I was out on the platform in a second. He gave one look at me and seemed to know just what I wanted, too, for he out with a gun and rammed it right in my face.
“Blast you! I’ll never be taken alive!” he hissed.
But I gave the shooter one clip and sent it flying off the train.
“Help! Murder!” he yelled as we went sweeping past the platform of the Howard House.
I grabbed him by the throat and had him down in a minute. Two men jumped into the car and grabbed me.
“He’s a thief! He’s trying to rob me!” he hollered.
“I’m a detective—he’s a defaulter! Help me, gents!” I said, as cool as I could.
Well, we got him—that’s all there is to it.
More than that we got the boodle—a hundred thousand clear. It was all in the bag.
They stopped the train and we took him off. One of the fellers what had jumped on was a policeman, and he helped me take him to the East New York station. We found a ticket for Greenport on him and a time-table of the Northern New London Railroad. I never had the least doubt but what he’d a-got through safe to Montreal if it hadn’t been for Mr. Brady sending me out to East New York that night.