The Spruce Street Tragedy; or, Old Spicer Handles a Double Mystery

"Fortunately, my room was connected with the next by a doorway cut through the inner wall of a closet, and the outlet to this room was upon a corridor running at right angles with that upon which mine opened.

"I could hear my keeper talking with some one just outside my door. Cautiously I raised myself in bed. The next moment I slipped out upon the floor.

"On my bureau was a bottle of brandy and a glass. I seized the bottle – "

"But didn't bother with the glass, I'll go bail," interrupted Barney, quickly.

"Not much, you bet. I uncorked the bottle, placed it to my lips, and took such a drink as I hadn't had before in a long time. Then, like a flash, I changed my coat and vest, seized a hat, and disappeared through the closet door.

"Crossing the adjoining room, I opened the door on to the corridor. A gentleman and lady were just passing. I merely bowed, and hurried toward the private staircase at the rear of the hall.

"I didn't see another soul until I had reached the floor below. Then two or three ladies and a gentleman came out of a large room and started toward the stairs. Before they had had a chance to see me I slipped into a sort of private reception-room, and, when they were well out of the way, rushed to the outside door, opened it, and the next minute was standing on the sidewalk.

"As good luck would have it, a cab was passing. I hailed it, the driver stopped, and I sprung inside.

"'Where to?' he asked.

"By Jove! I hadn't thought up to that moment where I wanted to go to, so I simply said, 'Straight ahead!'

"Fortunately he was headed eastward, and, as I didn't interfere, he kept on to the river. At sight of it, what we were talking about yesterday came over me like a flash of lightning, and thinks I, 'Why shouldn't I join Barney and Jake in their voyage to the Gulf of Mexico?' The next moment I decided to do it. And so I told the driver at what point I wanted to get out, and from there I found means to be conveyed to the schooner in the bay."

"Were you wise in letting the cabman take you where you did?" asked Barney, in a somewhat anxious tone.

"I suppose not," was the reply; "but I was far too weak to walk, and so had to risk it."

"It may prove a risk that will cost us all dear."

"As matters turned out, I don't think so, my friend."

"How's that?"

"Why, even if the detectives should happen to stumble upon that cabman, it isn't at all likely they'll ever unearth the man who conveyed me to the bay."

"Who was he?"

"Blessed if I know. I didn't take the trouble to ask."

"How did you happen to fall in with him?"

"He owned a pretty yacht, and was just going aboard of her, when he noticed me on the pier.

"'You seem to be looking for some one?' he said.

"'I was hoping to find an old man who hangs around this pier a good deal,' I replied, 'and who owns a small craft in which he takes parties to different points on the river.'

"'There's no such man about here just now,' said the gentleman.

"'So I see,' I returned, and I fancy I sighed.

"'You are sick and weak,' he exclaimed quickly.

"'Weak I surely am,' I said; 'but I'd be all right, I'm sure, if I could only get up the river a piece.'

"'Well, I'm going up the river. Come on board my yacht and welcome.'

"I thanked him warmly, and he landed me, as you know, on board this schooner."

"And why do you think the detectives won't find him?" asked Barney, eagerly.

"Because I drew out of him that he was on his way to Newport, from whence he was going to sail almost immediately to the Bermudas, otherwise I never would have let him come up alongside the Bouncing Betsey."

"Well, if he's off for the Bermudas, I reckon it's all right; for if we have any kind of luck, it's more than likely we shall be in the Gulf of Mexico, or even in Mexico itself, before he gets back to New York."

"That's the way I look at it."

"We've got to make better time than we're making now to get anywhere," growled Bill Bunce, discontentedly.

"You're right enough there, Bill," said Barney; "but I suppose the captain's doing the best he can, so there's no help for it."

"I suppose there isn't; but I've got it beat into me that this delay will cost us dear."

"I don't see how it can," said Bissell quickly. "Without the testimony of that yacht-owner they can't connect any one of us with the Bouncing Betsey."

"Perhaps not, but they'll do it all the same."

"Why, do you suspect that you and Barney were, or can be, traced to the schooner?"

"No, I don't think that; for after we got away from the detectives at my place, we disguised ourselves so thoroughly that our own mothers never would have known us, and we took the most roundabout way to the bay, and came on board at midnight."

"Then I don't see what there is to fear."

"Nor I, so far as caution is concerned. But that cursed detective they call Old Spicer is like no other man alive, I believe; and before we know it he'll drop down upon us – you'll see."

"Come, come, old fellow, cheer up, or you'll give us all the horrors, and that's useless."

Presently the wind changed, then it became fair, and the Bouncing Betsy bounded over the waves at a lively rate.

Even Bill Bunce, who had so much to make him sad, became cheerful, and in some measure forgot his somber forebodings.

CHAPTER XXIV.

IN NO MAN'S BAY – MAG'S HOVEL

The day passed, the night came on, and out of the gloom the passenger on board the schooner caught glimpses of the many islands that go to make up the Thimble group.

Then, indistinctly, the main land came into view, and at last the schooner came to anchor in the little bay behind No Man's Island.

As the great sails were lowered, a shrill whistle from the shore reached them. The captain answered it promptly; and presently the sound of oars working in rowlocks was heard.

"That's Pete Coffey," whispered Barney. Then, as the boat came into view, "I wonder who he's got with him?"

No one spoke again until the boat was alongside the schooner.

"Here, take the painter," called out Pete, "and make it fast," and he threw the end of the rope on board.

A sailor caught it and fastened it accordingly.

"Clarky," then said Pete to his companion in the boat, "you stay here," and the next moment he himself was on board the schooner.

He seemed astonished to see Barney and Bissell, and looked upon Bunce with some show of suspicion.

"What's up with you fellows?" he asked. "And who is this chap?"

"We've been driven out of New York, and have got to skip the country," answered Barney.

"And the long and short of it is," Bissell hastened to add, "you must find some safe place in which to secrete us until the schooner is ready for sea."

"Hum! I don't know about you, Mr. Bissell."

"Don't know about me! What do you mean, sir?"

"I don't think it's particularly safe to have anything to do with you. I've noticed that whoever has worked with you, or for you, has been fetched up with a round turn sooner or later, and that you always get off scot-free."

"Come, come, Pete," said Barney hastily, "if you've got any grudge against Emory, it's no time to show it now, when we're all in serious trouble. Just lay it aside till we're in smooth water again."

"Well, for your sake, Barney, I suppose I must do what I can for the crowd; but I tell you what, old fellow, it goes awfully against the grain to do anything for that smooth-tongued traitor."

"Come, come, Pete," said Bissell, in his most plausible tone, "if I've offended you in any way I'm ready and willing to make it all right with you. And now tell us, where can you put us for a night and a day?"

"First, I want to know who this stranger is. You'll please to remember that I haven't been introduced to him yet."

"Excuse me, Pete," Barney hastened to say. "It's Bill Bunce, a friend of mine; you've heard me speak of him;" and then he explained how he happened to be with them.

Pete heard him through to the end; then, with some show of interest, he asked:

"Do I understand you to say that that slippery Jew, Jake Klinkhammer, has really passed in his checks at last?"

"Yes, poor Jake got something in his stomach that he couldn't very well digest, and so he was obliged to throw up the sponge."

"The deuce! whose turn will it be next, I wonder? Do you know, Barney, they're after me, hot and heavy, for that little job in the Stony Creek railway station?"

"They are! But they can't fasten anything on to you."

"I don't know about that; they've got half a dozen men on my track, and if they can't find any evidence against me, they'll manufacture some. Leave the hounds alone for that."

"Is it really so bad, Pete?"

"You just bet it is. And, by the way, cap'n, one thing I came out to say is, that for your sake, as well as my own, I daresn't help you land the liquor or store it away to-night."

"Thunder!" exclaimed the captain, "what'll I do, then?"

"I've got two friends – safe fellows, who are working in the quarry as a blind; they'll help you, and do whatever I could do myself."

"Ah! but where are they now?"

"Waiting in my boat-house – you know the spot."

"Yes, where we usually land, ain't it?"

"That's the place."

"Well, is everything clear to get to work now?"

"Yes, I've given my regular attendants the slip to-night, and you can go ahead with your work as soon as you've a-mind to, and I'll go ahead with mine. Now, then, gentlemen, I'm ready to pilot you to a safe place whenever you're ready to accompany me."

"We're ready now," said Barney, with alacrity. "Let's get into the boat without a moment's delay."

"All right, jump in," and Barney quickly clambered over the schooner's gunwale, and slipped down into the boat.

"Are you sure it's safe for us to land – sure there's no one on the lookout for us?" asked Bissell, nervously.

"Sure as I can be of anything," answered Pete. "At any rate, it's safer than it is for you to stay here, so go ahead," and Bissell let himself down into the boat, and was quickly followed by Bill Bunce, Pete himself bringing up in the rear.

"Where's your togs, gentlemen?" asked Pete, looking about the bottom of the boat as he took his seat.

"What we managed to get away with, we've left on board the schooner," answered Barney. "She expects to get to sea to-morrow night, you know, and we thought it wouldn't be worth while to bring anything ashore for so short a time."

"All right, you ought to know best, but I can't fit you all out with clean shirts and collars, understand."

"Oh, don't let that worry you, my good friend," said Bissell, with a good deal of effusion, "we will excuse you, and do very well, I have no doubt."

Clarky remained silent – indeed, he hardly spoke even when Pete addressed him, but worked away at his oar as if his very life depended upon it.

Presently they reached the shore and landed.

Pete addressed a few words to Clarky in a low tone, and then turning to his other companion, said:

"All ready; come on," and at once started up a narrow pathway, at some distance from the main road.

Bissell, with some curiosity, looked back.

He saw Clarky haul the boat well up out of the water and fasten it to a stake. He then saw him start toward a little clump of trees, where the faint outlines of a boat-house could just be seen.

Pete walked on rapidly, and it was all his friends could do to keep up with him.

They kept on in this way for almost half an hour, when they came to what appeared to be a deserted stone-quarry.

Pete now turned to the left, and they skirted this quarry for some distance until they came to a little cluster of huts or shanties, most of them, like the quarry, deserted.

One or two of the shanties were set well back against a side hill, and into the largest of these Pete conducted his companions.

The place contained two good-sized rooms, one a general living-room, and the other a bedroom.

The first was empty, the other occupied, as was evident, when a woman's voice, in querulous tones, demanded to know who was there.

"It's me, Mag," answered Pete. "Don't fret yourself."

"Don't fret myself! You uneasy, restless villain; you're enough to fret a saint. What're you up to at this time o' night, anyway? Why ain't ye at home and in bed, where you ought to be?"

"I've got business to attend to, and some friends to look after; I shall stow them away inside for twenty-four hours. There's plenty of food in there, I suppose?"

"I suppose there is. If there ain't there ought to be, and that's all I know about it."

"And beds fit to sleep on?"

"How many is there with you?"

"Three."

"Then there are beds enough, so that each one can have two. And now will you let me go to sleep, Pete Coffey?"

"Yes, unless you want a little taste of the Bouncing Betsey's West Indian rum."

"The Bouncing Betsey! West Indian rum, eh? Bring it right here, Pete, like a good fellow."

"I'm coming, my dear."

"That's right, come on. Oh! a friend in need is a friend indeed. I was just longing for some good, pure spirits; and now, here you come to me, like an angel of mercy!"

By this time Pete was in the bedroom and had found his way to the side of the bed.

"Where is it, Pete?" asked the old woman, eagerly stretching out her hand.

He handed her one of several bottles the captain had given him just before he had got into his boat.

She uncorked it and placed the nozzle to her lips; then she took a good, long, hearty pull.

"There! let up!" exclaimed Pete, at last.

But it was hard to induce the old gal to take her lips from the bottle after she had once got them fastened to it.

Pete, understanding the situation, waited patiently, and when at length she stopped to breathe, drew the bottle gently away.

She resigned it with a sigh.

"Good-night, Mag. Sorry I can't leave it with you," and Pete returned to those who were modestly waiting in the other room.

CHAPTER XXV.

A SURPRISE PARTY

Pete Coffey now took up a kerosene lamp and some matches, but he did not strike a light.

He dropped down on his knees at the back of the cabin, and ran his hand over the boards.

Presently he shoved one aside, and then another, and another.

"Now, one of you come here," he said.

Barney was quickly at his side.

"Let me aim you right," said Pete, "and then crawl ahead on your hands and knees for at least twenty feet before you rise."

Barney started ahead, doing the "baby act" very creditably.

"Come, Bissell, hurry up," said Pete, impatiently, and dropping down beside him, Bissell endeavored to peer into the black darkness beyond.

"What devil's hole is this?" he asked, suspiciously.

"It may be the devil's hole, as you say," answered Pete. "In fact, I have sometimes thought it was myself. At all events, the devil takes better care of his own in there than I've ever known him to do anywhere else; and so, if you really want to escape your enemies, you'd better be getting in, for I don't propose to fool all my time away on you to-night, I can tell you."

Bissell followed after Barney without another word.

Bill Bunce needed no admonition. He had been familiar with dark holes for the better part of his life, and had a particularly friendly feeling for them, and so he followed on after Bissell, keeping close behind him.

Pete, as soon as there was room for him to do so, entered the hole, and having carefully replaced the boards he had slipped aside, lighted his lamp, and holding it up to the roof of the low tunnel, cast its rays ahead, so that Barney could see when it was safe for him to rise.

"Ah!" exclaimed Barney, starting to his feet, "this is something like a hiding place."

The rays of Pete's light had shown him an extensive cavern, hollowed out of the granite rock, of which all that portion of the New England coast is composed.

Speedily he was joined by his companions, and a hasty examination of the chamber took place.

It was large enough to contain twenty or thirty men, and there were accommodations for at least a dozen. The place was also supplied with edibles, and Pete hinted that there was something stronger than water stowed away in one dark recess, "of which, thank God, old Mag knew nothing."

"If she did, I reckon it wouldn't be there long," laughed Barney.

"That's it, the old gal hasn't many failings, but one of 'em is an over-fondness for hard stuff."

After some time spent in talking over the situation, Pete intimated that the travelers might like to get a little rest, and said he would go out and reconnoiter.

The lamp had been placed on a projecting piece of rock that served as a shelf, and with only his knowledge of the place to guide him, Pete started for the entrance.

He could not have had more than time enough to reach the cabin, when the sound of excited voices came back to the fugitives through the tunnel, which served the purpose of a speaking tube.

"Seized? the Bouncing Betsey seized? By whom, in the demon's name?"

It was Pete who asked the question, there could be no doubt of that.

"Yes, Pete, she was taken in less than twenty minutes after you left her," answered another voice.

"That's the fellow he called Clarky," whispered Bissell to his companions.

The others nodded.

"But by whom – by whom was she taken?" demanded Pete, impatiently.

"Revenue officers; and there are three or four detectives with them."

"The deuce! this looks black."

"I guess you'll think so when you know the rest."

"What is the rest? Tell me without any further loss of time."

"Those detectives are sharper than the devil; they went through everything on board the schooner in less than no time, and it didn't take 'em long to find the passengers' duds."

"Ah! I thought it might come to that. Blamed fools, they ought to have brought 'em ashore. But did they recognize 'em?"

"You just bet they did. There was a bean-pole sort of a fellow among 'em, and he says, says he, 'These things belong to Barney Hawks; he wore 'em the night after Margaret Ernst was murdered. And those belong to Bill Bunce; he had 'em on in his saloon the day of the fight there.' 'And these,' said another old fellow, 'are Emory Bissell's: see, here's his name; there's no getting away from that.'"

"Thunder and blazes!" hissed Bissell, "why were we such confounded fools as to leave such evidence of our presence on board the schooner?"

"Simply because we are confounded fools," returned Barney; "nothing more or less. But listen: let us know the worst."

"Come, do get out o' here, an' let an old woman get a little sleep. Into the cavern with you, or outdoors – I don't care which."

It was evident Pete and Clarky had been joined by old Mag.

"Wait a minute, Mag, and then we'll be off," said Pete, in a conciliatory tone. "Have the detectives any idea, Clarky, where the fugitives have gone to?"

"Can't say as to that; but I tell you that thin fellow is an awful knowing chap."

"But, see here, man, how comes it that you know so much about the matter? Did you go aboard the schooner again?"

"Yes, I took those bottles up to the boathouse and hid them as you told me; then I had a few words to say to our boys there, when the cap'n came ashore and wanted us all to help him land his goods, so I took a hand and went aboard with him. Then the officers came, and as soon as I could I slipped out to let you know what was in the wind."

"Come into the cavern, we must talk this over with Barney and his friends," and a little later they were heard crawling through the passage.

The first question Bissell put when they had joined them was:

"Is there any one living who knows of the existence of this place who would give the knowledge away to the detectives?"

"Not one," answered Pete, promptly.

"Then, as the schooner is taken," said Bissell, "we must stay here till you get a chance to ship us on board some other West Indian craft."

"That won't work, so far as Pete is concerned," put in Clarky, abruptly.

"Why not?"

"He is to be arrested to-night himself."

"How do you know?"

"Heard it talked up. They've found out that Way was killed in the station while he was in the act of sending off a telegraph message, that he was struck down from behind, then robbed, and his body placed on the track to be mutilated; they have also found out that Pete was around the station at about that time, with some others, and so they are going to take him, and I reckon if it don't turn out a swinging affair for him, he will at least get boarding accommodations up the river for the rest of his life."

"Hum, it does look a little that way, by Jove!" muttered Pete.

"Well, then," said Bissell, "Pete must stay here with us, and we must depend on you, Clarky, to help us out when the time comes."

"On me? By thunder! I don't know but – "

"But that you are in as bad a box as the rest, eh, young man?"

It was a calm and matter-of-fact voice that uttered these words, and every man in the cavern sprung to his feet as he heard them, with exclamations of consternation on his lips.

Then they saw the tall, thin form of Old Spicer towering over them, and just behind him, four or five more detectives, all thoroughly armed and ready for business!

CHAPTER XXVI.

CONCLUSION

"Take it quietly, gentlemen, I beg," said Old Spicer, in his usual tones. "The jig's up. I acknowledge that you have shown a good deal of skill and made us some trouble; but we've got you now, like so many rats in a trap."

"By Jove! you shall never take me alive, Mark Spicer," exclaimed Bissell, fiercely.

"Very well, I shall take you dead, then, Emory Bissell," was the calm reply. "For, above all, you must not escape. God alone can calculate the evil you have done. You have brought ruin and death upon Charley Way, you have made a miserable woman of his widow for life, you have corrupted and involved in the general ruin Pete Coffey here, and many of his associates, you are responsible for the Ernst murder and for the blasted lives of Henry Chamberlain and Frank Taylor."

"And you'd better add," interrupted Bissell, with savage glee, "that I have had my reward in the knowledge that I have brought eternal misery on one that I'll never name, who has an interest in Hen Chamberlain, and who, with me and one or two others, alone knows the mystery of his life."

"That triumph will yet turn to gall in your memory," said Old Spicer, sternly. "And now surrender quietly, for we have much to do to-night. Seth, you and George go forward and put on the bracelets. If any one of them makes a hostile demonstration we'll shoot him on the spot."

Seth Strickett and George Morgan stepped forward.

"Barney – Bill Bunce – Pete – Clarky, will you be taken and strung up like so many slaughtered hogs? Stand by me, now, and fight to the death!" and whipping out a revolver, he fired point-blank at Old Spicer's heart.

But the attenuated detective was not a very good mark for a weak and excited man to aim at, and so the ball sped by, and the next instant a howl went up, as though all the witches of Macbeth were yelling in concert.

"I'm killed – I'm murdered – I'm done for! Oh, Lord! just let me get at the villain that fired that shot and I'll tear his heart out!" Then, with another yell, Old Mag dashed forward, and with the blood streaming from a wound in her breast, threw herself upon Bissell.

Barney and his friends seeing the confusion, now attempted to escape.

The attempt was useless. But their blood was up and they made a hard fight for it. Pistol reports echoed and re-echoed through the vaulted cavern, and to one standing by it would have seemed as though two regiments were fighting.

At length it was over, and Old Spicer, who, fortunately, had escaped uninjured, began to sum up the results.

Emory Bissell was dead – killed by old Mag, who lay gasping out her life by his side.

Barney Hawks was also dead; no less than three bullets had entered his body, any one of which would have finished him.

Bill Bunce was severely wounded and a prisoner.

Pete Coffey and Clarky surrendered when they saw there was no use in holding out longer.

On the side of the law, one local officer was killed and another badly wounded. Adam Killett and Seth Stricket were also slightly hurt.