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The Spruce Street Tragedy; or, Old Spicer Handles a Double Mystery
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"I told him that he had much better go to work."
"But he wouldn't take your good advice?"
"No, he just laughed, and said he didn't propose to work all summer."
"Did you believe he would go up to New Haven and rob the old woman?"
"No, to tell the truth, I didn't believe he had the nerve to do it."
"He has, I believe, a good deal of what is called brute courage."
"Yes, but I hadn't discovered it before."
"How long have you known Chamberlain?"
"I can't tell that exactly."
"How long have you been intimate with him?"
"Some seven or eight months."
"Did you know, Monday night, that he had gone to commit this robbery?"
"No, I only knew that he had gone out of town."
"Did he tell you about it when he came back?"
"The way of it was this: Tuesday evening I was reading an account of the murder, when Chamberlain came in. Then the truth flashed upon me at once. I accused him of killing the old woman, and he admitted it."
"He had plenty of money then, I suppose?"
"Yes; he had a big roll of bills in his pocket."
"No doubt he made you a handsome present?"
"There you're off, mister. Now, what do you really think he gave me?"
"At least one hundred dollars – perhaps two hundred."
"The mean wretch only gave me a paltry five dollar bill! What do you think of that?"
"If he got the big stake he is credited with having carried off, you have fixed the right name on him – he's a mean wretch."
"Big stake! my word for it, it was a big stake. He got all he went for, you can bet high on that."
"No idea what he has done with it, I suppose?" This was said carelessly.
"I have something of an idea," was the reply; "but I don't know for a dead certainty."
"Well, what's your idea?"
"He's got a secret friend somewhere here in town, but who that friend is I don't know, or whether it's male or female I don't know. All I can say is, find that friend and you'll find Margaret Ernst's money!"
"You think, then, he's placed the plunder in the hands of this friend to keep for him?"
"I'm sure of it."
A silence of some moments' duration followed.
At length the old detective turned to Cora and abruptly asked:
"Did you ever hear of such a person as Old Spicer?"
The girl started.
"Good Lord! yes, sir!" she exclaimed. "I – I hope you are not he?"
"Fortunately for you, my dear child, I am he," was the grave reply. "Now are you willing to take some good advice from me?"
"I'll do anything in the world you tell me."
"In the first place, then, if Chamberlain should visit you again, which I hardly think he will do, by the way, you are not to mention my being here."
"I will not – I swear it."
The old man raised his finger impressively.
"That's enough! I believe you," he said.
"I'm glad you do."
"In the second place, then, if any other detective comes here it will not be necessary for you to tell him all you have told me."
"I won't tell him anything at all, if you say so."
"Well, my dear, manage that the best you can."
"I think I can manage to hold my tongue."
"I hope so, my dear. By the way, are you acquainted with any members of the detective force?"
"Yes, sir; I know one or two."
"Who are they?"
"Sergeant Cosgrove, for one."
"And McGuire, perhaps?"
