Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 155, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 June 1912 — The Grand Babylon Hotel [ARTICLE]

The Grand Babylon Hotel

Copyright by Frank A Munsey Co. o - CHAPTER XXVL The Kight Chase and the Mudlark. “Let us go to Cheery Gardens pier, by ail means,” Racksole said, and the boat swung across stream. Then it began to creep down by the right bank, feeling its way past wharves, many of which, even at that hour, were'still busy with their cranes that descended empty into the bellies of ships and came up full. As the two watermen gingerly maneuvered the boat in the ebbing tide Hazell explained to the millionaire that the Squirm was one of the most notorious craft on the river.

It appeared that when anyone had a nefarious or underhand scheme afoot which necessitated .fiver work, Everett’s launch was always available for a suitable monetary consideration. The Squirm had got itself into a thousand scrapes and out of those scrapes again with safety, if not precisely with honor.

Latterly, however, the launch with its damaged propeller, which Everett consistently refused to have repaired, had acquired an evil reputation even among evildoers, and that fraternity had gradualiy come to abandon it for

less easily recognizable craft “Your friend, Mr. Tom Jackson,” said Hazell to Racksole, “committed an error of discretion when he hired the Squirm. A scoundrel of his experience and calibre ought certainly to have known better than that. You cannot fail to get a clue now.” By this time the boat was approaching Cherry Gardens pier, but unfortunately a thin night fog had swept over the river and objects could not me discerned with any clearness beyond a distance of 30 yeards. As the customs boat scraped down past the pier all its occupants strained eyes for a glimpse of the mysterious launch, but nothing could be seen of it. The boat continued to float idly down stream, the men resting on their oars. Then they narrowly escaped bumping a large Norwegian sailing vessel

■■■?■ ill , ' ........ at anchor with her nose pointing Just as they got clear of her bowr sprit the fat man called out excitedly: “there’s her pose!” and he put the against the tide. _ And there was the Squirm comfortably anchored on the starboard quarter of the Norwegian vessel, hidden neatly between the ship and shore. The men pulled very quietly alongside. . • • “I’ll board her, to start with,” said Hazell, whispering to Racksole. “I’ll make out I suspect 'they’ve got dutiable goods on board, and that will, give me a chance to have a good look at her.” Dreesed in tiisofficlal overcoat and peaked cap, he stepped rather jauntily, as Racksole ‘thought, on to the low deck of the launch. “Anyone aboard?” Racksole heard him cry out, and a woman’s voice answered.

•Tm a customs officer, and I want to search this launch,” Hazell shouted and then disappeared down into the little saloon amidships, and Racksole heard no more. ■ "

It seemed to the millionaire that Hazell had been gone hours, but at length he returned. “Can’t find anything,” he said as he jumped into the boat, and then privately to Racksole: “There’s a woman on board. Looks as if she might coincide with your description of Miss Spencer. Steam’s up, but there’s no engineer. I asked where the engineer was and she inquired what business that was of mine and requested me to get thfough With my own business

and clear off. “Seems rather a smart sort. I poked my nose into everything, but I saw no sign of anything else. Perhaps we’d better pull away and lie near her for a bit, just to see if anything queer occurs”

‘You’re quite sure he isn’t on board?” Racksole asked.

“Quite,” said Hazell positively. “I know how to search a vessel. See this,” and he handed to Racksole a sort of steel skewer, about two feet long, with a wooden handle. “That,” he said, “Is one of the customs’ aids to searching.” “I suppose it wouldn’t do to go on I)oard and carry off the lady?” Racksole suggested doubtfully. “Well,” Hazell began, with eq‘»al doubtfullness, “as for that”

“Where’s 'e or.’?' It was the man in the bows who interrupted Hazell. Following the direction of the man s finger, both Haze.l and Racksole saw. with more or less distinctness, a dingey slip away from the forefoot of the Norwegian vessel and disappear down stream into the mist

“It’s Jules, I’ll swear!” cried Racksole. “After him, men. Ten pounds apiece if we overtake him!” “Lay down to it now, boys,” added Hazell, and the heavy customs boat shot out in pursuit The boat was moving at a rapid pace with the tide. Steering wap a matter of luck and instinct more than anything else. Every now and then Hazell, who held the line, was obliged to jerk the boat’s head sharply around to avoid a barge or an anchored vessel. It seemed to Racksole that ships were anchored all over the stream. He looked about him anxiously, but for a long time he could make out nothing but mist and vague nautical forms.

Then suddenly he said, quietly enough: “We are on the right road. I can see him ahead. We’re gaining on him.” ? •

In another minute the dingey was plaiiily visible, not 20 yards away, and the sculler, sculling frantically now, was unmistakably Jules—Jules In a light tweed suit and a bowler hat. ‘You were right,” Hazell said. “This is a lark. I believe I’m getting quite excited, It’p more exciting than playing the trombone 'man orchestra. I'll run him down, eh? And then we can drag the chap in from the water.”

Racksole nodded, but that monent a barge with her red sails set stood out of the fog clean ©cross the bows of the customs boat, which narrowly escaped instant destruction. When they got clear and the usual interchange of calm, nonchalant swearing was over, the dingey was barely to be discerned in the mist, and the fat man was breathing in such a. manner tha| might have been heard on the banks. Gradually they began to overtake the dingey, whose one-man crew was evidently tiring.- As they came up, hand over fist.the dingey’s nose swerved aside and the tiny craft passed down a water lane between two anchored barges which lay, black and deserted, about 50 yards from the Surrey shore. „ (To Be Continued.)