and insulter on the forehead and sent him tumbling, heels up. It was one of the cleanest knock-downs on record.