Chapter XIV: A Change of Front

Patsy had made his way to the Madison Square Garden at once, and presented his letter to the prominent banker.

“I should think,” said the banker, as he folded up the letter, after reading it, “that Mr. Carter would devote his energies rather to finding out who killed Mrs. Constant than to finding out who poisoned her dogs.”

“Oh, Mrs. Constant is all right,” replied Patsy. “She wasn’t killed.”

“Not killed?” replied the banker. “The papers said so.”

“All a mistake,” said Patsy. “Mrs. Constant is well, though she ain’t happy, for the reason that it was her sister who was killed.”

“That beautiful girl!” exclaimed the banker, eager to know all that Patsy could tell him.

Though the lad was anxious to get to work, he was compelled to delay while he satisfied the banker’s curiosity.

When he was finally released, which he was with full authority to go to all parts of the huge building, he hurried out into the space where the dogs were benched.

As fond as he was of the animals, however, he paid little attention to them, for he was anxious to make himself acquainted with the attendants.

It was the last day of the show, and the attendance, especially at that hour in the afternoon when Patsy reached the building, was very large.

If thereby movement about the building was made difficult, it was all the better for Patsy, for he was less likely to be recognized.

He spent an hour of close examination without hitting upon anything which could serve as an opening to him.

Finally he engaged in conversation a well-known kennelman of a prominent breeder, leading it to the poisoning of the dogs by degrees.

“Yes,” said the kennelman, in answer to Patsy’s question, “there was a nasty case of poisoning here. You can bet that it was outside of the bunch.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Patsy.

“I mean it was none of the doggy men that did it, and it wasn’t for any show reasons. A breeder, or a man in the business, thinks too much of a dog to do him in that way.

“Setters are not my line. We were only competing in the fox-terriers. So we hadn’t especial interest in setters. But I felt as bad over the deaths of those setters as if they had been the dogs I had brought up and cared for.

“It’s a mean man that can kill a dog, anyhow—dogs as gentle and sweet-tempered as setters are.

“So I say some one was trying to get square on the lady that owned those dogs, and for reasons away from this show.

“Say, if they ever get down to the truth of it, see if it don’t turn out to be a woman that did the business.”

This was a new idea to Patsy, and he stood still thinking of it. Suddenly a voice fell on his ear.

“It’s him, I’m telling you. Sure. Get out of sight!”

Patsy looked around, without seeing whence came the voice, though two of the attendants were walking off hastily.

Rather from curiosity than from any other reason, Patsy followed them, carefully preventing himself from being seen by them.

When they had reached the end of the aisle, they turned, taking up a position behind a bench, where they thought they were concealed from view.

Patsy crept up as closely as he could, and under the pretense of petting one of the dogs, then listened to their further talk.

“I heard that Nick Carter was onto the case,” said the voice Patsy had heard before. “Now his young assistant, Patsy, comes around on the sneak.”

“But you ain’t sure he’s onto the case. Likely he’s only come in to have a look at the dogs.”

“Look nawthin’! He’s here for biz. I am going to get out.”

“If you do, you lose your pay. If you drop out now, you get nothing.”

“The whack on the other thing is good. Anyhow, I don’t want that fellow to get his peepers on me.”

“You haven’t got the whack, an’ I’m ready to bet that we’ll get t’rown down yet.”

“Go wan,” said the other, incredulously.

Patsy cautiously climbed upon the bench and peeped over the division.

Two men in the dress of the hired attendants stood with their backs to him.

As he looked, trying to fix upon some peculiarity by which he could recognize them when in a position to see their faces, a man, who was in his manner and dress of some consequence, approached.

He eyed the two keenly, and the two straightened up as if they expected recognition from the person.

Apparently this person was about to pass by, but he suddenly halted, turned from his path, and went quickly to the bench near where the two were standing, pretending to be much interested in the dogs there.

All of this was seen by the keen-eyed Patsy, and he also saw that as this consequential-appearing person reached the bench, he slipped something deftly into the hands of the two standing ready to receive it.

Not a word was spoken between the three. The passage made, the consequential-appearing man turned from the bench and sauntered on.

Dropping from his perch and keeping his eye on this person, Patsy followed him down, keeping in his own aisle.

As the end was reached, Patsy hurried forward, and, getting close to this person, kept him in sight until he met an acquaintance.

“Who is that person?” asked Patsy, pointing out the man he had been following.

“Don’t know,” replied the one he accosted. “There’s Herrick over there. He knows everybody, and if you want to know badly I’ll find out for you.”

“Do,” said Patsy. “And hurry!”

Patsy’s acquaintance hurried off and came back in a moment, saying:

“The man’s name is Eric Masson.”

Though Patsy was rather expecting that reply, yet when he received it, it was with a sort of a shock.

However, firmly fixing in his memory the features of the man Masson by a close inspection of them, he hurried back to the part of the building where he had left the attendants.

They were still in the places where they had stood when Masson came to them and passed to them the mysterious something.

He made a wide circle so that he could come in front of them to observe their faces.

Then he worked up to them gradually, using the passing people skillfully as a screen for himself.

Thus he obtained an excellent view of their faces, and it seemed to him that he recognized one of them, but it was difficult for him to fix it.

He was about to turn away, in an effort to learn who they were, how and under what circumstances they had obtained employment there, when he saw Masson again approaching.

This time he seemed to be stopping for an instant before each of the dogs, but yet steadily edging along to where the two men stood.

Patsy took a chance and moved closer, concealed only by a lady and gentleman, whose next movements might disclose him to the very persons of whom he was trying to keep out of sight.

Finally Masson reached the spot where the two men were standing.

“This dog is not a prize winner,” he said, to the one nearest him, who proved to be the one whose features were somewhat familiar to Patsy.

“No; he didn’t win anything,” replied the man.

Then, in a lower tone of voice, Masson said:

“I want to see you.”

“When?” replied the attendant, in the same tone.

“Right away.”

“Where?”

“Follow me out and to a place I shall go to.”

“Say, boss,” replied the other, “if we skip the place now we lose our bones for the four days’ hustle.”

“Never mind that. I’ll make it good. You must get out to me. There’s trouble.”

“All right,” said the other, who had not yet spoken. “If you make good, what you say goes. But it’s a ten-case note for each of us.”

“All the same. Get off those clothes and get to me.”

As the two made a movement as if to go away from the spot, Patsy fell back to a point where he could observe without being seen.

The two went off toward the rear of the hall, and Eric Masson sauntered off toward the main entrance.

There he took a stand as if he was merely watching the passing show.

At once Patsy took in the situation. The men had gone to change their clothes, and Masson was waiting for them to return.

“I must follow them,” muttered Patsy. “To do so I must make a change, and I’ve got to make it quick.”

Near where he stood was a door which he thought led into the offices of the kennel club. He dodged through it to find he was correct in his surmise as well as to face the prominent banker.

“What now, Patsy?” asked the banker.

“Only a little makeup,” replied Patsy. “I think I’m on to something, and am going to try it.”

Much to the interest and amusement of the banker, he drew from his pocket a wig, which he slipped on, and a false mustache, using some color to change his face and eyebrows.

“Oh, for another coat and hat!” cried Patsy, casting longing eyes on those worn by the banker.

“I’ll swap with you, Patsy,” cried the banker, laughing heartily, as he threw off his coat.

The exchange was quickly made, and as Patsy dashed out, the banker, following, cried out:

“I shan’t swap back, Patsy, because as it stands now I got the best of the trade.”

Patsy laughed, but made no reply. Hurrying out, he found Masson still in the place where he left him.

He passed close to him, and went into the hallway, standing just within the gate, waiting until Masson appeared.

As this person showed up, Patsy sauntered through the gate and down to the outer doors.

Looking back, he saw the two men, now in their street clothes, following at a respectful distance.

Patsy went out on the sidewalk.

When Masson reached it, he turned toward Twenty-seventh Street and rounded the corner.

Patsy was close behind him. Walking at a brisk gait, which he quickened to pass Masson, he saw that that person was going to Fourth Avenue.

Nearing the corner of Fourth Avenue, Patsy put himself in concealment, quite certain that he had not been observed by Masson or the two men.

And from that point he saw Masson turn up Fourth Avenue, followed by the two men.

Now Patsy trailed in behind them.

The way was up Fourth Avenue, only a few blocks, when Masson turned into a saloon on the corner, making a signal for the two men to follow him.

The young detective passed in close behind the two.

A hasty glance about the room showed him that it was well thronged by customers, something he had hoped for.

It also showed him that a partition formed a small room in the corner on the side on which was the bar.

At the end of the bar, nearest this small room, was a large and rather ornamental icebox. At the end of the box, furthest from the bar, and out of sight of it, was a door leading into the hall by which the upper floors of the house were reached.

This door was open and swung back against the partition, leaving a space behind it.

Masson made his way through the customers to this small room, followed by the two men.

He ordered drinks for them, and when they had been served and paid for, he closed the door, shutting himself up with them.

Patsy slipped behind the hall door. He could hear nothing, however.

By dint of climbing upon the door, resting a foot on the door-knob, he brought his ear on a level with the top of the partition.

The effort paid him.

“There’s a lot of trouble,” said Masson’s voice, quickly recognized by Patsy. “In the first place, Nick Carter has been put on the case.”

“That’s bad,” said one of the others.

“Why bad?” asked Masson.

“Because he’s a wizard to get at the bottom of things.”

“Well, it isn’t likely he’ll spend much time on this matter, for he’s got something bigger on hand. But that isn’t what I am after just now. Listen to me.

“Nick Carter was put on the case. The woman has charged me with being at the bottom of the thing. However, there was a change, and that gives me a chance to do a thing I want to have done.

“Nick Carter won’t pay much attention to this thing for a while.”

“That’s where you’re off,” interrupted the voice Patsy had first heard. “One of his best men was in the Garden this afternoon. He’s there now on the snoop.”

“You’re wrong, old man,” muttered Patsy to himself. “I’m here, on the sneak.”

“Who?” asked Masson, anxiously.

“Patsy Murphy,” replied the other. “I dropped to him as soon as I saw him.”

“Are you sure?” asked Masson.

“You bet he’s sure,” said the other. “He’s been through Patsy’s hands, and he knows him.”

“That’s so,” said the first one, “and he left his mark on me so he’d know me again. I sneaked when I saw him.”

“Well, if that’s so,” said Masson, “it makes it all the more necessary that the thing moves as I have planned.

“This woman’s sister was killed last night.”

“No; the woman herself,” said one of the voices.

“Don’t contradict me,” said Masson. “It was the woman’s sister. I’ve got it straight. That may make some little trouble for me, but not much. It will make more if they get onto the other job.

“But I want you two out of the way to make sure that they don’t get on. Take a trip to Chicago, St. Louis, or the devil, for four or five weeks. I’ll pay for it.

“Now, then, you see what I mean. Will you get out right away? I’ll stake you well.”

“I’m game to go on the next train,” said one of the two.

“I ain’t so ready to go,” said the other, “but if it cuts any ice I’ll do it.”

“Well,” said Masson, “it will cut a good deal of ice with me. I can’t afford to take any chances now. I wish now that I’d never gone into the job, seeing what turn things have taken.

“But the thing is, are you ready to go?”

“Yes.”

“When will you go? To-night?”

“Yes.”

“Where to?”

“Chicago, if you say so.”

“Well, I do. It is now near five o’clock. Meet me at half-past seven at the Forty-second Street Station, and I’ll hand you the tickets and the stake. Is that settled?”

There was a movement of chairs as if the three men were rising, and Patsy slipped down from his perch and from behind the door.

He was out in the saloon in a position to see them when they came from the room.

“I needn’t worry about Masson,” said Patsy to himself. “He can be picked up at the station. I’ll follow the others to find out who they are.”

His chase after these two was not a long one, though it did carry him to the Bowery, to which place the two hurried.

The two toughs, for such, indeed, they were, reaching that famous thoroughfare, quickly made for a saloon which was well known to Patsy through frequent visits to it in the way of business.

So skillfully had his shadow work been done that neither of the two toughs had even seen him.

Entering this place close behind them, Patsy was surprised and not gratified to see within it an old acquaintance, Bally Morris.

But what had rather annoyed him he quickly saw was likely to turn out to his advantage.

No sooner had this Bally Morris seen the two Patsy was following enter, than he went up to them and began a quarrel with them, charging them with having gone back on him in some matter.

It was clear to Patsy that the two had no wish for a quarrel at the time, and he saw them get out of the place as soon as they could.

And he changed his tactics at once. Slipping out, he tore off his beard and false mustache, letting the two go where they would, believing that he would get trace of them at half-past seven at the Grand Central Station.

Having got into his own proper person, he went back into the saloon to find Bally Morris.

That amiable young person recognized Patsy at once, and was not, apparently, anxious to see the young detective.

“Oh, ho,” thought Patsy. “He’s afraid of me. He’s been up to something and thinks I am on.”

Asking Morris to take a drink with him, he said:

“Who were the two guys you were wanting to scrap wid, Bally?”

“I don’t know who dey is. I hed a muss wid ’em las’ night to a rag spiel.”

“Oh, come off, Bally. Don’t play me dat way. Gimme it straight.”

“Honest, I don’t.”

“Say, Bally, you couldn’t be honest if you tried. Well, I ain’t on to anythin’ you’ve been doin’, but I want to know who dose fellers are, see! If you don’t give it, why——”

He stopped, looking Bally in the face, steadily and threateningly.

“Well,” at length said the East Side tough, “dey ain’t no fr’en’s of mine. Dere names is Al Crummie and Bill Graff.”

“Crooks?”

“Well, dey ain’t straight goods.”

“Where is dere hang-out?”

“On de block below. What dey been doin’?”

“Poisoning dogs, I guess.”

Bally looked up at Patsy with a laugh, as if he did not believe him.

“Dat’s all I know,” continued Patsy. “Up to the dog show. Dey was hired there.”

“Well,” said Bally, “de’re mean enough.”

Patsy had now gotten all he wanted, and he hurried off to find Nick Carter and to report.