Shadow, the Mysterious Detective/Chapter 9
CHAPTER IX.
IN THE BLACK HOLE.
Where had Shadow gone to?
At the instant that the murderous crew rushed at him, he quietly sank to the floor.
The first one to reach the spot where he had been standing struck his body.
The cry of surprise on his lips was changed into a death-groan, as the man nearest him grabbed at and stabbed him, under the impression that it was the strange, and to them, unknown person whom they had detected spying on them.
Shadow had seen us and knew that we would now take care of the gang, and he had edged toward the door communicating with the hall, and had disappeared unseen by my men, deeply interested just then in another quarter.
The villains were marched away and locked up, and to make a long story short were properly punished in due course of time.
The bank officials, grateful at having been saved a heavy loss, voted me a handsome sum in reward for my services.
This, I felt, belonged entirely to Shadow, and I kept it about me in the shape of a check, to be given him at the first opportunity.
From the fact that he had not been found anywhere around, I was assured that he had escaped, although the manner of it was then a mystery to me.
And I fully expected to hear something from or see him within a very few days.
But I did not.
He seemed to have disappeared from the face of earth.
I went around among the dens of the east side, but could neither see nor learn anything of him.
Again and again I made the tour of the dives, but always with the same result.
Then, put to work on a case, I plunged into it, became interested, and Shadow slowly faded from my mind.
It was a murder case.
The murder had been committed under peculiar circumstances, and I had not been long at work before I became convinced that it had been done by the hands of a regularly organized gang of evil-doers.
At last I struck a clew.
I became convinced that I knew the very individual who had committed the bloody deed, but I delayed arresting him, as by this time I had gained an inkling of greater work to be done at the same time.
I was ambitious of entrapping the whole gang, instead of this solitary member of it.
I laid my plans accordingly.
Disguise was always a forte of mine, and I proceeded now to conceal my identity as thoroughly as possible.
My next step was to ingratiate myself with a member of the gang.
I picked my man, and proved an apt student of human nature when I did so, for perhaps of all the gang he was the only one who could have been so easily gulled.
His confidence gained, I knew the rest would be easy enough.
By him I was made acquainted with several others belonging to the same gang, and on his guarantee of my trustworthiness, they talked freely before me.
One day Shadow was brought forcibly to my mind by a chance remark dropped by one of my new friends.
"Have you seen the young chap we've got in the Black Hole?"
This was the remark.
Could they mean Shadow?
At once I pricked up my ears.
"No," was the reply. "I want to see him, though. What does he look like?"
"A young fellow with a smooth face, not more than eighteen, and slender as a girl."
It tallied with Shadow's appearance.
"None know him?"
"So it seems; leastways, none as has seen him yet ever saw him before. We had Dick Stanton come in and take a peep at him, and Dick says he ain't a detective—that is, a regular detective, at any rate."
"He was caught nosing around, though?"
"Yes."
"Had he tumbled to anything much?"
"That we don't know, for he won't say a word—aye, yes or no."
"And what does the cap'n mean to do with him?"
"I give it up. One of the boys told me that in the end he meant to have him knifed."
"The best thing to do. 'Dead men tell no tales,'" remarked the other.
Here they let the thing drop.
I wanted to find out where this Black Hole was, but dared ask no questions, nor press the subject of the young fellow's captivity.
For the present I was compelled to adopt a waiting policy, or run the risk of killing the confidence I had already gained, by the asking of too many questions.
Still, it was a horrible thought to me that, while I was doing nothing, Shadow (otherwise Mat Morris) was in captivity in the Black Hole, a place whose name implied nothing but the horrible, and in hourly danger of being butchered like an animal.
In this dilemma I changed my disguise and took to tracking these men to find out where their head-quarters were, presuming that it would be there where the Black Hole would be found.
I tracked them finally to an old and ruined brick building near the East River.
It had once been a sugar-house, but had burned out, leaving only its walls standing.
The remains of the building had been turned to advantage—its walls squared on top and roofed over, leaving a structure in some places one story high, in other places two stories.
It was for the most part occupied by old junk and chain men, and among them were several well-known to the police, and suspected of being receiving shops for the "swag" of the river pirates.
Was the Black Hole only one of the vaults of the old sugar-house?
Was it located here?
I would have given a thousand dollars to have been sure of this.
In the dead of night I again drew near this old sugar-house, and stretched myself out alongside of a big piece of dock timber that chanced to lie in a good position.
About two o'clock I heard footsteps approaching from the direction of the river, and when the persons drew nearer I recognized one voice as that of the individual whom I had thus far bamboozled.
The scent was getting "hot."
They were carrying several heavy coils of rope, the result of their depredations on the river during a few preceding hours.
They passed me and approached the building, and I heard one of them whistle twice, very softly.
Then a peculiar knock was given on a particular door, which at once promptly opened to give them ingress.
At once a desperate scheme flashed across my brain.
I wanted to save Shadow, but still I did not wish to make a descent on the place with a body of officers, as it would make it impossible for me to carry out my original plan of bagging the whole gang.
I had heard mentioned the name of Dick Stanton. He was a detective, and, as I now knew, a false one, through whom had leaked out the intentions of the police on several occasions, rendering well-laid plans fruitless; so that the police had found empty nests when they expected a bag full of game.
I arose and went forward.
I whistled thrice, and knocked at the door as I had heard the others knock.
As the door opened I glided in.
The guard spotted me as a stranger at once, and laid his hand on his revolver.
"I am sent by Stanton," I promptly said. "He gave me the points, and told me to carry a message of warning to 'cap.'"
Closing the door, the guard conducted me into a large room, where was gathered an immense quantity of old junk and rigging of all descriptions.
"Cap!" he called.
"Yes," came from the distant side of the room, where a lot of men were gathered about a lantern.
"Somebody to see you," with which the guard went back to the door, leaving his lantern beside me.
A slight noise caused me to look around, and I was startled at seeing a human hand protruding up through a crevice in a junk pile. The hand held a bit of paper, at which I blankly stared, thinking it held by a dead hand.
But no—the fingers stirred, the note was shaken. It was clear that it was intended for me.
I took it.
Cap had not yet started toward me. I read the few words on the note by the aid of the guard's lantern.
"Fly! Although the guard does not know—Stanton is here! Your first word will betray you.
Here was a fix.
How could I pass the guard on the portal? Yet I must go.