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

"I can't think. There are but two persons on earth who care a tinker's button what becomes of me."

"And who are those two?"

"My father and mother."

"Who do you mean when you say your father and mother?"

"Why, Henry A. Chamberlain and his wife."

"The worthy couple who live at No. 10 Franklin Street, New Haven?"

"Certainly."

"Do you really think they are your father and mother?"

"They are all the father and mother I have ever known."

"Ha! ha! Well, I might tell you that they are no more your parents than they are mine. I might tell you that your name is not Chamberlain, but Curtis. I might tell you that there are certain persons – one in particular – who are deeply interested in your welfare. But what's the use? I will only tell you that there is one person whom, for years, it has been my aim and purpose to crush; that I saw I could best accomplish my end by striking at you; that, therefore, I sought you out when you were but a mere lad at Eton school; that I took you in hand and led you, step by step, to – "

"The devil! I see it all now, curse you!"

"Ah! you do see it at last, do you?"

"I do; and now give me my money before I tear you limb from limb."

"Nonsense, boy: don't you see that I wheedled the money out of you on purpose, so that you might not have the means to escape from justice? Why, my revenge wouldn't be complete if you escaped the gallows. And do you think I will deliberately give you the means to escape?"

"Look out, man. You'll drive me too far if you ain't careful."

"Why, Hen, I planned every move you made, and you never moved but to put the halter more surely about your neck. Can't you guess now why I introduced you to Cora Bell? Can't you see why I took you to Jim Taylor's place? A good fellow enough, Jim is; but I knew mighty well that if he worked with you all he'd want would be a little squeeze from somebody to give you away as quick as chain-lightning. See if I'm not right."

"You're an infernal villain!"

"Oh, may be so; but I can afford to be whatever I please. You nor no living soul on earth can touch me."

"Can't, eh?" and there was a rush forward, a yell, a loud ringing of bells, the sound of hurrying feet, and general confusion.

Old Spicer and Killett sprung from their chairs to the table, from the table to the floor, and rushing from the room, flew to the stairs, and descended without hardly touching a step. In another moment they were at the entrance to No. 24, where quite a little crowd had already gathered.

Quackenbush and two other detectives were in the room. Bissell was stretched upon the bed, to all appearance dangerously wounded.

Chamberlain was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Chamberlain?" asked Old Spicer, eagerly.

"Got away," answered Quackenbush.

"Got away! In the name of the great Lecoq, how did he manage it?"

"Knocked me down, threw a hall-porter on top of me, and was gone before I could get the fool off."

"But these men, what were they doing?"

"Lord! I don't know."

"I was at the head of the stairs yonder. We were attracting too much attention standing here together," explained Crowley.

"And I," said the third detective, "was at the back stairs."

"Did he make off in that direction?"

"Yes, sir."

"You tried to stop him, of course?"

"I did."

"What did he do?"

"Why, just knocked me clean down the stairs, that's all."

"You were there, then, when he came down."

"Yes; but I didn't feel much like stopping him just then."

"I suppose not. Well, Quackenbush, clear the room, and let Crowley go for a doctor. Frank, you stay here. This man is quite as important a prisoner as either Chamberlain or Taylor."

The wounded man slightly raised his head and pricked up his ears, at this announcement.

It is a great pity that some of the detectives did not detect this movement.

Old Spicer and Killett drew a little to one side, and conversed in eager whispers.

"Chamberlain must be captured at once," said Old Spicer, emphatically.

"He shall be!" returned Killett, decidedly. "This man is badly wounded, no doubt; so we can spare two of the three we have with us, and I'll telephone to Byrnes to send out Maguire and Frank Mangin; they'll find him, if anybody can."

Quackenbush and Frank Starr were sent out on the hunt, and Killett went down to the office, to telephone to headquarters.

Crowley now came back, and announced that a surgeon had been summoned, and would shortly arrive.

Old Spicer, who had for some time been anxious to get a message to Stricket and Morgan, merely said:

"All right; stay here for a few moments, please," and hurried down-stairs.

Crowley stepped softly to the bed, and took a look at the wounded prisoner.

"Asleep, or unconscious," he said to himself; and then, taking up a newspaper and seating himself by the window, he prepared to take it easy, till Old Spicer and Killett should return.