Chapter XI: A Chimney Clew

Patsy followed Spike Thomas and Bally Morris in their mad run from the vengeance of Lannigan.

His purpose was not so much to protect them as it was to get an explanation of a matter which puzzled him.

He was now convinced that Spike Thomas and his companion had entered the apartments of Lannigan and had stolen the drawings and models.

But what puzzled him was when it was done.

The two had been under his eyes almost continuously all day, and it vexed him to think that it should have been done without his even suspecting it.

He soon caught up with the flying crooks and followed them into a small saloon in the neighborhood of Chatham Square.

Both Spike and Morris had been badly frightened by the attack made on them by Lannigan, but when they realized that they were safe from pursuit, and that Lannigan’s murderous assault had been prevented by Nick Carter and his aids, their courage returned.

Their cunning, as well as their desire to profit by their theft, led them to conceal or deny the theft.

In view of the fact that Lannigan had made a vicious attack upon them, they could no longer maintain the story they had given Patsy that they had entered into an arrangement with Lannigan by which they could negotiate the return of the papers for him.

This troubled Spike somewhat in his talk with Patsy, but, by some skillful lying, he got up a story that somebody had been fooling Lannigan with the tale that he and Morris were going to sell him out.

His cunning and, perhaps, fear of Lannigan, led him to deny the theft from Lannigan’s rooms.

“See here, Spike,” said Patsy, “you may lie as much as you want to, but I know that you got into Lannigan’s rooms and took those papers and models. I know when you did it, and I saw you coming away from there.”

Both the young crooks looked at Patsy curiously, but without replying.

They did not know how much Patsy really knew, and they had convinced themselves that they had made the entry into Lannigan’s rooms unknown to any one but themselves.

“Now,” continued Patsy, “you can keep up your lying if it will do you any good. You ain’t level with me when you don’t give me the game, after me putting you on. I’m going to know all about it, and you can’t stop me. The only thing is now, are you goin’ to throw me on the deal or not.”

“Goin’ to throw nothin’,” said Spike. “Say, how much do you t’ink I ought to strike de old dame for, if I can make de deal?”

Patsy could hardly restrain a smile, for in this question Spike was admitting what he had been denying, and that was the possession of the drawings and models. He did not appear to notice it, however, and replied:

“Strike her for twelve thousand dollars.”

“Gee whiz!” exclaimed both Spike and Bally in a breath.

When they had recovered a little from their astonishment, Spike asked:

“Will de old dame stand a strike of such big figures?”

“Sure,” replied Patsy.

In view of the fact that Lannigan had struck Seaman for fifty-five thousand dollars, as Nick had told Patsy, the surprise of the two young crooks over the sum named by Patsy showed clearly to the lad that there was no relation at all existing between Spike and Lannigan, if he had needed such a showing.

However, he got up, saying:

“You’re going to work the racket on the dame to-morrow?”

“Sure,” replied Spike.

“Then you’ll come to me for the number and street of her house at nine to-morrow morning?”

“Sure.”

Patsy did not like the tone and the manner of the crook, and he stood still a moment, looking sternly into the eyes of Spike, and said:

“Spike, if you round on me, I’ll spoil your game. I’ll do more; I’ll put you in the jug. You have got no right to throw me down, for I put you next in this game, and I saved your life this afternoon. If you throw me down it’ll be the worst day’s work you ever did for yourself.”

He turned from the table at which the two crooks were sitting, and walked out of the saloon without another word or turning to see the effects of his words.

Patsy was intent on filling up the gap in the story of the day, which was complete and connected except as to the taking of the drawings and the models from Lannigan’s rooms.

That this had been done by Spike Thomas and Bally Morris there was no doubt in the minds of any one having knowledge of the affair. But, after all, it was, at best, suspicion.

Leaving the saloon in which the two young crooks had hidden themselves from Lannigan, Patsy took the elevated railroad train to Forty-second Street.

Leaving the train here, he went immediately to Avenue A, and to the block where he had had his “row,” as he called it.

His intention was, if possible, to find or to account for the disappearance of the two crooks from the house into which he had followed them.

It was his good fortune that, as he passed the door of that house, that he should see in the doorway the girl whose alarm had been the cause of the row in the house.

She recognized him as quickly, and stepped forward to greet him.

“Say,” she said, “was them two fellows that you trotted after this afternoon, when you was chinnin’ with me, the two you followed into our house?”

“Yes,” said Patsy. “It gave me the jumps when I saw ’em coming down from the corner when I thought they were in the house yet.”

“Are dey crooks?” asked the girl.

“That’s what they are,” replied Patsy.

“Well, say,” said the girl, “I can give you a steer. Dem fellers was upstairs on de floor above us when we had dat scrap in de hall. But dey climbed de ladder to de roof when de scrap was goin’ on and got away.”

“How do you know that?” asked Patsy, eagerly.

“Me little sister, who was up dere on dat floor, seen ’em do it. She tole me just after you run away so sudden.”

The whole thing then burst upon Patsy. Everything was explained to him. The two crooks, taking advantage of the row going on on the floor below, had climbed to the roof, and, making their way over the other houses to the corner, had descended into the apartments of Lannigan through the scuttle of the corner house.

What had been mysterious to him was now as plain as day.

He looked along of the houses on the street, to see that there was no break in them to the corner, and said:

“Do you know the store on the corner?”

“The saloon? Sure.”

“You ever go in there?”

“Sometimes,” said the girl.

“If you’ll go there with me now, I’ll blow you off.”

The girl without a word turned, and the two walked up to the corner and entered the place by the rear door.

“Say,” said Patsy, “that brother of yours will be wanting to put up another fight if he finds me here with you again.”

The girl laughed merrily, and replied:

“Oh, he’s a great chewer, but there’s more in his bark than there is in his bite. He ain’t around now, for he’s trotting after his own rag. Anyhow, after the way you put him on de floor dis afternoon, he won’t want to chew wid you any more.”

It was clear that Patsy’s compliments of the afternoon had won the girl’s favor, and the manner in which he had defended himself when attacked, her admiration.

This Patsy saw, and he determined to take advantage of it.

“Say,” he said, “do you know the people here?”

“Yep; he’s a nice man what keeps dis place.”

“Is he straight?”

“Straight as a die.”

“Then this isn’t a hang-out for crooks?” asked Patsy.

“Naw. He won’t have dem around. Dere’s lots of dem on dese corners, but he won’t have dem here.”

Patsy was silent a moment as he thought over a plan which had entered his head. Then he said:

“Call him here and tell him who I am. I want to ask him something.”

The girl did so, and the proprietor, a rather rough-looking but honest man, came to him.

“Mike,” said the girl, “this is me frien’, Patsy Murphy.”

“Not Nick Carter’s man?” said the one called Mike, extending his hand.

“De same,” said the girl, proudly.

The man looked doubtfully between the two and asked:

“How’d you get in wid him, den?”

“Oh, we got acquainted dis afternoon,” replied the girl, tossing her head.

“I heard something about it,” said the saloon-keeper; “will yer have a drink?”

“No,” said Patsy, “but I wish you would answer me some questions. Do you know that there was a robbery in this house this afternoon?”

“I heard something about it,” said the saloon-keeper, “but I don’t know anything about it.”

“There was,” said Patsy, “and from the floor above.”

“I heard a little about it,” said the man, “but I’ve nothing to do with the people upstairs.”

“Then you don’t have the whole house?” asked Patsy.

“No, I only rent this store.”

“Do you know anything about the man who lives upstairs--the one who was robbed?”

“No; he never comes in here, and he rented the two floors above from the same man I rent this store. He’s only been here about six weeks or two months.”

“Well,” said Patsy, “I think I know pretty well who did the job. I think I know how they got into the house.”

“Oh, that’s clear enough,” said the saloon man. “They broke in that stairway door in the rear and picked the lock of the upper door.”

“I don’t think so,” replied Patsy; “in fact, I know they didn’t break the door in, for I know how that was done. But, I would like to get up to the top part of this house to see if I can find traces of the way I think they did get in.”

“How was that?”

“Through that scuttle,” said Patsy.

“There’s nothin’ to stop your goin’ up there,” said the man. “There ain’t nobody up there now, for the two men livin’ there are out. If you should go out of that door opening into the hall, nobody would shoot you for doing it.”

Patsy got up and said:

“I’ll try it.”

“And I’ll go with you,” said the man.

“And so will I,” said the girl.

Thus followed, Patsy mounted the stairs to the top floor and, reaching the hall on the top of the house, soon found the scuttle-hole in the roof.

But there were no steps or ladder leading to it.

Looking about, he saw a broken wooden chair in the corner and, bringing it into the light, saw that the fracture of the top of the back was a fresh one. The scuttle-hole was close to the wall and, looking at the wall directly under it, he saw marks on it which indicated that the chair had been placed against the wall and used as a means of reaching the scuttle.

He put the chair at that place and saw that the chair and the marks fitted.

Mounting the chair, he found that the scuttle cover was loose, and had not been precisely fitted when it was put on.

A mere pressure of the hand slid the scuttle aside and, making a spring, he caught the upper edges of the scuttle-hole with his hands and drew himself so that his head was above the roof.

Immediately his attention was attracted to a piece of paper clinging to the chimney nearby.

He clambered through the hole and, going to the chimney, found that it was a small piece of that kind of paper known as tracing paper, used by draftsmen.

On it was a drawing of what was apparently machinery.

He jumped to the conclusion that it was a part of the missing drawings that had been searched for all day.

Thrusting it in his pocket, he returned to the scuttle-hole and let himself drop down to the floor as he had supposed Spike and Bally had done.

Remounting the chair he placed the scuttle cover in position again and put the chair back where he had found it.

Turning to the two who had been silently waiting, he said:

“I’m satisfied. That’s the way those fellows got into the house. They went into the house in which this girl lived, got out on to the roof from the scuttle of that house, crossed over and came down this way. They did not go down that way, but went out to the street down the stairs and through the front door.”

“You’re right,” cried the saloon man. “That accounts for the bolts being off the front door.”

Patsy smiled, but made no reply, yet he thought that the bolts were off because Chick had taken them off when he went out of the house.

The little party returned to the barroom and, after Patsy had spent a little time in making himself agreeable to the girl, whose friendliness had given him the clew to the manner in which the two young crooks had gotten into the house, he went away.