FOLLOWING UP THE CHINESE CLEW.
Old King Brady hardly knew how to handle the old Chinaman.
The man's face was as expressionless as a wooden block when he said:
"Me no talkee, boss. Two hlundled dlollars, den me tellee you sometling big. No givee me, go away."
"Something big?" queried Old King Brady. "You mean something more than just about the boy?"
"Yair, whole lot more. Me no dlead one. Some fellers tlink me dlead one—no."
What was he driving at?
Old King Brady's curiosity was fully aroused.
At last he ended it by counting out another hundred and placing the whole in the Chinaman's hand.
The old fellow chuckled.
"Now then, John, out with the whole business," said Old King Brady, "and let your name come along with the rest."
And the old detective found no reason to regret his bargain.
"Me talkee Chinee to lady now," said the old fellow.
"Right. Go ahead," assented Old King Brady.
The conversation was quite extended.
"Is it important, Alice?" Old King Brady ventured to ask while it was in progress, for it seemed as if they would never come to an end.
"Most important," replied Alice. "You better let me hear all he has to say."
At last she turned and began to translate.
"It seems," she said, "that this old fellow, whose name is Fen Wix, as near as I can make out, although I never heard the last name before, is supposed to be deaf. He is so at times, but there are times when his hearing is perfect. He says that they have taken the boy away up into the Bronx to a cottage on Lorimer's lane, near the ruins of an old fertilizer factory; that is all the description I can get of the place."
"And it happens that I know it," replied Old King Brady. "There was once a fertilizer factory at the foot of Lorimer's lane. It burned some years ago."
"Pow Chow and his white wife are there in that cottage. They have a scheme to recover a lot of stolen money sunk in the water near by. Pow knows where. He was looking for a Chinaman who could swim and dive. He drank too much last night and talked about his plans to two men, both Chinese. This old fellow overheard, although they supposed he could not hear. He says that these two men are out for this treasure. The boy, it appears, is an extraordinary swimmer, and the plan is to use him. Fen Wix thinks that Pow Chow will have no recollection of the talk he made. He considers these two men his enemies, and yet he will not give away their names. He says that because he hates them and because he is too old to go after the treasure himself, he is giving the secret away to you, as he needs money. That is the gist of his story."
"Sounds rather fishy, don't you think so, governor?"
"Oh, I don't know," was the reply. "It seems to explain Mrs. Butler's anxiety and some other things. It may be that these mysterious papers give an account of the hiding of the treasure. I think there may be something in the thing."
"Dere sure is! Dere sure is, Boss Blady!" cried Fen Wix, who had been listening to all this. "You goee head. You win out. Me no can do nluffin, see? You gimmee two hlundled dlorrar, dat better as nluffin—see? Goee head. You win—see?"
And such was the Bradys' Chinese clew.
Chinamen rarely go out of their way to inform on each other, but sometimes they do.
A desire for revenge is the usual motive.
Fen Wix told Alice that he was seventy-six years old, and that one of the men to whom Pow Chow blabbed the secret in his cups ought to support him, but instead had treated him shabbily.
He would not say whether the man was any relative to him, but Alice assumed that such was the case.
"Do you think Pow Chow means to set the boy diving for this treasure to-night?" Old King Brady asked.
"Me tlink yair," was the reply. "Me no can tellee, but me tlink yair. You go?"
"Yes, I'll go. How much money is there?"
"Me no know. Pow Chow no tellee dlat."
"Who was it stolen from?"
"Me no know dlat neder. Me no can tellee dlat. You go?"
"Yes, yes, I'll go," replied the old detective.
"Dlen you better go quick. So you win, lemember, old man, gimme more money—see?"
"Perhaps I will," assented the old detective. "We'll see what it all amounts to first."
And with that Fen Wix departed.
"A most peculiar piece of business," observed Harry. "I must say I am very much afraid you have blown in your money for nothing, governor."
"Don't croak," replied the old detective. "What's a couple of hundred, anyway? I shan't cry if it all proves romance, but how would that old Chink have the location down so pat unless there was something in what he says?"
This, of course, was the strongest argument which could be urged, and Harry raised no further objections.
One significant fact was that nobody else appeared to have been attracted by the reward, for no one came.
"We will start for the Bronx now," said Old King Brady. "Alice, my dear, it seems hardy worth while for you to join us. Will you stop here to-night or will you go home?"
"Neither," replied Alice. "With your kind permission I will go along."
"I supposed you would say so. Be quick then and do away with your disguise."
Alice retired and made her change.
It was shortly after nine o'clock when they started, and they were certainly due at their destination long before midnight, and would have reached it if Old King Brady had not blundered.
Nor is it any wonder.
Conditions in the Bronx have changed so of late, old landmarks disappearing so rapidly, that anyone relying on memory alone gets mixed up.
And this is precisely what Old King Brady did.
He found himself at fault almost at the start.
He could not locate Lorimer's lane.
Then they started to inquire their way.
This only made matters worse.
Nobody ever knows anything when one comes to inquire their way up in the Bronx about old-time roads and lanes.
At last an ancient individual was found who claimed to be able to direct them, and the Bradys came out on the water front where there was a lane, a ruined factory and an old pier.
It was now about eleven o'clock.
Old King Brady was sure that he had hit the right spot.
Harry and Alice knew nothing about it.
They began to look about for the cottage.
There were two on this lane, both still lighted up.
Harry ventured to peer in at the windows of each.
The report was unfavorable.
He saw no Chinaman inside.
Old King Brady then made some inquiries at a lonely saloon which stood on a corner, with lots on all sides.
The place was deserted save for a sleepy bartender.
He assured the old detective that such a thing as a Chinaman was unknown in the neighborhood.
They got inside the ruined factory and watched the pier until midnight, but not a soul came near the place.
Harry was triumphant.
"It's all a fake," he declared, "and you are out your two hundred. We may as well ring off and go home."
He had scarcely spoken when an old man with a fishing basket, a pole and a lantern came hobbling onto the pier.
"At last!" muttered Old King Brady. "Here is a party who, if he belongs in the neighborhood, may know something."
He stepped out into view.
"Good-evening, uncle!" he called.
"Evening yourself," growled the old man. "If you mean to hold me up you won't get nothin', I tell yer that straight. I hain't even begun to fish."
"I'm no hold-up man. On the contrary, I'm a detective."
"What say? I'm a bit deef. I can't hear."
"What building is this?"
"That? Why, that is Niebuhr's old moulding mill. It burned down five years ago."
"It isn't Fisher's fertilizer factory, then?"
"No, no! You're all off. That's a mile and over up the shore."
"But wasn't this lane behind us once known as Lorimer's lane?"
"So it was."
"I thought Fisher's fertilizer factory stood at the foot of Lorimer's lane?"
"So it did."
"Explain yourself."
"Well, the explanation is easy enough, boss; there's two Lorimer's lanes."
This settled it.
Bestowing a dollar on the lone fisherman in exchange for his information, Old King Brady started in to rectify his blunder.
They made the best time they could up the shore, but it was with little hope of accomplishing anything it had now grown so late.
Indeed, it was nearly one o'clock before they came in sight of another pier with the foundation of a burned building at the end.
"This is it," declared Old King Brady. "I see my blunder now."
"Hist!" whispered Harry. "There's a man on the pier."
So there was, and he was looking over the side, calling down to someone in the water.
The Bradys and Alice, who were still a good distance away, hurried on.
Suddenly the man straightened up and gave a wild start.
They saw him reach to his hip pocket for a revolver.
Before he was able to draw it a shot rang out.
"Heavens! That fellow has picked up one!" Harry cried.
The man flung up his hands, staggered back and fell upon the pier.
"Just in time to be witnesses to a murder!" cried Alice. "Can he be a Chinaman?"
"I couldn't make out," replied Old King Brady. "He must have been shot from a boat, whoever he is."
Their curiosity was now fully aroused, and they lost no time getting on the pier.
No one else seemed to have been attracted by the shot.
In fact, there was only one house to be seen, a small cottage up a lane behind the pier, in the window of which a light burned.
And now the detectives made a discovery which brought them to the conclusion that after all they had made no mistake in starting out to follow up their Chinese clew.
For the man on the pier was a Chinese in American dress.
He was dying when the Bradys came up.
Old King Brady knelt beside him.
"Your name! Who shot you?" he demanded.
The rapidly glazing eyes fixed themselves upon the old detective.
"You—are—Old—King—Brady?" was slowly said.
"Yes, yes! Speak! Are you Pow Chow?"
"Yes. Tell—my—wife."
"It shall be done. Who shot you?"
"Dock Hing—get him."
"If I can."
"Money. I——"
That was all.
Pow Chow breathed his last then.
The Bradys had come up with the crooked mission worker all too late.
Meanwhile Harry and Alice were making discoveries.
On the pier were clothes, evidently belonging to a young man.
When he came to look them over later, Harry recognized the suit which Ed Butler had worn.
But just then their attention was attracted to a stout boat, which was being rapidly pulled out on the Sound.
There were three persons in it, and it could be seen, dark as it was, that one of them wore no clothes.
Harry turned his glass upon the outfit.
It was all he could do, for the boat was already beyond revolver range.
"Chinks," he said. "The naked one is a boy."
"Can it be your Ed?" demanded Alice.
"I can't make out. They are pushing him down into the bottom of the boat. I think they mean to throw him overboard."
"If we had only turned up a few minutes sooner!"
"Yes; it is to be regretted that we didn't.... We can't do a thing as it is."
But the boy was not thrown over.
The last they saw of him he was still lying in the bottom of the boat.
Harry wondered if he was dead.
Pow Chow was by this time.
Old King Brady called to them and informed them of the fact.
Then the identifying of Ed's clothes followed.
"We are on deck too late," declared Old King Brady. "If a dying man's word can be believed, those rascals have made off with the money, so, Master Harry, my Chinese clew seems to have amounted to something after all."
They now searched the clothes.
There was nothing in Ed's pockets to identify him, but Harry was certain that these were his clothes.
With Pow Chow it was different.
A memorandum book was discovered in his trousers pocket with his name written on the fly leaf in English.
Better still, twenty-eight hundred dollars in cash turned up.
"Mr. Butler's stolen money, what there is left of it!" Old King Brady exclaimed.
"The wife can't be far away," remarked Alice.
"I judge not from his dying words," replied the old detective. "It is up to us to find her. That must be our job now. It looks as if we were going to be able to close up our case, in part, at least. Let us go on to that lane where we see the light."