Part 11 (1/2)

That new Swede chambermaid walks right in an' ketches me at my delicate tasks.

”Always retainin' my calm presence of mind and coolness in emergencies, quick to think an' as ready to act, with an undaunted bravery I sprang at the girl's throat and hissed, 'How much will it take to silence your accursed tongue?' She draws her slight girlish figure up to its full height--'Ten thousand dollars!' she hissed back at me. 'Ten thousand devils!' I cried, hoa.r.s.e with rage--”

Too palpably our hero had been overwhelmed by his pa.s.sion for fict.i.tious prose narrative.

”Hold on, Billy!--back up,” broke in Solon. ”This is business, you know--this isn't an Old Cap' Collyer tale.”

”Well, anyway,” resumed Billy, a little abashed, ”I silenced the girl. I threatened to have her transported for life if she breathed a word.

Mebbe she didn't suspect anything after all. Tilly ain't so very bright.

So at length I continues my researches into every nook and cranny of the den, and jest as I was about to abandon the trail, baffled and beaten at every turn, what should I git but an idee to look at some papers lyin'

in plain sight on the table at the head of the bed.”

”Well, out with it!” I thought Solon was growing a little impatient. But Billy controlled the situation with a firm hand.

”It's an old trick,” he continued, ”one that's fooled many a better man than Billy Durgin--leavin' the dockaments carelessly exposed like they didn't amount to anything; but havin' the well-known tenacity of a bloodhound, I was not to be thwarted. Well--to make a long story short--”

Solon brightened wonderfully.

”I have to admit that my first suspicion was incorrect. He ain't the one that done that Lima, Ohio, job and carried off them eight hundred dollars' worth of stamps--”

”But what _did_ he do?”

”Well, I got a clew to another past of his--”

”What is it? Let's have it!”

Billy was still not to be driven faster than a detective story should move.

We heard, and dimly saw, him engaged with a metallic object which he drew from under his coat. We were silent. Then we heard him say:--

”My lamp's went out--_darn_ these matches!”

At last he seemed to light something. He unfolded a bit of paper before us and triumphantly across its surface he directed the rays of a bull's-eye lantern. This was his climax. We studied the paper.

”Billy,” said Solon, after a pause, ”this looks like a good night's work. True, it may come to naught. We may still be baffled, foiled, thwarted at every turn--and yet something tells me that the man is in our power--that by this precious paper we may yet bring the scoundrel to his knees in prayers for our mercy, craven with fear at our knowledge.”

”Say,” said Billy, stung to admiration by this flow of the right sort of talk, ”Mr. Denney, did you ever read 'Little Rosebud, or is Beauty a Curse to a Poor Girl?' That sounded just like the detective in that--you remember--where he's talkin' to Clarence Armytage just after he's overheard the old lawyer tell Mark Vinton, the villain, 'If this child lives, you are a beggar!' Remember that?”

”Why, no, Billy. I must get that, first thing in the morning. My tribute to your professional skill was wholly spontaneous, though perhaps a shade influenced by having listened to your own graphic style. But come, men! Let us separate and be off, ere we are discovered. And mind, not a word of this. One false step might ruin all! So have a care.”

It must have been one of the few perfect moments in the life of Billy.

”You may rely upon William Durgin to the bitter end,” said he, with a quiet dignity. ”But there is work yet ahead for me to-night.

”I got to regain my hotel un.o.bserved. My life is not safe a moment with my every step dogged by the hired a.s.sa.s.sins of that infamous scoundrel.”

”If death or disaster come to you, Billy, you shall not be unavenged. We swear it here on this spot. _Swear_, Cal!”