Jasper County Democrat, Volume 10, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 August 1907 — Martin Hewitt, Investigator, The Loss of Sammy Crockett. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Martin Hewitt, Investigator, The Loss of Sammy Crockett.

By ARTHUR MORRISON.

Published by Arrangement With Harper A Brothers.

[Continued from Lait Week] In the morning Hewitt took hi* breakfast In the suuggerv, carefully listening to any conversation that might take place at the bar. Boon after 9 o’clock u fast dogcart stopped outside, and a red faced, loud voiced man swaggered in, greeting Kentish with boisterous cordiality. He bad a drink with the landlord and said: “How’s things? Fancy any of ’em for the sprfht handicap? Got a lad o’ your own in, haven’t you?” “Oh, yes,” Kentish replied; “Crockett. Only a young un not got to his proper mark yet, I reckon. I think old Taylor’s got No. 1 this time.” “Capital lad," the other replied, with a confidential nod. "Shouldn’t wonder 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 flutter on the grounds Just for fun; nothing else.” There were a few more casual remarks, and then the red faced man drove away. “Who was that?” asked Hewitt, who had watched the visitor through the snuggery 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 matter of fact, I’ve worked Sammy Crockett Into his books for about half I’m In for altogether—through third parties, of course.” Hewitt reached for bis hat “I’m go fng out for half an hour now,” be said. “If Steggles wants to go out before 1 come back, don't let him. Let him go And smooth over all those tracks on the cinder path very carefully. And, by the bye, could you manage to have your son about the place today in case I happen to want a little help out of doors ?” “Certainly; I’ll get him to stay in. But what do you want the cinders smoothed for?” Hewitt smiled and patted his host’s shoulder. “I’ll explain all my little tricks when the job’s done,”, he said, and went out. On the lane from Fadfleld to Sedl/y village stood the Tlough beer house, wherein J. Webb was licensed to sell by retail beer to he consumed on the premises or off ns the thirsty list. Nancy Webb, with a very fine color, a very curly fringe and a wide smiling mouth revealing a fine set of teeth, came to the bar at the summons of a stoutlsh old gentleman in spectacles who walked with a stick. The stoutlsh old gentleman had a glass of bitter beer and then said in the peculiarly quiet voice of a very deaf , man, “Can you tell me, If yon please, the way 'into the main Catton road?” "Down the lane, turn to the right at the crossroads, then first to the left.”". The old gentleman waited with his band to his ear for some few seconds after 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 and produced a notebook and pencil. “May I trouble you to write it down? I’m so very deaf at times that I— Tlmnk you.” Tlie girl wrote the direction, and the old goutlemau bade her good morning and left. Ail down the lane be walked slowly with his stick. At the crossroads he turned, put the stick under bis arm, thrust the spectacles into his pocket and strode away In the ordinary guise of Martin Hewitt. lie pulled out his notebook, examined Miss Webb’s direction very carefully and then went off another way altogether toward the Ilare and Hounds. Kentish lounged moodily in his bar. “Well, my boy,” said Hewitt, “has Steggles wiped out the tracks?” “Not yet. I haven't told him. But he’s somewhere about. I’ll tell him now.” “No, don’t. I don't thThk we’ll have that done after all. I expect he'll Want to go out soon; ut any rate, some time during the day. Let him go whenever he likes. I’ll sit upstairs a bit in the clubroom.” “Very well. But how do you know Steggles will be going out?” -“Well, lie's pretty restless after bis lost protege. Isn’t lie? don’t suppose lie'll be able to rewaiu idle long.” “And about Crockett. Do you give him up?” “Oh, noi Don’t you lie impatient. I can’t say I’m quite confident yet of laying hold of liha—the time is so short, you see—but I think I shall at least have news for you by the evening.” ‘ Hewitt sat in the clubroom until the Afternoon, taking his lunch there. At length he saw, through the front window, Baggy Steggles walking down the road. In an Instant Hewitt was downstairs and at the door. All the way to Padfleld town and more than half through It Hewitt dogged the trainer. In the end Steggles stopped at a corner and gave a note to a small boy who was playing atear. The boy ran with the note to a bright, well kept house at the opposite corner. Martin Hewitt was Interested to observe the legend, “H. Danby, Contractor,” on a board over a gate In the aide wall of the garden behind this bouse. In five minutes a door in the side gate opened, and the head and

shoulders Of fße red faced man emerged. Steggles immediately hurried across and disappeared through the gate. This was both Interesting and Instructive. Hewitt took up a position in the side street and waited. In ten minutes the trainer reappeared and hurried off the way he had come, along the street Hewitt had considerately left clear for him. Then Hewitt strolled toward the smart house and took a good look at It. At one corner of the small piece of forecourt garden, near the railings, a small, baize covered, glass fronted notice board stood on two posts. On its top edge appeared the words “11. Danby. Houses to be Bold or Lot.” But the only notice pinned to the green baize within was an old and dnsty one, inviting tenants for three shops. Hewitt pushed open the front gate and rang the doorbell. “There are some shops to let, I see,” he said when a nAid appeared. “I should like to see them, if you will Jet me have the keys.” “Master’s out, sir. You can’t see the sbops till Monday.” “Dear me, that's unfortunate! I’m afraid I can’t wait till Monday. Didn’t Mr. Danby leave any instructions?” “Yes, sir—os I’ve told you. He said anybody who called about ’em must come again on Monday.” “Ob, very well, then. I suppose I must try. One of the sbops is in High street, 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 inquired the w r ay to Granville, road. When at last he found that thoroughfare, in a new and muddy suburb, crowded with brick heaps and half finished streets, he took a slow walk along Its entire length. It was a melancholy example of baffled* enterprise. A row of a dozen or more sbops had been built before any population had arrived to demand goods. Would be tradesmen had taken many of these sbops, and failure and disappointment stared from the windows. There was little difficulty In identifying the three shops offered for letting by Mr. H. Danby. They were all together near the middle of the row and were the only ones that appeared not yet to have been occupied. A* [dusty “To Let” bill hung In each window with written directions to inquire (Of Mr. H. Danby or at No. 7. Now, No. f 7 was a melancholy baker’s shop, with |a stock of three loaves and a plate of stale buns. The disappointed baker assured Hewitt that he usually kept the keys of the shops, but that the landlord, Mr. Danby, had taken them nway the day before to see how the ceilings were standing and had not returned them. , To the Hare and Hounds Hewitt’s frace was brisk. “Come,” he said as lie met Kentish’s inquiring glance, .this has been a very good day, on the whole. I know where our man Is now, and I think we can get him by a little management.” j “Where is he?” “Oh, down In Padfleld. As a matter of fact, he’s being kept there against his will we shall find. I see that your friend Mr. Danby Is a builder as well as a bookmaker.” “Not a regular builder. He speculates In a street of new houses now' and again, 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 keep quiet.” “But go and get the police; come and fetch him, if you kuow where they are keeping him. Why”— “So we will, if we enn’t do it without them. But it’s quite possible we lean, and without all the disturbance and i>erhaps delay that calling in the [police would involve. Consider, now, In reference to your own arrangements. [Wouldn’t It pay you better to get him (back quietly, without a soul knowing—[perhaps not even Danby knowing—till the lieofis run tomorrow?” “Well, yes, it would, of course.” “Very good, then; so be It. Remeinjber what 1 have told you about keeping your mouth shut; say nothing to Steggles or anybody. Is there a cab or brougham 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.” i “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 give Ithem trouble, show fight-and make a disturbance?” “No, I should say not. _ He’s no plucked un, certainly. All his manhood’s in his legs, I believe.” “Very good, so much the better, for then he won’t have been damaged, and they 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 nnd luxuriating in plain clothes. He and Hewitt walked a little way toward the town, allowing the landau to catch them up. They traveled In It to within a hundred yards of tlie empty shops and then alighted, bidding the driver wait t “I shall show you three empty jshops.” Hewitt said, as he»and yonng Kentish walked down Granville road. “I am pretty sure that Sammy Crockett Is in one of them, and I am pretty sure that that the middle one. The shops at each side of the three are occupied, and If the prisoner struggled or shouted or made an uproar he might be beard if he were in one of the shops next those Inhabited, so that the middle shop Is the most likely. New, see there,” he went on as they stopped before the window of the shop in question, “over at the back there’s a staircase not. yet partitioned off. It goes

fdown below aha - up above. OnTQfe [stairs and on the floor near them them are muddy footmarks. These must ‘have been made today else they would not be muddy, but dry and dusty, since there hasn’t been a shower for a week till today. Move on again. Then you I noticed that there were no other such [marks In the shop. Consequently the roan with the muddy feet did not come In by the front door, but by the back. Otherwise he would have made a trail from the door, so we will go around to the back ourselves.” J It was now growing dusk. The small •pieces of ground behind the shops were bounded by a low fence, containing a (door for each bouse. [ “This door is bolted Inside of course,” (Hewitt said, “but there Is no difficulty In climbing. I think we had better [wait In the garden till dark. In the meantime the Jailer, whoever he Is, imay come out. In which case we shall .pounce on him as soon ns he opens the idoor. You have that few yards of cord lin your pocket, I think, and my handjkerchief properly rolled will make a very good gag. Now over.” J They climbed the fence nnd quietly .approached the house, placing them[selves 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 a.foot of window was visible, with a grnting over lit, apparently lighting a basement. .Suddenly Hewitt touched his companjion’s arm and pointed toward the window. A faint rustling sound was perceptible, and, as nearly as could be discerned in the darkness, some white blind or covering was placed over the glass from Inside. Then came the sound of a striking match, and at the side edge of the window there was a faint streak of light. Hewitt took a stone from among the [rubbish littering the garden and flung It crashing through the window. There was a loud exclamation from within, the blind fell, and somebody rushed to the back door and flung it open. ‘lnstantly Kentish let fly a heavy right [hander, and the man went over like a [skittle. In a moment Hewitt was upon plm and the gag In his mouth.

I “Hold film,” Hewitt whispered hurriedly. “I’ll see If there are others.” I He peered down through the low [window. Within Sammy Crockett, his bare legs dangling from beneath his [long overcoat, sat on a packing box, leaning with his head on his hand and his back toward the window. A guttering cnndle stood on the mantelpiece, and the newspaper which had been stretched across the window lay in Scattered sheets on the floor. No other person besides Sammy was visible. They led their prisoner indoors. Young Kentish recognized him as a public house loafer and race course ruffian, well known in the neighborhood. “So it’s you, is It, Browdle?” 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 pretty warm one way or another before this Job’s forgotten.’’ [to be continued]

The man went over like a skittle.