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;,V.ozoxo:0:0:01010:0201010:0101029:oi'o:o:q:o:o:ozo:.xo:‘:o:o:o:o:o:.:.:o:o:.:o:.:.:o:o:o:ozo:o:oxo‘,g e | TheStrange Adventures |; J . K ! of Christopher Poe :3 Stories of Strange Cases Solved in Secret by a Banker-Detective :::‘ O ! By ROBERT CARLTON BROWN ‘ :} (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) E:E , ».« il A VAUDEVILLE SKETCH X " s A ————— Moonlight nights and pay days gleamed with almost equal luster to private watchman Hopking, who had a round on Royal street which in cluded the big New Orleans Antique exchange, the Louis XIV TPurniture factory, a small shop for old-fashioned jewelry, a molasses warehouse, and the old Dubois home. There was certain relief for him in reaching out for a door-knob in plain sight; there was sure satisfac tion in passing the trap corner be tween the furniture factory and the jewelry store, where some one might be lurking with a gun to stick in his face uhseen on moonless nights; but, best of all, he could see plainly the vicious great Dane which Armand Du. bois, cowardly miser that he was, kept to protect the hoardings in his house. There is, just before dawn, a breath less space, an awesome gap, in which the moon is making ready to surrender her silver scepter to the sun; it was at this awesome hour that private watchman Hopkins unlocked the front gate to the Dubois home, slipped softly up the front steps, and tried the door-knob for the twentieth time that night. At his first step on the walk Alert, the vicious great Dane, had growled, and bounded toward him on the long wire to which he was chained so that he could run the length of the house and guard the rear door and windows. The great beast chafed on his chain while Hopkins passed within six feet of his snapping jaws, to try the side door. As he as cended the steps, Alert ground out a eeries of guttural growls and barked in a low, vicious rumble, as was his invariable custom. When Hopkins mechanically tried the door and passed back along the walk, the dog raced beside him on his wire, straining, jerking to lessen that six-foot gap, struggling to get at him; snapping, growling. Armand Dubois had trained his dog to make friends with no one, and he himself stood ten yards away and threw meat at him through a window at meal-times. When Hopkins had gained the front gate, he took his customary deep breath of relief and continued on his round. Fifteen minutes later he was back, and Alert greeted him wm‘tem' usual _growl, and disputed every step he took ?Mfih*%fi*’fl%s it was “the influence of that uneaey period | just before dawn, but Hopkins felt that Alert was the least bit fiercer than usual. But everything was all right, the doors had not been tampered with, though Hopkins laughed at the notion of anybody getting as far as his first step into the yard without Alert arous ing all Royal street. Just as he was approaching the front gate again and gasping for his usual deep breath of relief, a window on the second floor of the Dubois house flew up; Alert made an instan taneous bound, flung himself in the air toward the nightcapped vision framed in the sash, was jerked back to the ground by his chain and lay stunned for a moment while the nightcapped figure screamed: “Help! Robbers! Thieves! Rob bers!” Windows in several near-by houses popped up. Night watchman Hopkins, glancing at the dog, dropped his elec tric stick, pulled his gun, and dashed toward the front stairs. The dog scrambled to all fours, emitted a lion like roar, hunched together, and with dripping jaws and wild glaring eyes sprang for Hopkins just as he grasped the porch-rail. The running wire drew taut, held, and then snapped with a loud report. Alert, free from his chain, sprang for Hopkins. The nightcapped old man in the window threw up his hands, screamed “Mon Dieu!” and dropped limp, half over the sill. Hop kins threw himself back, and pulled at the trigger of his gun with both hands. A crash of bone, an agonized groan, and Alert humped over in a heap on the cement walk at Hopking’ feet, his | massive skull crushed in by a big bul let. Hopkins flew up the steps and pounded on the door, fumbling his key chain blankly, and trying to force the door, for Dubols’ nature was 80 sus picious that he would not even allow his watchman a key to his door, lock ing everything from the inside with bolts and padlocks, Keeping one eye om the quivering heap at the foot of the eteps, Hopkins pounded until the soft clap of hustling steps in shiftless slippers came to his expectant ears, “That you, Hopkins?” came an anx fous cry in a cracked voice from with in. “Yes, Mr. Dubois, for the love of heaven, open up! I told you this would happen if you—" The door was opened a erack before he finished, and the frightened face that had appeared beneath the night cap in the window etarted out. “For God's sake, come In!" cried old Dubois querulously, grasping Hop kins' shoulder with palsied hand, and pulling him within, “There's a nasty crowd collecting in front. Bring in that porch-chalr—l don't know how I forgot it last mnight; they might get through the gate and steal it. Hurry!” “Where are the robbers?” “Gone!” zried Dubois, straining his wrinkled neck forward, and moisten ing his throat with an effort as he spoke. “Are you sure? What did they get?” “Everything! Lock!” Dubois had pushed the watchman up the stairs to the second floor, and pointed a shaking finger through an open door, holding to the wall for support and gasping for breath as he spoke. “Everything— look! All my money in bills; stacks, stacks of bills!” There was a rickety antique Shera ton four-poster, Dubois’ bed, and on it was the cloth-covered box of a bed gpring, gaping open, half filled with a scattering of crumpled papers. The bed-clothes were thrown in a heap in !one corner of the room. Hopkins stepped back in surprise. His foot came down on a wad of cotton; he picked it up, and stood fingering it ab sently as he stared at the wrecked bed. ¢ “Then you did sleep on your money in place of a mattress, as people al ways said?” he queried. “Yes, yes. There is no use,” the quaking old man stood glassy-eyed, glaring at the empty spring box, “there is no use to deny it now. I kept every thing—all—in that box, packed in among the springs. Stacks, stacks and stacks of bills! I did—did—" He stopped, clawed forward one of his large flapping ears, and stood strain ing to catch the repetition of a sharp sound he had picked from other noises rising from below. Hopkins was sniffing at the piece of cotton he had picked up beside the bed. | “Chloroform!” he exclaimed, drop ping lit. ‘ “Eh!” cried old Dubois, jerking his hand from his ear, and thrusting it in to the opening of his nightshirt. “They chloroformed you, and threw you into the corner with your shoes and the bed-clothes, while they rifled the treasure chest.” “Eh? Yes. I—l heard them at my bedside, then I was on the floor, and 1 couldn’t use my arms, my. legs, my tongue, and I knew they were taking ‘my poor bills, in stacks—a‘tlacks and stacks of them!” His :g;g%' ‘hand umytpqfi?n?pfiiue&fn geagfflm' off again: “Listen! What’s that? There’s somebody fooling with the front gate.” . He rushed to the window, which he ‘had again carefully locked after recov ering from his faint, craned his cordy neck toward the front of the house, and tottered as he shook his quivering fist at a nondescript fellow in a mod- | est business suit and ordinary derby who must have clambered over the locked iron gate regardless of its pricking points, and was busily at work stretching out the limp form of Alert. “Leave that dog alone! Get out of there, or I'll—" Dubois in an insane moment tore an antiqgue French firearm tremblingly from the bosom of his nightshirt, where, to Hopkins’ surprise, he had been concealing it. “Don’t!” cried the watchman, jump ing forward to grasp the quivering hand attempting an aim. “I'll protect my place—my right— I'll=" Dubois’ twitching jaws dropped open; he stared at the man below who, aroused by the commotion in the window, glanced up, picked a small filmy object like a sausage-skin from one of the points of Alert’s massive ‘studded collar, and slipped through the front gate, which he opened with an easy twist as though it were not locked, “You left it unlocked?” cried Dubois. “I did not!” Hopkins denied. “Who the devil is the fellow? I never saw him before. Do you suppose he—" “lI don't suppose anything—" Du bois thrust out his lower jaw threat eningly. “You’re hired to protect me; why do you let him run away? May be__" Hopkins, having leaped to the same unexpressed conclusion, turned, and rushed down the stairs, stopped at the gate, unlocked it, and cried to the group of newsboys, neighbors, tamale men, market boys, and other early birds collected in front, “Where'd he go?” “Where'd he go?” “Who?" “The man-—~the man—" Hopkins strove for some description—‘“the man with the black derby.” A boy in front grinned, and glanced around at the circle of men towering above him. “Every feller in the bunch's got on a black derby 'cept us kids.” Hopkins stood chagrined. He had seen the man, front, side, and rear view for a full minute, but was at an utter loss to describe him. “The man who just came out of the gate. He took something that looked like the rubber of a toy balloon from the dog's collar,’ he cried. “Oh, him ?” answered the boy. “The feller that monkeyed with the dog? | thought he belonged there. He had a key. Where did he go, now?” Some said one way, and some eald alother, but it was quite apparent that CHARLTON COUNTY HERALD, FOLKSTON, GEORGIA. the man had slipped in and out un noticed, due to his plain appearance and his matter-of-fact manner, The square-chested man in the black, derby was Christopher Poe, the promi nent banker from the north, enjoying his second week's vacation in the car nival city. He had no sooner shut the Dubois gate behind him, and stuffed the skinlike object into his pocket, than he slipped through the collecting crowd, without touching any of the onlookers or attracting attention by any unusual move. He walked to the corner without once turning around, crossed the street, and returned brisk ly to the edge of the crowd just in time to hear Hopkins cross-question ing the small boy. Poe nodded his head with the rest, and agreed quickly with somebody who had pointed out at random the di rection he had taken. ‘As a member of the crowd, as an unobtrusive unit, he was utterly unnoticeable. He stayed no longer than the rest, and said, just like everybody else in parting from ‘the man who stood next him: ~ “I'll bet it was the feller in the derby hat. Wonder what it was the kid said he took off the dog.” Having heard all the facts and con jectures, Poe walked to the corner again, turned up the side street, and paced slowly down Bourbon past a block of cheap lodging-houses, largely occupied by vaudeville artists, travel ing fakers, and-other true ?ohemians. Each old house had, like so many of the dwellings in the French quarter of New Orleans, a courtyard in the rear, j divided from the courts on the next street by high brick walls, Stopping at the house which backed directly against old Dubois’, Christo pher Poe inserted a key, twisted it sharply twice, glanced up and down the street, opened the door, and stepped in, closing it quickly after him, and standing motionless at the spot where his first step had brought him. That he was listening intently was disclosed by his suspended breath. In that moment one hardly would have described him as Hopkins had—a hu man blank. His eyes were focused in tently toward the top of the dim, wind ing old staircase in front of him; his mouth was drawn into a firm, pur poseful line; his form was lithe and strong; he seemed the very embodi “W E‘“»/ i —====— el —— — | ({\_" — -ffi—??:fi“i =ty s ~—=l Ao s — g 9 o ei [ =~ — === )é‘ AR . R \_g/\@' Lt N'é "‘;! 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Poe re moved his derby, outer coat, tie and shoes in a series of quick movements. Running firm fingers through his neat ‘hair, he mussed it up, and with the same motion snatched a fawn-colored theatric raincoat from the hall-rack, loosened his suspenders, turned up the collar of the raincoat he had donned, and sneaked silently upstairs, his man ner that of a drowsy lodger wakened against his will to make an early train. On the second floor he paused, took out his watch, deliberately set it back half an hour, wrapped it in the wrinkled, skinlike object he had re moved from Alert’s collar, and, having located the sounds in a rear room, ap proached the door with audible tread, and knocked lightly, The shuffing steps within ceased. There came no answer, “I say-pardon me--you folks goin’ take the six-fifty, too?” he said sleep ifly. “Can I borrow a collar? Heard you kickin’ around and-" ‘ The door was abruptly opened a crack by a wiry young man, short, and with a pleasant face. A emall femi nine hand rested on his shoulder, and seemed to be tugging him back, “A collar? BSure thing. What size do you wear?”’ asked the short, flush faced young fellow through a crack in the door. “Six an’ seven-elghths, I mean fif teen an’' a quarter. Say, you ain’t the Twirley Twins, are you?” asked the man in the passageway, throwing back one side of the fawn.colored cravenette to remove a wallet from his hip-pocket, “The very same!” cried the amiable young man, gquinting his eyes profes sionally through the gloom, and open ing the door another notch in spite of the restraining hand on his shoulder, “Saw you work down in San Antone. Good act that! Where's the missis? (‘*ever kiq!” “'Thanks! Will this collar do?” A forced feminine voice came from with in, and a mate to the hand on the Twir ley shoulder pushed a stiff, starchy circle of white quiveringly through the opening. “That ain’t a collar. That's a cuff!” cried Poe, quickly dropping behind him the article he had asked for and selecting a card from his wallet which bore the name of Hardy. He handed it to the man with a laugh as an ex clamation of disappointment came from the woman. “Thomas Hardy,” read the Twirley Twin. “Not the Thomas Hardy, angel of the Merry Whirl show ?” “The very same. What's left of him,” said Poe promptly, smiling to himself at being called “angel” of a company he had formed under his as sumed name only as an adjunct to a scheme for running down one of the ‘eleverest bank-swindlers in New York. He drew the raincoat closer about him and edged into the doorway. “‘Come in. Come in. Glad to see ‘you,” cried the young fellow, who had been with the Merry Whirl company and to whom its backer was a great man. A cry of alarm from the woman, “I'm not dressed! Dick, don't let him in. I'm not dressed.” But her husband (a }win only in the profession) had already thrown the door open, and disclosed her to the keen eyes of Christopher Poe, fully gowned in a somewhat worn traveling suit. © “By George, I'm glad to see you, Mr, Hardy. Kid, shake hands with the best in the business. A game backer and a good loser. I'd tell you to take off your hat to him if I thought you'd ever get it back on straight.” Mrs. Twirley bowed stiltedly, and sald in a very stagy aside: “Dick, we must be going. We'll miss that train.” “What time you got, Mr. Hardy?" asked the Twirley Twin. Christopher Poe drew out his watch, and with a comfortable yawn removed it from the thin skin covering. “Five thirty,” he announced, exhibiting the watch-dial to the Twirley Twins and exclaiming: “Oh, that watch-case? It's just a souvenir,” as he saw their eyes riveted on the wrinkled skin in his other hand. Mrs. Twirley sniffed cautiously twice, glinted her eyes at Poe, and stepped back quickly to seat herself on two suit-cases in a corner, covering them completely with her skirts, Her husband stood etupefied, sniffing the air also, and staring at the wunique watch-case. “Came from Paris,” continued Poe pleasantly, rubbing the skin between his fingers fondly. “You know, it's just what'’s left of one of these little harle quin bladders they use on a string to smash each other over the head with in team work. Dlidn’t you use them in that pantomime acrobatic stunt I saw you in three years ago at Frisco?” “Yes, I believe we did.” Mrs, Twir ley cleared her throat harshly, and continued: “But it didn’t smell of chlo—" Bhe ended in a stifled scream, and rushed towurd the man she had heard of as a theatrical banker, cry- Ing: “Look out! That picture behind you is falling.” Poe made a quick move as if to look, but Instead etepped forward, and caught Mrs, Twirley's hand as it emerged from beneath a newspaper on ‘tho table, containing the butt of a small revolver. Poe, holding her hand so the iron was directed at her amazed husband, who had stepped back involuntarily, slzed up the weapon In a sharp scrutiny, dropped her hand, and laughed: “Only a property pistol! You may resume your seat on those two sult-cases you were guarding” “Twirley,” he turned to the young man, who, face dough-like, was trying to master his quivering frame. “7Twir ley, I want to talk business with you= sit over there.” 4 - The young fellow dropped limp in the seat indicated, as Christopher Poe dropped to the edge of a straight backed chair, and tilted it to a com fortable angle against the door of the room. Mrs. Twirley sat on the suit case, one cheek drawn up in a hard ened, sarcastic smirk, her eyes smol dering sullenly. “How long have you folks been out of work?"” asked Poe sharply. “Seven months,” said Twirley in a hollow tone. “I see. That's a long time,” mused Poe. “And you've been living in this room two months.” “On credit,” put in Mrs. Twirley with a twist of her lips. “Stranded,” added her husband. “Too bad. You must have been des perate,” continued Poe thoughtfully, switching his gaze to Mrs. Twirley. “No clothes—nothing, Hard luck!” he said. “Damn hard luck. Clever people you were, too—too many acrobatic teams though-—that was your trouble.” “Yes, we used to get good money— we stayed stiff-necked a while, and then when we was ready to take cheap bookings nobody wanted us; other head-liners had come down first an’ filled in.” “Tough luck., But why didn't you use your brains? Why didn't you beat the conditions, adapt yourselves to a new act?” asked Poe in a high-pitched earnest tone. ‘I can't see why the devil two clever people like you should ever get stranded. You've been in this reom two months, and right through that shade behind you, Mrs. T. you saw the house of Armand Dubois every day, and you couldn’t have missed hearing the rumor that he kept his for tune in cash in his mattress. You heard, too, the barking of that big beast that protected his wealth. With your clever mind why didn’t you work out a sketch for you and Dickie to do in vaudeville?” He stopped, and looked squarely at the pair, their eyes glancing shiftily about, their fingers fidgeting. “Now, you were interested in this harlequin bladder that smells of chloroform,” continued Poe. “What if I were to tell you that it was used in an act by a clever young couple I once knew in— well, in Paris? What if—" “Oh, don’t beat around the bush,” cried Mrs. Twirley sullenly, then blaz ing up. “What's your game? What are you trying to get at? What—" Christopher Poe held up his hand for silence as Twirley, his eyes bulging, his mouth panic-set, leaned toward him, fingers and eyelids twitching. “Now wait—wait! Here's a eketch idea for you folks. Listen to it!” con tinued Poe. “You can pull down three hundred a week with it easy with your acrobatic ability and cleverness, “Once upon a time—in Paris, you understand-—there was a clever young couple like you kids. Stranded team of acrobats; pantomime people. They lived in a rear room of a cheap the atrical rooming-house, just one flight chain to protect a miser's gold. “One day the woman, the cleverer of the two, goaded to envy and despair by the sight of professional women finely clad and at work, suddenly thought of the great dependence that old miser had on his man-eating dog.” The Twirley Twins were drawing unconsciously nearer together, as though for protection, and the flush was leaving their faces, slowly fixing into awed, gaping blanks as Christo pher Poe continued. “The money of that miser worried the woman. She couldn’t sleep, she couldn’t eat, and finally she worked out a scheme—a good scheme, a shrewd scheme. She told it to her husband in a wild mood, never think ing of it as a practical matter. He, poor devil, urged on by debt, took a practical view of it, and they were about to execute the scheme when sud denly the idea came that while the chances were that their careful plan would work they might be caught later on; and the thought came, too, that they might not enjoy the miser's gold after they had it.” Mrs. Twirley tossed back her head, and laughed sharply, artificially, as Poe paused. He fixed his eyes on her. “So the woman suggested that gince the idea of robbing the old miser was 80 completely figured out as to almost defy detection, and since they were letter-perfect in rehearsing the act, it would be better to play a sure thing. So she sat down and worked out the practical plan of the robbery into a twenty-minute vaudeville skit for her self and husband, and they had already got into the spirit of the thing so well from considering it as a possible crime, that at a tryout bhefore a good manager they were offered two hun dred a week and a bonus If it went big.” “Sounds good!” remarked Mrs, Twir ley, breathing fiercely. “But are you quite sure you know the plot of that sketch?” ~ Her husband's fists clenched till the knuckles shone stark and white, His small black eyes plerced to the core of the raconteur, before him, “Yes, are you quite sure?’ he breathed viciously, “Oh, the plot,” said Poe lightly. “Yes, it was so simple. I'd ‘most for gotten. The sketch opens during the hour just preceding that dumb dark ness before dawn, The vaudeville palr are disclosed in their room; the man i 8 dressed in a fine dog-skin, a good make-up, a hide the exact counterpart of the miser's Great Dane, The wom an is dressed in black trousers and coat, carries a Jimmy with which she has practiced, a dark lantern, a re volver like this"—-as he picked up the one from the table by way of illustra tion, the Twirley woman sank back agalnst the wall, a low cry escaping her—-"and a harlequin’s bladder filled full of chlorotorm and tightly tied. A second scene shows the man and wife together on one side of a high wall dividing the stage; it is the garden wall separating their court from the miser’s. The man, being an acrobat, climbs up to the top so skillfully that the dog lying below on the other side hears nothing until a skin full of liquid bursts on one of the pointed studs of his collar, a big stone drops at the same instant on his head and stuns him, he opens his mouth and gags for breath with which to bark, sucks in the chloroform and succumbs. - “The man gives a signal to the wom an; she climbs to his side, together they drop over into the court; the man in his dog-skin suit unsnaps the Great Dane’s chain, and attaches it to a duplicate collar about his own neck. “He has no sooner attached the chain and dropped to all fours when the sharp click of a key in the front gate announces the approach of the watchman on his regular fifteen-minute round. The woman darts to a rear win dow they have examined from their room with a glass and found to be a weak point, guarded only by the dog, and she works quietly while her hus band leaps forth boldly, snaps at the watchman, imitates the dog's bark ex actly, and rages back and forth angrily in the moonlight to convince the watchman that all is well and the house perfectly protected. He had practiced the part for weeks, you see, and was letter-perfect in it. I saw the sketch when it was produced in Lon don, and I could not tell him from the real dog. This scene occurs at that fearfal moment, the darkness before dawn; the watchman notes that the dog is a bit fiercer than usual, and draws a deep sigh of relief as he reaches the gate. The stage is dark ened and the audience hushed, “Before the watchman makes his next round the trick is done. The nervy, desperate woman has chloro formed the miser and rifled his mat tress. The real dog is fast reviving from the effects of the chloroform. The whole thing has been nicely timed, and the pair just disappear over the wall with their booty in a black apron like that in the corner there, when the dog, whose collar has been reattached to the chain by the man when through with his little impersonation, leaps out and barks at the watchman, who is just arriving on his rounds. The ani mal, maddened on his recovery, lunges at the watchman, and barks so furious ly that the noise brings the old miser out of his stupor; the dog leaps in the air and breaks his chain as the miser throws up his window to cry for help. As a grand finale the dog is shot just before he leaps on the watchman, thus giving tangible proof that the animal had been on guard all the time, and covering up the real entrance and exit. of the burglars. Then the curtain goes ‘down amid great applause.” There was dead silence as Christo pher Poe finished and steod up, his eyes darting beneath %Wi” R -5 i w*;i vk * e A:Zx‘"-:'f“f e "33"»‘»,.{?23‘“” ¢ 43 BTN yOU'Ye VIRInR6n a 0 Gia fifty,” he said m o ‘thought you'd iet me into the room to sort of prove an alibi if you needed one —I mean in skipping your board bill or some other crime you may have committed—so I accommodatingly set my watch back half an hour to cover the minutes during which the crime might have been committed. [ knew you would both be relieved to hear mo announce that it was only five-thirty.” Neither spoke. Suddenly Mrs, Twir ley swung around and demanded: ~ “Well, how the devil did they prove the crime on the team in your precious sketch?” “Oh, there wasn't any crime at all, The couple reconsidered their action, decided they could make more money on the stage with the sketch, and re peating the crime in acrobatic panto mime every night for five or six years at fifty dollars a night with perfect security of physical and mental free dom. 8o in a little third ecene in the sketch they called a messenger boy, and sent him round to the miser with two suit-cases packed with his money. ‘That pleased the audience and—" } Mrs, Twirley stared at him as ‘though he were unreal, and threw her ‘hands to her head in a frenzy, écream ing: “How in heaven did you ferret out all this, you—you weasel?” “I've got a room looking out Into the Dubols court myself,” smiled Poe, turning toward her frankly, now that she had given in. “It's just next door. I've heard Dickie bark in imitation of Alert to entertain the landlady. I've seen you both examining that Dubois’ window with the telescope. I was more or less prepared, and being some what of a night-prowler myself, I just happened around with a skeleton key or two and gathered a bit of material for a—vaudeville sketch. [ can get you booked either way you like, at Billy Ryan’s Vaudeville agency or the station house. It's up to you!” The woman looked sharply from Poe to her husband, and then furtively at the two suitcases which she had left unguarded in the corner, “He's only blufling, Dickie!” she cried, “I know it,” Twirley answered. “But it sort of stands to reason I'd rather get fifty a week clean from Billy Ryan than fifty thousand that'd stick llke mud to my fingers every time | started to spend it.” “Bully for you!” eried Christopher Poe. "I've got a skeleton plan of the sketech In my pocket here. I'll back you two for a set of props. Your wife and I will go over the sketch, Dickle, while you run out and call a messen ger.” Mrs. Twirley, with a submissive gulp, burst into a flood of genuine tears. "Yes,” she sald softly. “Go abead, Dickie, he's got the real dope.”