Martin Hewitt, Investigator Read online

  II.

  THE LOSS OF SAMMY CROCKETT.

  It was, of course, always a part of Martin Hewitt's business to bethoroughly at home among any and every class of people, and to be able tointerest himself intelligently, or to appear to do so, in their variouspursuits. In one of the most important cases ever placed in his hands hecould have gone but a short way toward success had he not displayed someknowledge of the more sordid aspects of professional sport, and a greatinterest in the undertakings of a certain dealer therein.

  The great case itself had nothing to do with sport, and, indeed, from anarrative point of view, was somewhat uninteresting, but the man who aloneheld the one piece of information wanted was a keeper, backer, or "gaffer"of professional pedestrians, and it was through the medium of hispecuniary interest in such matters that Hewitt was enabled to strike abargain with him.

  The man was a publican on the outskirts of Padfield, a northern town,pretty famous for its sporting tastes, and to Padfield, therefore, Hewittbetook himself, and, arrayed in a way to indicate some inclination of hisown toward sport, he began to frequent the bar of the Hare and Hounds.Kentish, the landlord, was a stout, bull-necked man, of no greatcommunicativeness at first; but after a little acquaintance he opened outwonderfully, became quite a jolly (and rather intelligent) companion, andcame out with innumerable anecdotes of his sporting adventures. He couldput a very decent dinner on the table, too, at the Hare and Hounds, andHewitt's frequent invitation to him to join therein and divide a bottle ofthe best in the cellar soon put the two on the very best of terms. Goodterms with Mr. Kentish was Hewitt's great desire, for the information hewanted was of a sort that could never be extracted by casual questioning,but must be a matter of open communication by the publican, extracted inwhat way it might be.

  "Look here," said Kentish one day, "I'll put you on to a good thing, myboy--a real good thing. Of course you know all about the Padfield 135Yards Handicap being run off now?"

  "Well, I haven't looked into it much," Hewitt replied. "Ran the firstround of heats last Saturday and Monday, didn't they?"

  "They did. Well"--Kentish spoke in a stage whisper as he leaned over andrapped the table--"I've got the final winner in this house." He nodded hishead, took a puff at his cigar, and added, in his ordinary voice. "Don'tsay nothing."

  "No, of course not. Got something on, of course?"

  "Rather! What do you think? Got any price I liked. Been saving him up forthis. Why, he's got twenty-one yards, and he can do even time all the way!Fact! Why, he could win runnin' back'ards. He won his heat on Mondaylike--like--like that!" The gaffer snapped his fingers, in default of abetter illustration, and went on. "He might ha' took it a little easier,_I_ think; it's shortened his price, of course, him jumpin' in by twoyards. But you can get decent odds now, if you go about it right. You takemy tip--back him for his heat next Saturday, in the second round, and forthe final. You'll get a good price for the final, if you pop it down atonce. But don't go makin' a song of it, will you, now? I'm givin' you atip I wouldn't give anybody else."

  "Thanks, very much; it's awfully good of you. I'll do what you advise. Butisn't there a dark horse anywhere else?"

  "Not dark to me, my boy, not dark to me. I know every man runnin' like abook. Old Taylor--him over at the Cop--he's got a very good lad ateighteen yards, a very good lad indeed; and he's a tryer this time, Iknow. But, bless you, my lad could give him ten, instead o' taking three,and beat him then! When I'm runnin' a real tryer, I'm generally runnin'something very near a winner, you bet; and this time, mind _this_ time,I'm runnin' the certainest winner I _ever_ run--and I don't often make amistake. You back him."

  "I shall, if you're as sure as that. But who is he?"

  "Oh, Crockett's his name--Sammy Crockett. He's quite a new lad. I've gotyoung Steggles looking after him--sticks to him like wax. Takes his littlebreathers in my bit o' ground at the back here. I've got a cinder-sprintpath there, over behind the trees. I don't let him out o' sight much, Ican tell you. He's a straight lad, and he knows it'll be worth his whileto stick to me; but there's some 'ud poison him, if they thought he'dspoil their books."

  Soon afterward the two strolled toward the taproom. "I expect Sammy'll bethere," the landlord said, "with Steggles. I don't hide him toomuch--they'd think I'd got something extra on if I did."

  In the tap-room sat a lean, wire-drawn-looking youth, with slopingshoulders and a thin face, and by his side was a rather short, thick-setman, who had an odd air, no matter what he did, of proprietorship andsurveillance of the lean youth. Several other men sat about, and there wasloud laughter, under which the lean youth looked sheepishly angry.

  "'Tarn't no good, Sammy, lad," some one was saying, "you a-makin' afterNancy Webb--she'll ha' nowt to do with 'ee."

  "Don' like 'em so thread-papery," added another. "No, Sammy, you aren'tthe lad for she. I see her----"

  "What about Nancy Webb?" asked Kentish, pushing open the door. "Sammy'sall right, any way. You keep fit, my lad, an' go on improving, and someday you'll have as good a house as me. Never mind the lasses. Had hisglass o' beer, has he?" This to Raggy Steggles, who, answering in theaffirmative, viewed his charge as though he were a post, and the beer arecent coat of paint.

  "Has two glasses of mild a day," the landlord said to Hewitt. "Never putson flesh, so he can stand it. Come out now." He nodded to Steggles, whorose and marched Sammy Crockett away for exercise.

  * * * * *

  On the following afternoon (it was Thursday), as Hewitt and Kentishchatted in the landlord's own snuggery, Steggles burst into the room in agreat state of agitation and spluttered out: "He--he's bolted; gone away!"

  "What?"

  "Sammy--gone! Hooked it! _I_ can't find him."

  The landlord stared blankly at the trainer, who stood with a sweaterdangling from his hand and stared blankly back. "What d'ye mean?" Kentishsaid, at last. "Don't be a fool! He's in the place somewhere. Find him!"

  But this Steggles defied anybody to do. He had looked already. He had leftCrockett at the cinder-path behind the trees in his running-gear, with theaddition of the long overcoat and cap he used in going between the pathand the house to guard against chill. "I was goin' to give him a bust ortwo with the pistol," the trainer explained, "but, when we got overt'other side, 'Raggy,' ses he, 'it's blawin' a bit chilly. I think I'llha' a sweater. There's one on my box, ain't there?' So in I coomes for thesweater, and it weren't on his box, and, when I found it and got back--heweren't there. They'd seen nowt o' him in t' house, and he weren'tnowhere."

  Hewitt and the landlord, now thoroughly startled, searched everywhere, butto no purpose. "What should he go off the place for?" asked Kentish, in asweat of apprehension. "'Tain't chilly a bit--it's warm. He didn't want nosweater; never wore one before. It was a piece of kid to be able to clearout. Nice thing, this is. I stand to win two years' takings over him.Here--you'll have to find him."

  "Ah, but how?" exclaimed the disconcerted trainer, dancing aboutdistractedly. "I've got all I could scrape on him myself. Where can Ilook?"

  Here was Hewitt's opportunity. He took Kentish aside and whispered. Whathe said startled the landlord considerably. "Yes, I'll tell you all aboutthat," he said, "if that's all you want. It's no good or harm to mewhether I tell or no. But can you find him?"

  "That I can't promise, of course. But you know who I am now, and what I'mhere for. If you like to give me the information I want, I'll go into thecase for you, and, of course, I shan't charge any fee. I may have luck,you know, but I can't promise, of course."

  The landlord looked in Hewitt's face for a moment. Then he said: "Done!It's a deal."

  "Very good," Hewitt replied; "get together the one or two papers you have,and we'll go into my business in the evening. As to Crockett, don't say aword to anybody. I'm afraid it must get out, since they all know about itin the house, but there's no use in making any unnecessary noise. Don'tmake hedging bets or do anything that will attract notice. Now we'll goover to the
back and look at this cinder-path of yours."

  Here Steggles, who was still standing near, was struck with an idea. "Howabout old Taylor, at the Cop, guv'nor, eh?" he said, meaningly. "His lad'sgood enough to win with Sammy out, and Taylor is backing him plenty. Thinkhe knows any thing o' this?"

  "That's likely," Hewitt observed, before Kentish could reply. "Yes. Lookhere--suppose Steggles goes and keeps his eye on the Cop for an hour ortwo, in case there's anything to be heard of? Don't show yourself, ofcourse."

  Kentish agreed, and the trainer went. When Hewitt and Kentish arrived atthe path behind the trees, Hewitt at once began examining the ground. Oneor two rather large holes in the cinders were made, as the publicanexplained, by Crockett, in practicing getting off his mark. Behind thesewere several fresh tracks of spiked shoes. The tracks led up to within acouple of yards of the high fence bounding the ground, and there stoppedabruptly and entirely. In the fence, a little to the right of where thetracks stopped, there was a stout door. This Hewitt tried, and found ajar.

  "That's always kept bolted," Kentish said. "He's gone out that way--hecouldn't have gone any other without comin' through the house."

  "But he isn't in the habit of making a step three yards long, is he?"Hewitt asked, pointing at the last footmark and then at the door, whichwas quite that distance away from it. "Besides," he added, opening thedoor, "there's no footprint here nor outside."

  The door opened on a lane, with another fence and a thick plantation oftrees at the other side. Kentish looked at the footmarks, then at thedoor, then down the lane, and finally back toward the house. "That's alicker!" he said.

  "This is a quiet sort of lane," was Hewitt's next remark. "No houses insight. Where does it lead?"

  "That way it goes to the Old Kilns--disused. This way down to a turningoff the Padfield and Catton road."

  Hewitt returned to the cinder-path again, and once more examined thefootmarks. He traced them back over the grass toward the house."Certainly," he said, "he hasn't gone back to the house. Here is thedouble line of tracks, side by side, from the house--Steggles' ordinaryboots with iron tips, and Crockett's running pumps; thus they came out.Here is Steggles' track in the opposite direction alone, made when he wentback for the sweater. Crockett remained; you see various prints in thoseloose cinders at the end of the path where he moved this way and that, andthen two or three paces toward the fence--not directly toward the door,you notice--and there they stop dead, and there are no more, either backor forward. Now, if he had wings, I should be tempted to the opinion thathe flew straight away in the air from that spot--unless the earthswallowed him and closed again without leaving a wrinkle on its face."

  Kentish stared gloomily at the tracks and said nothing.

  "However," Hewitt resumed, "I think I'll take a little walk now and thinkover it. You go into the house and show yourself at the bar. If anybodywants to know how Crockett is, he's pretty well, thank you. By the by, canI get to the Cop--this place of Taylor's--by this back lane?"

  "Yes, down to the end leading to the Catton road, turn to the left andthen first on the right. Any one'll show you the Cop," and Kentish shutthe door behind the detective, who straightway walked--toward the OldKilns.

  In little more than an hour he was back. It was now becoming dusk, and thelandlord looked out papers from a box near the side window of hissnuggery, for the sake of the extra light. "I've got these papers togetherfor you," he said, as Hewitt entered. "Any news?"

  "Nothing very great. Here's a bit of handwriting I want you to recognize,if you can. Get a light."

  Kentish lit a lamp, and Hewitt laid upon the table half a dozen smallpieces of torn paper, evidently fragments of a letter which had been tornup, here reproduced in fac-simile:

  six scraps of paper: mmy, throw them ou, right away, lefthi, hate his, lane wr]

  The landlord turned the scraps over, regarding them dubiously. "Thesearen't much to recognize, anyhow. _I_ don't know the writing. Where didyou find 'em?"

  "They were lying in the lane at the back, a little way down. Plainly theyare pieces of a note addressed to some one called Sammy or something verylike it. See the first piece, with its 'mmy'? That is clearly from thebeginning of the note, because there is no line between it and the smooth,straight edge of the paper above; also, nothing follows on the same line.Some one writes to Crockett--presuming it to be a letter addressed to him,as I do for other reasons--as Sammy. It is a pity that there is no more ofthe letter to be found than these pieces. I expect the person who tore itup put the rest in his pocket and dropped these by accident."

  Kentish, who had been picking up and examining each piece in turn, nowdolorously broke out:

  "Oh, it's plain he's sold us--bolted and done us; me as took him out o'the gutter, too. Look here--'throw them over'; that's plain enough--can'tmean anything else. Means throw _me_ over, and my friends--me, after whatI've done for him! Then 'right away'--go right away, I s'pose, as he hasdone. Then"--he was fiddling with the scraps and finally fitted twotogether--"why, look here, this one with 'lane' on it fits over the oneabout throwing over, and it says 'poor f' where its torn; that means 'poorfool,' I s'pose--_me_, or 'fathead,' or something like that. That's nice.Why, I'd twist his neck if I could get hold of him; and I will!"

  Hewitt smiled. "Perhaps it's not quite so uncomplimentary, after all," hesaid. "If you can't recognize the writing, never mind. But, if he's goneaway to sell you, it isn't much use finding him, is it? He won't win if hedoesn't want to."

  "Why, he wouldn't dare to rope under my very eyes. I'd--I'd----"

  "Well, well; perhaps we'll get him to run, after all, and as well as hecan. One thing is certain--he left this place of his own will. Further, Ithink he is in Padfield now; he went toward the town, I believe. And Idon't think he means to sell you."

  "Well, he shouldn't. I've made it worth his while to stick to me. I've puta fifty on for him out of my own pocket, and told him so; and, if he won,that would bring him a lump more than he'd probably get by going crooked,besides the prize money and anything I might give him over. But it seemsto me he's putting me in the cart altogether."

  "That we shall see. Meantime, don't mention anything I've told you to anyone--not even to Steggles. He can't help us, and he might blurt things outinadvertently. Don't say anything about these pieces of paper, which Ishall keep myself. By-the-by, Steggles is indoors, isn't he? Very well,keep him in. Don't let him be seen hunting about this evening. I'll stayhere to-night and we'll proceed with Crockett's business in the morning.And now we'll settle _my_ business, please."

  * * * * *

  In the morning Hewitt took his breakfast in the snuggery, carefullylistening to any conversation that might take place at the bar. Soon afternine o'clock a fast dog-cart stopped outside, and a red-faced, loud-voicedman swaggered in, greeting Kentish with boisterous cordiality. He had adrink with the landlord, and said: "How's things? Fancy any of 'em for thesprint handicap? Got a lad o' your own in, haven't you?"

  "Oh, yes," Kentish replied. "Crockett. Only a young un not got to hisproper mark yet, I reckon. I think old Taylor's got No. 1 this time."

  "Capital lad," the other replied, with a confidential nod. "Shouldn'twonder at all. Want to do anything yourself over it?"

  "No, I don't think so. I'm not on at present. Might have a little flutteron the grounds just for fun; nothing else."

  There were a few more casual remarks, and then the red-faced man droveaway.

  "Who was that?" asked Hewitt, who had watched the visitor through thesnuggery window.

  "That's Danby--bookmaker. Cute chap. He's been told Crockett's missing,I'll bet anything, and come here to pump me. No good, though. As a matterof fact, I've worked Sammy Crockett into his books for about half I'm infor altogether--through third parties, of course."

  Hewitt reached for his hat. "I'm going out for half an hour now," he said."If Steggles wants to go out before I come back, don't let him. Let him goand smooth over all those tracks on the
cinder-path, very carefully. And,by the by, could you manage to have your son about the place to-day, incase I happen to want a little help out of doors?"

  "Certainly; I'll get him to stay in. But what do you want the cinderssmoothed for?"

  Hewitt smiled, and patted his host's shoulder. "I'll explain all my trickswhen the job's done," he said, and went out.

  * * * * *

  On the lane from Padfield to Sedby village stood the Plough beer-house,wherein J. Webb was licensed to sell by retail beer to be consumed on thepremises or off, as the thirsty list. Nancy Webb, with a very fine color,a very curly fringe, and a wide smiling mouth revealing a fine set ofteeth, came to the bar at the summons of a stoutish old gentleman inspectacles who walked with a stick.

  The stoutish old gentleman had a glass of bitter beer, and then said inthe peculiarly quiet voice of a very deaf man: "Can you tell me, if youplease, the way into the main Catton road?"

  "Down the lane, turn to the right at the cross-roads, then first to theleft."

  The old gentleman waited with his hand to his ear for some few secondsafter she had finished speaking, and then resumed in his whispering voice:"I'm afraid I'm very deaf this morning." He fumbled in his pocket andproduced a note-book and pencil. "May I trouble you to write it down? I'mso very deaf at times that I--Thank you."

  The girl wrote the direction, and the old gentleman bade her good-morningand left. All down the lane he walked slowly with his stick. At thecross-roads he turned, put the stick under his arm, thrust his spectaclesinto his pocket, and strode away in the ordinary guise of Martin Hewitt.He pulled out his note-book, examined Miss Webb's direction verycarefully, and then went off another way altogether, toward the Hare andHounds.

  Kentish lounged moodily in his bar. "Well, my boy," said Hewitt, "hasSteggles wiped out the tracks?"

  "Not yet; I haven't told him. But he's somewhere about; I'll tell himnow."

  "No, don't. I don't think we'll have that done, after all. I expect he'llwant to go out soon--at any rate, some time during the day. Let him gowhenever he likes. I'll sit upstairs a bit in the club-room."

  "Very well. But how do you know Steggles will be going out?"

  "Well, he's pretty restless after his lost _protege_, isn't he? I don'tsuppose he'll be able to remain idle long."

  "And about Crockett. Do you give him up?"

  "Oh, no! Don't you be impatient. I can't say I'm quite confident yet oflaying hold of him--the time is so short, you see--but I think I shall atleast have news for you by the evening."

  Hewitt sat in the club-room until the afternoon, taking his lunch there.At length he saw, through the front window, Raggy Steggles walking downthe road. In an instant Hewitt was down-stairs and at the door. The roadbent eighty yards away, and as soon as Steggles passed the bend thedetective hurried after him.

  All the way to Padfield town and more than half through it Hewitt doggedthe trainer. In the end Steggles stopped at a corner and gave a note to asmall boy who was playing near. The boy ran with the note to a bright,well-kept house at the opposite corner. Martin Hewitt was interested toobserve the legend, "H. Danby, Contractor," on a board over a gate in theside wall of the garden behind this house. In five minutes a door in theside gate opened, and the head and shoulders of the red-faced man emerged.Steggles immediately hurried across and disappeared through the gate.

  This was both interesting and instructive. Hewitt took up a position inthe side street and waited. In ten minutes the trainer reappeared andhurried off the way he had come, along the street Hewitt had consideratelyleft clear for him. Then Hewitt strolled toward the smart house and took agood look at it. At one corner of the small piece of forecourt garden,near the railings, a small, baize-covered, glass-fronted notice-boardstood on two posts. On its top edge appeared the words, "H. Danby. Housesto be Sold or Let." But the only notice pinned to the green baize withinwas an old and dusty one, inviting tenants for three shops, which weresuitable for any business, and which would be fitted to suit tenants.Apply within.

  Hewitt pushed open the front gate and rang the door-bell. "There are someshops to let, I see," he said, when a maid appeared. "I should like to seethem, if you will let me have the key."

  "Master's out, sir. You can't see the shops till Monday."

  "Dear me, that's unfortunate, I'm afraid I can't wait till Monday. Didn'tMr. Danby leave any instructions, in case anybody should inquire?"

  "Yes, sir--as I've told you. He said anybody who called about 'em mustcome again on Monday."

  "Oh, very well, then; I suppose I must try. One of the shops is in HighStreet, isn't it?"

  "No, sir; they're all in the new part--Granville Road."

  "Ah, I'm afraid that will scarcely do. But I'll see. Good-day."

  Martin Hewitt walked away a couple of streets' lengths before he inquiredthe way to Granville Road. When at last he found that thoroughfare, in anew and muddy suburb, crowded with brick-heaps and half-finished streets,he took a slow walk along its entire length. It was a melancholy exampleof baffled enterprise. A row of a dozen or more shops had been builtbefore any population had arrived to demand goods. Would-be tradesmen hadtaken many of these shops, and failure and disappointment stared from thewindows. Some were half covered by shutters, because the scanty stockscarce sufficed to fill the remaining half. Others were shut almostaltogether, the inmates only keeping open the door for their ownconvenience, and, perhaps, keeping down a shutter for the sake of a littlelight. Others, again, had not yet fallen so low, but struggled bravelystill to maintain a show of business and prosperity, with very littlesuccess. Opposite the shops there still remained a dusty, ill-treatedhedge and a forlorn-looking field, which an old board offered on buildingleases. Altogether a most depressing spot.

  There was little difficulty in identifying the three shops offered forletting by Mr. H. Danby. They were all together near the middle of therow, and were the only ones that appeared not yet to have been occupied. Adusty "To Let" bill hung in each window, with written directions toinquire of Mr. H. Danby or at No. 7. Now No. 7 was a melancholy baker'sshop, with a stock of three loaves and a plate of stale buns. Thedisappointed baker assured Hewitt that he usually kept the keys of theshops, but that the landlord, Mr. Danby, had taken them away the daybefore to see how the ceilings were standing, and had not returned them."But if you was thinking of taking a shop here," the poor baker added,with some hesitation, "I--I--if you'll excuse my advising you--I shouldn'trecommend it. I've had a sickener of it myself."

  Hewitt thanked the baker for his advice, wished him better luck in future,and left. To the Hare and Hounds his pace was brisk. "Come," he said, ashe met Kentish's inquiring glance, "this has been a very good day, on thewhole. I know where our man is now, and I think we can get him, by alittle management."

  "Where is he?"

  "Oh, down in Padfield. As a matter of fact, he's being kept there againsthis will, we shall find. I see that your friend Mr. Danby is a builder aswell as a bookmaker."

  "Not a regular builder. He speculates in a street of new houses now andagain, that's all. But is he in it?"

  "He's as deep in it as anybody, I think. Now, don't fly into a passion.There are a few others in it as well, but you'll do harm if you don't keepquiet."

  "But go and get the police; come and fetch him, if you know where they'rekeeping him. Why----"

  "So we will, if we can't do it without them. But it's quite possible wecan, and without all the disturbance and, perhaps, delay that calling inthe police would involve. Consider, now, in reference to your ownarrangements. Wouldn't it pay you better to get him back quietly, withouta soul knowing--perhaps not even Danby knowing--till the heat is runto-morrow?"

  "Well, yes, it would, of course."

  "Very good, then, so be it. Remember what I have told you about keepingyour mouth shut; say nothing to Steggles or anybody. Is there a cab orbrougham your son and I can have for the evening?"

  "There's an old hiring landau in the stables you
can shut up into a cab,if that'll do."

  "Excellent. We'll run down to the town in it as soon as it's ready. But,first, a word about Crockett. What sort of a lad is he? Likely to givethem trouble, show fight, and make a disturbance?"

  "No, I should say not. He's no plucked un, certainly; all his manhood's inhis legs, I believe. You see, he ain't a big sort o' chap at best, andhe'd be pretty easy put upon--at least, I guess so."

  "Very good, so much the better, for then he won't have been damaged, andthey will probably only have one man to guard him. Now the carriage,please."

  Young Kentish was a six-foot sergeant of grenadiers home on furlough, andluxuriating in plain clothes. He and Hewitt walked a little way toward thetown, allowing the landau to catch them up. They traveled in it to withina hundred yards of the empty shops and then alighted, bidding the driverwait.

  "I shall show you three empty shops," Hewitt said, as he and young Kentishwalked down Granville Road. "I am pretty sure that Sammy Crockett is inone of them, and I am pretty sure that that is the middle one. Take a lookas we go past."

  When the shops had been slowly passed, Hewitt resumed: "Now, did you seeanything about those shops that told a tale of any sort?"

  "No," Sergeant Kentish replied. "I can't say I noticed anything beyond thefact that they were empty--and likely to stay so, I should think."

  "We'll stroll back, and look in at the windows, if nobody's watching us,"Hewitt said. "You see, it's reasonable to suppose they've put him in themiddle one, because that would suit their purpose best. The shops at eachside of the three are occupied, and, if the prisoner struggled, orshouted, or made an uproar, he might be heard if he were in one of theshops next those inhabited. So that the middle shop is the most likely.Now, see there," he went on, as they stopped before the window of the shopin question, "over at the back there's a staircase not yet partitionedoff. It goes down below and up above. On the stairs and on the floor nearthem there are muddy footmarks. These must have been made to-day, elsethey would not be muddy, but dry and dusty, since there hasn't been ashower for a week till to-day. Move on again. Then you noticed that therewere no other such marks in the shop. Consequently the man with the muddyfeet did not come in by the front door, but by the back; otherwise hewould have made a trail from the door. So we will go round to the backourselves."

  It was now growing dusk. The small pieces of ground behind the shops werebounded by a low fence, containing a door for each house.

  "This door is bolted inside, of course," Hewitt said, "but there is nodifficulty in climbing. I think we had better wait in the garden tilldark. In the meantime, the jailer, whoever he is, may come out; in whichcase we shall pounce on him as soon as he opens the door. You have thatfew yards of cord in your pocket, I think? And my handkerchief, properlyrolled, will make a very good gag. Now over."

  They climbed the fence and quietly approached the house, placingthemselves in the angle of an outhouse out of sight from the windows.There was no sound, and no light appeared. Just above the ground about afoot of window was visible, with a grating over it, apparently lighting abasement. Suddenly Hewitt touched his companion's arm and pointed towardthe window. A faint rustling sound was perceptible, and, as nearly ascould be discerned in the darkness, some white blind or covering wasplaced over the glass from the inside. Then came the sound of a strikingmatch, and at the side edge of the window there was a faint streak oflight.

  "That's the place," Hewitt whispered. "Come, we'll make a push for it. Youstand against the wall at one side of the door and I'll stand at theother, and we'll have him as he comes out. Quietly, now, and I'll startlethem."

  He took a stone from among the rubbish littering the garden and flung itcrashing through the window. There was a loud exclamation from within, theblind fell, and somebody rushed to the back door and flung it open.Instantly Kentish let fly a heavy right-hander, and the man went over likea skittle. In a moment Hewitt was upon him and the gag in his mouth.

  "Hold him," Hewitt whispered, hurriedly. "I'll see if there are others."

  He peered down through the low window. Within Sammy Crockett, his barelegs dangling from beneath his long overcoat, sat on a packing-box,leaning with his head on his hand and his back toward the window. Aguttering candle stood on the mantel-piece, and the newspaper which hadbeen stretched across the window lay in scattered sheets on the floor. Noother person besides Sammy was visible.

  They led their prisoner indoors. Young Kentish recognized him as apublic-house loafer and race-course ruffian, well known in theneighborhood.

  "So it's you, is it, Browdie?" he said. "I've caught you one hard clump,and I've half a mind to make it a score more. But you'll get it prettywarm one way or another before this job's forgotten."

  Sammy Crockett was overjoyed at his rescue. He had not been ill-treated,he explained, but had been thoroughly cowed by Browdie, who had from timeto time threatened him savagely with an iron bar by way of persuading himto quietness and submission. He had been fed, and had taken no worse harmthan a slight stiffness from his adventure, due to his light under-attireof jersey and knee-shorts.

  Sergeant Kentish tied Browdie's elbows firmly together behind, and carriedthe line round the ankles, bracing all up tight. Then he ran a knot fromone wrist to the other over the back of the neck, and left the prisoner,trussed and helpless, on the heap of straw that had been Sammy's bed.

  "You won't be very jolly, I expect," Kentish said, "for some time. Youcan't shout and you can't walk, and I know you can't untie yourself.You'll get a bit hungry, too, perhaps, but that'll give you an appetite. Idon't suppose you'll be disturbed till some time to-morrow, unless ourfriend Danby turns up in the meantime. But you can come along to jailinstead, if you prefer it."

  They left him where he lay, and took Sammy to the old landau. Sammy walkedin slippers, carrying his spiked shoes, hanging by the lace, in his hand.

  "Ah," said Hewitt, "I think I know the name of the young lady who gave youthose slippers."

  Crockett looked ashamed and indignant. "Yes," he said, "they've done menicely between 'em. But I'll pay her--I'll----"

  "Hush, hush!" Hewitt said; "you mustn't talk unkindly of a lady, you know.Get into this carriage, and we'll take you home. We'll see if I can tellyou your adventures without making a mistake. First, you had a note fromMiss Webb, telling you that you were mistaken in supposing she hadslighted you, and that, as a matter of fact, she had quite done withsomebody else--left him--of whom you were jealous. Isn't that so?"

  "Well, yes," young Crockett answered, blushing deeply under thecarriage-lamp; "but I don't see how you come to know that."

  "Then she went on to ask you to get rid of Steggles on Thursday afternoonfor a few minutes, and speak to her in the back lane. Now, your runningpumps, with their thin soles, almost like paper, no heels and long spikes,hurt your feet horribly if you walk on hard ground, don't they?"

  "Ay, that they do--enough to cripple you. I'd never go on much hard groundwith 'em."

  "They're not like cricket shoes, I see."

  "Not a bit. Cricket shoes you can walk anywhere in!"

  "Well, she knew this--I think I know who told her--and she promised tobring you a new pair of slippers, and to throw them over the fence for youto come out in."

  "I s'pose she's been tellin' you all this?" Crockett said, mournfully."You couldn't ha' seen the letter; I saw her tear it up and put the bitsin her pocket. She asked me for it in the lane, in case Steggles saw it."

  "Well, at any rate, you sent Steggles away, and the slippers did comeover, and you went into the lane. You walked with her as far as the roadat the end, and then you were seized and gagged, and put into a carriage."

  "That was Browdie did that," said Crockett, "and another chap I don'tknow. But--why, this is Padfield High Street?" He looked through thewindow and regarded the familiar shops with astonishment.

  "Of course it is. Where did you think it was?"

  "Why, where was that place you found me in?"

  "Granville Ro
ad, Padfield. I suppose they told you you were in anothertown?"

  "Told me it was Newstead Hatch. They drove for about three or four hours,and kept me down on the floor between the seats so as I couldn't see wherewe was going."

  "Done for two reasons," said Hewitt. "First, to mystify you, and preventany discovery of the people directing the conspiracy; and second, to beable to put you indoors at night and unobserved. Well, I think I have toldyou all you know yourself now as far as the carriage.

  "But there is the Hare and Hounds just in front. We'll pull up here, andI'll get out and see if the coast is clear. I fancy Mr. Kentish wouldrather you came in unnoticed."

  In a few seconds Hewitt was back, and Crockett was conveyed indoors by aside entrance. Hewitt's instructions to the landlord were few, butemphatic. "Don't tell Steggles about it," he said; "make an excuse to getrid of him, and send him out of the house. Take Crockett into some otherbedroom, not his own, and let your son look after him. Then come here, andI'll tell you all about it."

  Sammy Crockett was undergoing a heavy grooming with white embrocation atthe hands of Sergeant Kentish when the landlord returned to Hewitt. "DoesDanby know you've got him?" he asked. "How did you do it?"

  "Danby doesn't know yet, and with luck he won't know till he sees Crockettrunning to-morrow. The man who has sold you is Steggles."

  "Steggles?"

  "Steggles it is. At the very first, when Steggles rushed in to reportSammy Crockett missing, I suspected him. You didn't, I suppose?"

  "No. He's always been considered a straight man, and he looked as startledas anybody."

  "Yes, I must say he acted it very well. But there was something suspiciousin his story. What did he say? Crockett had remarked a chilliness, andasked for a sweater, which Steggles went to fetch. Now, just think. Youunderstand these things. Would any trainer who knew his business (asSteggles does) have gone to bring out a sweater for his man to change forhis jersey in the open air, at the very time the man was complaining ofchilliness? Of course not. He would have taken his man indoors again andlet him change there under shelter. Then supposing Steggles had reallybeen surprised at missing Crockett, wouldn't he have looked about, foundthe gate open, and _told_ you it was open when he first came in? He saidnothing of that--we found the gate open for ourselves. So that from thebeginning I had a certain opinion of Steggles."

  "What you say seems pretty plain now, although it didn't strike me at thetime. But, if Steggles was selling us, why couldn't he have drugged thelad? That would have been a deal simpler."

  "Because Steggles is a good trainer, and has a certain reputation to keepup. It would have done him no good to have had a runner drugged whileunder his care; certainly it would have cooked his goose with _you_. Itwas much the safer thing to connive at kidnapping. That put all the activework into other hands, and left him safe, even if the trick failed. Now,you remember that we traced the prints of Crockett's spiked shoes towithin a couple of yards from the fence, and that there they ceasedsuddenly?"

  "Yes. You said it looked as though he had flown up into the air; and so itdid."

  "But I was sure that it was by that gate that Crockett had left, and by noother. He couldn't have got through the house without being seen, andthere was no other way--let alone the evidence of the unbolted gate.Therefore, as the footprints ceased where they did, and were not repeatedanywhere in the lane, I knew that he had taken his spiked shoesoff--probably changed them for something else, because a runner anxious asto his chances would never risk walking on bare feet, with a chance ofcutting them. Ordinary, broad, smooth-soled slippers would leave noimpression on the coarse cinders bordering the track, and nothing short ofspiked shoes would leave a mark on the hard path in the lane behind. Thespike-tracks were leading, not directly toward the door, but in thedirection of the fence, when they stopped; somebody had handed, or thrown,the slippers over the fence, and he had changed them on the spot. Theenemy had calculated upon the spikes leaving a track in the lane thatmight lead us in our search, and had arranged accordingly.

  "So far so good. I could see no footprints near the gate in the lane. Youwill remember that I sent Steggles off to watch at the Cop before I wentout to the back--merely, of course, to get him out of the way. I went outinto the lane, leaving you behind, and walked its whole length, firsttoward the Old Kilns and then back toward the road. I found nothing tohelp me except these small pieces of paper--which are here in mypocket-book, by the by. Of course this 'mmy' might have meant 'Jimmy' or'Tommy' as possibly as 'Sammy,' but they were not to be rejected on thataccount. Certainly Crockett had been decoyed out of your ground, not takenby force, or there would have been marks of a scuffle in the cinders. Andas his request for a sweater was probably an excuse--because it was not atall a cold afternoon--he must have previously designed going out.Inference, a letter received; and here were pieces of a letter. Now, inthe light of what I have said, look at these pieces. First, there is the'mmy'--that I have dealt with. Then see this 'throw them ov'--clearly apart of 'throw them over'; exactly what had probably been done with theslippers. Then the 'poor f,' coming just on the line before, and seen, byjoining up with this other piece, might easily be a reference to 'poorfeet.' These coincidences, one on the other, went far to establish theidentity of the letter, and to confirm my previous impressions. But thenthere is something else. Two other pieces evidently mean 'left him,' and'right away,' perhaps; but there is another, containing almost all of thewords 'hate his,' with the word 'hate' underlined. Now, who writes 'hate'with the emphasis of underscoring--who but a woman? The writing is largeand not very regular; it might easily be that of a half-educated woman.Here was something more--Sammy had been enticed away by a woman.

  "Now, I remembered that, when we went into the tap-room on Wednesday, someof his companions were chaffing Crockett about a certain Nancy Webb, andthe chaff went home, as was plain to see. The woman, then, who could mosteasily entice Sammy Crockett away was Nancy Webb. I resolved to find whoNancy Webb was and learn more of her.

  "Meantime, I took a look at the road at the end of the lane. It was damperthan the lane, being lower, and overhung by trees. There were manywheel-tracks, but only one set that turned in the road and went back theway it came, toward the town; and they were narrow wheels--carriagewheels. Crockett tells me now that they drove him about for a long timebefore shutting him up; probably the inconvenience of taking him straightto the hiding-place didn't strike them when they first drove off.

  "A few inquiries soon set me in the direction of the Plough and Miss NancyWebb. I had the curiosity to look around the place as I approached, andthere, in the garden behind the house, were Steggles and the young lady inearnest confabulation!

  "Every conjecture became a certainty. Steggles was the lover of whomCrockett was jealous, and he had employed the girl to bring Sammy out. Iwatched Steggles home, and gave you a hint to keep him there.

  "But the thing that remained was to find Steggles' employer in thisbusiness. I was glad to be in when Danby called. He came, of course, tohear if you would blurt out anything, and to learn, if possible, whatsteps you were taking. He failed. By way of making assurance doubly sure Itook a short walk this morning in the character of a deaf gentleman, andgot Miss Webb to write me a direction that comprised three of the words onthese scraps of paper--'left,' 'right,' and 'lane'; see, they correspond,the peculiar 'f's,' 't's,' and all.

  "Now, I felt perfectly sure that Steggles would go for his pay to-day. Inthe first place, I knew that people mixed up with shady transactions inprofessional pedestrianism are not apt to trust one another far--they knowbetter. Therefore Steggles wouldn't have had his bribe first. But he wouldtake care to get it before the Saturday heats were run, because once theywere over the thing was done, and the principal conspirator might haverefused to pay up, and Steggles couldn't have helped himself. Again Ihinted he should not go out till I could follow him, and this afternoon,when he went, follow him I did. I saw him go into Danby's house by theside way and come away again. Danby it w
as, then, who had arranged thebusiness; and nobody was more likely, considering his large pecuniarystake against Crockett's winning this race.

  "But now how to find Crockett? I made up my mind he wouldn't be in Danby'sown house. That would be a deal too risky, with servants about and so on.I saw that Danby was a builder, and had three shops to let--it was on apaper before his house. What more likely prison than an empty house? Iknocked at Danby's door and asked for the keys of those shops. I couldn'thave them. The servant told me Danby was out (a manifest lie, for I hadjust seen him), and that nobody could see the shops till Monday. But I gotout of her the address of the shops, and that was all I wanted at thetime.

  "Now, why was nobody to see those shops till Monday? The interval wassuspicious--just enough to enable Crockett to be sent away again and castloose after the Saturday racing, supposing him to be kept in one of theempty buildings. I went off at once and looked at the shops, forming myconclusions as to which would be the most likely for Danby's purpose. HereI had another confirmation of my ideas. A poor, half-bankrupt baker in oneof the shops had, by the bills, the custody of a set of keys; but he, too,told me I couldn't have them; Danby had taken them away--and on Thursday,the very day--with some trivial excuse, and hadn't brought them back. Thatwas all I wanted or could expect in the way of guidance. The whole thingwas plain. The rest you know all about."

  "Well, you're certainly as smart as they give you credit for, I must say.But suppose Danby had taken down his 'To Let' notice, what would you havedone, then?"

  "We had our course, even then. We should have gone to Danby, astounded himby telling him all about his little games, terrorized him with threats ofthe law, and made him throw up his hand and send Crockett back. But, as itis, you see, he doesn't know at this moment--probably won't know tillto-morrow afternoon--that the lad is safe and sound here. You willprobably use the interval to make him pay for losing the game--by some ofthe ingenious financial devices you are no doubt familiar with."

  "Ay, that I will. He'll give any price against Crockett now, so long asthe bet don't come direct from me."

  "But about Crockett, now," Hewitt went on. "Won't this confinement belikely to have damaged his speed for a day or two?"

  "Ah, perhaps," the landlord replied; "but, bless ye, that won't matter.There's four more in his heat to-morrow. Two I know aren't tryers, and theother two I can hold in at a couple of quid apiece any day. The thirdround and final won't be till to-morrow week, and he'll be as fit as everby then. It's as safe as ever it was. How much are you going to have on?I'll lump it on for you safe enough. This is a chance not to be missed;it's picking money up."

  "Thank you; I don't think I'll have anything to do with it. Thisprofessional pedestrian business doesn't seem a pretty one at all. I don'tcall myself a moralist, but, if you'll excuse my saying so, the thing isscarcely the game I care to pick tap money at in any way."

  "Oh, very well! if you think so, I won't persuade ye, though I don't thinkso much of your smartness as I did, after that. Still, we won't quarrel;you've done me a mighty good turn, that I must say, and I only feel Iaren't level without doing something to pay the debt. Come, now, you'vegot your trade as I've got mine. Let me have the bill, and I'll pay itlike a lord, and feel a deal more pleased than if you made a favor ofit--not that I'm above a favor, of course. But I'd prefer paying, andthat's a fact."

  "My dear sir, you have paid," Hewitt said, with a smile. "You paid inadvance. It was a bargain, wasn't it, that I should do your business ifyou would help me in mine? Very well; a bargain's a bargain, and we'veboth performed our parts. And you mustn't be offended at what I said justnow."

  "That I won't! But as to that Raggy Steggles, once those heats are overto-morrow, I'll--well----"

  It was on the following Sunday week that Martin Hewitt, in his rooms inLondon, turned over his paper and read, under the head "Padfield Annual135 Yards Handicap," this announcement: "Final heat: Crockett, first;Willis, second; Trewby, third; Owen, 0; Howell, 0. A runaway win by nearlythree yards."