Part 27 (1/2)

”Oh yes, some time before she arrived.”

”I thought so,” was Preston's reply, and, thanking the girl, he wandered back to the hotel--convinced that he had solved at least one of the mysteries, the question of what Gerard did with his surplus ”bankrupt stock.” It was evidently packed in trunks and s.h.i.+pped to distant points, to be forwarded by the Vaughan woman upon instructions from Gerard himself. The wires he had torn up were merely confirmatory messages, sent so that he would have the necessary information before making a getaway.

”Clever scheme, all right,” was Hal's mental comment. ”Now the next point is to find some town in the Southwest where a new store has been opened within the past two months.”

That night the telegraph office at Mount Clemens did more business than it had had for the past year. Wires, under the government frank, went out to every town on the Atchinson, Topeka & Santa Fe and to a number of adjacent cities. In each case the message was the same:

Wire name of any new clothing store opened within past two months. Also description of proprietor. Urgent.

PRESTON, U. S. P. I. S.

Fourteen chiefs of police replied within the next forty-eight hours, but of these only two--Leavenworth and Fort Worth--contained descriptions which tallied with that of Henry Gerard.

So, to facilitate matters, Preston sent another wire:

Has proprietor mentioned in yesterday's wire a wife or woman friend who keeps white mice as pets?

Fort Worth replied facetiously that the owner of the new store there was married, but that his wife had a cat--which might account for the absence of the mice. Leavenworth, however, came back with:

Yes, Mrs. n.o.ble, wife of owner of Outlet Store, has white mice for pets. Why?

Never mind reason [Preston replied]. Watch n.o.ble and wife until I arrive. Leaving to-day.

Ten minutes after reaching Leavenworth Preston was ensconced in the office of the chief of police, outlining the reason for his visit.

”I'm certain that n.o.ble is the man you want,” said the chief, when Hal had finished. ”He came here some six weeks or more ago and at once leased a store, which he opened a few days later. The description fits him to a T, except for the fact that he's evidently dispensed with the mustache. The Vaughan woman is posing as his wife and they've rented a house on the outskirts of town. What do you want me to do? Nab 'em right away?”

”No,” directed the operative. ”I'd rather attend to that myself, if you don't object. After trailing them this far, I'd like to go through with it. You might have some men handy, though, in case there's any fuss.”

Just as Mr. and Mrs. C. K. n.o.ble were sitting down to dinner there was a ring at their front-door bell and n.o.ble went to see who it was.

”I'd like to speak to Mr. H. Gordon Fowler,” said Preston, his hand resting carelessly in the side pocket of his coat.

”No Mr. Fowler lives here,” was the growling reply from the inside.

”Then Mr. W. C. Evans or Mr. Henry Gerard will do!” snapped the operative, throwing his shoulder against the partly opened door.

n.o.ble--or Fowler, as he was afterward known--stepped aside as Hal plunged through, and then slammed the door behind him.

”Get him, Anna!” he called, throwing the safety bolt into position.

The next thing that Preston knew, a pair of arms, bare and feminine but strong as iron, had seized him around the waist and he was in imminent danger of being bested by a woman. With a heave and a wriggling twist he broke the hold and turned, just in time to see Fowler s.n.a.t.c.h a revolver from a desk on the opposite side of the room and raise it into position.

Without an instant's hesitation he leaped to one side, dropped his hand into his coat pocket, and fired. Evidently the bullet took effect, for the man across the room dropped his gun, spun clean around and then sank to the floor. As he did so, however, the woman hurled a heavy vase directly at Preston's head and the operative sank unconscious.

”Well, go on!” I snapped, when Quinn paused. ”You sound like a serial story--to be continued in our next. What happened then?”

”Nothing--beyond the fact that three policemen broke in some ten seconds after Hal fired, grabbed Mrs. Vaughan or whatever her name was, and kept her from beating Hal to death, as she certainly would have done in another minute. Fowler wasn't badly hurt. In fact, both of them stood trial the next spring--Fowler drawing six years and Anna Vaughan one.