Part 38 (2/2)

The sixth man of the party, who was the next to get upon his feet, had the stamp of prison life all over him. His face bespoke the pallor which is acquired in no other place in the world, and the vicious, s.h.i.+fty, sneaking gleam in his eyes spoke well of the craftiness which is the result of long confinement under the domination of brutal guards and turnkeys.

So recently had he escaped from prison, apparently, that his hair was still cropped short to his skull, and one almost expected when looking at him to see the stripes of prison garb upon him.

”I am Joe Cuthbert,” he said slowly, in a tone so low that it could scarcely be heard. ”I wouldn't have come here to-night at all if I hadn't been a.s.sured on the level that it would be perfectly safe to do so. I don't think there is any one of you in this room except Madge herself who knows me, but you will all hear from me later on as sure as I'm alive and can escape arrest.

”You may have been told since you came here that I have just escaped from prison, or if you haven't been told it, and know how to read, you have probably seen the rewards for my recapture. You will know, too, that I was sent up for croaking another chap, or, as they call it in the courts, for murder. I want you all to know that I served eight years.

Eight years of h.e.l.l, and that I've come out of there with the determination of getting square with the man that sent me up. That man was Nick Carter; and that's all I've got to say.”

There was a moment of utter silence after this announcement, which had in it many of the elements of the dramatic.

There was not a person in that room who had not seen the inside of a prison, and many of them had served as many as four years, while others had been in prison many times for short terms.

But to have just escaped from prison after having been confined for eight long years seemed to them the climax of the possibilities of hatred.

But the moment pa.s.sed, and Madge fixed her eyes upon the seventh of the group, who slowly rose to his feet and said:

”After what we've just heard, Madge, it doesn't seem that anything that I can say can add to the intensity of feeling that pervades this distinguished a.s.sembly. I regard it as quite an honor to be among those who know so well how to hate. As for me, I have also been inside a prison, to which this man Nick Carter sent me. I had been mixed up in a little diamond robbery from one of the big firms in this town. I don't know but maybe some of you heard about it; it was called the taking of the pear-shaped diamonds, and at the time that happened I was in love with a very beautiful girl, and was outwardly leading a very respectable life. It's enough for me to say now that when the exposure that followed Nick Carter's investigation of that case, and through it the exposure of all my previous criminal record, which before that time I had been able to conceal, the girl went back on me, and would have nothing more to do with me. Now she is married to another man, and while I don't blame her any, I do blame the man that exposed me, and if any of you people that are gathered here can help me in getting square with him I'll be eternally grateful. My name is Eugene Maxwell.”

There was only one other individual left in this collection who had not as yet spoken, and now, although Madge fixed her eyes instantly upon him, he remained in his chair as he was, with immovable, sphinxlike countenance and gloomy eyes. He was a tall, spare, rather well-dressed figure, when he rose at last in reply to her spoken request, and he stood, half leaning upon a cane which he held in his two hands, and bent a little toward her as he spoke.

”I haven't any name, so far as anybody knows,” he said slowly, and with distinct and deliberate enunciation. ”It has pleased my friends always to bestow a t.i.tle upon me. Until to-night I have always worked alone, and have rarely made myself known to any of the inhabitants of the underworld, and if any of you here have ever happened to be told about The Parson, you will know who I am.”

There was a distinct stir in the room when he uttered this name or t.i.tle, for The Parson had always been more or less a mystery, and one that was much envied by thieves generally. He was a confidence man of the higher type; the sort of man who would go into strange cities or villages or communities, and represent himself to be a professional man; sometimes a minister; sometimes a priest; again a rabbi; and it was his graft to solicit and collect contributions for charitable purposes upon forged recommendations and letters which he had prepared in advance.

His success in this line had been enormous, and his work had always been done in the dark and alone, until six years before this particular occasion, having done it once too often, Nick Carter had trailed him down and captured him.

He continued:

”I was always very successful in my line of graft until Nick Carter got after me, and while I didn't get quite so long a term as our friend Cuthbert, I was sent up for five years, and served four years and three months of it. I want to say to you now that every night and every morning of my life during those four years and three months I cursed Nick Carter and everybody and everything that belonged to him. That's why I'm here. I take part in this little scheme that Madge has concocted to down that fellow with the greatest pleasure I have ever known. If you should happen to be in want of funds any time----”

”I'll supply the funds,” interrupted Madge.

”All the same, if you should happen to be in want of funds at any time, all you've got to do is to whisper it to The Parson and I'll put my hand down in my pocket and supply the dollars, for I've got a few left, and I know where there are a lot more to be obtained.”

He resumed his seat slowly, rested his chin upon the head of his cane between his hands, and the gloomy look came over his face again like a mask.

And now Madge stood up behind the table, resting her hands upon it, and leaning a little bit forward as she spoke.

”I'm a proud woman, my friends,” she said. ”I'm a young woman, too, being not yet twenty-four, and a good hater. I am part Spanish and part French. I was raised in Paris, and learned all that I know about my business over there. The first time that I ever saw Nick Carter in my life was in the office of the Prefecture of Police in the room of the Chief of the Secret Service. I was seventeen years old at the time when the chief had sent for me to question me about the death of a woman which had occurred in the house where I lived on the floor above me, and about which, fortunately, I knew absolutely nothing.

”But Nick Carter came into the chief's office while I was there. I had only a fleeting glance of him at the time. I left the room almost as soon as he entered it. I did not see him again for five years, at which time he came in disguise to the thieves' headquarters where I was staying. I recognized him that time by his eyes, but nevertheless he captured me and sent me to jail.

”I escaped from that jail before I came to trial, and did it through the help of my friends. Somewhat later than that he hunted me down a second time, but I escaped, and I have sworn now to be even with him, and that is why I have brought you here together. You will please to stand up now, raise your right hands, and repeat after me in taking the oath of The Band of Hatred.”

CHAPTER XX.

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS.

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