Chapter XII: Run to Cover

There was a scene of furious excitement in the hotel dining-room, and during the confusion, Clara La Croix made her escape.

Among the guests who had been dining was a physician who ran to Harry's aid and made a rapid examination of his wound.

To the many anxious, pale-faced spectators who gathered round, he said:

"Don't be alarmed. It's a mere flesh wound and will soon heal up."

"Isn't he dead?" demanded a gentleman in a dress-suit, anxiously.

"No. Simply fainted from the shock on his system."

"He's evidently a detective."

"Yes, sir, and his assailant is a criminal. Waiter, get me some water--a sponge--bandages, and some linament. I'll bandage this wound and stop the bleeding."

While the doctor was busy working over the unconscious boy, the hotel detective and a policeman came running in and got the details.

They hastened away and scoured the hotel in quest of La Croix.

That worthy had gone to his wife's room.

Garbed in one of her bonnets, veils and dresses, he descended in the elevator and swiftly got away from the Waldorf, undetected.

His wife and daughter followed as rapidly as possible.

Meantime Harry recovered.

The doctor brought him home in a carriage.

Old King Brady was at home and got the particulars.

His rage knew no bounds when Harry explained all, after the doctor's departure, and he cried bitterly:

"That villain has caused us more trouble than any other criminal we ever attempted to run down. I'll even matters up with him. Had you not retreated just when you did, that knife would surely have killed you."

"I'll be laid up a few days, the doctor said," replied Harry, "but I'll soon get over it. If I ever meet La Croix again, I won't have any mercy on him. He's a bad man."

The boy then went to bed.

A week afterward, Old King Brady met Harry at police headquarters, and the boy saw by the look of triumph on his face that he had good news.

"How are you feeling to-day?" he asked the boy.

"Fine. My wound don't bother me at all."

"I've been working hard, Harry."

"So I imagine, as I haven't seen anything of you since yesterday."

"La Croix's four spies have arrived in town."

"What! Come from Canada?"

"Yes. I saw them going up Broadway in a bunch, to-day."

"Why didn't you arrest them?"

"Couldn't. Had my hands full at the time."

"Of what?"

"Mrs. La Croix."

"Did you catch her?"

"Yes. Shopping in Twenty-third street."

"Good enough."

"She's locked up now. I've changed my plans."

"How?"

"Well, I think we've made a great mistake in allowing those women their liberty, hoping they would lead us to Paul La Croix's hiding place. My new plan is this: To yank every one of them in, the moment we catch them."

Harry pondered over the proposition a few moments.

As a fact, he did not fancy such a summary proceeding. He firmly believed that using the different members of the gang as a bait to trap the others was the most efficient method of acting.

However, Old King Brady was getting impatient over the slow progress they were making to arrest the smugglers. His plan would show a quick result. That's what he wanted.

The boy, therefore, did not contradict him.

"Any way you say," he replied, presently.

"I'm following out my idea now," said the old detective, as he took a chew of tobacco. "The moment I saw Mrs. La Croix, I grabbed her."

"She protested, of course?"

"Vigorously. But I locked her up just the same."

"Couldn't you get any information out of her about the rest?"

"No. She wouldn't say a word."

"Acts like an old offender."

"Exactly. Her husband and daughter must be somewhere about the city. I suppose La Croix sent for the spies. He may have use for them, else they wouldn't be here. I only hope he hasn't disposed of any of those stones yet."

"And I've sent a warning to all jewelers, pawnbrokers and dealers in gems, not to handle La Croix's gems under penalty of the law. I've offered them a reward for the smuggler's arrest. The villain is bound to keep shady now. He must know the danger he is in. He's a very foxy Frenchman," said Harry.

"I wish I could find out where the woman lives."

"Nothing easier," said Harry.

"Don't you fool yourself. She won't confess."

"I don't expect she will."

"Then how am I to find out?"

"You said she was shopping in Twenty-third street?"

"I caught her coming out of Sterns' store."

"What's more likely than that she made some purchases and ordered the things sent home?"

Old King Brady's face brightened.

He had not thought of her leaving her address.

"Your idea is all right!" he exclaimed.

"Of course it is. It only has one drawback."

"And what's that?"

"She may have given a fictitious name."

"True. But she favors the name of Marie Savoy."

"It wouldn't do any harm to try asking for it."

"Come with me and see what we can do."

They left headquarters and hastened to the big dry goods store.

Going to the delivery department they asked the head clerk if he had anything on his books to be delivered to either Mrs. La Croix or Savoy.

A short search of the record elicited this response:

"I've got twenty yards of dress goods to be delivered to Mrs. M.P. Savoy."

"Bought a couple of hours ago?" asked Old King Brady.

"About that."

"Where are you going to deliver it?"

"At No. 160 Bleecker street."

"That's all."

"Anything wrong about it?"

"No. It's paid for, ain't it?"

"Yes."

"What time are you going to deliver the parcel?"

"Our wagon ought to reach there about five o'clock."

Old King Brady thanked him and they departed, leaving the clerk looking very much mystified over their peculiar actions.

The Bradys went to the Bleecker street address and saw that it was one of a row of old-fashioned brick houses with green blinds.

There was an ornamental iron stoop in front, and a furnished room sign hanging in one of the windows.

"Shall we go in?" asked Harry, hesitatingly.

"No. Wait for the wagon. We can then see who comes to the door. I presume they only have furnished rooms here."

"It's a poor neighborhood."

"So much the better for their purpose, perhaps."

They entered a saloon on the corner and took up a position where they could watch the house over the window screen.

They had not been there long before Harry caught view of two familiar figures coming down the street and called his partner's attention to them.

"Here comes two of La Croix's spies!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, and they are going into the house," muttered Old King Brady.

"That clinches our doubts. He surely must live there."

"No doubt of it. It's a strange servant admitting them. She's a mulatto."

The men disappeared in the house.

An hour passed by uneventfully.

Then Sterns' wagon came along and Old King Brady said hastily:

"When that driver rings, we must force our way in."

"Hurry up, then!"

Running across the street they arrived just in time to go up the stoop with the driver, and when he rang, the colored girl answered the bell.

"Mrs. Savoy live here?" demanded the driver, who had a bundle.

"Yes," replied the girl. "Parcel for her?"

"Here it is."

He handed it over and went away.

"Is the lady in?" Old King Brady asked the girl.

"No, sir. But her daughter is."

"We'd like to see her on important business."

"Come inside, if you please."

She ushered them into the parlor and asked:

"What name?"

"The Bradys."

"Wait here, sir."

She left the room and they silently followed her.

Pushing open the door of the back parlor the girl said:

"Miss Savoy--the Bradys--"

"At your service!" added Harry.

And they strode into the room where Clara La Croix sat.