Chapter XI: Subduing a Tartar

Old King Brady had gone ahead in an effort to find out what had become of Paul La Croix.

Reaching the street he accosted a man at the door with the question:

"Did you see a thin man with a black moustache, a high hat, and frock coat come out of here in a hurry a few moments ago?"

"Yes, sir. He got in a cab and rode away."

"Did you notice the sort of cab it was?"

"I did. Do you know Pork Chops, the negro hackman?"

"Oh, yes."

"Well, it was his rig."

"Which way did they go?"

"In the direction of the railroad depot."

Thanking his informant, the old detective hastened away convinced that the fugitive was going out of Niagara by rail.

When he reached the depot he described La Croix and asked where he had gone.

"That's none of your business," growled the surly ticket agent.

"Oh, isn't it?" queried the detective, blandly.

"No!" shouted the man, "and I'll not tell you."

"It wouldn't hurt you to be polite and accommodating, would it?"

"I ain't here to keep inquisitive people posted about our passengers."

"That's a fact," assented Old King Brady, "but I have an urgent reason for wishing to know where that man went."

"I don't care anything about your private reasons. If you don't want to buy a ticket, get away from that window and don't annoy me."

"Very well," meekly answered the detective.

He thereupon stepped through the door into the agent's office, and the man scowled, and glared at him and roared:

"What in thunder do you want in here, anyway?"

"I've come in to arrest you," quietly answered the old detective, as he showed his badge. "I'm a detective, as you can plainly see, and the man I inquired about is a fugitive smuggler. As you are aiding him to escape, by withholding the information I want, you must be an accessory of his. As such, you'll have to go to jail!"

The man wilted.

All his lordly, overbearing manners vanished.

Turning as pale as death and trembling like an aspen, he gasped tremulously:

"For pity's sake don't lock me up. I didn't know the circumstances."

"You're an unmannerly dog."

"I know it, sir. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"Promise me to act more civilly in future."

"Yes. Yes. Certainly I shall."

"Then I'll let you go. Let this be a lesson to you. Now, where did he go?"

"He bought a ticket to New York."

"Why didn't you save all this bother by saying so in the first place?"

"I--I--I don't know," stammered the fellow in subdued tones.

Giving him a look of contempt, Old King Brady purchased a ticket for New York, and said in angry tones:

"For two pins I'd notify the company what a brute you are, and have a gentleman put here in your place."

And with this rebuke he departed.

He went to a telegraph office and flashed a message to the authorities of various stations along the line to New York, asking them to hold La Croix if they caught him on the cars.

He had to wait an hour for a train to Buffalo, and sent Harry a message telling where he was going.

Finally he was carried away in his train.

The old detective stopped off at every station to which he telegraphed, but in every instance he received the same answer, that nothing was seen of a man answering La Croix's description.

That set the detective thinking.

"La Croix was probably keen-witted enough to suspect that we would find his trail and pursue him. In order to conceal his identity he has doubtless disguised himself and thus passed through unrecognized. He has got to dispose of that big lot of diamonds yet. Carrying such a huge amount will of course attract a great deal of attention. Therefore it should be an easy matter to find out where he is operating when he reaches New York."

On the following day Old King Brady reached the city.

He instituted inquiries about La Croix at once in the jewelry district, but no one seemed to have seen him yet.

That did not worry Old King Brady.

He was too astute a man to be discouraged by a trifling rebuff.

"The villain is keeping shady," was the conclusion he arrived at. "He is going to let the fuss blow over before he exposes his stock. Very foxy, no doubt, but I'm bound to land on him sooner or later."

He did not relax his hunt.

Nor did he let on to the authorities that he was in town again.

He believed in the golden principle of keeping his business to himself until it became absolutely necessary to disclose it.

Two days later Harry joined him at their joint lodgings.

Young King Brady told how he had tracked Mrs. La Croix and her daughter to swell apartments in the luxurious Waldorf.

Here the pair had taken up their abode under the fictitious name of Mrs. Marie P. Savoy and daughter.

The Bradys conjectured that it would not take them long to let La Croix know of their whereabouts.

They therefore carefully shadowed the big hotel.

Nearly a week passed by and one rainy night while Harry was on watch, under an umbrella, across the street from the hotel, he saw a hansom cab dash up to the door, and a man looking like La Croix alighted and hastily made his way into the building on the Thirty-fourth street side.

"La Croix, as sure as fate!" the boy muttered, hastily crossing the street.

He was heading for the glass portico, when he happened to glance into the spacious dining-room and saw the girl smuggler at supper.

Young King Brady paused and watched her.

Presently a waiter approached her with a card on a salver.

She glanced at it, said something to the man, and while he hastened away, she resumed her supper in a leisurely manner.

There were many fashionable guests in the room.

In a few moments Harry saw her father approach her smilingly, and sit down at the same table with her.

"Now is my time to nab him!" muttered Harry.

He ran into the hotel without ceremony, and making his way to the door of the dining-room, he paid no heed to the servants who offered to take his hat, mackintosh and umbrella.

In he dashed, his queer actions causing the guests to look up at him in astonishment, and he headed for La Croix.

The Frenchman had a big carving knife in his hand with which he was going to cut a steak instead of allowing the waiter to do it.

Harry's hand fell upon his shoulder.

"La Croix, you are my prisoner!" he exclaimed.

A hoarse cry escaped the smuggler and he became excited as he noticed that most every one in the room overheard the remark.

Clara gave a suppressed shriek and sprang to her feet.

Quick to recover his composure the Frenchman put on his eyeglasses, stared at Harry coolly from head to foot, and exclaimed:

"Young man, haf you not mek a meestake?"

"No, indeed!" replied the boy, resolutely. "You are my man all right."

"Why, sair, I don't know you. I nevair saw you before een my life."

"Come--come. You can't cheek it out that way, La Croix."

"Monsieur, please let go my arm or I have ze vatairs throw you out of here!"

Harry's patience became exhausted.

He did not intend to mince matters, so he said:

"You stop your humbug and come with me, or I'll pull you out of here by the neck, do you understand me?"

He took a firm grip on his man with one hand and drew a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket with the other.

Seeing he could not brave the matter out, and fearing lest the boy would attempt to handcuff him, the Frenchman wrenched himself free.

"You geet avay!" he hissed.

"Not without you!" retorted Harry, pluckily.

And he rushed forward to grasp the villain again.

By this time La Croix had become frantic with desperation.

Seeing the boy coming, he drew back the big carving knife with a quick motion and aimed a blow at the boy, shouting in the meantime:

"Zen take zat!"

The deadly blade leaped toward Harry's breast.

He tried to avoid it by leaping back, but was too late.

The knife struck him and the point pierced his side.

A sudden cry of agony escaped Young King Brady, and he flung up his hands and pitched over upon the floor.

Nearly every one in the room having had their attention attracted toward the pair had witnessed the tragedy.

Men turned pale and leaped to their feet, women shrieked and fainted, and some of the bolder waiters rushed at the Frenchman to disarm and capture him.

La Croix brandished the knife.

"I keel ze fairst man who touch me!" he yelled.

Dashing out of the room, he rushed upstairs and flourished the knife at his pursuers. He swore at every step and threatened to run the blade into the first man who got within his reach.

That cowed the crowd and he disappeared on the floor above.