The Spruce Street Tragedy; or, Old Spicer Handles a Double Mystery

"Dere vos somedings in dot, I confess."

"Of course, and so you swear do you?"

"Vell, vhat you say, Parney, schall ve swear?"

"Of course," answered Barney, impatiently, "you know as well as I do, there's nothing else for us to do."

"Ah-ha!" exclaimed Bissell, "you never intended to return to Connecticut."

"Not likely," responded Barney, dryly. "I fancy our necks are worth as much to us as yours is to you."

"Put," Jake hastened to ask, "you vill gif us der extra dousands all der same, eh?"

"You bet he will!" growled Barney.

"Oh, yes," exclaimed Bissell, with alacrity, "I don't care what motives keep you out of that state, or, better still, out of the country. I am only too willing to pay you, so long as you do keep out. And now here's your money. Adding the $2000 it makes $12,000, or $6000 apiece. Pretty good pay for one night's work, eh, boys?"

"No more than we fairly earned, sir," retorted Barney; "though, as you say, there was a little bungling."

"I find no fault, you understand," said Bissell. "Indeed, it was I who set the price, and if it only leads to what I hope and expect it will, I am a good deal more than satisfied."

"The lady has heard of the – the accident?" said Barney inquiringly.

"Ye-yes, I believe she has."

"How did she take it?"

"Made a great fuss at first, but I hope that's over by this time."

"Oh, she'll come round, never fear. She had to make a little fuss, you know, for appearance sake."

"That's it, exactly."

"Well, we wish you luck, Mr. Bissell, and now, good day."

"Good-day, gentlemen – but stay! one word: When do you leave New York, and in what direction?"

"We leave this very day, and we're going to Mexico or Central America."

"You couldn't have chosen more wisely. I wish you the best of luck and continued prosperity."

"Thank you, sir."

"I shall always feel an interest in your welfare. Write to me, when you get settled down there."

"We'll do it, sir.

"You know my address?"

"Yes, Emory E. Bissell. But shall we direct to this hotel?"

"You may as well. But never mind the Emory; perhaps we've used that name too freely already among the wooden nutmegs, E. E. Bissell will do."

"All right, sir, we'll remember. And now is there anything more to say?"

"I wish you could tell me how Conductor Mason and Peter Coffey are coming out in this affair?"

"That's more than we know ourselves, sir. They were so closely connected with Way in the illicit liquor trade and otherwise, that it's more than likely to go hard with them."

"I'm sorry; but I see no help for it."

"There is no help for it – if we're to get off scot-free."

"Well, you'd better do that – if you can."

"We mean to. And now, once more, good day."

"Good day," and the two worthies were gone.

CHAPTER XIX.

DETECTIVES IN A TIGHT SPOT

"Come," exclaimed Old Spicer, and, lightly springing from the table, he and Rouse hurried from the room.

They rushed down-stairs, through the office, and overtook Quackenbush just outside the hotel door.

"Where are they?" asked Old Spicer, breathlessly.

Quackenbush pointed them out just as they were turning the next corner above.

"Go back and watch Bissell," he whispered. "Rouse and I will follow them up."

Quackenbush returned to the hotel, while Old Spicer and Rouse followed the murderers.

They walked across town till they reached Third Avenue, then taking the elevated road, they proceeded to Grand Street, where they alighted.

Hurrying down Grand Street, they turned into a side street, and, after walking some distance, stopped before a dingy-looking building; then, with a hasty glance around, they entered the basement, which, to all appearances, was fitted up as a saloon.

"Come," said Old Spicer, starting to descend the steps.

"Hold up a minute!" exclaimed Rouse, "I know this place. It's about the worst in town."

"No matter, we must enter it."

"All right. But, if you're bound to go in, we'd better disguise ourselves, and we'd better have help."

"That's reasonable enough."