Part 35 (1/2)
”By Jingo! I believe I hurt myself.”
He rolled up his sleeve, and saw a furrow of red in his muscular forearm. It was bleeding, but as he wiped it with his handkerchief he was relieved to find that it was a mere flesh wound.
”If Shepard had hit the right instead of the left--I would have been left in the discard,” he said, with grim humor. ”Can you help me tie it up for now. This means another scolding from Doctor MacFarland, I suppose.”
”It means that you've more evidence of the need for putting a tiger out of danger!”
The coroner was called, and the statements of the policemen were made.
The Captain, with Burke and several men, deployed through the back yard to the other house, leaving the grewsome duty of removing the body to the coroner. The two waiting automobiles on the rear street were crowded with policemen, as Sawyer ordered the chauffeur to drive speedily to the headquarters of the Purity League.
”We must clean out that hole, as we did this one!” muttered Sawyer.
”You go for Trubus, Burke, with one of the men, while I will take the rest and close in on their 'Mercantile' office downstairs. We'll put that slave market out of business in three minutes.”
They were soon on Fifth Avenue. The elevators carried the policemen up to the third floor, and they sprang into the offices of the ”Mercantile a.s.sociation” with little ado.
The small, wan man who sat at the desk was just in the act of sniffing a cheering potion of cocaine as the head of Captain Sawyer appeared through the door. With a quick movement the lookout pressed two b.u.t.tons. One of them resulted in a metallic click in the door of the strong iron grating. The other rang a warning bell inside the private office of John Clemm.
Sawyer pushed and shoved at the grilled barrier, but it was safely locked with a strong, secret bolt.
”Open this, or I'll shoot!” exclaimed the irate Captain.
”You can't get in there. We're a lawful business concern,” replied the little man, squirming toward the door which led to the big waiting room. ”Where's your search warrant. I know the law, and you police can't fool me.”
”This is my search warrant!” exclaimed Sawyer, as he sent a bullet cras.h.i.+ng into the wall, purposely aiming a foot above the lookout's head. ”Quick, open this door. The next shot won't miss!”
There was a sound of overturned chairs and cries of alarm inside the door. The little man felt that he had sounded his warning and lived up to his duty. Had he completed that sniffing of the ”koke,” he would doubtless have been stimulated to enough pseudo-courage to face the entire Police Department single-handed--as long as the thrill of the drug lasted. A majority of the desperate deeds performed by the criminals in New York, so medical examinations have proved, are carried on under the stimulus of this fearful poison, which can be obtained with comparative ease throughout the city.
But the lookout was deprived of his drug. He even endeavored to take a sniff as the captain and his men shoved and shook the iron work of the grating.
”Drop it!” cried Sawyer, pulling the trigger again and burying another bullet in the plaster.
”Oh, oh! Don't shoot!” cried the lookout weakly. He trembled as he advanced to the grating and removed the emergency bolt.
”Grab him!” cried Sawyer to one of his men. ”Come with me, fellows.”
He rushed into the waiting room. There consternation reigned. Fully a dozen pensioners of the ”system” of traffic in souls were struggling to escape through the barred windows in the rear. These bars had been placed as they were to resist the invaders from the outside. John Clemm's system of defense was extremely ingenious. In time of trouble he had not deemed the inmates of the middle room worth protecting--his purpose was to exclude with the iron grating and the barred windows the possible entry of raiders.
Three revolvers were on the floor. Their owners had wisely discarded them to avoid the penalty of the concealed weapon law, for they had realized that they were trapped.
”Open that door!” cried Sawyer, who had learned the arrangement of the rooms from Burke's description.
Two men pushed at the door, which was securely locked. They finally caught up the nearest church pew, and, using it as a battering ram, they succeeded in smas.h.i.+ng the heavy oaken panels. The door had been barricaded with a cross bar. As they cautiously peered in through the forced opening they saw the room empty and the window open.
”He's escaped!” exclaimed Sawyer.
Just then a call from the outer vestibule reached his ears.
”I've caught the go-between, Captain. Here's Mr. John Clemm, the executive genius of this establishment,” sung out Burke, who was standing inside the door with the rueful fat man wearing the handcuffs.
”Where did you get him, Burke?”