Shadow, the Mysterious Detective/Chapter 26

" you ready for some sharp work?"

So I was greeted when I, as is almost needless to say, hurried down-stairs in response to Shadow's note.

"Oh, you can talk, can you?" I said. "Yes, I am ready for some sharp work. What have you on hand?" as I glanced at him from head to foot.

The skirts were gone.

He was again the slenderly-built youth that I had seen on first making his acquaintance.

"I'll tell you at the proper time," was the cool reply. "For the present do as I say. Get a dozen men as quickly as possible."

It did not take me long to do this.

Then, under Shadow's guidance, we were conducted to the vicinity of the private insane asylum in which Helen Dilt was held a prisoner.

Stationing the men so that they would not be seen, Shadow and I ascended the steps, and he rang the bell.

Soon the door opened a couple of inches, being prevented from opening further by a stout chain attached to it. But for this we should have thrown ourselves against it and forced our way in.

"Who are you? What do you want?" was asked from within.

"I came from Mr. Brown," Shadow promptly replied.

"What of him?" asked the cautious individual inside.

"He has sent me with a message to Tige concerning his patient, whom I am also commanded to see with my own eyes."

Satisfied by this display of knowledge, the fellow unfastened the chain and Shadow glided in. I sprang out from behind the pillar which had concealed me, and forced my way in just as Shadow clapped a revolver to the villain's head.

"Give an alarm at your peril!" hissed Shadow, and dragged him away from the door, which I at once swung open and admitted the men.

Handcuffs had been brought in plenty, and the keeper who had opened the door for us soon had a pair of them on his wrists.

Over the building the men scattered with as little noise as possible.

Tige was so wrapped up in her devilish work as to have heard none of the noise that could not be entirely avoided, and she knew not that her sins had found her out, until, in a ringing voice, Shadow cried out:

"Help is here!"

Helen Dilt uttered one sob, and then became very silent.

She was not dead, however.

Shadow sprang to her side even as I secured the tigerish woman, and he said that she had only fainted.

The tenderness of his manner, the way in which he commenced to bathe Helen's face, led me to inquire:

"Do you know her?"

"It is Helen Dilt!" he returned.

Helen Dilt!

I remembered the name. It was the foster-sister, the intended wife of Mat Morris.

Curiously I awaited Helen's return to consciousness, after having ironed Tige and turned her over to the custody of one of the men.

She opened her eyes at last.

She did not fling her arms about Shadow's neck, did not call him Mat, did not seem to recognize him.

Then Shadow was not Mat Morris!

This much was clear.

Who, then, was Shadow?

The mystery fretted me not a little.

"Are you ready for further work?" coolly asked Shadow, turning to me a minute later.

"Yes. Will we need as many men?"

"All but one. You can spare one to remain in charge here. Let the others march the prisoners to the station-house, and then follow me."

"Are we going to bag more game to-night?" inquired one of the men.

Shadow heard the question.

"Yes," he promptly returned. "There are plenty more to bag; but in bagging the next lot I'd advise you to keep your pops ready."

Our prisoners once safely in custody, Shadow led us by the shortest route toward the East River.

I guessed his destination this time.

"The old sugar-house?" I inquiringly said.

"Yes," was the brief reply.

"How do you expect to gain entrance?"

"Leave that to me."

I did leave it to him.

Great was my surprise when he led us by his secret entrance into the vaults beneath the old sugar-house.

I now began to understand how he had escaped—that is, if Shadow it was who had been confined in the Black Hole.

This latter I was now beginning to doubt.

Carefully we crossed the last of the series of vaults, and paused at the foot of the stairs leading up to the store-room, where I had once had a most exciting adventure.

Shadow softly mounted first.

I followed.

In the office, at the further end, Cap and some of the men were gathered, earnestly consulting about something.

The men were called up.

One was instructed to look after the door-keeper.

"Now!"

Shadow gave the word.

We rushed forward, every man with a brace of revolvers in his hands, and when I called on the rascals to throw up their hands, they cast one glance at the gleaming array of "barkers" and raised their hands.

Happily, Shadow's augury was forestalled.

We bagged as dangerous a lot of men as ever were banded together, and without firing a single shot. Unexpectedly taken as they were, they had no time to prepare for defense.

"Now for the Black Hole," said Shadow, when all the captives were in irons.

I followed him.

In the vaults he called loudly:

"What!—ho!—where are you?"

Soon came back a smothered reply, and we finally were led to a heavy wooden door secured by stout locks. As we could not open the latter, we proceeded to batter down the door, and released, in a half-starved condition—Mat Morris!

Shadow gave me no opportunity to indulge in feelings of surprise, or to obtain any information whatever concerning the mystery.

"Waste no time!" he said, coldly. "We have more work yet to-night."

Five of the men were left in the sugar-house to bag any members of the gang who might come straggling along. The others, with Shadow and myself, went to the station-house with the captives.

Between us walked poor Mat Morris, so weak that he could hardly stand.

"Take only two men this time," said Shadow, after we had reached the station; and so with two men we departed—to be surprised, I felt, as well as to surprise somebody else.

I was not wrong.

Mr. Joseph Brown was awakened by the ringing of his doorbell, and when he demanded what was the matter, was told that an intimate friend was dying and had sent for him.

When he came out we nabbed him, and within half an hour later, despite his protestations, he was behind the bars of a cell.