Chapter VI: A Point Gained

The man who first came to Nick’s assistance was Chick.

It may as well be said at once that Nick was not badly hurt. His hat was not exactly what it seemed to be.

One would have taken it to be soft felt. In reality, it was a better helmet than those which the knights of the Middle Ages wore.

He had fallen under the blow because he believed that course to be the best policy.

Somebody had planned to kill or at least disable him, and he thought it wise to let that person suppose that he had succeeded.

Chick carried him to a drug store with the aid of a policeman.

An ambulance was summoned; Nick was put into it.

But when the ambulance reached the hospital there was nobody inside it except the surgeon, who winked to the driver and went to his room.

Nick and Chick presently met again.

“Did you see the person who got out of that carriage?” asked Nick.

“I caught a glimpse of him,” Chick replied. “He was a tall man with a light-brown beard. I have no doubt he is the same man whom you saw last night.”

“Then we’ve gained a point. We have worked down to the man who is directing all these operations. Three times he has appeared. This settles it.”

“In other words,” said Chick, “we have seen Doc Helstone.”

“Exactly.”

“He is a slippery rascal.”

“What became of him?”

“He executed one of the finest disappearances that I ever saw. It was just at the moment when the coachman’s club was over your head. I had to keep the coachman covered, and when I took my eyes off him, the other man had vanished.”

“It’s of no consequence,” said Nick. “At present we want him to be at large. We want to take his gang with him in order to secure the evidence we need.”

They walked a short distance in silence. Then Nick said:

“I must go home to receive Ida’s report. At eleven o’clock I will meet you at Twenty-eighth Street and Sixth Avenue. Then we will descend upon the ‘fence.’”

Nick heard the report of his clever young assistant, Ida Jones, and then proceeded at once to his rendezvous with Chick.

It was eleven o’clock exactly when they met. They had assumed the characters of well-known thieves.

Chick was the exact image of “Kid” Leary. Nick was Al Hardy, the notorious second-story thief.

“Pat Powers wanted to take me in,” said Chick, indicating a policeman who stood on the opposite corner. “He says that if I tell any of the boys at the station about it he’ll commit suicide.”

“He doesn’t need to be ashamed of it,” said Nick, surveying the perfect make-up of his friend.

They walked over Twenty-eighth Street to Seventh Avenue, and then downtown until they were nearly opposite the “fence” on Sixth Avenue.

Then Nick took one of the cross streets and Chick the other. Nick was to enter by the alley, and Chick from the front.

At the mouth of the alley Nick encountered a negro whose face was as black as the darkness behind him.

“Heah, you! Whar you goin’?” cried the negro, as Nick tried to pass him.

“Shut up, Pete,” said Nick, in a voice exactly like Hardy’s. “Don’t you know me?”

“That you, Al Hardy? When did you get out?”

“I haven’t been in, you black rascal.”

“Yer oughter be.”

“Look here, Pete, I can’t stand here chinning with you all night. I want to see old man Benton.”

“Yer can’t see him.”

“Why not?”

“He’s got pertic’lar business to transact.”

“Come off, you coon.”

“Well, to tell ye the troof, Mr. Hardy, Mr. Benton ain’t in this evenin’.”

“You can’t give me any such steer as that. I know that he’s in.”

“Go ahead then, if ye know so much,” said the negro. “Ye’ll find I’ve been givin’ it to yer straight. Everything is locked up.”

Nick had known that he could get by the sentinel. Benton could not keep people away by force.

That would make too much noise and attract too much attention.

But Nick knew equally well that it would do him no good to get by unless he was welcome. The negro unquestionably had some means of signaling to Benton.

He was, of course, instructed to pass only those who had the countersign or whose names had been given in advance.

For these Pete was to make a favorable signal, and they would get in all right.

In the case of others he would signal unfavorably and they would find “everything locked up.”

Understanding this perfectly well, Nick kept a watchful eye on the negro while passing him. He saw Pete back against the wall of the alley.

Certainly there was some signaling apparatus there--probably an electric bell.

In an instant Nick had the burly negro by the throat.

“Signal right,” he said, in a voice which showed that he meant it. “Signal right or this goes through your heart.”

Pete could feel a sharp point pressed against his breast. It pricked him, and a few drops of blood began to flow.

He dared not struggle. He was in mortal terror. The grip on his throat was choking him, and the knife was at his heart.

“Fo’ de lub er Heaven, Mr. Hardy,” he gasped, as the pressure on his windpipe relaxed, “don’t cut me an’ I’ll do what you say.”

“Wait a minute, Pete. Hear what I’ve got to say, before you do anything.”

Nick’s hand left Pete’s throat; the dagger point was withdrawn, but before the trembling negro could take advantage of his improved condition, he found himself worse off than before.

He was handcuffed, and a pistol was thrust into his face.

“Now, Pete, look here. There’s a bell behind you.

“Yes; I thought so. Here it is in the space where this brick has been removed.

“If you ring that bell the right way I shall be admitted when I knock at Benton’s door. If you don’t I shall have to break it down.

“I prefer to get in quietly. I’m going to gag you and take you up to the head of the alley. If the door is open, I shall go in. If it isn’t I’ll come back and blow your head off.”

“Who are you?” gasped Pete, for Nick at the last had spoken in his usual voice.

“Don’t bother about that. Ring the bell.”

Nick brought Pete’s fingers in contact with the button, and the signal was made.

“Four times is all right. Very well. Now come with me.”

Seizing the negro by the shoulder, he ran him out into the deserted street, and about a third of the way to Seventh Avenue.

Then he whistled in a peculiar manner. A form appeared out of the darkness.

“Patsy,” said Nick, “bring up the carriage.”

It was brought. Peter, gagged as well as bound, was bundled into it.

“Take him home,” said Nick to the driver. “Now, Patsy, follow me.”

He darted off in the direction of the alley.

“Stand here, as if on guard,” he whispered to Patsy. “When anybody who may by any possibility be one of Helstone’s gang comes along, press this bell four times. Don’t shut anybody out unless you’re perfectly sure we don’t want him.”

Having spoken these words, Nick ran up the alley. He feared that Benton, having heard the favorable signal, would be impatient for his customer.

In the little yard behind the house in which was the “fence,” there was no light whatever.

Nick found two or three steps leading up to a door which, by daylight, seemed to be frail, but was in reality strengthened by iron bands.

On this door he knocked cautiously four times. It was opened, disclosing a perfectly dark hall.

Nick entered. He could not see the person who admitted him, but he supposed that it must be Benton.

When the door had been closed a light was suddenly flashed in his face.

Then a voice said:

“Al Hardy! When did they let you in?”

“Never mind, old man Benton, I’m in the ranks now,” said Nick.

“Well, it’s none of my business. Come this way.”

Nick might have seized the rascal there, and he meditated doing it. But he desired to see all the formalities of the place.

He wished to know how the thieves were received, because it would soon be his turn to receive them.

Moreover, the hall was so dark that he might easily make a mistake in his calculations. If he fell upon Benton and failed to shut off his wind instantly, the outcry would ruin his plans.

Then, too, for all he knew there might be somebody else in the hall. He could see nothing. Half a dozen men might have been standing there without his knowing it.

The flash of light had come so suddenly and been so speedily withdrawn that it had dazzled him without disclosing anything.

Nick decided to bide his time.

“Come this way,” said Benton, and he took Nick by the arm.

A door opened. Nick knew this by the current of air, though he could not see the door, nor did he hear it move upon its hinges.

The hand upon his arm guided him into a perfectly dark room, where he was presently told to sit down. He found a bench behind him, and he sat upon it because there did not seem to be anything else to do.

Ten minutes passed and absolutely nothing happened.

Nick heard nothing of Benton. He could not be sure that the old man was still in the room.

By close listening, however, Nick satisfied himself that he was not alone.

There was a sound of suppressed breathing, the faint noise made by persons who are trying to keep still.

Whether there were two or a dozen men in the room, Nick could not say.

Presently there was a ring at the bell. The faint sound made itself audible, but it was impossible to say from what direction it came.

Nick would have guessed that the bell was under the floor.

It rang four times.

Then came a faint sound which Nick took to be the departure of Benton to let in his visitor.

Presently there was another faint sound. The visitor had been admitted.

How long was this thing going to last?

Was Chick the last arrival?

* * * * *

How could Benton be captured secretly in this dense darkness?

Would it be possible to make a light without stirring up such a tumult as would alarm the whole city?

These were the questions which ran through Nick’s mind.