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  is a marvel of its kind. They are high-class tales, not of the
  “blood-and-thunder” order, but with plausible plots which hold
  the reader fairly captivated with breathless expectation. Among
  these are the stories of the adventures of Nick Carter and his
  clever assistants; of “Old Spicer,” the clever private detective,
  whose exploits are among the most remarkable ever performed by
  any detective. If you are in search of good, interesting matter,
  a decided change from that to which you have been accustomed,
  purchase a few of these titles. They will not only please and
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  the various classes of criminals.


                        PUBLISHED EVERY WEEK


                    To be Published During April

  441--The Ring of Iron                            By Inspector Stark
  440--The Lure of Gold                            By Nicholas Carter
  439--The “L” Mystery                             By Dick Stewart
  438--Behind a Throne                             By Nicholas Carter


                    To be Published During March

  437--A King Among Crooks                         By J. K. Stafford
  436--Under the Tiger’s Claws                     By Nicholas Carter
  435--The Great Green Diamond                     By Inspector Stark
  434--Through the Cellar Wall                     By Nicholas Carter


                   To be Published During February

  433--The Human Cat                               By Dick Stewart
  432--The “Limited” Hold-Up                       By Nicholas Carter
  431--Shot From Above                             By J. K. Stafford
  430--Marked for Death                            By Nicholas Carter


                   To be Published During January

  429--On the Trail of “Big Finger”                 By Scott Campbell
  428--Below the Dead Line                          By Scott Campbell
  427--The Sign of the Dagger                       By Nicholas Carter
  426--The Western Ferret                           By Inspector Stark
  425--The Crime of the Camera                      By Nicholas Carter

         *       *       *       *       *

  424--The Belrox Mystery                          By Dick Stewart
  423--The Terrible Thirteen                       By Nicholas Carter
  422--The Crimson Blind                           By Fred M. White
  421--A Triple Identity                           By Nicholas Carter
  420--The Nitroglycerin League                    By Inspector Stark
  419--The Bloodstone Terror                       By Nicholas Carter
  418--The Man Who Hid                             By Dick Stewart
  417--A Victim of Deceit                          By Nicholas Carter
  416--The Broken Pen                              By J. K. Stafford
  415--The Key Ring Clew                           By Nicholas Carter
  414--A Modern Sorceress                          By Inspector Stark
  413--The Four-Fingered Glove                     By Nicholas Carter
  412--Checkmating a Countess                      By Dick Stewart
  411--The Boulevard Mutes                         By Nicholas Carter
  410--Shadowed ’Round the World                   By J. K. Stafford
  409--Nick Carter’s Double Catch                  By Nicholas Carter
  408--Only a Headless Nail                        By Dick Stewart
  407--The Pretty Stenographer Mystery             By Nicholas Carter
  406--The Eye of Gold                             By Inspector Stark
  405--The Plot That Failed                        By Nicholas Carter
  404--The Red Stain                               By Scott Campbell
  403--The Marked Hand                             By Nicholas Carter
  402--The Albert Gate Affair                      By Louis Tracy
  401--The Fatal Legacy                            By Louis Tracy
  400--The Living Mask                             By Nicholas Carter
  399--An Oath of Vengeance                        By John K. Stafford
  398--Under a Black Veil                          By Nicholas Carter
  397--A Crime Without a Name                      By Dick Stewart
  396--A Baffled Oath                              By Nicholas Carter
  395--A Kentucky Moonshiner                       By Inspector Stark
  394--Playing for a Fortune                       By Nicholas Carter
  393--The Convent Mystery                         By John K. Stafford
  392--With Links of Steel                         By Nicholas Carter




                      THE GREAT GREEN DIAMOND;

                                 OR,

                         THIEF AGAINST THIEF

                                 BY
                           INSPECTOR STARK

                              AUTHOR OF

  “A Deed of Darkness,” “The Mafia’s Victim,” “The Telegraph Clew,”
     “The Shadow of an Assassin,” “A Kentucky Moonshiner,” etc.

                      [Illustration: Colophon]

                              NEW YORK
                     STREET & SMITH, Publishers
                        79-89 SEVENTH AVENUE




                           Copyright, 1906
                          By STREET & SMITH

                       The Great Green Diamond




                              CONTENTS

                                                                   PAGE
       I.  HENRY STOLBURST’S FEARS.                                  5
      II.  PRINCESS ZULIMA.                                         12
     III.  STOLBURST’S VISITOR.                                     19
      IV.  MIKE QUICK’S DIVE.                                       26
       V.  ENOCH COOK AND HIS PAL.                                  33
      VI.  AJEEB’S NEW ALLY.                                        39
     VII.  TRAPPED.                                                 47
    VIII.  AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.                                   54
      IX.  A TERRIBLE SURPRISE.                                     62
       X.  ZULIMA AND THE DETECTIVE.                                70
      XI.  AJEEB SEES BURT.                                         74
     XII.  COOK AND KIDD.                                           80
    XIII.  MIKE QUICK’S MISSION.                                    86
     XIV.  BURT KNOCKED OUT.                                        93
      XV.  AJEEB’S GRIM HUMOR.                                     100
     XVI.  A WISE BARTENDER.                                       107
    XVII.  AT MONTE MURPHY’S.                                      114
   XVIII.  MURPHY’S DEATH.                                         120
     XIX.  BURT’S NEW ALLY.                                        126
      XX.  IN AJEEB’S CLUTCHES.                                    134
     XXI.  FRANK HARE’S MISSION.                                   143
    XXII.  DETH KILLED BY ENOCH.                                   151
   XXIII.  THE BIRD FLOWN.                                         158
    XXIV.  HARE’S DISGUISE PENETRATED.                             167
     XXV.  ZULIMA BREAKS DOWN.                                     176
    XXVI.  BULL BLAIR’S ESCAPE                                     184
   XXVII.  BILLY BARRY, OF LONDON.                                 191
  XXVIII.  MIKE QUICK GIVEN A SHOCK.                               198
    XXIX.  PIERRE JACQUET’S REVENGE.                               204
     XXX.  THE PRINCESS VISITS STOLBURST.                          212
    XXXI.  CONCLUSION.                                             218




                       THE GREAT GREEN DIAMOND




                             CHAPTER I.

                      HENRY STOLBURST’S FEARS.


Up the dingy flights of stairs in an old-fashioned down-town office
building, Mr. Henry Stolburst mounted with a vigor and energy that
belied the signs of age in his visage. Tall, spare, handsome, with
remarkably bright and keen eyes, he yet looked older than his
thirty-five years. This appearance of age was due to his heavily
lined face and his white hair. But close observation would have
revealed the fact that the lines on his face were those of care and
worry, rather than of age, and the color of his hair was of such a
peculiar shade of white that the observer would have felt perplexed
by the conflicting evidences of age and youthful vigor.

With never a thought of his appearance, however, Henry Stolburst
rapidly climbed the stairs until he stood before a door on which
appeared the simple inscription:

  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                        BURT CROMWELL                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |  SPECIAL AGENT                                               |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+

Pausing but a moment, Stolburst opened the door and entered. Burt,
although this was but a branch office of his agency, happened to
be seated at the desk, and glanced up as his visitor crossed the
threshold.

“Mr. Cromwell?” asked the newcomer interrogatively.

“That’s my name.”

The stranger handed Burt his card.

“What!” said the latter, “are you Mr. Henry Stolburst, the African
explorer?”

“Yes.”

“I listened to one of your lectures on the Dark Continent with a good
deal of interest the other evening.”

“Yes,” smiled Stolburst, “I do know a few interesting facts about
Africa.”

“Can I serve you in any way?” asked the detective.

“I trust you can.”

“What do you require?”

“That you save my life.”

Burt looked at his visitor in considerable surprise. Was the man
crazy? That thought struck him at once. Having seen Stolburst on
the lecture platform, he knew his visitor to be none other than the
explorer.

The latter interpreted the other’s inquiring glance.

“You think me bereft of sense?” he quietly asked.

“No,” said Burt; “but how can your life be possibly in danger while
you are in a large community like this?”

“Nevertheless, it is. I have fought against savage tribes, and not
more savage beasts. Several times have I barely escaped assassination
by poison, knife, and other weapons; but never, in the jungles of
Africa, was my life in more danger than at the present moment. I am
not surprised you should think my statement a very rash one, yet it
is true, nevertheless.”

As he spoke, the explorer and lecturer became pale even to the lips.

“Perhaps if I heard your story,” said Burt, “I might more readily
understand whether your peril is fancied or not.”

“Would to God it were the former,” said Stolburst, and he gave a
great start as he concluded speaking.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing; I only fancied I saw his greenish, snaky eyes looking into
mine.”

“Whose eyes?”

“Those of Ajeeb.”

“You don’t mean the chess automaton?”

“This is no jesting matter. The eyes I speak of belong to a living
creature.”

“I’m, as yet, in the dark as to this person’s identity.”

“Let me tell you there is in Abyssinia an order known as that of
the Blue Nile. It is secretly abetted by the priests, and even the
king, who fears it, is a member. This society is ruled by religious
fanatics, to whom murder is simply a pastime. The Order of the Blue
Nile has command of almost untold riches.

“I incurred the anger of these men, and they have sent right here to
this country some of their members, I know not how many, to strike me
down.”

“You have not said a single word about this Ajeeb,” remarked the
detective.

“He is in New York.”

“Is he any more to be feared than the others?” asked Burt.

“Ajeeb is the head of the society,” replied the traveler.

“You have seen him?”

“How else would I know that he is in this city? He visited me this
morning.”

“Did he threaten you?”

A sad smile passed over the face of the man who had so often faced
death in many forms.

“No,” he replied, “it was not necessary to threaten me; I know what
his pursuit of me means.”

“Tell me all about it, and then I may discover a way to circumvent
your enemies.”

“First, I wish you to promise not to disclose any revelations I shall
make now or at any other time.”

“Willingly.”

“Well,” said the traveler, “in a jungle near the city of Gondar,
which is the chief and capital city of Abyssinia, stands a temple,
the existence of which is known to few outside the members of this
Order of the Blue Nile. In this temple is an immense wooden idol
named Jobu. I never saw a more hideous-looking object than this same
idol. His followers say Jobu is over a thousand years old.

“According to their belief, one day or another this monstrosity will
be endowed with life, and help his devotees to capture all Africa.

“No European is allowed to gaze upon this idol, in front of whom a
fire of perfumed herbs is kept burning night and day. The richest
garments and jewels cover the inanimate Jobu. I saw the idol by
bribing one of his watchers, for, mind you, Jobu has quite a suite of
servants.

“In some way or another the high priest, Ajeeb, heard of the
watcher’s infidelity. They have but one manner of punishing their
unfortunate victims.

“They are slowly tortured to death!”

Stolburst shivered from head to foot as he finished.

“Why,” said the detective, “they cannot possibly desire to put you to
death simply because you gazed upon their idol?”

“No.”

“Other Europeans beside you must have seen Jobu.”

“For that matter,” said the explorer, “I had two white men with me
when I visited the infidel shrine.”

“You have not, then, finished your story,” remarked Burt.

“The part most interesting to me is to come,” said Stolburst.

“I am all attention.”

“In the eye of this idol,” continued the explorer, “was a diamond
having, queer to say, a distinctively greenish tint. The stone is
larger and certainly more valuable than the great British crown
jewel. It is claimed I stole the jewel.”

“Did you?” asked the detective.

Stolburst changed color.

“I purchased it,” he said, after a pause, “from the man in charge.”

“You must have known he had no right to dispose of it.”

“People do not have much scruple when they deal with untutored
barbarians,” replied Stolburst.

“It is because of the theft you fear Ajeeb?” asked Burt.

“Yes; could I return the stone all would be well.”

“Then you have disposed of it?”

“No.”

“Did you lose it?”

“The diamond was stolen from me by one of my servants, a man named
Dick Kidd.”

Burt smiled.

“Kidd,” he said, “seems a peculiarly fitting name for a thief.”

“Now,” said Stolburst, not minding the interruption, “I want you to
find this man, and make him give up the stone.”

“Does he know it was stolen?” asked the detective.

“I believe not.”

“If he does,” remarked Burt, “he will refuse to give it up. By the
way, is the man in this part of the country?”

“I think both he and his fellow servant, Sam Henry, are here in New
York. It was here I engaged them before making my last trip into
Africa.”

“How am I to know the pair?”

“I have provided for that.”

Stolburst took from his pocket two photographs, which he handed to
the detective.

Burt looked at the photographs attentively.

“I know that fellow; that is, I used to know him. He was a schoolmate
of mine, but he went to the bad upon reaching manhood.”

“That,” said the explorer, “is Sam Henry. Do you know the other?”

“No.”

“If you can run across Henry, I guess you’ll find Kidd not far off.”

“I have your word for it that if the diamond eye of the idol is
recovered and given you it will be turned over to its proper
custodians?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Because if the promise were not given I would not move in the
matter. Now as to the man you know as Sam Henry, if he is the same
party I take him to be, his correct name is Enoch Cook.”

“Do you think you can find him?” asked Stolburst.

“If he is in New York I can.”

“Both he and Kidd are very desperate men. I have seen their courage
proven more than a score of times.”

“I never yet saw the man I feared,” remarked Burt, with quiet
dignity. “As a boy Enoch Cook was a great boaster. How long was he in
your employ?”

“Henry was with me two years.”

“I have missed Enoch from New York just about that length of time.”

“I hope the men are identical; it will make your work so much easier.”

“Did you promise Ajeeb to return the diamond?”

“No,” replied the explorer, with some hesitation.

“Why not?”

“I thought it better to deny ever having had the accursed gem in my
possession.”

“Then,” said the detective, “you may have made a fatal mistake.”




                             CHAPTER II.

                          PRINCESS ZULIMA.


Seated in the neat and cozy parlor of an up-town flat was a very
dark-skinned young woman and her maid. The former was almost black,
but her features were oval, her lips small, and her hair straight and
long. The maid was a French girl and rather pretty.

The pair were startled by a loud rap at the door.

“Open the door, Marie.”

The French girl obeyed. A small man with dark skin and still darker
eyes entered. His eyes were of extraordinary size, and for all that
they had a piercing expression.

“You!”

The expression seemed to have been painfully wrung from the woman’s
heart. The visitor laughed.

“Zulima,” he said, “I would be alone with you.”

Marie did not recognize the strange language used by the pair. For
all that she noticed a hunted and frightened expression in her
mistress’ eyes.

“Go!”

Zulima spoke in English, and waved her maid from the apartment.
Very reluctantly Marie obeyed the command. She had taken an instant
dislike to the visitor.

Marie was smart beyond her class, and knew the newcomer meant her
mistress no good. She determined to remain in the hallway, where she
would be within call.

“So, my pretty song-bird,” said the visitor, when the door closed
behind Marie, “I guess you did not expect to see me so soon?”

“I believed, uncle, you were in Gondar,” said Zulima.

“Your Uncle Ajeeb, you see, could not bear to have you out of his
sight.”

“You do not come to drag me back to Abyssinia?”

“Would you not like to go?”

“No.”

“Has this Western world made you forget that the son of our good King
John would make you queen of his harem?”

“Did he send you to bring me back?” said Zulima, greatly affrighted
at the prospect.

“He is the son of a king.”

“And is that any reason why I should become his slave?”

“I am your guardian.”

“True, Uncle Ajeeb.”

“You ran away from me?”

“Yes, and was glad of the opportunity. In the world of the white
man, women are looked up to and not downtrodden, as in our unhappy
country.”

Ajeeb laughed ironically.

“You are not of age, and even the laws of this country will restore
you to my possession,” he said.

Zulima shuddered. She had been taught to look up to this man and made
to believe that his wisdom surpassed even that of the head sheik of
Gondar.

“I would die rather than go back,” the girl said.

“You mean,” said Ajeeb, and his face became distorted with rage,
“that you would die rather than leave this American.”

“Look what Mr. Stolburst has done for me, uncle.”

“Don’t speak to me of what he has done,” thundered Ajeeb.

“He has shown me that I have a better life before me than that of a
slave, even if my master should be a prince.”

“Stolburst tore you away from home,” said the visitor.

“It was because I asked him to help me that he did so.”

“He enchanted you with his white face and lying promises.”

“He only promised to have my voice cultivated.”

“And then?”

“I shall become rich, and courted by the great and mighty,” said
Zulima. “Already I am learning the language of the Franks.”

“They will not crowd to see you; forget not you are an African, and a
black.”

“I can overcome that.”

Again Ajeeb laughed.

“Can you make your skin white?” he inquired.

“No, but my genius will overcome even that,” she replied
enthusiastically.

“Who told you that you were a great singer, or should ever become
one?”

“The American.”

“Again he lied to you.”

“Do not speak harshly of him,” said the girl.

“Ah, has he already espoused you?”

A flush showed beneath the girl’s features.

“No.”

“You love him?”

“Why should I not? Has he not been more than a father to me?”

“He did not so act when he induced you to leave those to whom you
were bound by ties of blood. Zulima, you will never be a singer for
the public; I, Ajeeb, have said it.”

The man’s eyes blazed with a strange light, and a thrill seemed to
pass through him.

“What do you mean?” cried the girl, greatly frightened.

“My meaning will be made plain in due time,” said Ajeeb.

“You would not harm me.”

He laughed derisively.

“Would I not? You should know I never allow aught to stand in the way
of the accomplishment of anything I set about.”

“What has this American done that you hate him so?”

“I was not speaking of him just now,” replied Ajeeb.

“I care not what may happen to me, I would not have harm come to
him,” exclaimed the dark-skinned beauty.

“Ah!” said the visitor; “the curse of Jobu be upon you!”

Zulima shuddered. She had left Africa behind her forever, she hoped,
but not so the superstitious belief in which she was raised. She
believed the false god Jobu as great as his devotees claimed.

None had been more devout in their worship of the misshapen wooden
idol than Zulima herself. She was quite certain that Jobu would one
day make the Abyssinians rulers of the whole of Africa.

Stolburst had endeavored to teach the dark beauty Christianity.
She had listened patiently to him, but he found himself unable to
convince his charge that there could be a greater god than her own
Jobu.

“Why should I be cursed?” Zulima asked, after a pause.

“You are a princess.”

“True.”

“You were promised in marriage to a son of the king.”

“Yes, but I was not consulted in the matter.”

“Why should you be consulted? What woman among us can elect or
reject a husband without the consent of her male relatives?”

“I know it, and believed the custom was right before I had my eyes
opened to the truth,” replied the girl.

“In a spirit of rebellion you ran away with an unbeliever. It was not
altogether to bring you back to Gondar myself, Ashah, and Deth came
across the great seas.”

“Is that terrible man, Ashah, with you?” cried Zulima.

“Have I not said so? and I do not lie,” replied Ajeeb.

The girl shuddered.

“Ashah,” she said, “does not go forth except to kill.”

“And he came out here into the West to kill,” hissed Ajeeb, his great
black eyes sparkling.

“Me?”

“Perhaps.”

The girl was now, indeed, startled.

Ashah, as she said, never went forth except to do murder. He was
the executioner at the temple of the great Jobu. Hundreds, probably
thousands, had met death at his hands. His very name was mentioned in
Gondar with bated breath, and women frightened refractory children by
naming him.

“Why should I die?” asked Zulima, and she cowered beneath her uncle’s
fierce glance.

“Because you may have been the American’s accomplice.”

“I do not understand.”

“Do you still adore Jobu?”

“That was the faith of my fathers, and it shall always be mine.”

The girl spoke in a spirit of religious fervor.

Ajeeb looked hard at her, believing she might be shamming. He
satisfied himself that Zulima was sincere.

“Don’t you know that this American has desecrated our god?”

She gave a great start.

“That cannot be.”

“It is true; and that is the principal reason I had for crossing the
great seas.”

“Uncle, you must be wrong.”

“The wretch who was on guard at the time,” said Ajeeb, his cheeks
aflame with anger, “confessed all before he died.”

“What did he confess?”

“That he admitted the American, and allowed him to insult the great
Jobu.”

“In what manner?”

“He removed his eye.”

“The green diamond?” cried Zulima, in great terror.

“Yes; and more than that, he carried it away with him.”

“What! Stole Jobu’s eye?”

“’Tis true.”

Zulima trembled with nervous excitement.

“Is your charge a just one?”

“Aye.”

“Perhaps the eye was taken by one of the American’s servants?”

“No.”

“But it may be so. Have you seen him?” questioned Zulima.

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“As I expected, he lied to me.”

“He denied taking the stone?”

“Yes; and he became pale as death and trembled all over.”

Zulima believed her uncle was right in the premises. She did love
Henry Stolburst. Far better did she love Jobu. Then, besides, she
feared the god of her people.

“Ajeeb, I will return home.”

“Yes, when our work is done.”

“What have we to do?”

“I shall ask very little of you.”

“Tell me what it is.”

“Does the American come here often?” asked Ajeeb.

“About once a week.”

“Will he be here to-day?”

“No; he was here yesterday.”

“He would come to-night if you were to send for him?”

“True.”

“Then that is all I request you to do.”

“Thy will shall be done,” said Zulima, and her heart was stricken
with terror.




                            CHAPTER III.

                        STOLBURST’S VISITOR.


Burt Cromwell had a good deal of hesitation about taking charge of
Stolburst’s affair. He bluntly asked the lecturer if he could furnish
references. This caused the latter displeasure. Burt cared nothing
for that.

“Do you know the firm of Fremont & Cole?” Stolburst asked.

“The bankers?”

“Yes.”

“I am well acquainted there, having done business for the firm.”

“I refer you to them,” said Stolburst, rather stiffly.

“I’ll see them in the morning.”

“It seems to me,” said the explorer, “that you conduct your business
on a highly moral and independent plane.”

“That is because I want to live up to my reputation of being an
honest man.”

“We won’t quarrel. What are your terms, my dear sir?”

Burt named them. The terms must have suited, for Stolburst agreed to
them without haggling. Then he took his leave.

The explorer had a small suite of rooms in a leading hotel. That
evening he received a visitor there who was entirely unexpected. It
was Zulima, who had never before called upon him.

The girl’s eyes were red from weeping, and her whole appearance
dejected.

“My dear,” said the explorer kindly, as he conducted his visitor to
a chair, “what has happened? You seem unwell.”

She turned her great sorrowful eyes upon him, but did not reply.

“Why don’t you speak?” asked Stolburst, after a pause.

“You have seen Ajeeb?”

“Yes.”

“So have I,” said Zulima. “Do you know who is with him?”

“Not I.”

“Ashah has also come.”

“What difference can that make to me?” asked Stolburst.

He had grown quite nervous under the girl’s inquiring and steady look.

“You know Ashah never goes afar unless--to kill.”

The last word seemed to tremble upon Zulima’s lips.

“Even so.”

“Do you not fear Ashah, the bloody-handed servant of Jobu?”

“Not I.”

“I have felt for you an affection never given to a fellow creature
before.”

“My dear girl,” said the explorer, “what are you striving to get at?”

Zulima paid no attention to the interruption.

“Better than any living creature,” she said, “I love the god of my
fathers. To me devotion to the great Jobu means happiness in a future
life. Now he is angry with my people.”

“Why?”

“Because the stranger was allowed to desecrate him. Do you not
tremble?”

Zulima spoke in an impassioned manner throughout. Now she burst into
tears.

“My dear,” said Stolburst, “Ajeeb accused me of stealing the famous
green diamond that formed the idol’s eye.”

“Ajeeb is wise, and does not speak idle words.”

“Do you then think I am a thief?”

“Were I sure of that,” said the girl, “I would not be here.”

“How is that?”

“I was to send for you.”

“I see,” exclaimed Stolburst, in mingled anger and surprise; “your
uncle has turned you against me.”

“I only owe you protection; if your services have a price, name it,
and I shall pay.”

Zulima took a rather heavy purse from her pocket. Stolburst insisted
upon her putting up the money, and she complied.

“Tell me,” said the dark-skinned princess, “did you steal the Eye of
Jobu?”

Her look seemed to her companion to pierce him through and through.

“No.”

The explorer spoke with all the firmness he could command. There
was an undefinable something about the girl that seemed to daze his
faculties.

Was she a mesmerist?

The thought more than once suggested itself to him. He had never
experienced a like feeling when in her presence before.

“Did you carry away the diamond?”

Now Zulima looked even more fixedly at her companion. Again he
replied in the negative.

“It was because I had a very slight doubt of your innocence that I
came here,” remarked Zulima.

“I am innocent.”

“False friend,” said the princess, and she trembled with emotion. “I
have read your heart.”

Henry Stolburst gave a great start.

“What have you read?”

“That you lie to me!” exclaimed Zulima, rising from her chair and
drawing herself up to her full height.

The blood mounted to the roots of the explorer’s hair.

“This from you?” he angrily cried.

“Yes; I can no longer bear friendship for one who has so deeply
injured my people.”

“Nonsense. Haven’t I told you I did not steal the diamond?”

“Yes; but your tongue spoke that which is false. Would that I could
forget I ever knew you. If you would live, return that which you
stole.”

“I tell you I did not steal the eye of the idol.”

“Then you obtained it from the thief,” she retorted.

“Zulima,” said Stolburst tenderly. “I love you as I might a daughter;
do not let this foolish matter break our friendship.”

“I cannot forget my faith.”

Stolburst saw that Ajeeb had, by working on the girl’s fear of the
heathen god, completely won her.

“Ajeeb means to kill me?”

“You know how to save yourself,” said Zulima coldly.

“But I cannot comply with his wishes,” answered Stolburst.

“Then you must die.”

The man laughed, but his laugh was hollow and forced.

“Ajeeb seems to forget,” he said, “that he is in a civilized country.
Here there are hundreds and hundreds of men to protect me. What is he
and that demon Ashah against so many?”

“The priests of Jobu will prevail,” said the girl.

Stolburst trembled. Her words filled him with dread, for they seemed
prophetic.

“I go,” added Zulima, “and I never want to see you again.”

She moved majestically from the apartment.

Stolburst thought of leaving the country. He dismissed the idea
immediately after it was conceived. No matter where he went, he
believed the Abyssinians would discover him. He was too well known a
character both in Europe and America to long conceal his movements
from being chronicled in the newspapers.

Ajeeb, he knew, was highly educated both in English and French.
Moreover, the fellow had passed some years in Europe, and had even
paid a long visit to New York, previous to the opening of this story.

This last fact was unknown to Stolburst. More than anything else,
almost, the explorer regretted the stand taken by the princess.

Zulima left the hotel with a very heavy heart. She had hoped if
Stolburst had the diamond he would give it up. The girl felt sure he
had stolen the Eye of Jobu. Why did he not return the gem?

That puzzled Zulima.

Stolburst had lived long enough among her people to know that no
effort would be spared to secure a return of the diamond. Surely he
could not value the stone more than life.

Despite her present attitude, the princess had great affection for
the man. He had aided her escape from the semibondage in which she
was born, and had acted as a father to her. She would willingly
sacrifice all to her affection, except her idolatrous belief.

Zulima had not proceeded far when a heavy hand was laid upon her
shoulder. She was about to scream, when she heard a familiar voice
say in her own language:

“Make no outcry.”

“Ashah!”

Zulima found herself confronted by a gigantic member of her race.

“I follow you, princess,” he said, and his voice was hard and stern.

“I know that.”

“It was the bidding of Ajeeb.”

“Are you sufficiently acquainted with the streets to travel the city
alone?”

The giant smiled.

“I have followed men over the trackless desert. Why should I get lost
in the city? I know enough English to make myself understood.”

“By what right did you follow me?” asked Zulima.

“I but obeyed Ajeeb,” replied the giant; “you disobeyed him.”

“How?”

“He ordered you to have this American visit you.”

“Well?”

“Instead of obeying the command you went to the man and told him he
was in danger,” answered Ashah.

“Ajeeb had already threatened him,” retorted the princess.

“That is his right as our high priest. You would save the American.”

“Yes.”

“So thought Ajeeb and myself, but you are helpless.”

“I would only ask to save him if he returned the Eye of Jobu.”

“Ajeeb offered him his life on the same terms,” said Ashah.

“Yes, and he denied having stolen the sacred gem.”

“True, but you love this mortal more than you reverence Jobu.”

“It is a lie.”

“Then why did you visit him when he is under the ban?”

“I have already told you the object of my visit,” replied Zulima.

“Did he steal the gem, think you?”

“Yes.”

“Does he deserve death?”

“Yes.”

Ashah smiled grimly.

“Your heart is true to your people,” he said, “even if your fancies
led you away from them. This man shall be tortured into giving up the
sacred emblem.”




                             CHAPTER IV.

                         MIKE QUICK’S DIVE.


After his new client departed, Burt entered an inner office, where
was seated a rosy-cheeked young fellow of about one-and-twenty. This
was Frank Hare, who was Burt’s assistant.

“Frank,” said Burt, “I’ve got one of the queerest cases to work up.”

Then he related Stolburst’s story to his youthful assistant.

“I don’t see anything strikingly queer about the matter,” said Hare,
when the other finished. “It’s a clear case of simple theft.”

“You idiot,” smiled Burt, “do you think this Stolburst told me the
whole truth?”

“That’s for you to say. I did not even see the man.”

“Take my word for it, there is a great deal behind this business.”

“That is not our affair. What we want is good pay.”

“Stolburst has agreed to put up a liberal sum, and we are to have a
bonus in the event of our being successful.”

“First of all, I suppose you mean to find Enoch Cook?”

“Yes; the lecturer knows the chap as Sam Henry.”

“I don’t think there will be much difficulty in finding Enoch if he
is in New York.”

“You know him?”

“I’ve seen him a couple of times; he used to hang out with the gang
that made Mike Quick’s place their headquarters.”

“I wonder what possessed him to become a servant for the explorer?”

“Oh, I suppose that was a sudden freak upon his part.”

“You don’t know the fellow Stolburst calls Dick Kidd?” remarked Burt.

“I may, but I don’t know him by that name,” replied Frank. “If the
diamond is as valuable as described, Kidd will have some difficulty
in disposing of it.”

“Well, I won’t move in the affair until I see Stolburst’s references
and satisfy myself that he is straight up and down.”

On the morning following Burt visited the bankers whom the lecturer
had given as references. They joined in pronouncing Stolburst as a
perfectly reliable man. Afterward Burt wrote his new client that he
would undertake the case at the terms agreed upon.

In a small saloon near the East River and between the Fulton
and Catharine ferries Mike Quick resided. Mr. Quick had several
disfiguring marks. Both his cheeks had been slashed some time by a
knife, part of one ear was gone, and his great rubicund nose was
broken.

His eyes were deep set and overshadowed by heavy gray brows.

He was big in build, and probably fifty years of age. Quite a number
of those years had been passed by Quick behind prison-bars. Taken all
in all, he was not the sort of chap a man would care to meet in a
lonely place after dark.

Quick was behind his dirty and antiquated bar when Burt entered,
early in the evening of the day he had interviewed Stolburst’s banker
friends.

Mike knew the detective quite well.

“How are you, Burt?”

The man’s voice was hoarse and guttural.

“Glad to see me, of course?”

“Can’t say that I am. Whom do you expect to find here?”

“How do you know I am looking to find any one?”

Quick indulged in a hoarse laugh so loud that it seemed to set the
bottles behind the bar dancing.

“Young fellow,” he said, “it wasn’t simply to get a drink you stepped
in.”

“Perhaps.”

“Then you are a long time about asking for it. This hotel may not
have any oil-paintings or statuary scattered about, but you’ll find
brandy here as good as can be got in town.”

“Give me a pony, then, and have a drink yourself.”

The order was quickly filled. Burt found Quick’s statement fulfilled.
The liquor was of the best.

“Now, my boy,” said Mike, with a knowing wink, “what’s your game?”

“I want to find Enoch Cook.”

Quick emitted a low whistle and looked very wise.

“Why,” he said, “your man went to foreign parts about two years ago.”

Burt smiled. Cook and Sam Henry were identical. Any doubts he might
have had on the subject were laid at rest by the dive-keeper’s words.

“Yes,” said Burt, “I know all about his going away, but he has
returned.”

“What do you want him for?”

“To ask him a few questions.”

“Nothing more?”

“Nothing.”

“You surely ain’t giving me a yarn, old man?”

“’Pon my honor, I ain’t.”

“I’ve seen Enoch since he came home. I’ve always put him down for a
mighty liar, but now I find he is the most magnificent one I ever ran
across.”

“How is that?”

“He’s been telling me he spent over a year killing tigers, lions, and
elephants.”

“I guess Enoch only told you truth,” said Burt.

“If he did, he is a bigger man than ever I took him to be.”

“When did you see him last?”

“About fifteen minutes ago.”

“Where?”

“In the back room, reading the paper,” grinned Quick.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” inquired Burt.

“You didn’t ask me.”

Burt found his man in the room back of the saloon, and he was alone.

“Hello, Burt! It does my eyes good to see you,” said the detective’s
former schoolmate.

Burt took the hand that was extended to him. He could not forget the
old days, even if the man had sunk to the level of a thief.

“You knew where I could be found if you were anxious to see me.”

“I’ve been abroad.”

“Turning over a new leaf, I suppose?” remarked Burt.

“Don’t be sarcastic, Burt; that’s just what I’m about.”

“Is this crib a fit lounging-place for a reformed criminal?”

Cook, as we shall continue to call him, actually blushed.

“I can come here without falling from grace.”

“You were in Africa.”

Enoch started.

“Who told you that?”

“I know all about your trip with Henry Stolburst.”

“You don’t know how mean he treated me, I’ll bet.”

“How did he treat you mean?”

“Left me in Gondar, Abyssinia, with just enough money to get to New
York with.”

“Does he owe you money, then?”

“Yes,” replied Cook.

“He is here in New York.”

“I know it.”

“Have you made any effort to collect what you claim due?”

“Yes, but he won’t admit the claim,” replied Enoch.

“That story sounds fishy.”

Cook moved uneasily in his chair. It was clear to him that his
companion and Stolburst were not strangers to each other.

“I’m giving you a straight statement,” said Enoch.

“I’ve seen Stolburst.”

“So I suppose. What does he say?”

“That you ran away from him.”

“He lies.”

“Let that go. You had a companion servant.”

“Dick Kidd?”

“That’s the party I have reference to,” replied Burt.

“What about Dick?”

“I want to know where he is.”

Cook laughed.

“I shouldn’t wonder he was inside a French prison just now,” he
replied.

“Why do you say that?”

“I left Dick in Paris; he wanted me to remain with him, saying that
the graft for two sharp chaps was immense over there.”

“I happen to know that Dick Kidd came to this country with you.”

As we know, Burt had no knowledge of the arrival of either. He simply
made the statement as a feeler.

“What do you want with Kidd?” inquired Enoch, after a pause.

“First, I want you to admit he came to New York with you.”

Cook hesitated.

“Well, he did. What of it?” he finally blurted out.

“There is this ‘of it,’” said Burt. “I’ve detected you in a lie.”

“That may be a sin, but it is not reckoned a crime to lie, except
under oath.”

“Where is Kidd now?”

“I don’t know.”

“I suppose I may consider that lie number two?”

“Can’t you tell me what you want with him.”

“Are you and this man very close?” asked Burt.

“We were sort of chummy, but I never trusted him much. He thinks too
much of himself to suit my taste.”

“If you will act on the square with me, I can put some money in your
way.”

Cook regarded his old acquaintance suspiciously.

“What do you require?” he asked.

“That you make me acquainted with this Dick Kidd.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to ask his permission first,” said Enoch.

“You know what I am after?”

“I’ll swear I don’t.”

“You know that Kidd robbed his employer?” said Burt sternly.

“No--I don’t.”

“Come, Enoch, you must have seen that wondrous green diamond?”

Cook appeared overcome with surprise.

“Do you mean the eye of the idol?” he inquired.

“Yes.”

“So Dick got away with that, eh?”

“You know he did, and I rather think you were in the job.”

“I swear to you that if Dick Kidd stole that diamond, I never knew
anything about it until now.”

“Cook,” said Burt, “you know I am not to be deceived by your acting.”

“I am not acting.”

“Kidd must have shown you the gem?”

“No.”

“Did you steal it?”

“No; I don’t mind telling you that if I had the opportunity I should
have stolen it. Why, the price I could have got for the stone would
have made me rich for life.”

Burt looked sharp at his companion.

It seemed plain to him that the fellow was lying.

“Well,” said Burt, “you were Kidd’s accomplice in the theft, and I
propose to arrest you.”

“No, you don’t!”

The voice came from behind the detective. He turned around.

Mike Quick stood near him and the saloon-keeper had a revolver
leveled at his head.




                             CHAPTER V.

                       ENOCH COOK AND HIS PAL.


The moment Quick appeared upon the scene Cook made a successful dash
for liberty, Burt did not make a move to intercept him.

Mike had the drop on him, and Burt believed the rascal would shoot if
he grappled with Cook.

“Ain’t you a nice member of society?” remarked Quick.

“Put up that gun.”

“You just hold your horses; I want to give Enoch a good start,” said
Mike. “You gave me your word of honor you would not attempt to arrest
the man.”

“What is it to you whether Cook is arrested or not?”

“A good deal; that is, if the arrest was made here.”

“Find him a good customer, eh?”

“It ain’t that.”

“Then what is it?”

“The thing would get in the newspapers,” said Mike.

“Suppose it did.”

“Then my place would be given a bad name; savvy?”

Burt was mad enough to eat Quick, but he felt compelled to laugh
at the fellow’s conceit. In all New York there was not a more
disreputable dive than Quick’s, and it had enjoyed that reputation
for years.

“That’s all gammon,” remarked the detective. “Put up your gun.”

“I guess Cook has got far enough away now.”

Mike put the revolver in his pocket. That was what Burt was waiting
for. With a catlike spring he landed directly in front of Quick,
and planted his fist between that gentleman’s eyes. The attack was
wholly unexpected by the dive-keeper. Mike fell like a log.

Burt turned the prostrate man over, and took possession of his
revolver. Then he allowed Quick to rise. The latter was mad as a wild
bull. He made a rush at the detective. Again Burt’s fist shot out.

The result was the same as before. The bartender and several others
who were in the front room now appeared.

Turning to the bartender, Burt said:

“Sweep that thing into the gutter.”

Then, drawing his own revolver, he made his way from the room, and
none sought to bar his progress.

It may readily be assumed that Enoch Cook lost no time in getting out
of that neighborhood. He went directly across the city, and brought
up at a small hotel on West Street.

Without asking questions of the clerk, he went up-stairs and entered
a room on the second floor. A small, wiry, and hatchet-faced man
arose from a lounge upon which he had been stretched. This was the
Honorable Richard Kidd.

“What’s the matter, Enoch? Have you been interviewing a ghost?”

“Why do you ask that question?”

“You’re as pale as death,” said Kidd; “what caused it?”

“The diamond.”

“The diamond, eh?”

Kidd was quite wide-awake now.

“What do you suppose?” asked Cook; “this fellow Stolburst has put a
detective on your track. Ain’t that pleasant news?”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been talking with the detective,” replied Enoch.

“How did he come to know you?” inquired Kidd.

“He and I used to be schoolmates, but I don’t understand how he knew
that Sam Henry and Enoch Cook were one.”

“This fellow knows we have the stone, eh?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t see we have anything to fear from him.”

“Why not?”

“Suppose he knows of you pushing Aimee Jacquet overboard when our
ship was in mid-ocean?” remarked Enoch.

It was now Kidd who became very pale.

“You dropped no hint of that?” he said, in a low and tremulous
whisper.

“Do you take me to be a fool?”

“The captain of the vessel reported that my wife, Aimee, committed
suicide by leaping overboard while suffering from an attack of
temporary insanity.”

“She was not insane.”

“Of course not; but didn’t I bribe the ship’s surgeon to say he had
noticed the woman’s mind giving way for several days before she was
lost?”

“Dick,” said Cook, “I never could understand why you wanted pretty
Aimee out of the way after the hard work you had in succeeding to
have her desert her husband.”

Kidd laughed, and then all at once he became very serious again.

“One night when drunk--it was the night before we sailed for New
York--I told her all about the diamond. The first day out my wife and
I had a little tiff. The quarrel grew in dimensions, and she several
times taunted me with being a thief.

“I was afraid that if she arrived over here she might give me away
to the police. That’s why I pushed her overboard that stormy night.”

“Do you think Pierre Jacquet knows his wife ran away with you?”

“No; the ruffian believed she was entirely devoted to him. Poor
little Aimee, if she had not such a nimble tongue she would be alive.
The silly creature believed we could have been legally married in
this country.”

“I think possession of that green diamond is unlucky,” remarked Enoch
seriously.

The other laughed.

“I’ll bet,” said Kidd, “that if I asked you to take charge of it you
would not refuse.”

“No; but I’d sell it as soon as possible,” returned Enoch.

“How much do you suppose it is worth?”

“That does not signify; we can never get anything like its real
worth.”

“We should be able to get fifty thousand dollars or more.”

“I think I can find a purchaser.”

“I wish you would, then.”

“I’ll try to see the party I have in view to-night.”

“Now,” said Kidd, and he appeared very anxious, “you have me in your
power.”

“What do you mean?” asked Enoch, in pretended surprise.

“You alone know how Aimee Jacquet came to her death. Come what may,
never inform on me. I will treat you square. As I intended all along,
half the money received for the green diamond will be yours, Enoch.”

Cook smiled. He was extremely avaricious, and the prospect of
becoming possessor of a large sum of money was peculiarly pleasing to
him.

“I have had many pals,” he said, “and not one of them can say I ever
played him false.”

“I put you down as a true man when I first met you.”

Enoch chuckled to himself. Had he possession of the Eye of Jobu, Kidd
would soon discover how square his pal was. Cook would most certainly
have appropriated the gem for himself.

“I’m glad,” said the hypocrite, “you put confidence in me.”

“Now,” remarked Dick, “you have not told me about that detective
friend of yours.”

“I met him down at Mike Quick’s, and he told me he had been engaged
by our old master, Henry Stolburst. I told him Stolburst gave me the
shake, but that wouldn’t go down.

“When he spoke of the diamond, I pretended I knew nothing about it,
and when he said you took it, I claimed I was ignorant of the fact.
Then the detective wanted me to sell out to him.”

“What do you mean by that?” inquired Kidd, in some surprise.

“He told me I would be well paid if I put him onto you.”

“Well?”

“Of course I refused, and then he undertook to arrest me.”

“How did you get away--knock him out, eh?” remarked Kidd.

“Well, no,” replied Enoch, “I don’t think I’d be able to do that.”

“I always supposed you were very fly in using your dukes.”

“Yes, but I am not a marker to the other fellow.”

“Daisy, eh?”

“You bet.”

“What’s the chap’s name?”

“Burt Cromwell.”

“I’ve heard of him before.”

“He’s a chap that would never stand any fooling,” said Cook.

“I guess we’ll fool him some,” remarked Dick, smiling.

“I only wish we may.”

“If the fellow becomes too troublesome,” said Kidd, “I’ll give him a
taste of cold steel.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I won’t have you attempt anything of that kind.”

“Are you dead stuck on your old schoolmate?”

“No; I never liked him.”

“Then why do you display so much interest in his personal safety?”

“It is your safety I am interested in,” smiled Enoch.

“I guess I am able to paddle against this fellow and win.”

“Go ahead; I won’t attempt to force advice upon you.”

“Now,” said Kidd, “I have one greater to fear than the detective.”

“Who?”

“Guess who I saw to-day?”

“Give it up.”

“Ajeeb, the head ‘cocalorum’ of the temple of Jobu, and you can bet
he is onto Henry Stolburst. Next he’ll get onto us, and then there
will be music.”




                             CHAPTER VI.

                          AJEEB’S NEW ALLY.


“Zulima,” said the giant Ashah, “it is well for you that you remain
true to your faith.”

“Why?”

“Sooner than have you become a heretic, Ajeeb would have me spoil
that beautiful voice of yours. That would have been very hard on me,
princess, for I always liked you; still, I should have obeyed my
master, even unto sacrificing my own child.”

“What do you mean by spoiling my voice?” the girl asked.

“Without the tongue, we could not speak, much less sing.”

“True, Ashah.”

“The good Ajeeb would have had me pluck out your tongue!”

Zulima was horrified.

“Surely, uncle would not have gone that far?” she said.

“Aye.”

“I go this way.”

The princess was about to turn a corner.

“Nay; you must go with me,” remarked the giant.

“Where?”

“To where Ajeeb awaits us.”

“He surely does not expect a visit from me. I saw him once to-day.”

“He told me if you visited the American’s hotel, I was to conduct you
into his presence.”

“You can return and say I did not leave my home.”

Ashah started with surprise.

“What!” he cried; “would you have me try to deceive the high priest?”

“There will be no harm done,” answered the princess.

“I would give up this worthless life of mine sooner. How could I ever
look Ajeeb in the face again if I told him a lie?”

“Nonsense! You can’t make me believe you never told a lie!”

“True, I have told many, but never one to Ajeeb. Come, let us hurry.”

Much against her inclination, Zulima accompanied the giant.

Ashah had only been a short period in New York, but he seemed to know
the streets in that section of the city. Their journey ended at a
handsome house on Forty-third Street.

In answer to Ashah’s ring, the door was opened by Ajeeb in person.
The latter’s face was clouded, and he bestowed a fierce glance upon
the princess.

“So,” he said, taking hold of her arm savagely, “you are false to us!”

“No, uncle.”

Ashah ascended to the second story, and the others entered a very
elegantly appointed parlor.

“You visited Stolburst?”

“Yes.”

“And told him I meant to kill him?” growled Ajeeb.

“True; you had already threatened him with death yourself.”

“I suppose you also counseled him to fly, Zulima?”

“No; I visited him to question him about the Eye of Jobu.”

“Well?”

“He denied ever having had it in his possession,” replied the
princess.

“You believed him, of course?”

“No, uncle; he lied.”

Ajeeb looked at her in surprise. He had expected she would have
endeavored to exculpate the explorer.

“Did you tell him he lied?”

“Yes.”

“What then?”

“He persisted in his denial; I offered him pay for the services he
had rendered me, and he refused the money.”

“Good! I find, after all, that you are a worthy daughter of your
race.”

“I would not throw aside my belief for any mortal living.”

“Zulima, there is but one course open to me in this matter.”

“I understand.”

“What do you understand?”

“Stolburst must be captured, and tortured into giving up the Eye of
Jobu.”

The beautiful-featured princess spoke as calmly as if she was
discussing some every-day topic. Away down in her heart, however,
there raged a war of conflicting feelings. Try as she might to
disabuse her mind of the fact, she had grown to love Stolburst.

“Zulima,” said Ajeeb, “you now talk so sensibly that it seems
incredible to me this man should so have blinded you that you
deserted your people without regret.”

“I shall go back to Abyssinia when I am old and ugly.”

“When you are old and ugly?” repeated Ajeeb, in surprise.

“Yes; then no one will want to marry me, prince or else.”

“But you should marry the young son of King John.”

“I shall never marry.”

Zulima had kept her feelings from betraying themselves up to this
time. Now she burst into a flood of tears.

“My child,” said Ajeeb, in kinder tones than he had yet used, “you
have some secret sorrow; let me share it with you.”

“No; it is nothing.”

“Then why do you weep?”

“Because this man is so foolish for himself,” replied Zulima.

Ajeeb frowned. It was plain to him that she had conceived more than a
passing affection for the explorer. This was exceedingly displeasing
to him, but he judged it better not to speak of it.

“The man is a vandal,” said Ajeeb; “he knows what to expect, and has
a chance to save himself. Now, let his punishment be upon his own
head. I will not go home without the Eye of Jobu.”

“Perhaps,” said Zulima, “were I to see him again, I might obtain it.”

“No; with the grasping avarice of his race, he thinks he can retain
the diamond. The fool! Were he to throw it in the ocean, one day or
another it would be found by a priest of Jobu.”

“Perhaps he has lost it?”

“No; in that case, he would have so informed me.”

“He may think you would not believe him,” said the girl.

“Neither should I,” remarked Ajeeb. “Now, Zulima, you know where to
find me?”

“Yes, uncle.”

“Well, before you go, I want you to promise not to again visit this
vandal.”

“I promise.”

“Good! You have plenty of money?” said Ajeeb.

“Yes.”

“Good! Should you want more, call upon me.”

“I have enough to live upon in splendor, if I so choose.”

“Now, my child, you can go; and, before many sunsets, I will have
recovered that for which I traveled so many miles.”

Ajeeb kissed her lightly on the forehead. It was with a head weighed
down with sorrow that Zulima returned to her home.

Soon after her departure from the house in Forty-third Street Ajeeb
had another visitor. The latter’s appearance and general make-up
pronounced him an Englishman.

“Well, old man!” he cried, upon meeting the Abyssinian priest; “how
does the world wag for you, and what are you doing in New York?”

Ajeeb was another man in this person’s presence. Before Zulima and
Ashah, he carried a very stern front. Now he unbent his rigid dignity.

“I came here on a very serious mission, friend of long ago!”

“Can Billy Barry do anything to help you along, old man?”

“I sent for you, thinking you could be of great assistance.”

“How did you find me out?”

“Don’t you know I am something of a magician?”

“That be blowed! Honor bright, how did you discover my address?”

“I got it from Harry Swinck.”

“Do you know that old pirate?”

“He is known to me. This is not the first time I visited to New York.”

“You wear European clothes much better now than when I first made
your acquaintance in London.”

“Don’t speak of those days,” said Ajeeb. “I guess I must then have
broken about every commandment of my religion.”

“Well, you did get in with a pretty stiff crowd after becoming
acquainted with me; but I was to blame for all that.”

“Yes,” smiled the Abyssinian, “and I rank high as a priest at home.”

“You old hypocrite!”

Ajeeb’s brow darkened.

“No,” he said; “you misjudge me; I but joked when I spoke of breaking
commandments of my faith. We take a different view of sin to the
outer world, my friend.”

“Don’t tell me anything about religion,” said Barry. “What did you
come to this country for?”

“To run down a man.”

“Have you succeeded?”

“In running him down, yes,” replied Ajeeb; “but he refuses to return
that which he stole from our temple.”

“What did he steal?”

“A wondrous diamond, larger, perhaps, than any other in the known
world.”

“The lucky devil!”

“Barry,” said Ajeeb, “I would rather part with ten thousand pounds
than you were in that man’s position.”

“Do you value the diamond so very much?” asked the Englishman.

“It is not that.”

“What then?”

“He desecrated our temple, and his life has been forfeited.”

“Mean to kill the rooster, eh?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t suppose he is a common thief,” remarked Barry.

“Neither is he. The man has great learning, and bears a high name
among the people here and in Europe.”

“What’s his name?”

“Henry Stolburst.”

“The African explorer?”

“The same.”

“Ajeeb, my friend,” said Barry, “I think you have undertaken to crack
a very hard nut.”

“No,” smiled the Abyssinian. “I shall not fail in this matter.”

“Does Stolburst suspect your purpose?”

“I told him all about it.”

“That was foolish; he has probably told some one else of your threat.”

“What harm? His body will never be found, and who can prove murder
against me, or my chosen instruments?”

“What do you mean by saying the man’s body will never be found?”

“Just what I said.”

“Explain.”

“I want him kidnaped; then the rest will be easy.”

Barry threw himself back in his chair, and laughed heartily. Ajeeb
knew he was the object of the other’s mirth, and was naturally
displeased.

“My dear fellow,” said Billy, “you seem to forget you are in a
civilized community.”

“Is that why you laugh?”

“Don’t get mad about it; I was forced to laugh.”

“I will have this man in my power before thirty-six hours have
passed, mark my words for it!”

“You are taking a fearful risk--the laws here are very stringent.”

“Nothing can prevent my success. I have said it.”

“I wish you all sorts of good luck, old fellow; but, in my humble
opinion, you are completely off.”

Ajeeb laughed in a cold, hard manner.

“My friend,” he said, “I shall succeed.”

“Where do I come in?”

“You will kidnap this man!”




                            CHAPTER VII.

                              TRAPPED.


Henry Stolburst was thoroughly frightened at the dangers which seemed
to environ him. He had put great faith in Zulima’s affection for
himself.

Now he found himself with but one friend in New York. The latter was
a girl named Lizzie Nightingale, and a distant relation. She was an
orphan, and in good circumstances.

On the evening of Zulima’s visit, the explorer was about to start out
to call on this young lady, when a visitor was announced.

“William Barry,” he said; “why, I never heard that name before. I
suppose you might as well show him up.”

This speech was addressed to the bell-boy. In due time Barry put in
an appearance. Billy had discarded his striking raiment, and was then
dressed in very ordinary clothing.

“Who are you?”

“The janitor at the St. Joseph flat,” said the visitor.

The place named was where the princess had her home.

Stolburst looked hard at the man. Barry’s features were immovable. To
look at him, a stranger would not credit him with possessing even an
average amount of brains.

“What do you want with me?” asked the explorer.

“I have a message for you.”

“Where is it?”

Stolburst held out his hand.

“It is by word of mouth,” said Barry quite innocently.

“Who is it from?”

“The dark-skinned young lady.”

“Zulima!” exclaimed Stolburst, in the greatest surprise.

“I don’t know what you call her; the servant’s name is Marie.”

“You seem to know the servant, at all events,” said the lecturer.

Billy smiled from ear to ear. It struck Stolburst the janitor took
more than a passing interest in Zulima’s maid.

Of course, Barry had never as yet seen that young woman.

“What is your message about?” said Stolburst.

“The dark lady, she visited you this afternoon,” said Barry.

“How do you know?” interrupted Stolburst.

“Marie told me what to say.”

“What has she to do with it?”

“She told me she was acting for her mistress,” replied Barry.

“Go on.”

“Well, Marie said to me: Billy, tell the gentleman that my mistress
is sorry she parted from him in anger. She would ask him to come
here, but it would be dangerous, as persons whom he will know are
watching the house. The lady would come to you, only these same
persons might follow her. Marie will meet you to-night, and deliver
a message from her mistress, who begs you not to attempt to see her.
Marie will tell you how to get rid of these people whom you don’t
like.”

“Is that all?”

“All--except Marie will meet you in the Battery Park, near the Barge
Office, at nine o’clock to-night.”

“Did this Marie name any of the parties I do not like?”

“Yes--one of them.”

“The name?”

“Lord bless you, sir, I tried to remember it, but I couldn’t.”

“Was it Ajeeb?”

Barry scratched his head, and seemed puzzled.

“It sounded something like that, but that wasn’t the name.”

This reply confirmed Stolburst in the belief that the messenger did
come indirectly from the princess.

So Zulima had relented! She found, on mature thought, that she
had more affection for the explorer than for the teachings of the
devotees of Jobu.

Stolburst was glad of that. Indeed, he had often thought that his
intimate friendship with the girl would end with him falling in love
with her. She was not a negro, or even a black.

Zulima looked, in her oriental beauty, just what she was--a princess.

“Tell your mistress I will keep the appointment,” said Stolburst.

“I haven’t any mistress, or master, either, for that matter; the flat
is owned by an insurance company.”

“I forgot.”

“You bet you did.”

“Tell the young woman----”

“Marie?”

“Yes, stupid!”

“What will I tell her?”

“That I’ll keep the appointment she has made.”

Stolburst tossed the fellow a silver dollar.

Billy deftly caught the coin, and, with a low bow, took his
departure. It might have surprised the explorer to see the janitor
of the St. Joseph flat invest that dollar in a Manhattan cocktail and
a Reina cigar at the Hoffman House café.

Stolburst deferred his visit to Miss Lizzie Nightingale. He tried to
think as to the manner Zulima had devised by which he could escape
the wrath of her uncle.

Could it be that she had discovered a weak spot in subtle Ajeeb’s
armor? But it took a master mind in cunning to overreach Ajeeb.

“I wish I could see the princess in person,” thought Stolburst; “but
I suppose I must be satisfied to take things as I can get them.”

It never once struck him that nothing prevented Marie from coming to
the hotel.

Come what might, Stolburst determined to see the maid. He knew the
girl was very faithful, and that Zulima regarded her more as a friend
than as a servant.

The hour of nine struck by Trinity when Henry Stolburst entered
Battery Park. The night was windy, and there was a steady downpour of
rain.

Despite this latter annoyance, he carried no umbrella. What was a
sound ducking to a man of his experience?

The park was dark and lonely, as it always is at night in winter.

Stolburst wore a heavy cloak, and underneath its folds his right hand
grasped the handle of a revolver. He was directed by a policeman to
the Barge Office. The building was closed, and no Marie awaited him.

Stolburst walked slowly up and down.

Crunch!

A heavy blow was struck him with a piece of iron pipe from behind. He
fell inanimate to the pavement.

It was hours afterward when Stolburst regained consciousness. Then
he found himself in a room without windows that was hung on all four
sides with very brilliant red curtains. In the middle of the room,
and underneath a chandelier, stood an Abyssinian, dressed in the garb
of his country.

Stolburst rubbed his eyes. For a moment he believed himself back in
Africa. Then, with a rush, everything came to him.

“Trapped like a fool!” he muttered.

The Abyssinian he recognized as one of Ajeeb’s familiars.

“Deth,” said the prisoner, “how came I here?”

The man did not answer.

Stolburst saw that the fellow was armed with a short and heavy sword.

“Have you lost your tongue?”

Still no reply.

Stolburst put his hand to his head. He found a lump there, and he
suffered great pain. Upon placing his fingers upon the spot where he
had been struck, he discovered the Abyssinian had been doctoring him.
Everything about him, even to the lounge upon which he found himself
stretched, and the sweet, aromatic odor that pervaded the atmosphere,
suggested the Orient.

“Deth, why the devil don’t you speak?” he cried, assuming a sitting
position.

A cruel smile played across the Abyssinian’s dark features, and he
clapped his hands three times in rapid succession. The curtains at
one side of the room parted. Ajeeb appeared.

“Go!”

Deth obeyed his master’s command. A fiercely triumphant expression
appeared in Ajeeb’s eyes as he steadily regarded his prisoner.

“You spoke about police protection,” he said. “The police were not
able to protect you. Base vandal, I, Ajeeb, never make idle threats.

“You are in my power, and beyond the reach of help. In a few hours
Ajeeb will rack your body. Give up the green diamond, and be saved
from torture.”

Stolburst looked steadfastly at his companion.

Ajeeb bore a terrible reputation for cruelty among those who knew him
best. It even struck Stolburst as odd that right in the great city of
New York this fellow could carry out his practises.

The prisoner believed himself doomed. Ajeeb’s cold, cruel, and crafty
features seemed to enchant him. Try as Stolburst might, he could not
keep his gaze off the man.

The Abyssinian wore a rich silken cloak wound around the upper
portion of the body, leaving his arms and legs naked. In his hand he
held a simitar, studded with jewels.

Stolburst was a brave man, but he certainly felt a fluttering at the
heart. His prospects of leaving that place alive were dim. He did
not suspect Barry of being the knowing tool of Ajeeb. Instead, he
condemned Zulima for his being in his then position.

“Have you nothing to say?” remarked the Abyssinian, after a pause.

“Only this--I haven’t that which you seek,” replied Stolburst.

“Dog of a liar, did you not carry it away with you?”

Stolburst hesitated. What answer should he make?

That was, just then, a momentous question with him.

“Yes,” he finally said.

Ajeeb’s diabolical features lit up with unholy joy.

“So,” he said, “I made no mistake? The spirit of Jobu directed me.”

“Would that I had the green diamond, that I might return it.”

The Abyssinian started. After the admission made by his prisoner, he
considered the jewel within reach.

“You sold it--to whom?”

“I did not sell the diamond,” answered Stolburst.

“Nor give it away?”

“No.”

“Then what became of it?”

“It was stolen from me.”

The expression on Ajeeb’s features increased in ferocity. He half
raised his simitar. Every moment the helpless prisoner expected to be
his last. He gave up all hope when Ajeeb moved a few steps nearer.

“Who stole it?”

“I suspect it was taken by one of my servants, both of whom deserted
me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Nor did I expect you would, but I have not uttered an untruth.”

Stolburst spoke with the calmness born of desperation.

“Which of your servants do you suspect of the theft? I know them
both.”

“Kidd.”

“Why did you not tell me all this when I visited you at the hotel?
Then I might have believed you. Ashah!”

The giant could not have been far away, for he almost instantly
appeared. Ajeeb made a sign.

Ashah’s simitar described a circle in the air.

Stolburst’s torture had begun!




                            CHAPTER VIII.

                       AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.


We left Enoch Cook and Dick Kidd in the latter’s room.

“So,” said Cook, “that nigger high priest is in New York?”

“Haven’t I just said so?”

“You can bet I wouldn’t want to be in Stolburst’s shoes.”

“Why not?”

“Ajeeb will kill him for taking the diamond,” said Enoch.

“Suppose Stolburst tells the pagan we have the stone?”

“Then I guess we’ll want to keep our weather eye skinned.”

“You say you’ll see that party about buying the jewel to-night?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll meet you at Mike Quick’s at ten,” said Kidd.

“Oh, no!”

“Why not?”

“I guess it would be dangerous for me to show up there.”

“This detective chap will reason that you won’t dare return.”

“Well?”

“Then he won’t look for you.”

“He may have had Quick arrested.”

“Well, I’ll take a walk around there and see.”

“Don’t.”

“I have nothing to fear. This Burt Cromwell don’t know me.”

“You’re bound to have your way, no matter what I say,” remarked Enoch.

“Yes, my lad; and I’ll start for Mike’s this very moment.”

Dick went across town to Quick’s. The latter gentleman was fuming
with rage. Both his eyes were blackened and his nose was cut.

“Well, I swear!” said Kidd, upon entering. “But you have got a pretty
pair of bungers, and no mistake!”

“Did you come here to have a laugh at me?” growled Mike.

“Can’t a man laugh?”

“Yes; but it is wise to be sure you can lick the man you laugh at.”

“Come down from your perch, Mike! You and I ain’t going to fall out.”

“Then don’t be so infernally funny, that’s all.”

“Who did you have the run-in with?”

“Have you seen Cook lately?”

“About an hour ago.”

“He could about tell you whom I ran up against,” said Quick.

“It wasn’t the detective?”

“That’s just exactly who it was, and it all come of me standing as a
friend by Enoch,” replied Mike.

“He told me he would have been scooped but for you.”

“Yes; and I hardly think he would stand by me if I was in a muss.”

“Oh, yes, he would.”

“Here’s a whole lot of duffers,” Quick waved his arm around, “and
every one of them claims to be my dear friend. Did any of them go to
the front for me? Not one.”

He threw a look of withering scorn upon the habitues of the dive that
were gathered at the bar.

“I’m a pretty good friend,” he added, “when they are broke and want a
drink.”

“Boss,” said the bartender, “when we got to the back room, Burt
Cromwell had out his gun.”

“You shut up!” exclaimed Quick angrily; “or you will find yourself
out of a job mighty soon!”

Kidd threw some oil upon the troubled waters by inviting every one
in the place to have a drink. Soon afterward he and the dive-keeper
adjourned to the rear room, where they seated themselves.

“What is there in the wind?” asked Mike, looking knowingly at his
companion.

“I do not understand.”

“Of course you don’t, because you don’t want to.”

“’Pon my soul, I don’t know what you are trying to get at!”

“What has Enoch been doing? Now do you understand?”

“I understand. My pal hasn’t been doing anything.”

“That’s too thin.”

“How too thin?”

“Detectives ain’t going around arresting people unless they have some
good reason for it,” said Quick.

“I’m the party Burt Cromwell wants.”

“You?”

“Yes; and this chap ain’t going to get me,” remarked Kidd.

“If he wants you, why did he try to arrest Enoch?”

“He wanted to frighten him, more than anything else.”

“Burt Cromwell knows Cook is not to be frightened by a bluff.”

“He claimed Enoch was my accomplice in a little matter.”

“Oh, that’s the way the cat jumps, is it?” said Mike.

“Just about.”

“Might I ask what the little matter is, without giving offense?”

Kidd looked astonished.

“Perhaps,” added the dive-keeper, “you don’t care to trust me. Is
that it?”

“Oh, no.”

“It appears that way to me.”

“Well,” said Dick, “the matter is simple enough. I lifted a diamond,
and, when it is sold, why, Enoch and I will divide the proceeds.”

“Is the jewel worth much?”

“A few thousands.”

“It must be a dandy.”

Kidd had no idea of allowing Quick to know how valuable the Eye of
Jobu was.

Dick was wise in his generation, but he was not a match for his pal.
As the saying goes, Cook knew more in a minute than the other knew in
a year.

“Yes,” said Kidd, “the stone is a very pretty one.”

“Have you tried to sell it?”

“Enoch is attending to that end of the business just about at the
present moment.”

Kidd was right in his surmise.

Just then Cook was closeted with one of the most famous fences in
New York--Monte Murphy. In appearance and manner, Murphy seemed an
uncouth and ignorant man. A more shrewd rascal at driving a bargain
did not exist.

We will leave Kidd and Quick, and give our attention for awhile to
Enoch.

Murphy lived in a tumble-down sort of house on Elizabeth Street, and,
when Cook called, he found the fence at home. Monte had not seen his
visitor in years, but he knew him at first glance. This the fence
did not allow to appear, and he pretended not to recognize Cook for
some time.

“Well, my boy,” said Murphy, after admitting he remembered his
caller, “what can I do for you now?”

“Can’t you guess?” smiled Enoch.

“Not I.”

“I have something to sell.”

“Peddling, are you?”

“Oh, come off! I’ve got swag.”

“Then you came to the wrong shop.”

“How is that?”

“I have retired from the business. The police made things too
uncomfortable for me.”

“Why, Bull English told me to come and see you.”

“Well, you do see me.”

“Now, Monte, what’s the use of your acting this way?”

“What way would you have me act, young man?”

“Bull told me you were still on the ‘cross,’” remarked Enoch.

“English was only joking.”

“It ain’t common stuff I want to get rid of.”

“What have you--bonds?”

“Something better.”

“I’m not buying, so there’s no use of your talking.”

Cook seemed nonplused. He knew the old rascal in front of him was
still engaged in business as a “fence.”

Enoch could not understand Murphy’s disinclination to deal with him.
Monte was playing his fish. If he appeared too eager to do business,
the other might seek to take advantage of that fact.

“You know I am square.”

“Now, I have your own word for it,” remarked Murphy.

“You can do the biggest stroke of business of your life through me.”

“Sit down; it will do no harm for you to tell me about it.”

“You have dealt in diamonds?”

“Yes; I’ve handled a few.”

“I have the largest diamond in the known world, I believe.”

Monte smiled.

“Let me see it,” he said.

“I can’t.”

“Then you haven’t got it?”

“Well, it amounts to the same thing; a pal has the stone.”

“Do you own it?”

“We hold equal shares.”

“Sure I couldn’t tell how much the jewel is worth without seeing it;
and, by the way, I haven’t seen anything in the newspapers about any
one losing such a great diamond. I think, young man, you are slightly
off your base.”

“The diamond was not ‘lifted’ in this country,” remarked Cook.

“Europe?”

“No; Africa.”

“I don’t take much stock in diamonds from there.”

“This is a pure stone, and it has a peculiar green tint.”

Again the “fence” smiled.

“By the Lord Harry, then,” he said, “it must be an Irish diamond!”

Enoch paid no attention to the interruption.

“It formed,” he continued, “the eye of an Abyssinian idol for many
centuries. I am positive it is a genuine diamond.”

“Why don’t you take it to Tiffany’s?”

“And get jugged?”

“Sure, the law couldn’t reach you for a theft committed on the
heathen of Africa.”

“But I’m a known ‘crook,’ and the police would not believe my story.”

“How much do you value the diamond at?” asked the “fence.”

“It should bring a hundred thousand dollars, my pal and I think.”

“A hundred thousand dollars?”

The astonishment exhibited by Monte was not counterfeit.

“That’s the figure.”

“I’ll take my oath, I think you have gone crazy!”

“I’m as sane as ever I was.”

“Then you’ve been drinking.”

“Not to signify.”

“Why, if the diamond was worth even one-tenth of the sum you name,
and I was ever so much disposed to deal with you, I could not find
the money. Besides, I never heard of a green diamond before; it is
probably an emerald.”

“It is a diamond.”

“Whether or not, you will have to carry your ware to some other shop.”

“You could obtain double what we ask for the stone,” said Enoch. “If
you haven’t the money, you know how to raise it.”

“Tell me, first of all, how the jewel came into your possession.”

Cook did so, only that he did not disclose Stolburst’s name.

“Enoch,” said the “fence,” when the other finished, “I’d like to see
that stone.”

“Will you purchase if you find my story as to its value correct?”

“I can better answer that question when I have seen the green
diamond,” replied Murphy; “but I will not pay any such sum as one
hundred thousand dollars.”

“You may change your mind about that; my pal and I will call here not
later than to-morrow night.”

Then Enoch took his leave. If the old fence paid half what he
demanded for the wondrous jewel, Cook would be highly satisfied.

He headed directly for Mike Quick’s. When Enoch was within a few
blocks of his destination, a man sprang at him and clutched his
throat.

“Where is your friend?”

Cook found himself looking into the eyes of Pierre Jacquet, whose
wife Dick Kidd had stolen and then murdered.




                             CHAPTER IX.

                        A TERRIBLE SURPRISE.


“Curse you!” exclaimed Enoch; “do you mean to strangle me?”

“Where is he?” asked the outraged husband.

Now Cook succeeded in shaking himself free of the other’s grasp.

“Who the deuce are you, anyway?”

A bitter smile passed over the Frenchman’s features.

“You know Pierre Jacquet?” he said.

“Who do you take me to be?”

“Monsieur Cook.”

Enoch hesitated.

“Yes,” he finally said; “that is my name: but I have no recollection
of ever having seen you before.”

“So,” said the other, “you have already forgotten Pierre Jacquet?”

“Come to think of it, your features do look quite familiar.”

“My Aimee’s features are more familiar to you now.”

“Who’s Aimee?”

“My wife.”

A groan escaped the almost distracted husband.

No greater rascal than Pierre Jacquet called Paris home, and that is
a very broad statement. Yet Monsieur Jacquet was devotedly fond of
his wife, and he could have forgiven her for her escapade, even then,
if she appealed to him. Not so the man who had stolen the woman’s
affections.

Pierre had crossed the ocean with the avowed intention of recovering
his wife, and avenging his honor. He owned a prosperous cabaret in
Paris, and the two Americans had been his guests during a stay they
made in that city.

“I do not know the lady to whom you refer,” said Enoch coolly.

“You don’t know Aimee?”

Jacquet seemed overwhelmed with astonishment.

“No.”

“I mean my wife.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Cook; “has anything serious happened to madame?”

“Curse your impudence, you know she ran away with your companion!”

“I know nothing of the kind,” returned Enoch, perfectly unruffled.

“I tracked you three to Havre, and learned you had sailed together
for America.”

Cook laughed.

“I came to New York,” he said, “by way of Liverpool.”

Monsieur Jacquet looked hard at his companion.

“You are trying to deceive me,” he said.

“No.”

“Will you swear you know nothing of my wife running off with Monsieur
Kidd?”

“Certainly I will swear to it.”

Cook was quite willing to swear to almost anything.

The Frenchman’s breath came hard and fast. His eyes were directed
full at his companion. That did not annoy Enoch in the least.

“_Peste!_” exclaimed Monsieur Jacquet; “where could have been your
eyes?”

“I do not understand.”

“It seems you do not care to understand anything.”

“You wrong me. I am naturally very dull,” said Enoch.

“Did you not notice the intimacy that sprang up between my wife and
Monsieur Kidd?”

“No; did you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you not put a stop to it?” asked Cook.

“Aimee assured me I had no cause to be jealous.”

“Well,” said Cook, “I never thought Dick Kidd would run off with
another’s wife. He certainly isn’t very beautiful.”

“He succeeded in making himself loved by that foolish woman.”

“Jacquet, old man,” said Enoch flippantly, “I feel sorry for you.”

“Where is this man?”

“I don’t know.”

“You should know.”

“Why should I?”

“He is your friend.”

“You mean, rather, he was once my friend,” said Cook.

“Did you two fall out?”

“Yes.”

“About what?”

“Excuse me, that is a personal affair,” replied Enoch.

“Is Monsieur Kidd here in this city?”

“I hardly think so; I have never seen him since my return.”

“Monsieur Cook,” exclaimed Pierre, and his voice became harsh and
loud, “you are trying to shield this man from my just vengeance!”

Enoch laughed. Again the Frenchman grasped his throat.

“Conduct me to Kidd,” said Monsieur Jacquet, “or I shall strangle
you!”

“Two can play at that game!”

A bright knife-blade flashed under the electric light, the Frenchman
groaned, his hold on Enoch’s throat was released, he staggered and
fell upon the sidewalk in a heap. The man’s blood had spurted over
his assailant’s face and hand.

Enoch wiped away the blood as well as he could with a handkerchief.

“I’m a murderer now!” he muttered between his set teeth.

Cook hurried to Quick’s.

“What’s up?” cried the latter and Kidd, in a single breath, as Enoch
entered the back room, where they were seated.

“I don’t know of anything.”

Enoch tried to appear cool. He found that undertaking a vast one. The
rascal had never before shed human blood, and he stood in great dread
of the consequences of his act.

“Why!” exclaimed Dick; “your face and neck are bloody! Are you
wounded?”

Cook forced a smile.

“No,” he replied; “but I must have cut the other fellow.”

“The detective?” queried Kidd.

“No; an old friend of yours, Dick.”

“Who?”

“Monsieur Pierre Jacquet.”

Kidd’s cheeks blanched.

“You are joking,” he muttered.

“Does this seem the record of a joke?”

Enoch held out his blood-stained hand. Mike Quick very politely arose
and left the friends together.

“So the fellow has followed us, eh?” remarked Kidd.

“He has followed you, just as Ajeeb has followed our friend the
explorer.”

“Tell me about your meeting with the French bully.”

Enoch complied.

“You are sure,” said Kidd, “you said nothing about Aimee falling
overboard?”

“Quite.”

“Wash away those blood-stains.”

Dick procured a basin of tepid water for his pal, and helped him
cleanse himself. Then Enoch told him of his interview with Monte
Murphy.

“Has the fence plenty of money?” asked Kidd.

“Yes; he has thousands on top of thousands in his safe.”

“Let us, then, get rid of the green diamond at once.”

“I told him we would bring it to him before to-morrow night.”

“What’s the matter with going there now?” inquired Kidd.

“Have you the diamond with you?”

Dick laughed.

“Do you think,” he said, “I would trust it out of my possession? It
is not every day a man runs up against a fortune.”

“Then we will visit Murphy.”

“Are you sure the fellow is square?” asked Kidd.

“Yes; I could get a dozen ‘high-rollers’ to vouch for him.”

“But, according to your own statement, he did not say he would buy
the stone.”

“No; but he intimated that he would,” answered Enoch.

“Well, we’ll give him a chance to make an offer, at all events.”

The pair went out into the barroom proper, and called for drinks.

Cook drank at least half a bottle of brandy before his nerves became
steady. The pair hurried to the “fence,” and, after some difficulty,
aroused Murphy.

“So,” said Monte, upon perceiving Cook, “you are back again?”

“Yes; this is my pal, Dick Kidd.”

“Happy to know you, Kidd.”

“Ain’t you going to ask us in?” remarked Enoch sullenly.

“What for?”

“We’ve brought the diamond.”

“That is another thing; walk right in, boys,” said the fence.

The visitors were ushered into Murphy’s little parlor.

Monte excused himself for a moment. When he returned, he carried
a tray, upon which was a bottle of whisky and some glasses. This
display of hospitality quite surprised Enoch.

Murphy bore the reputation of being very close-fisted. The three men
drank together, and then Kidd produced the diamond.

The old “fence” took the gem in his hand, and held it near the light.
His well-trained facial muscles betrayed no astonishment. His hand
trembled as he gazed upon the wondrous stone.

“An emerald, as I remarked before seeing it.”

“That is no emerald!” said Enoch.

Kidd’s jaw fell. The latter knew an emerald, even of that size, was
vastly inferior to a diamond in value.

“My friends,” said Monte, “I believe I can honestly claim to
correctly tell one jewel from another. I say this is an emerald.”

Murphy knew the stone was what Enoch claimed it to be. Never had he
seen a jewel so beautiful. It was worth the ransom of a king.

“But,” continued Monte, after a pause, “emerald though it is, the
stone is quite valuable.”

“How valuable?” asked Kidd, speaking for the first time.

“I might be able to get eight or ten thousand dollars for it, but I
am not going to pay you that price.”

Kidd and Enoch exchanged looks. Both felt rather crestfallen. Dick
believed Murphy’s statement. Cook did not.

“Well,” said the latter, “I guess we will have to take the jewel to
another mart.”

“I will give you five thousand dollars for it.”

“I’d throw it in a sewer before I’d accept that price!” said Enoch.

“You must be well supplied with funds, when you can throw away five
thousand dollars,” remarked Monte.

“We won’t take less than fifty thousand, not a penny.”

“You’ll never get it.”

“Give me the stone!”

Enoch held out his hand.

“I rather think I shall keep it!” said Murphy, and he coolly pocketed
the gem. Both the others sprang to their feet.

“Stop!”

The door was thrown open, and two men rushed into the room. Each of
the newcomers had a revolver in hand, and they covered Cook and his
pal.

“What does this mean?”

“It means,” said Joe Snell, one of the intruders, “that, if you or
your friend raise a hand, we will send the pair of you to visit the
devil!”

Monte smiled at his visitors’ great discomfiture.

“Do you mean to rob us?” cried Enoch hoarsely.

Both he and Kidd were deathly pale.

“I shall keep the diamond,” said Murphy, “until an owner for it turns
up.”

“You old villain, it is ours!” cried Kidd.

“Joe Snell,” said Enoch, “I didn’t think you would act like this.”

“Shut up!”

“No,” said Monte; “throw them out.”

Covered by the revolvers of his friends, Murphy backed out of the
room. Both Kidd and Enoch were beside themselves with rage. A fortune
had slipped out of their hands.




                             CHAPTER X.

                      ZULIMA AND THE DETECTIVE.


On the morning following the capture of Henry Stolburst, Burt visited
the latter’s hotel. The explorer’s valet told him his master had left
the hotel the evening before, promising to return in a few hours.

“Do you know where he went?” inquired the detective.

“He did not say,” replied the valet, whose name was Jacob Bude.

“Have you no idea?”

“I know that he sometimes visits a foreign lady up-town.”

“A foreign lady?”

“Yes; master says she was a princess in her own country.”

“Have you ever seen her?”

“Yes, sir; she is almost as black as a negro, but she is very
handsome, for all that.”

“What is her name?”

“Master calls her Zulima.”

“Does she visit him?”

“No.”

“Then how came you to see her?”

“I’ve gone to her house with messages more than once.”

“Where does she live?”

Bude told him.

“I’m afraid,” said the valet, “that Mr. Stolburst has met with some
misfortune.”

“How came you to form that idea?” inquired the detective.

“Master has not been himself these last few days. There was a
horrible-looking little man here the other day, and ever since Mr.
Stolburst has seemed depressed. Who are you? I had almost forgotten
to ask.”

“I am a detective.”

“Mr. Stolburst has not been murdered?”

Bude was alarmed.

“Not to my knowledge; but why do you fear that he has?”

“I’ve heard him mutter in his sleep about murder.”

“Did he have any one with him when he left?”

“No.”

“Then you suppose he visited this woman, Zulima?”

“How can I tell?”

Burt left the hotel, and returned again that night.

Stolburst had not as yet put in an appearance. Now the matter assumed
a serious aspect. Could it be that Ajeeb had made away with the
explorer?

Burt feared the worst. Bude was quite positive something terrible had
happened to his master. Why he entertained that belief he could not
tell. The fellow was attached to his employer.

Burt determined to visit Zulima. From Bude’s description, he believed
her to be an Abyssinian. He thought it strange Stolburst had not
spoken to him about the princess.

Burt went directly to the St. Joseph flat. After looking the visitor
over quite curiously, Marie admitted him to the presence of her
mistress. The conversation between Zulima and the detective was
carried on in French.

“Monsieur,” said the princess, rising upon his entry, “I cannot
imagine what you can want with me.”

“I’ll tell you privately.”

“Leave us, Marie,” said Zulima, after some hesitation.

Throwing an angry glance at Burt, the maid flounced out of the room.

“Madame,” said Burt, “you are acquainted with a gentleman named Henry
Stolburst?”

“What has that to do with your visit here?” demanded Zulima.

“I am a detective officer.”

The princess did not understand what that meant, and Burt explained.

“Has Mr. Stolburst been here since yesterday afternoon?” he wound up
by asking.

“No.”

“You are quite sure?”

“Quite,” replied Zulima. “Has anything happened to him?”

“Would you be very sorry if there had?” asked Burt abruptly.

“He was a very kind friend of mine,” said the princess.

“Mr. Stolburst has disappeared, under very suspicious circumstances.”

“Why suspicious?”

Burt made up his mind the girl knew something about the explorer’s
disappearance.

“His life has been threatened by one of your countrymen.”

“How do you know my country?”

“You are an Abyssinian.”

“Did Monsieur Stolburst ever speak to you of me?”

“No.”

“Then how did you find me out?”

“That is part of my trade, to find people. Now, you know the man
called Ajeeb?”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“Do you know that Ajeeb came to this country especially to kill Henry
Stolburst?”

“I refuse to answer!”




                             CHAPTER XI.

                          AJEEB SEES BURT.


“You had better answer my question,” said the detective, with a
pleasant smile.

Zulima hesitated.

“This Ajeeb is a high priest, and does not shed human blood,” she
said finally.

Burt had his doubts on the subject, but did not give them expression.

“He came to this country to recover a diamond that had once formed
the eye of an idol,” remarked Burt.

The Abyssinian beauty looked hard at her visitor.

“Mr. Stolburst has confessed to you, I see,” she said.

“He had nothing to confess.”

“You are not so deep in the gentleman’s confidence, I see, as I had
at first supposed,” remarked Zulima.

“Explain.”

“He forgot to tell you that he is a thief.”

The woman’s splendid eyes flashed angrily.

“I understand. You refer to his having purchased the Eye of Jobu.”

“He either stole it himself, or had it stolen,” maintained Zulima.

“I hardly think Mr. Stolburst would descend so low.”

The girl felt a keen pain at the heart. Up to within a few days she
had also believed Henry Stolburst was all that was good and noble.
Had his crime been that of killing her Uncle Ajeeb, high priest
though the latter was, she could have forgiven him. But the insult to
the god of her people, that could not be overlooked.

“Now,” continued the detective, “I know positively that this famous
green diamond is not in the possession of Mr. Stolburst.”

Zulima gave a great start. Then she turned her wonderful eyes upon
her visitor.

Could it be, after all, that her protector and friend had told her
the truth in declaring he did not possess the stone?

He had not parted with it for a money consideration, she felt quite
sure. Zulima knew the explorer was very wealthy.

What had become of the Eye of Jobu, then?

Ajeeb would not return to Africa without it.

“Mr. Stolburst did have the stone in his possession,” she said.

“Quite true; it was stolen from him,” returned the detective.

A scornful smile played about the brown beauty’s lips.

“The possessor of so great a gem,” she said, “would guard it so
carefully that its theft would be almost impossible.”

“It was stolen by one of his servants,” said Burt.

“I know both, and believe them honest.”

“Your judgment is at fault. The one you knew as Henry is noted in
this city as a thief. It was to recover the green diamond that Mr.
Stolburst engaged me.”

“Suppose you were to succeed?”

“I have his promise that the gem shall be returned to its proper
custodians.”

“You speak false.”

Burt reddened.

“Madame,” he said, “I am unaccustomed to having my veracity doubted,
more especially by a lady.”

“It is given to me the power to read men’s minds. Again I declare you
speak false. My false friend would never give up the diamond.”

“You admit you long regarded Stolburst as a friend?”

“Yes; did he not show me how great the world is?”

“You do not intend to return to Abyssinia?” said Burt.

“Not for years, at least.”

“Then why do you sacrifice the friendship of this gentleman because
he may have had something to do with the desecration of a heathen
shrine?”

“Because I am true to my faith, if not to my people.”

Burt wondered that, with all the opportunities Stolburst had, he did
not succeed in converting the princess to Christianity.

“My dear madame,” said Burt, “I feel satisfied I shall recover this
diamond, and I promise it will be returned, unless harm has come to
Henry Stolburst.”

Had harm come to her late friend?

That was the question the girl asked herself. The thought caused her
to shudder.

If Stolburst was in Ajeeb’s power, and was, as the detective stated,
unable to return the Eye of Jobu, what might not have happened? She
knew her uncle’s heart could not be moved by pity, and she also felt
sure he would not credit the story that the explorer had been robbed.

Zulima felt herself in great measure responsible for Stolburst’s
safety. But, then, she dare not tell the detective where her uncle
could be found.

“I am sure,” she said, “that, beyond giving him a fright, Ajeeb would
not injure Mr. Stolburst.”

“You have seen Ajeeb?”

“Is he not my uncle? What could be more natural than that he should
visit me?” returned Zulima.

“Did you ever visit him?”

“Yes.”

“Where does he live?”

The girl smiled.

“Monsieur forgets I am a stranger here. I only know that his house is
of stone, and is one of a row.”

Zulima spoke the truth.

“You could not find the house again?” asked the detective.

“I went there when it was night,” was the evasive reply.

“When your uncle visited you, did he make threats against Stolburst?”

“He was very angry that the gentleman should have assisted me to
leave my country.”

“That is not a direct answer to my question,” said Burt.

“I don’t remember whether he made any threats. I should not be
surprised if he did. Uncle is quite given to making threats.”

“Does he ever carry a threat out?”

Burt looked steadfastly into the girl’s eyes. She did not betray
emotion, if she felt any.

“I have no means of knowing,” she said. “In our country, the men
never take women into their council.”

The princess was very beautiful, but Burt believed her a trained
prevaricator, for all that. Nothing was to be gained from her, as
was evident, at that stage of the proceedings. If he had known the
treatment to which Stolburst had been subjected, Burt would have
arrested the princess as an accomplice of Ajeeb.

“Madame,” he said, taking his leave, “we shall meet again; and, if
anything befalls Mr. Stolburst, I shall hold you responsible.”

Zulima smiled in his face. When the door closed behind her visitor,
the smile departed, and she became sad.

Again the door opened. She looked toward it, expecting to see her
maid. Instead of Marie, it was Ajeeb who entered.

“You have had a visitor,” he said, advancing toward her.

“Did you see him?”

“I have eyes,” replied the high priest. “His visit seems to have made
you sad. Who is he, may I ask?”

“He is a detective, in the employ of Henry Stolburst.”

“So?” laughed Ajeeb. “And what did he say to make you feel sad?”

Zulima detailed the conversation between herself and Burt.

“Did you believe him?” Ajeeb asked, when she had concluded.

“Why not?”

The high priest scowled. Nothing could drive it from his mind but
that Stolburst possessed the Eye of Jobu.

“The thief,” he said, “tells almost a similar story.”

“Where is Stolburst?”

“What matters it to you?”

“Do not be so harsh.”

“Who knew me ever to be anything but harsh?” he said.

“What I desire to know is if Stolburst is in your power?”

“Would you like to know, that you might tell the detective?”

The girl blushed.

“Uncle,” she said, “I am quite as anxious you should succeed in this
matter as you can possibly be.”

Ajeeb looked hard at her.

“I will tell you this much,” he said, “the man has already begun to
feel the punishment I designed for him.”

Zulima shuddered. All the kind acts Stolburst had performed for her
passed in rapid succession before the girl’s mind.

She knew he was not dead. Might not the unfortunate man be dying by
painful and slow degrees?

Ajeeb had sworn to torture him to death, and Ajeeb always carried
out his purpose, at least, so she had been taught. The high priest
sneered at the emotion his niece took no pains to conceal.

“Now,” he said, “you regret that this man fell into my hands.”

“Yes--if he is innocent.”

“You told me yourself that you knew he was guilty.”

“So I thought.”

“Have you had any reason to change your mind?”

“I have had doubts whether my judgment was correct.”

Ajeeb laughed harshly.

“Those doubts were brought into being by what your late visitor said?”

“True.”

“He, too, may stand in the way of our success,” said Ajeeb.

“The man seems honest.”

“You believed Stolburst honest?”

“Yes.”

“The outcome proves you are no judge of character. There is a memento
of your friend.”

Zulima shrieked.

The brute had tossed her an ear that had been severed from the
explorer’s head.




                            CHAPTER XII.

                           COOK AND KIDD.


“Well,” said Dick Kidd, after he and his pal had been ejected from
Monte Murphy’s, “ain’t you a nice citizen?”

Kidd was boiling over with anger. Small wonder. The equivalent of a
fortune had just passed from his possession. The great green diamond
was his no longer.

“What’s the matter with you?” growled Enoch Cook.

“You’ve treated me to a jolly time, but I’m not blind.”

“Blind?”

“Yes; that’s what I said.”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” remarked Enoch.

“Oh, no, of course not, you poor, blooming innocent!”

Kidd’s eyes gleamed murderously as he glanced at his pal. Cook caught
the other’s glance, but could not understand it.

“Surely, you are not angry with me?” he said.

“If I had a weapon, I’d just about kill you, that’s all!”

“Kill me?”

“That’s it!”

“If you try it on, you will find that two can play at that game! But
what have I done to incur your anger?”

“You don’t know?” sneered Dick.

“I wouldn’t have asked you if I did,” returned Cook.

“You put up this job!”

“What job?”

“To have your friend collar the diamond,” replied Kidd.

Enoch was astounded.

“Do you mean that?”

“You bet I do!”

“Well,” said Cook, drawing a long breath, “this is the first time I
was ever accused of betraying a pal.”

“What share are you to have out of the proceeds of the sale of the
gem?”

“Dick, you are talking nonsense!” exclaimed Enoch.

“Didn’t you tell me, when I questioned you, that this Monte Murphy
was a square man, and that I could find a dozen high-rollers who
would say the same thing?”

“I believed Murphy was square. He always treated me so until now.”

“I would never have had anything to do with him but for you.”

“Still, you can’t blame me. I thought I was doing everything for the
best.”

Enoch talked in a smooth, easy tone, free of excitement. His manner
more than his words impressed Kidd.

“Why,” added Cook, after a pause, “if you sold the diamond, I was to
have half the proceeds.”

“Yes; and you can bet your sweet life I would have kept my word!”

“Do you suppose, even if I were inclined to give you the
‘razzle-dazzle,’ I could make better terms with Murphy?”

“I never gave that side of the case a thought,” said Kidd
hesitatingly.

“Now,” said Enoch, “the question confronts us--how are we going to
get back the diamond?”

“Unarmed as we are, we can’t burst in the door.”

“We would be shot down if we tried that racket.”

“What would you suggest?”

“That we take Mike Quick into partnership,” replied Cook.

“Perhaps he may be a friend of Murphy?”

“That don’t matter.”

“Why?”

“Quick thinks more about money than any mere bond of friendship.”

“Well,” said Kidd, “I’ll leave the whole business in your hands.
Monte Murphy would not have the diamond in the first place but for
you.”

“Don’t harp forever on that string,” returned Enoch.

“Now Murphy knows the gem was stolen by us, and how can Quick force
him to give it up?”

“Mike and I will think of a way.”

“When will you set about it?”

“When?” repeated Cook; “why, we must get down to business at once.”

“I’ll meet you at Quick’s in about an hour,” said Dick.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“What for?”

“That is my affair.”

“Don’t be so saucy about it.”

“I’ll tell you this much, if I don’t recover the diamond, Monte
Murphy will never sell it!”

“You mean to kill him?”

“Yes; and others besides, mayhap.”

The pair of precious rascals parted on Broadway, near Chambers
Street. Enoch went directly to Quick’s. It was long after midnight,
but the place was in full blast. Petty gamblers and thieves formed
the bulk of the body of customers.

“Mike, I want to see you alone for a few minutes.”

“Say, Enoch, don’t you see I am up to my eyes in biz?”

“Yes, but this is a very important matter.”

“Can’t we talk about it to-morrow?” remarked Quick.

“It may then be too late.”

Mike called one of his cronies to take his place behind the bar.
Then he conducted his visitor to a room on the floor above the store.

“Now, spit out this precious business of yours, and be quick about
it.”

“You remember the diamond I spoke to you about?”

“Yes; you said Kidd had a stone worth a few thousands.”

“It is worth half a million dollars, if it is worth a cent.”

“Oh, come off! You don’t expect me to swallow any such yarn?”

“Mike,” said Cook solemnly, “I swear I only speak the truth!”

“Well, what about the stone?”

“Kidd and I have talked the matter over, and we have concluded to
give you a third share in it,” replied Enoch.

“Very kind of you and Mister Kidd, I am sure,” remarked Quick. “Of
course, I am expected to give up value in return?”

“We won’t ask you to give up a dollar.”

“Kidd has the diamond?”

“No----”

“Then you have it?”

“No; as a matter of fact, neither of us have it,” said Enoch.

Quick threw himself back in his chair, and laughed until tears ran
down his cheeks.

“You seem to have lost your senses, boy,” he finally said.

“How do you make that out?”

“You come here and offer me that which you haven’t got.”

“But we want you to help us recover the diamond.”

“Why!” ejaculated the dive-keeper; “have you lost it?”

“Yes.”

“And you say it is worth half a million dollars?”

“Far more than that, if anything,” answered Enoch. “It was stolen
from a temple in Africa, where for centuries it was venerated by a
rich and idolatrous people.”

Quick was not altogether illiterate. He had read of great diamonds
being found in temples, and at other shrines, by travelers.

“You have seen the stone?” he said, after a pause.

“I’ve had it in my hand a thousand or more times.”

“You say it is lost?”

“Stolen, rather.”

“By whom?”

“Monte Murphy.”

“The old shark! So you let him ‘do’ you out of your property?”

“We couldn’t well help ourselves,” replied Enoch, with a sickly smile.

“Tell me all about it.”

“That’s what I propose to do.”

“Well, hurry up about it.”

Quick was very serious when Cook finished his narrative.

“Who was the chap that entered the room with Snell?”

“Pat Brady.”

“That gentleman honors me with a visit almost every day.”

“So much the better. We may be able to work Monte through him.”

“No; Murphy will give Snell and Brady the ‘razzle-dazzle,’ just the
same as he gave it to you and Kidd.”

“How, then, can we make him disgorge?” asked Cook.

“I’ll attend to him.”

“How?”

“Leave that to me.”

“When will you go about the work?”

“Inside of an hour.”

“Dick Kidd will be here by that time. Won’t you wait until he comes
before you make a move?”

“Why should I wait?”

“He may have some valuable suggestions to offer.”

Quick smiled. The sodden expression had disappeared from his eyes.
Now they sparkled with intelligence.

His features, marked with dissipation though they were, had also
brightened up. For the nonce, he was the Mike Quick who years before
had led the detectives many a merry chase by his shrewdness in
eluding pursuit, and had almost paralyzed them by the boldness of his
operations.

“I have already mapped out my course,” said the dive-keeper. “How
shall I know the diamond?”

“It is as large as a bantam’s egg, and of a peculiar greenish tint.”

“I shall get it.”

“Remember,” said Enoch, “you are a third partner in the gem.”

“I shall bring the diamond back in two hours, or--well, we shall see
what we shall see.”




                            CHAPTER XIII.

                        MIKE QUICK’S MISSION.


Bidding Cook good night, Quick left his saloon. His objective point
was Monte Murphy’s, in Elizabeth Street.

Mike had proceeded on his journey as far as Broadway, when he
encountered Joe Snell. The meeting was accidental.

Snell seemed to be considerably under the influence of liquor, and
his first act was to invite Quick to go and have a drink with him.

Mike gladly accepted the invitation. His business with Murphy could
wait.

Late as the hour was, the pair found a saloon open. Snell seemed to
be in the highest spirits.

“Made a cool five hundred to-night, Mike,” he said, “just as easy as
wink.”

“The last time I saw you I think you were broke.”

“Sure; why, I’ve been walking on my uppers for two months.”

“Cracked a crib, eh?”

Snell laughed loudly.

“Easier than that.”

“I don’t care to know anything about it,” said Quick, believing that,
pretending indifference, he would draw the drunken thief out. Mike’s
surmise was correct.

“But,” said Joe, “perhaps I shall tell you. I always knew you were a
man in whom a friend could trust.”

Quick chuckled softly to himself.

“Say,” added Snell, “you know Enoch Cook?”

“Yes; he’s no good.”

Joe smiled all over. Quick didn’t like Cook.

“Well,” said Snell, “Pat Brady and I pulled off a thousand between us
for doing Cook and a friend of his.”

“You didn’t commit murder, I hope?” exclaimed Mike.

“Oh, no; you don’t catch me putting my precious neck in jeopardy.”

“Then what do you mean by ‘doing him’?” inquired Quick.

“We just held the two coves up, while Monte Murphy gathered in some
of their swag.”

“What did the swag consist of?”

“A big brilliant that Monte calls an emerald. Murphy was expecting
the pair, and had me and Pat on deck.”

“Do you call your action square?”

“Why not?”

“How should you like to be done out of the proceeds of a job?”

“Shouldn’t like it at all.”

“Yet you were willing to give that medicine to another?”

“I was broke; and, besides, there is an old grudge between Cook and
me.”

“You have no grudge against his pal?” said Quick.

“No; I felt a bit sorry for that chap,” answered Joe.

“What did Monte do with the stone?”

“How can I tell? That old thief don’t take any one very deep into his
confidence.”

“I’ve seen Cook.”

Snell started.

“The devil!” he exclaimed; “why didn’t you tell me that at first?”

“I didn’t think it necessary.”

“Did he tell you all about it?”

“No; he merely said he and his pal had a bad run-in with you and
Brady.”

“Do you know his pal?”

“Quite well.”

“Snide, eh?”

“Nothing of the kind; I wouldn’t stand in place of you or Brady for a
good deal, and you know I’m counted pretty tough?”

Something nearly akin to a pained expression appeared on Snell’s
countenance. He was not afraid of Cook, but he did not like the hint
Quick threw out regarding Kidd.

“Who is Enoch’s pal?”

“Dick Kidd is no stranger in New York. You should know him.”

“Didn’t he operate in Philadelphia some two or three years ago?”

“Same man.”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“Then you must have heard that a tougher man never cracked a safe.”

“You’ll see that I’ll steer clear of him.”

“He swears to kill you and Brady on sight, and Dick Kidd generally
carries out such little programs after making them.”

“How about Murphy?”

“Kidd will take care of him, too, if the facts are as you state.”

“If I had known I was risking my life,” said Snell, “you can bet
I would not let Monte off so light. I’d have made him give us a
thousand apiece at the very least.”

“You’re in for it now.”

“Well,” muttered Joe, “to be forewarned is to be forearmed. Have
another drink, then I’ll go around and see Brady.”

“Where is he?”

“Gone home to roost.”

They drank and parted.

When Monte Murphy found himself, after the departure of Brady and
Snell, alone with the “Eye of Jobu,” he could hardly contain himself
from very joy. Time and time again he gazed fondly upon the wondrous
gem.

It was a diamond. Who ever before had seen a green diamond?

Monte tested the stone over and over again. There could be no doubt
of its being genuine. He had in his possession the most wonderful
diamond in existence.

What was he to do with it?

Who would pay him one-half its value?

A thought struck him; he would take it to Europe and there look for a
purchaser. Monte ascended to his bedroom, which was under the eaves.

The room was lighted by a single lamp. In a corner stood a small
safe, which the “fence” opened. Wrapping a piece of newspaper about
the Eye of Jobu, he placed it within the safe, and locked the iron
door behind it.

Monte neither knew nor cared anything about the history of the stone.
Would it bring bad luck to him?

He would have laughed in the face of any one who might have told
him it would. Monte placed a revolver under his pillow and went to
bed. It may be taken for granted that the “fence” dreamed of his new
possession.

He did not fear reprisal from Cook or Kidd. In fact the matter of
their seeking revenge had hardly occurred to him.

Murphy was awakened from a pleasant dream by a hand being placed upon
his breast. He awoke with a start and sat bolt upright in the bed, at
the side of which stood a human figure.

Monte reached under the pillow for his revolver. It was not there.
The intruder had removed the weapon. He had also turned up the lamp
which Murphy had turned down low upon retiring.

“You!”

“Yes.”

The last speaker was Mike Quick.

“How came you here?”

“I entered by the door.”

The dive-keeper’s tones were low, but were very severe.

“What do you want?”

“I merely called to pay you a visit.”

Murphy felt his whole body covered with cold perspiration. It was
plain Quick’s visit augured him no good. Monte made no move toward
leaving his bed.

“This is a queer hour and a queerer manner of paying me a visit. Have
you gone back to the old business?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m afraid your object in coming here is robbery.”

Quick smiled.

“I could take advanced lessons in that art from you.”

“What do you want?”

“I believe you asked that question before,” remarked Quick dryly.

“Yes, but you failed to answer it.”

“I come as the representative of Enoch Cook,” said Mike.

Murphy’s eyes almost popped out of his head with amazement.

“The representative of Enoch Cook?”

He mumbled over the words several times.

“What about Cook?”

“Can’t you guess the object of my visit, now that I have mentioned
his name?”

“No. I have not seen Enoch in more than two years.”

Quick laughed.

“Don’t talk silly.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“Enoch Cook has been in this house within four hours.”

“Then I did not see him.”

“You not only saw him, but, with the help of Joe Snell and Pat Brady,
you managed to rob the poor devil.”

Monte shuddered. The dive-keeper knew all. Still the old “fence”
determined to stand by his colors.

“Some one,” he said, with a hollow laugh, “has been imposing a
cock-and-bull story upon you, Mike.”

“No; but you are trying mighty hard to make a strike in that
direction.”

“Is it money you are after?”

As can be seen, Murphy had a very wholesome dread of his visitor.

“Suppose I did want to make a loan?” sneered Quick.

“You are an old friend, and I might stretch a point and lend you a
few hundred.”

Mike smiled grimly. He knew the “fence” actually adored money with
the passion of a shylock.

“I want the green diamond.”

“The green diamond--why, man, what are you talking about?”

Monte’s face blanched.

“You know full well what I am talking about.”

“If you don’t leave this house I shall call in the police.”

“No, you won’t.”

Murphy sprang out of bed. Quick grasped the “fence” by the throat and
forced the upper portion of his body back upon the bed.

“Do you mean to murder me?”

“Yes, if you do not give up the diamond you stole from Cook.”

Monte struggled hard to break away from his assailant. His strength
was almost as nothing compared to that of Quick. The latter drew a
knife from inside his coat.

“Murder! Help!”

The old man’s cries echoed and reechoed throughout the house.

“The diamond?”

“Help!”

Mike’s knife was driven into the struggling man’s breast. Then the
dive-keeper hurried from the scene.




                            CHAPTER XIV.

                          BURT KNOCKED OUT.


After being stabbed by Enoch Cook, poor Pierre Jacquet lay motionless
upon the pavement. He was found there by the policeman on that beat,
who had him conveyed to the Oak Street station. From there Pierre was
taken to one of the public hospitals.

There he related the circumstances attending the stabbing. Burt saw
an account of the affair in the newspapers, and visited the hospital.

Monsieur Jacquet welcomed his visitor upon learning the latter was a
detective. The Frenchman’s wound was deep and ugly, but not fatal.
Burt found him propped up with pillows, and he seated himself at the
sufferer’s bedside.

“You know Monsieur Cook?” asked Pierre, after the detective had been
introduced.

“Yes; I’ve known him some years.”

“Do you also know Kidd?”

Jacquet’s eyes blazed fiercely when he mentioned the man who had
wronged him.

“I only know him by reputation,” replied Burt.

“He is a devil--a snake in the grass. They tell me I shall recover
and be able to go out in a few days. Then--ah! Kidd will feel my
wrath.”

“Is he your enemy?”

“Monsieur, I only desire to live that I may kill him.”

“He must have wronged you deeply.”

Pierre laughed hysterically.

“Monsieur, I keep a cabaret in Paris. The police do not speak well of
me or my customers. I had a wife--pretty Aimee. She was far above me
in station when we married.

“Aimee did not like my business, and I had promised her to give it up
at the close of the present year. Three months ago--only three short
months ago--Cook and Kidd came to board with me.

“They were recommended to my cabaret by a friend of mine. Two months
ago they left. Aimee went with Kidd.”

A look, such as a tiger might wear when at bay, appeared in Jacquet’s
eyes, and he gritted his teeth hard.

“Then, as I understand it, you came to America in search of your
wife,” said Burt.

“No.”

Burt looked at the Frenchman in some surprise.

“You did not come as an emigrant?” he remarked.

“I came to kill Richard Kidd.”

“My man,” said the detective kindly, “don’t you know that murder is
punished with death?”

“Of course I do; but what care I whether I live or die, now that
Aimee is forever lost to me?” replied Jacquet.

“Are you sure she eloped with Dick Kidd?”

“Positive.”

“You did not see them leave together?”

“No; but she left behind a cruel letter, saying that Kidd was the
partner of their flight, and that they were to be married upon
arriving in this country.”

“Have you the letter?”

“Monsieur, I tore it into a thousand pieces,” replied Pierre. “You
know of the existence of this scoundrel, Kidd?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me whether he is in this city?” asked Jacquet.

“Cook declares the man is not in New York,” answered Burt.

“But you know, monsieur, that Cook is a great liar.”

“I am looking for Kidd myself.”

“Has he broken the law since returning to this country?”

“No; it is for something he did abroad,” replied Burt.

“Robbery, of course?”

“Yes.”

“I heard him say he had secured a fortune by theft in Africa.”

“That is true.”

“The villain, he must have so dazzled Aimee by making a display of
wealth that the foolish creature forgot her obligations to me.”

“His wealth consists of a great diamond. Did you ever hear him refer
to it?”

“Never.”

“Now,” said the detective, “recover your wife if you can, but do no
injury to this man.”

“I would not take my wife back if she were to beg me to do so. I am a
man of honor.”

The keeper of the Parisian den of thieves actually believed himself a
man of honor.

“If you kill Kidd, I shall trail you down and bring you to the
gallows.”

“The threat does not frighten me, monsieur,” said Pierre.

“I can put you under restraint for threatening this man’s life.”

Jacquet’s jaw dropped.

“Well,” he said, “I will promise not to harm him unless in
self-defense.”

Burt smiled at the Frenchman’s fear of prison. By stabbing Jacquet,
Enoch had placed himself within the pale of the law.

Burt determined to effect his capture. Cook might be willing to
put him on the track of the green diamond when he found himself a
prisoner in the Tombs.

Burt knew his former schoolmate to be a selfish coward. Enoch would
sacrifice anything or anybody to gain his own ends. But where to find
his man?

Mike Quick could tell him. Quick must. So the detective decided.
After leaving the hospital, Burt went to Quick’s.

Mike was alone in the back room, and there Burt found him. The
ruffian sprang to his feet with an oath on his lips. Burt produced
his revolver.

“No nonsense, Mike!”

“What do you want?”

It was the day following Quick’s visit to Monte Murphy. The
dive-keeper feared his crime had been found out, and that Burt had
come to arrest him.

“I want to have a little talk with you,” said Burt.

The ruffian drew a long breath of relief, and something resembling a
smile radiated his features.

“I thought mebbe you came around to admire your handiwork.”

Mike placed a finger on one and then on the other of his bruised eyes.

“You have no one to thank for it but yourself.”

“It’s tough on a fellow like me, all the same.”

“Yes; I believe you put up to be something of a pugilist.”

“I did.”

“And I knocked that conceit out of you,” remarked Burt.

“Jack O’Brien could not have done it better,” returned Mike.

“Yes, and I should go farther.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I should jug you for interfering with me.”

“Let the past go, won’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

“You are more than even with me. I never wore such a pair of
‘bungers’ before in my life.”

“Through your interference I lost a prisoner,” said Burt.

“Enoch Cook and I are old friends.”

“Oh, that’s your excuse?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well?”

“You gave me your word you did not intend to arrest him.”

“Neither I did when I first came here,” replied Burt.

“You want him now?”

“You are good at guessing. I do want him, and I want him bad.”

“What has he been doing?”

“I guess you know. By the way, where did that blood-spot on your
shirt-front come from?”

Quick gave a great start. Then he looked down at the telltale spot.
He had not noticed it before.

“From my nose,” he said.

Burt saw with half an eye that his companion was agitated.

“Mike,” he said, “that blood did not come from your nose.”

“I say it did, and I should know,” said Quick.

And he pulled himself together.

“You didn’t kill any one?”

The dive-keeper grinned.

“I guess if I did you wouldn’t find me here,” he said.

The affair at the “fence” on Elizabeth Street had not as yet reached
the police.

“Now,” said Burt, “you must put me in the way of finding Cook.”

“I have not seen him since you and I had the run-in.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m giving it to you straight.”

“By the way, do you know his partner?” asked Burt.

“You mean Kidd?”

“Why, has he more than one partner?”

“He may have a dozen, for all I know,” replied Quick.

“Then why do you particularly mention Kidd?” asked Burt.

“Because I’ve heard Enoch speak of him more than once.”

“Have you ever seen the man?”

“Never.”

“He is in this city?”

“So I believe.”

“Quick, you are lying to me right straight along,” said Burt.

“You are determined to make me out a liar, at any rate.”

“You surely know where Enoch Cook is stopping?”

“I’ll take my oath I don’t.”

“Give me your wrists!”

“What for?”

“Because I say so.”

“Are you going to lock me up because I can’t put you onto Enoch?”

“No.”

“It looks that way.”

“I’m going to lock you up for having aided a prisoner to escape.”

The words but escaped the detective when he was felled by the blow of
a sand-bag delivered from behind.




                             CHAPTER XV.

                         AJEEB’S GRIM HUMOR.


Billy Barry called upon his friend Ajeeb the afternoon Burt was laid
out at Quick’s, and it was on the detective the conversation of the
two former hinged. Barry and the high priest took possession of the
latter’s library. It was Billy’s first visit since he had aided in
entrapping Stolburst.

“Well, old man,” said the visitor, “how does your prisoner come on?”

“He has met with an accident.”

“An accident?” repeated Billy.

“Yes,” replied Ajeeb grimly, “he has lost one of his ears.”

Barry looked at his companion in astonishment. Although Ajeeb had so
threatened, Billy did not believe he would torture Stolburst.

An ear gone! Barry repeated the phrase to himself. What a
queer-looking object a person with one ear must be!

“Did you cut it off?”

“No,” replied Ajeeb smilingly, “Ashah attended to that little matter.”

“Poor devil!”

“What! Do you pity him?”

“Yes; it would have been far more charitable to kill him.”

“In a week, perhaps, he shall lose the other ear.”

“In a week?”

“Yes, if he persists in his denials that he has not that which I
seek,” said Ajeeb. “Were I to kill him at once, I should never,
perhaps, recover the Eye of Jobu.”

“What do you care for the stone outside its intrinsic value?”

The high priest looked at his visitor in amazement.

“How can you talk like that?” he asked. “I would give my life a
thousand times over if it were possible to recover that sacred relic,
which for untold ages has been the property of my god.”

Ajeeb spoke with the greatest depth of religious fervor. His eyes
stared, the muscles of his neck stood out like whipcords, and his
form trembled. Barry had never before seen him so manifest himself.

“Perhaps he hasn’t got the stone,” remarked Billy, after a pause.

“The villain claims it was stolen from him by his servant.”

“That may be the truth.”

“No.”

“How can you tell?”

“I know. But I want to speak to you about another matter.”

“Concerning Stolburst?”

“Certainly.”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you know many detectives in this city?” asked Ajeeb.

“A few.”

“Do you know this one?” And the high priest gave a description of
Burt Cromwell.

“If your description is a good one, the man’s name is Burt Cromwell.”

Until now Ajeeb had never heard the detective’s name. He had seen
Burt leave the St. Joseph flat, and leaped at the conclusion that
he was an officer and had been visiting Zulima. Of the interview
between the princess and her uncle we know.

Had Burt delayed his departure from Zulima’s apartments he would have
met Ajeeb face to face.

“Well,” said the high priest, “this man promises to cause trouble.”

“To you?”

“Both to you and me.”

“Explain.”

“He is employed by Stolburst, he told my niece, and is now searching
for the latter.”

“Well?”

“He believes that I have either murdered Stolburst, or had him
murdered.”

Barry’s countenance took on a serious aspect. He had never had
dealings with Burt Cromwell, but New York friends of his had.

Billy knew that the detective was a man who would never desert a
trail once he had taken it up. He now saw his own safety imperiled,
because of the part he had in the kidnaping of Stolburst.

“Billy,” said Ajeeb, after a pause, “why do you look so serious?”

“Because I feel that way.”

“There is nothing to fear.”

“Ajeeb, this is bad business.”

“You think this detective will make trouble, eh?” asked the
Abyssinian.

“I am sure of it.”

“Nonsense. If he threatens us, I’ll have Ashah take care of his case.”

“By that you mean----”

“Ashah shall kill him.”

Barry smiled.

“Ajeeb, I’ll give you credit for being shrewd; but you will not be
able to overreach Burt Cromwell, mark my words for it.”

“Billy, you are becoming cowardly.”

“This man is a human sleuth-hound, I might say. Nothing but death
will arrest his progress, once he starts to unravel a case.”

“Then he shall die.”

“It is easy to say so.”

“As a matter of fact, I have nothing to fear in any case. The
detective does not know me, nor has he any clue to work upon.”

“Burt Cromwell will not be long in discovering a clue, take my word
for it.”

Ajeeb smiled depreciatingly.

“You exalt this man’s gifts to a ridiculous point,” he said.

“My friend,” remarked Barry, “you know I am not a coward.”

“I admit that.”

“In a personal encounter I have never yet met a man able to best me,
but I will confess I am afraid of this man. Why, I do not know.”

The high priest believed his friend to be a very brave fellow. That
made the fear Barry expressed all the more impressive.

“This detective, you say, is brave?”

“Yes, and shrewd.”

“I am sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I hate to send to his death a brave man who has not injured
me.”

“His murder is uncalled for.”

“No; if he is dead he cannot interfere with my plans.”

“If you have Burt Cromwell harmed, you will regret it,” said Barry.

“Give over your croaking; my decision is made--it is final.”

And thus the heathen priest pronounced against Burt Cromwell.

In the cellar of that same house was one in whom we are
interested--Henry Stolburst. His wounded head had been poulticed by
Ashah, but the poor fellow continued to suffer the most exquisite
pain.

Henry Stolburst did not know he was in a cellar. The floor was
carpeted, and red curtains were so hung as to form a room.

Both his feet and hands were unbound, but either Deth or Ashah
constantly guarded him. The latter never exchanged a word with the
hapless prisoner.

After the first day Deth was more communicative. While Ajeeb and
Barry talked above stairs, Henry Stolburst and Deth talked below. The
explorer had had a slight acquaintance with the man in Africa.

“Deth,” said Henry Stolburst, for at least the twentieth time since
he was imprisoned, “why can you not listen to reason? Release me and
I will make you rich.”

“What would money be to me without life?” returned the Abyssinian.

“You can hide yourself from the wrath of Ajeeb.”

Deth smiled grimly.

“You were not able to do so.”

“No; I was led into a trap.”

“So it would be with me. Were I to thwart the high priest, he would
follow me to the end of the world, but he would have revenge.”

“You are not his slave?”

“I am.”

“In your own country he might claim you as such, but here all men are
free.”

“’Tis a strange country, then,” remarked the heathen.

Deth could not understand there should be a country where slavery was
not practised.

“In America you are free to go and come as you choose. Besides paying
you a large sum of money, I will make you my companion. I am rich,
and anything you may desire, which money can purchase, will be yours.

“I shall exact no services from you. Choose! Which is the better--a
life of perpetual ease with me, or as Ajeeb’s slave?”

Deth was deeply interested.

“Have you made this same offer to Ashah?” he inquired.

“No.”

“Why should you select me to tempt instead of him?”

“Can you not guess?”

Henry Stolburst placed his hand over the wound made by the removal of
his ear.

“I understand,” said the Abyssinian. “Ashah says he is soon to cut
off the other.”

The explorer gave a great start. He was a brave man, but tears came
to his eyes despite his efforts to keep them back. If his life was
spared, how could he go out in the world maimed as he was?

Only one ear--perhaps none! What would people say who met him? His
mental agony was far more keen than his physical sufferings.

“Did Ashah tell you this?”

“Yes.”

“There must be some mistake.”

“No; if Ajeeb has not the Eye of Jobu in his possession four days
hence, you will lose the other ear.”

“Great Heaven! Can such things be in America?” exclaimed Henry
Stolburst.

It is strange, but true, that this man was actually tortured as
described in the heart of New York City. Thousands daily passed the
house in which he was a prisoner, but no cry of his could reach them.
He might as well be in the depth of Africa as in that cellar, as far
as making himself heard outside was concerned.

“Deth,” said the explorer, after a pause, “do you like to see me
suffer?”

“I have seen men killed.”

“Why does not Ajeeb kill me?”

“He has his reasons.”

“How can I give him that accursed diamond when I haven’t got it?”

“Do you speak the truth?”

“Have I not told you a hundred times that the stone was stolen from
me?”

“It is very unfortunate.”

“What can I do? Come, won’t you listen to my offer again?”

Deth shook his head. Henry Stolburst was in despair.

“Will you lend me your knife for a moment?” pleaded the prisoner.

“No. You would do away with yourself.”

“Then I’ll take it!”

With the fury of a madman Henry Stolburst sprang at the Abyssinian.
His fingers clutched the man’s throat.

Deth was taken unawares. With great strength, born of desperation,
Henry Stolburst bore the man to the floor.

“Stop!”

It was Ashah who spoke. Henry Stolburst looked up. Just then the
newcomer caught hold of him and dragged him away from Deth.

“What does this mean?” asked Ashah.

“I wished to provoke him, so he would kill me.”

“Your time will come shortly.”




                            CHAPTER XVI.

                          A WISE BARTENDER.


The blow that felled Burt Cromwell was delivered by Quick’s bartender.

“Well done, Andy!” cried Mike.

And then he hastily left. Andy had slipped behind the detective,
unperceived by the latter.

He threw the sand-bag carelessly on the floor, and got a pitcher of
ice-water. Then he set about reviving the unconscious officer. After
a little while, Burt Cromwell opened his eyes.

Andy helped him into a chair, and produced a bottle of brandy and a
glass.

“Are you feeling any better, sir?”

The bartender was very solicitous. Burt Cromwell stared hard at him.

“Who knocked me out? Don’t say you don’t know.”

“But I do know,” returned Andy.

And he certainly did. Burt Cromwell drank the brandy.

“Who was it?”

“Simon Costello.”

“Who is Simon Costello?”

“Don’t you know him?”

“I wouldn’t ask, blockhead, if I did,” replied the detective testily.

“He’s a friend of Quick’s from Philadelphia. Here’s what he laid you
out with.”

Andy exhibited the sand-club. Burt looked hard at the fellow. The
bartender’s features were all but expressionless.

“If I had got onto the fellow,” continued Andy, “you wouldn’t have a
sore ‘conk’ now.”

Burt smiled.

“Don’t give me taffy.”

“I ain’t.”

“You were glad to see me laid out.”

Andy looked aggrieved.

“If that was the case,” he said, “I should not have helped to bring
you around.”

“Where did Quick skip to?”

“I’ll never tell you.”

“I didn’t suppose you would.”

“I mean I don’t know where he has skipped to.”

“How long have you been with him?” asked Burt.

“A couple of months; but I’m going to leave, old man.”

“Why?”

“This place is too hot for my blood, that’s all. If I stay here,
first thing I know I’ll find myself wearing stripes.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Nothing. But if you have this crib pulled at any time, I’m likely to
be scooped in with the rest,” remarked innocent Andy.

“You know me?”

“I know you are a detective.”

“Do you know Enoch Cook?”

“Yes; he is quite chummy with the boss,” replied Andy.

“Then you must also know Dick Kidd?”

“I’ve heard the name.”

“But you don’t know him, eh?”

“No.”

“When did you see Cook last?”

“Night before last.”

“Who was Quick fighting with?”

“No one, that I know of.”

“How did he get his shirt spotted with blood?”

“I didn’t know there was any blood on his shirt,” remarked Andy.

At this juncture a third party appeared upon the scene. It was Enoch
Cook. He turned to flee.

Burt was too quick for him. Covering Enoch with a revolver, he
ordered him to be seated. Then Burt requested the bartender to leave
the room.

Cook had not seen Quick since the latter’s visit to Monte Murphy.
After his crime in Elizabeth Street Mike did not return to his saloon
until the next day. Consequently Enoch knew nothing about the tragedy.

“Now, my fellow,” said the detective, “you won’t slip through my
fingers so easily this time as you did before. Perhaps it will
interest you to know that Pierre Jacquet is dying.”

Cook became deathly pale, and he felt his spine grow weak. The
Frenchman’s death would make him a murderer.

It was hard enough to be compelled to serve a long term in prison,
but the gallows---- The thought of that grim instrument of death
almost froze the blood in his veins.

“Who is Pierre Jacquet?”

Cook’s voice was hoarse, and it hardly rose above a whisper.

“You know who I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“Why will you be so silly? I mean the man you stabbed in Frankfort
Street--the man whose wife your friend Kidd ran off with.”

“There must be a mistake. I never stabbed any one.”

“You never stopped at a cabaret in Paris, kept by one Pierre
Jacquet?”

Cook hesitated.

“Yes,” he said finally, “but I know nothing of Kidd running off with
the fellow’s wife.”

“Nor you didn’t stab him?”

“No; I did not even know the fellow was in this country.”

“Enoch, you know very well you can’t throw dust in my eyes.”

“Jacquet may be here, but I never stabbed him,” said Cook.

“Perhaps it was your friend Kidd who did that,” remarked Burt.

“Possibly.”

“Well, at any rate, you will have to stand trial.”

Cook looked glum. He had no thought of resisting the detective.

Enoch knew that if he made a dash for liberty, Burt would shoot him
down. He very meekly allowed Burt to slip handcuffs on his wrists.

“I hope for your sake,” said the detective, “that this man may
recover. Bad as you are, I should not like to have you die on the
gallows.”

“We used to be friends.”

“Yes, that was long ago. Do not recall the past; it will not help
your case any.”

“Suppose I was to put you in the way of this famous green diamond, of
which you are in search?” remarked Enoch.

“So, you rascal, you do know where that precious gem is?”

“I haven’t said that.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I might be able to put you on the track of it,” replied Enoch.

The villain was willing to pay any price for his liberty. At any
rate, he argued, it was better for Burt to recover the great diamond
than Monte Murphy should have it. He felt confident Mike Quick had
not recovered the stone from the old “fence.”

“Have you seen Stolburst since you came to New York?”

“Yes--once.”

“When was that?”

“Over two weeks ago.”

“You are quite sure you have not seen him within the past four days?”

“I am positive I have not.”

“Do you know an Abyssinian priest who calls himself Ajeeb?”

“Yes; he is in New York.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen him.”

“Did you talk with him?”

The prisoner smiled.

“Catch me doing that!” he said.

“Why not?”

“I was with Stolburst when the eye of the idol was stolen, and that
may be known to Ajeeb.”

“Well?”

“Ajeeb might feel bound to kill me. See? He and his crew think
nothing of taking human life. Often have they offered up one hundred
persons as sacrifice in their temple.”

“Stolburst is in this man’s power now,” remarked the detective.

Cook became a shade paler.

“God help him, then!”

“Do you suppose this Ajeeb would kill the explorer?”

“I am sure of it,” replied Enoch. “If Stolburst could return the
green diamond, he might escape with his life. Even then his chances
would be doubtful; the heathen never forgives one who desecrates his
temples of idols.”

“Stolburst could not return the Eye of Jobu. Your friend Kidd has it,
I suppose.”

“He did have it.”

“Hasn’t he got it now?”

“No.”

“Sold it, eh?”

“It was stolen from him.”

Burt smiled.

“I’m not going to believe that story,” he said.

“Do you know Monte Murphy?”

“The ‘fence’?”

“Yes; he’s got the diamond.”

“Then he purchased it?”

“No.”

“Explain.”

Enoch told how Monte had captured the Eye of Jobu. He took particular
care not to mention anything concerning his last interview with Mike
Quick.

“So,” remarked Burt, “you let old Monte Murphy do you?”

“Joe Snell and Pat Brady had the drop on us.”

“Come!”

“Where?”

“We will pay Murphy a visit.”

“Don’t ask me to walk through the streets with these on, please.”

Enoch held out his manacled wrists. After a moment’s hesitation, Burt
removed the handcuffs.

“Enoch,” he said, “if you do the square thing, I may befriend you;
try to escape, and I will shoot you down.”

“I give you my word I shall not try to escape,” said Cook.

The rascal meant to keep his word. Upon arriving at Murphy’s, Burt
rang the bell. A young man’s head appeared at one of the upper
windows.

“What do you want?”

“To see Monte.”

“You can’t see him.”

“Come down and open the door.”

“I won’t.”

“If you don’t, I’ll burst the door off its hinges,” said Burt.

“Who are you?”

“I am a detective.”

“Got a warrant?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got my orders not to admit any one to the house.”

“You’d better admit me.”

“I won’t, all the same.”

“Is Murphy at home?”

“He has left the city.”

“That’s a lie!”

“Perhaps it is.”

“Will you open the door?”

“No.”

Burt threw his shoulders against it. The door did not budge.

“My friend,” said the young man, leveling a revolver at the
detective, “try that again, and I’ll come pretty near sending a
bullet through your brain!”




                            CHAPTER XVII.

                         AT MONTE MURPHY’S.


A crowd gathered around the “fence,” one member of which--a laborer
returning from work--had a crowbar.

Burt seized the iron bar.

“Burt,” said Cook, “don’t do anything rash, I beg of you!”

Burt looked at the fellow in surprise.

“What do you care whether I get shot?” he asked.

“I do care; and I am sure that fellow means to shoot.”

Two policemen came running up, and, at sight of them, the strange
young man withdrew from the window.

Burt explained to the police who he was, and stated it was necessary
he should gain entrance to the “fence.” The officers beat a lively
tattoo on the door with their clubs. The young man then condescended
to open it.

Burt stepped inside, followed by Cook.

“I guess I can paddle my own boat now,” he said to the policemen, and
they withdrew.

Burt closed and locked the door. Then he turned upon the young man
who had threatened him. The latter now looked rather sheepish.

“Who are you?” asked Burt.

“Some folks call me Tony Riley.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you that question, mister,” said Riley.

“Answer me.”

“I’m here because this is my home.”

“Where is Monte?”

“How do I know?”

“Don’t be so saucy.”

“I don’t know where he is.”

“Ain’t he in the house?”

“No. What do you want with him?”

“That is none of your business. When did he leave?”

“That is none of your business.”

Burt raised his fist threateningly. Tony reached for his revolver.
The detective sprang upon the fellow, and bore him to the floor. Then
Burt disarmed Riley.

“Now,” he said, allowing the man to rise, “I want you to be more
civil.”

“This is an outrage!”

“What?”

“You forcing your way into this house and assaulting me.”

“Have a care, or I’ll give you substantial reasons for complaining!”

“I’ve done nothing.”

“You threatened to shoot me.”

“That was only a bluff.”

“When did Monte leave?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do know.”

“Have it that way, if you choose.”

“When do you expect him to return?” asked the detective.

“I wasn’t here when he went out.”

“There are others in the house?”

“I don’t know that there are.”

Burt handcuffed Cook and Riley together. The latter protested
vigorously, but Enoch said never a word.

Burt then started to explore the house. He found the “fence’s”
bedroom in confusion, and the carpet and bedclothing covered with
blood. The safe-door stood open. Had Monte been murdered?

That was the question the detective asked himself. A few deeds and a
couple of insurance policies were all that remained in the safe.

The Eye of Jobu was not there.

Burt searched the house from garret to cellar without finding any
person. At the conclusion of this search, he returned to the hall
where he had left his two prisoners.

“Riley,” he said, “were you concerned in this murder?”

“What murder?”

The young fellow seemed totally unconcerned.

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, just the same.”

“Have you been in Murphy’s bedroom to-day?”

Burt had once visited that room before, in searching for stolen
goods, and he knew the “fence” slept there.

“Yes.”

“What does all that blood on the bed and carpet mean?”

“I wish you’d tell me,” said Tony. “It rather puzzles me.”

“You know, and you must explain.”

“I can’t.”

“The safe has been rifled.”

“I guess there wasn’t much in it,” returned Riley unconcernedly.

“Did you see Monte to-day?”

“I’ve already told you I didn’t.”

“Did you stop here last night?”

“No.”

“You say this is your home?”

“So it is, at times.”

“What are you to Murphy?”

“His servant.”

“That’s a lie. The man is too miserly to have a servant. Cook, did
you ever see this fellow before?”

“Yes.”

“Who is he?”

“I only know he used to travel with Bull Blair’s gang.”

“Bull Blair, eh?”

The man was one of the most hardened ruffians in New York. Riley
looked daggers at Enoch.

“What was done with the ‘fence’s’ body?” asked Burt.

“I don’t know that he is dead,” replied the prisoner.

“Murder has certainly been done in this house. I’m sure of that.”

“You may be right, mister, but I know nothing about it.”

“Where were you last night?”

“That is my affair.”

“I choose to make it mine.”

“I wasn’t here. When I came back this morning, I found Murphy’s room
as you found it. Some one must have been cut, that’s certain, but I
don’t know who the party is.”

“How do Bull Blair and Monte stand?” inquired Burt.

“They are friends.”

Burt looked at his prisoner long and earnestly. He believed the blood
that had been shed was that of the “fence.” What had the murderer or
murderers done with the body?

Burt believed, if not an actual actor, Riley was an accessory to the
crime.

“Tony,” said the detective, “you had better make a clean breast of
the whole business.”

“I don’t know anything about the affair,” the prisoner said.

“I am satisfied you do.”

“I’ll bet that blood never came from old man Monte.”

“Why do you hold that opinion?”

“Murphy would be dead if he lost all that blood.”

“Then he is dead,” said Burt. “Perhaps Bull Blair can give me some
information on the subject.”

“Blair wasn’t into it.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I was with him all night, and he did not come here.”

“What did Monte do with that big diamond he took from Cook, here?”

“I don’t know that he took a diamond from any one.”

“What do you know?”

“I know that you are acting exceedingly fresh,” returned Tony.

Burt smiled. He released Cook, and placed both handcuffs on the
other’s wrists. Then he took Enoch aside.

“Now,” he said, “I am going to do something contrary to my duty.”

“I do not understand.”

“I’m going to trust you.”

“I swear you may!”

Enoch spoke from the bottom of his heart. It was something unusual
for any one, outside of a pal, to trust him.

“Now, I may as well tell you, there is no likelihood of Jacquet dying
from the wound you inflicted.”

Cook’s face became radiated with joy.

“Now,” added the detective, “I suppose you will admit that you
stabbed him?”

“He would have killed me, Burt, if I didn’t,” said Cook.

“Will you be true to me and help me find Stolburst?”

“Willingly.”

“Remember,” said Burt, “that, if you are false to me, the loss will
be on your side.”

“I’m tired of this business, Burt; you’ll see I’ll act square.”

Both men started at the sound of an agonizing groan. It seemed to
come from under their feet.




                           CHAPTER XVIII.

                           MURPHY’S DEATH.


Both men listened intently. The groan was repeated.

Enoch tore aside the carpet. A trap was disclosed, and he opened it.

Burt lighted a match, and looked into the opening. He saw a flight of
stairs.

“I’ll go down,” said Enoch; and he did so.

The stairs were enclosed on all four sides. At the bottom of the
shaft Cook found Monte Murphy. The old fence was all but unconscious.

Enoch picked him up in his arms and began the ascent, which he found
laborious, the stairway being very steep.

When Cook arrived in the hall with his ghastly burden, Tony Riley
turned deathly pale. Murphy’s clothing was saturated with blood.

Burt sent Enoch after a doctor. The wounded man continued to moan
piteously. When the doctor came, he expressed surprise that the old
man could have bled so much and lived. He made Monte as comfortable
as possible, and had Cook help him carry the man to bed.

The doctor said that, at most, his patient could not survive beyond a
few hours.

“Now, my man,” said Burt, addressing Riley, when the “fence” was
removed, “what have you got to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t know the old jigger was down there,” replied Tony.

“I’ll soon know whether you did or not.”

“At any rate, I don’t know who stabbed him,” said Riley.

Cook now returned, and, leaving him in charge of Tony, Burt visited
the “fence’s” bedside. Burt felt that he could safely trust Enoch to
guard his prisoner, and his confidence was not misplaced.

As Burt entered the sick-chamber, he was met by the doctor, who
gently forced him outside.

“The man is now conscious,” said the physician; “but, as I have
already declared, his death is only a matter of a few hours.”

“Does he know I am in the house?”

“I told him there was an officer here.”

“Is he able to converse?”

“Oh, yes,” replied the doctor; “I wanted to say to you that I told
him there was a slight chance of him recovering.”

“I should have told him the truth; it is cruel to deceive him.”

The physician colored.

“I know my business!” he exclaimed.

“I rather doubt that. What is your fee?”

The doctor named his fee, and Burt paid it. Then Burt went in to see
the “fence.”

Monte Murphy was bolstered up in bed with pillows. He immediately
recognized his visitor.

“Am I going to die?”

That was Murphy’s first question.

“What did the doctor say?”

“That I might recover; but I did not believe him.”

“He told you a lie; you have no possible chance,” said Burt.

Monte gave a great start. He did not want to die. Who does?

For more than fifty years Murphy had led a most wicked life. He had
once been married, and it was said of him that he had starved his
wife to death.

Monte was a firm believer in eternal punishment. It was not the
physical torture of death he feared; it was the hereafter.

Burt believed it was his bounden duty to tell the sufferer the truth.
Murphy used to tell himself that one day or another he would begin
a life of repentance. The day never came, and now he stood on the
threshold of an after-life.

“Oh!” he said, in the most bitter anguish; “I must surely have some
little chance!”

Burt shook his head, but did not otherwise reply.

“Give me some of that.”

Monte pointed to a flask upon the mantel. Burt smelled of the flask,
and found it contained whisky. He handed it to the wounded man.

Monte gulped down a big drink. The liquor gave him false courage.

“I won’t die; I feel better already,” he said. “Now, what brings you
here?”

“I came to recover the property you stole.”

“The big diamond?”

“Yes.”

“Curse the gem! But it is accursed. Had I never seen it, this
misfortune would not have come to me!” groaned Murphy.

“Where is it?”

“I haven’t got it.”

“You stole it?”

“I don’t deny that; but, in turn, the diamond, and all my other
valuables that were in yonder safe, were stolen from me.”

“By whom?”

“Bull Blair and Tony Riley.”

“Which of them stabbed you?”

“Neither.”

Burt regarded the “fence” with surprise.

“You didn’t stab yourself?”

“No; an agent of Kidd and Cook ‘done’ me,” replied Monte.

“How do you know the party was their agent?” inquired Burt.

“I had his word for it.”

“Do you mean to say they sent him here to murder you?”

“They certainly sent him after the diamond; he could not have known I
possessed it unless they told him.”

“Who is this man?”

“Mike Quick.”

Burt emitted a low whistle. Now he knew why Quick had turned pale
when he last confronted him.

“Mike did not get the diamond?”

“No; Bull Blair collared it.”

“Blair did not know of you having it, did he?” asked Burt.

“No; he came here to gut my safe, and he took that with the rest. I
am ruined.”

Tears coursed down the wretched miser’s furrowed cheeks. It was for
the loss of money he could never enjoy he wept.

“I have Tony Riley in custody.”

“I’ve fed and clothed that rascal, and it was he who put Bull Blair
up to rob me.”

“Then it wasn’t Quick who left you at the foot of the cellar shaft?”

“No; it was Blair and Riley,” replied Monte; “but I will get square!”

He would not realize that he stood on the edge of the grave.

“Where do you suppose Bull can be found?” asked Burt.

“Leave him to me. I’ll take care of him!”

“Won’t you answer my question?”

“I have answered it.”

“Monte, I must recover that diamond.”

“Who owns it?”

“That does not concern you.”

“Neither does it concern you where Blair is to be found.”

“I must be personally revenged upon him. He found me dying, and he
threw me in the shaft, to die like a dog!”

A fit of coughing prevented the miser from proceeding farther just
then. Burt raised the man higher in the bed, that he might breathe
more freely. Monte did not even thank him.

“Don’t you think you had better see a minister?” asked Burt.

Murphy laughed.

“I’m not going to die, I tell you,” he said.

“Won’t you tell me where I can find Bull Blair?”

“No.”

“Then I shall find him without your help,” said Burt.

“In a day or two I shall find him myself, and I shall also settle my
little account with Mike Quick.”

The old “fence” seemed to be seized with a sudden chill. He tried to
speak, but was unable. Then he clutched his own throat wildly. The
whisky flask had fallen on the bed, and its contents ran from it.

Monte Murphy was a corpse! Burt caught hold of the man’s wrist. He
found that the pulse had ceased to beat. Mike Quick was a murderer.

But how was his crime to be brought home to him?

Burt only had Murphy’s word for the dive-keeper’s guilt, and now
Murphy was dead. He straightened the corpse upon the bed, and
placed a handkerchief over the features of the dead. Then he went
down-stairs.

Cook stood guard over Tony.

“How is the old fellow coming on?” asked Enoch.

“He is dead.”

Riley’s hair almost stood on end from fright.




                            CHAPTER XIX.

                          BURT’S NEW ALLY.


“Why did you remain behind Bull Blair?”

Burt addressed his prisoner.

“I wanted to pack up some of my things that are here. I happened to
stretch myself on a lounge up-stairs, and fell asleep, or I would
have left here hours ago.”

“You and Blair are partly responsible for Murphy’s death.”

“Don’t say that.”

Tony trembled like an aspen.

“It is the truth; the man might have lived had he not been thrown
down the shaft into the cellar,” said Burt.

“I had nothing to do with it. I begged Bull to allow him to remain in
his bed.”

“Did Monte say who stabbed him?”

“Yes; Mike Quick.”

Now Enoch Cook gave a great start. Burt noticed his agitation, but
did not comment upon it then.

“Where is the plunder that was taken from Murphy’s safe?”

“I have none of it.”

“Where is it, I ask?”

“Blair took everything away with him,” replied Tony.

“Where is he to be found?”

“I can’t tell.”

“You mean you won’t tell.”

“I dare not.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid of Bull Blair.”

“I guess he won’t have a chance to reach you for some time to come.
Did you see him take a large diamond from the safe?”

“No; I did not see any large diamond--there was an emerald.”

Burt knew his prisoner referred to the Eye of Jobu.

“Now, you must tell me where I am likely to meet Blair.”

“I’ll die first!”

Leaving Cook in charge of the house, Burt took his prisoner to the
nearest police station, and reported the death of Monte Murphy. A
policeman was sent around to take charge of the “fence.” Enoch joined
the detective outside of Murphy’s.

“Now,” said Burt, “I believe you sent Quick to recover the diamond.”

Cook grew pale.

“I told Mike what had become of the stone,” he said.

“Well?”

“Mike said he would make the old man give it up; but I had no idea he
would go so far as to stab Murphy.”

“Was Quick a partner of yours?”

“We decided to take him in after Murphy took the stone from us.”

“Did either you or Kidd accompany him to the fence?”

“No; he went alone.”

Burt believed Enoch. Murphy had not implicated the latter, as he
certainly would have done had Cook returned to the house with Quick.

“I am more anxious to rescue Henry Stolburst, if he lives, than I am
to find the diamond.”

“Burt,” said Cook, “do you suppose Stolburst would tell Ajeeb that
Kidd and I had the diamond?”

“He’d be a fool if he didn’t.”

Enoch started.

“I do not want to have those devilish Abyssinians gunning for me. In
their temples, they torture men in the most infamous manner.”

“But you are not in Abyssinia now.”

“No; but they are here. What do you suppose Ajeeb cares for law?
Nothing.”

“If he has harmed Stolburst,” said the detective, “I will see to it
that the law will reach him.”

“You will have to deal with a fox. If you show your hand so Ajeeb can
see it, beware of secret assassins.”

“You believe he did not come to this country alone?”

“I am sure of it. A man known as Ashah always attends the high
priest.”

“What are Ashah’s functions?”

“He is the high priest’s executioner,” replied Enoch.

“How long did you live among these people?” asked Burt.

“For more than three months.”

“Then you know the young woman called Zulima?”

“Yes; Stolburst took great interest in the princess,” replied Cook.

“She is here in New York.”

“With Ajeeb?”

“No. Stolburst brought her to this country,” said the detective.

“Then they are married?”

“No; I am quite sure such is not the case.”

“Stolburst was very sweet on the girl while I was with him in London.”

“Where has Kidd taken up his residence?” asked Burt.

“I do not know.”

“Don’t you live together?”

“No.”

“Which of you stole the diamond?”

“Dick did.”

Burt smiled.

“Of course,” he said, “you will not criminate yourself.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“How do the heathen generally despatch their victims?”

“Invariably by the sword.”

“Have you ever seen them put any one to death?” asked Burt.

“No; but Stolburst did, and I heard him tell of it.”

“You have no idea where this man Ajeeb is stopping?”

“Not the slightest.”

“You only saw him once?”

“That is all.”

“Where did you see him?”

“Near Union Square.”

“Enoch, if you can locate him for me, I will give you a hundred
dollars.”

“I don’t want money. I’d like to see you round that little devil up.”

“Why?”

“Well, if for no other reason, because I am afraid of him.”

“You locate him, and I will attend to his case. Now, I want you to
promise not to tell Mike Quick what I have learned.”

“I will not go near Quick’s.”

“Remember,” said Burt, “that, if I find you are unfaithful, I will
‘railroad’ you to Sing Sing.”

“You can just bet I will bear that in mind!” returned Enoch.

They then parted, after Cook had promised to hunt for Ajeeb. Enoch
lied when he claimed not to know Kidd’s address. After leaving the
detective, he visited his pal.

Dick was about to leave his lodgings. In his hand he carried a small
package.

“What have you there?” asked Enoch.

“You have not recovered the diamond?”

“No.”

“Then Murphy shall never enjoy it! I have here a dynamite cartridge,
with which I intend to blow him and his crib up.”

“You can save yourself the trouble.”

“I’m determined.”

“The man is dead.”

“Dead?” ejaculated Kidd.

“Yes; I just came from there,” replied Enoch.

“Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“Who did?”

“An unknown assassin.”

Cook was true to the detective.

“And the diamond?”

“That and all the ‘fence’s’ other valuables were stolen.”

Kidd staggered as if he had received a heavy blow. He had lost a
fortune. It was some slight satisfaction for him to know who had the
Eye of Jobu, even if he did not have it himself. Now it was in the
possession of some one unknown.

“Enoch, you are not joking?”

“I would not joke about so serious a matter,” replied Cook.

“We are a pair of unfortunate devils. Think what a glorious time we
should have had had we been paid for the diamond.”

“There is nothing left for us to do, that I can see, but grin and
bear it.”

“You seem to take our loss quite cool,” said Kidd.

“What’s the use of crying over it?”

“You have an idea who killed and robbed the ‘fence’?”

“No.”

“How came you to go there?”

“I thought I could prevail upon Monte to make some restitution.”

“You never told me you intended to visit him,” said Dick.

“I acted on the impulse of the moment.”

“Now,” said Kidd, “I suppose the diamond is forever lost to us.”

“I wish you never took it. The stone seems to bring misfortune to
every one who has possessed it.”

“It is unlucky.”

“Stolburst has probably been murdered by Ajeeb, or some of his crew.”

“Enoch!” exclaimed Kidd excitedly; “the Abyssinian has recovered the
stone!”

“How could he possibly know where to find it?” remarked Cook.

“He is a professor of witchcraft,” replied Dick. “Did we not see him
make fire come out of the ground at our very feet?”

“That affair was prearranged.”

“No,” returned Kidd; “that man is in league with Satan.”

“At any rate, whether by supernatural means or not, Ajeeb has
captured our old boss.”

“Did Stolburst fall into his clutches?”

“Yes.”

“Who told you this?”

“Burt Cromwell.”

“What!” exclaimed Dick, in surprise; “have you and the detective
become friends?”

“I wish such was the case.”

“When did Burt Cromwell tell you?”

“When he arrested me at Quick’s.”

“Well, if Stolburst told the Abyssinian of me having stolen the
stone, I may find myself in a pretty pickle.”

“You may be sure he told him.”

“Then I guess the best thing I can do is to skip out of New York.”

“Are you so very afraid of Ajeeb?”

“You can just bet I am afraid of him!” replied Kidd.

“I’ve heard you boast more than once you did not fear any man living.”

“I meant no ordinary man; this Ajeeb is a demon.”

“Don’t you think that, instead of leaving New York, you could occupy
yourself better in hunting for the green diamond?”

“But, according to your statement, there is no possible chance of
recovering it,” said Dick. “How much money have you?”

“About a hundred dollars.”

“I have even less than that, and we must bestir ourselves and make a
raise. Suppose we take a trip to Philadelphia?”

“New York is good enough for me.”

“What do you intend to do here?”

“Spy out some crib, and then crack it,” replied Cook.

“The police here are too fly for my taste. If we go into business
here, we’ll soon find ourselves wearing stripes.”

“I’m going to try and find the diamond.”

“But you have no clew to work upon.”

“I’ll discover one--leave me alone for that,” said Enoch confidently.

“By the way,” said Kidd, “have you heard anything about your friend
Pierre Jacquet?”

“Your friend, you mean,” laughed Cook. “I believe he is not expected
to live.”

“I hope that is true.”

“You are exceedingly kind. Consider that, if the Frenchman dies, I
shall be guilty of murder.”

“That’s so. I killed the wife, and now you have attended to the
husband’s case.”

“Well,” remarked Enoch, “I guess I’ll ramble over to Mike Quick’s.”

“I’ll join you there bimeby.”

Instead of going to Quick’s, Cook went up-town. For hours he loitered
about Union Square. It was there he had met Ajeeb. He hoped to meet
him again. Nor was he disappointed.

At about ten o’clock, the Abyssinian passed him in Fourteenth Street.
Ajeeb did not seem to recognize him. Then Enoch started in to do some
shadowing. He followed the high priest to the latter’s house, and saw
him ascend the stoop.

At that moment a heavy hand was laid upon Enoch’s shoulder. He
turned, and found himself face to face with Ashah. The executioner’s
features wore a grim smile.




                             CHAPTER XX.

                        IN AJEEB’S CLUTCHES.


“Release me!” exclaimed Cook, trembling with fright.

“Oh, no.”

Enoch drew his revolver, only to have it snatched from his grasp.

“What do you mean?”

Ashah’s hand had closed on Cook’s coat collar. The latter tried to
break away, but did not succeed.

“I do not mean to harm you,” remarked the Abyssinian.

At this Enoch ceased to struggle.

“Then why do you not release me?”

“I would have a few words with you first,” replied Ashah.

The Abyssinian spoke in easy tones, but that did not set Cook at ease.

“Who are you?”

Ashah smiled at the question.

“Don’t you remember ever having seen me before?” he said.

“No.”

“Your name is Henry?”

“My name is Cook.”

“Just so; but I knew you as Henry.”

“I never went by that name.”

“Did you ever cross the ocean?”

“Never.”

“Can it be I am mistaken?”

“You certainly are, if you think you ever met me before.”

Enoch began to pluck up courage.

“I have a remarkable memory for faces and names.”

“You err now, then.”

“Perhaps I do; excuse me.”

Ashah released his hold on Cook’s collar. The latter turned to go
away. As he did so, the Abyssinian struck him on the back of the neck
with all his strength.

Enoch fell insensible to the pavement. When he recovered
consciousness, he found himself in a handsomely furnished parlor, and
in the presence of Ajeeb and a man he did not know. The latter was
Billy Barry. Ajeeb commanded Cook to be seated, and the latter obeyed.

“Dog,” exclaimed the Abyssinian, “why did you shadow my footsteps?”

“I did not follow you.”

“Do not lie to me.”

“I’m speaking the truth.”

“I believe, Henry, or Cook, as you now call yourself, that we have
met before.”

“I never saw you before.”

Enoch’s glance sought the floor as he spoke. Ajeeb laughed.

“You do not know one Henry Stolburst?” he said.

“No.”

The Abyssinian sprang upon Enoch, and grasped him by the throat.

“How dare you lie to me?”

Barry pulled the high priest away.

“Well,” said Cook, “suppose I do know Henry Stolburst?”

“You admit knowing him?”

“Yes,” replied Enoch, making an immediate change of tactics.

“You were in his employ?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever see in his possession a wondrous diamond of greenish
hue?”

“I did.”

“You have become very candid.”

“I have no right to answer you, but I don’t mind doing so.”

Ajeeb smiled.

“I guess,” he said, “I could discover a way to make you talk. Now,
what became of that diamond? If you can help me find it, I will make
you rich for life.”

“It was never in my possession.”

“Did not your fellow servant steal it?”

“So Stolburst claimed.”

“You ran away in company with Kidd,” remarked the Abyssinian.

“Yes.”

“Did he have the diamond?”

Cook hesitated. Finally he answered in the affirmative.

“Ajeeb,” said Barry, “now, you see, that poor devil Stolburst told
you truth.”

“Suppose he did?”

“Then you punished him unnecessarily,” replied Billy.

“Oh, no; it was he who stole the Eye of Jobu from the temple.”

“Now,” said the Abyssinian, turning to Enoch, “what did Kidd do with
his treasure?”

“It was, in turn, stolen from him.”

Ajeeb gave a great start. He was as far from recovering the Eye of
Jobu as ever. But did this fellow speak the truth?

He doubted it.

“You can’t make me believe that story,” said the high priest.

“I saw it stolen.”

“Then why did you not prevent the theft?”

“Had I attempted to do so, I should have been killed.”

“It was taken by force, eh?”

“Certainly.”

“Do you know the party who took it?”

“Yes; the man is dead.”

“And the diamond?”

“It was stolen by the murderer.”

“You cannot impose such a fiction upon me!” said Ajeeb, greatly
excited.

“I am stating facts.”

“Then be more explicit.”

Cook then told all he knew about the robbery and murder, with the
exception that he did not mention Mike Quick.

“So this detective is greatly interested in finding the diamond?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“That he may have it returned to you.”

“I did not engage him in the case,” remarked Ajeeb.

“No, but Stolburst did.”

“Then, if the detective found the stone, he would give it to his
employer?”

“It amounts to the same thing. Stolburst would turn it over to you.”

“Has the detective an idea who has the diamond?”

“I believe he has.”

“You did not hear him mention the party’s name?” said Ajeeb.

“No.”

“You seem to be very intimate with this detective?”

“We were once schoolmates.”

“Did you tell him Kidd had the diamond when the latter did have it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I did not then know that Burt Cromwell was interested in recovering
the stone.”

“Would you have told him if you did know?” asked Ajeeb.

“I certainly should.”

“So I would judge; you have the appearance of an informer!”

“I am anxious to save Stolburst from the consequences of his act.”

“What has happened to him?”

“You should be able to answer that question,” replied Enoch.

“I?”

“Is he not in your power?”

“Who told you that story?”

“Stolburst has disappeared, and the detective believes you have
either murdered the man, or that he is a prisoner in your keeping.”

“Cromwell possesses a wonderful faculty as a guesser,” smiled Ajeeb.

“Is not his surmise correct?”

“I do not choose to answer such questions as you may choose to put to
me.”

“I answered you quite willingly.”

“Yes; but I am master here.”

“You are not my master.”

Cook was rather surprised at his own boldness.

“I suppose,” said the Abyssinian, “this detective has vowed to find
Stolburst, or learn what has become of him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he will succeed?”

“I am sure of it.”

“Your confidence in your friend is quite charming,” remarked Ajeeb.

“Burt Cromwell does not know what it is to fail,” said Enoch.

“I should like to become acquainted with this wonderful man.”

“Perhaps you may, one of these days,” remarked Cook.

“Am I to regard your last speech in the form of a threat?”

“Have you harmed Henry Stolburst?”

“No.”

“Then you have nothing to fear from this detective.”

Again the Abyssinian laughed.

“Suppose I have had Stolburst killed?” he said.

“Then you are just so sure to die on the scaffold as the sun is to
rise to-morrow morning!”

Ajeeb bit his lip.

“I wish this fellow would call on me,” he said.

“Do you mean Burt Cromwell?”

“Yes; who else?”

“Shall I tell him to call?”

“No; I don’t care to exact that much from you,” replied Ajeeb.

“It will be no trouble, I assure you,” declared Cook.

“I hardly think you will see the detective very soon.”

“What do you mean?”

The Abyssinian clapped his hands. Ashah appeared. Ajeeb pointed at
Cook, and then made a peculiar sign. Enoch’s heart stood still. Was
he to be butchered?

“Come.”

Ashah beckoned to him. Cook did not move.

“You won’t obey, eh?”

Ashah caught the man up in his arms and carried him from the room.
Enoch was placed in the cellar apartment with Stolburst.

The latter slept, and Deth stood on guard. Ashah tossed Cook into the
chamber, and then withdrew. The other prisoner awoke, with a start.
When his glance rested upon Enoch, he rubbed his eyes like one in a
dream.

“Is it you, Sam Henry?”

“My name is Enoch Cook.”

“True; the detective declared that was your name,” said Stolburst.

Enoch saw, when the explorer arose, that one of the latter’s ears was
missing. The sight caused a shudder to pass through him. Might not
his fate be a like one--or worse?

“I am sorry for you,” said Enoch.

Stolburst looked at his fellow prisoner in considerable surprise.

“You have no pity to expend upon anybody,” he said.

“Burt Cromwell is making every effort to relieve you from your
present condition.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me.”

“Are you friends?”

“Yes; when I heard you had fallen into the power of these wretches, I
volunteered to help him find you,” answered Enoch.

Stolburst regarded his companion with suspicion. Deth stood at the
farther end of the apartment, seemingly as immovable as a statue.
Like Ashah, he was well acquainted with English, and comprehended the
other’s conversation.

“How came you here?” asked the explorer, after a pause.

“I shadowed Ajeeb to the house, and was made prisoner by Ashah, who,
in turn, seems to have been shadowing me.”

“Has Burt any knowledge that I am held a prisoner?”

“He believes such to be the case.”

“But for you I should not have had to endure the tortures I went
through,” said Stolburst bitterly.

“What have I to do with it?”

“You stole that unlucky diamond.”

“I beg to differ with you.”

“Kidd actually took it, but you were in the deal with him.”

“That is not so.”

“Where is Kidd?”

“Here in New York.”

“Has he disposed of the diamond?” inquired Stolburst.

“No; it was stolen from him.”

Then, for the second time that night, Cook told of Monte Murphy
stealing the Eye of Jobu, and the fate that had overtaken the “fence.”

Enoch brought his narrative to a close by whispering to Stolburst
that Burt knew who had the stone.

“If the diamond is not produced before the day after to-morrow,” said
Stolburst bitterly, “I am to lose my remaining ear.”

“The brutes!”

“Speak low. Deth is drinking in every word we say.”

“What do I care?”

“There may be a worse fate in store for you than I have undergone.”

“I don’t think Ajeeb bears me any ill-will,” said Enoch.

“Don’t flatter yourself with that idea,” remarked Stolburst. “You
will never escape from this place unharmed. You’ll be lucky if you
escape with your life.”

“You are a poor consoler.”

“I know the men we have to deal with better than you. I wish it had
been Dick Kidd they captured. But for that thief, I could have made
things square with the high priest.”

“Kidd fears Ajeeb.”

“Does Ajeeb believe Kidd stole the Eye of Jobu from me?”

“Yes; I am sure he did.”

“Then,” said Stolburst, with a grim smile, “the high priest will
punish him with death.”




                            CHAPTER XXI.

                        FRANK HARE’S MISSION.


After leaving Cook, the detective went to his office. There he met
his assistant, Frank Hare, whom he had not seen in several days.

“Well, old man,” said the latter, “did you find Enoch Cook at Mike
Quick’s?”

“Yes.”

“Learn anything from him?”

“Not much; I want to find Mike Quick now,” said Burt.

“What’s he been doing?”

“He murdered Monte Murphy.”

“The deuce!” exclaimed Hare. “How did that come about?”

Burt told him.

“Burt,” said Frank, “that beastly diamond seems unlucky.”

“I don’t doubt but it has cost Stolburst his life.”

“Have you no clue to his fate?”

“I am quite sure he fell into the hands of this Ajeeb; I know nothing
more.”

Then Burt informed his assistant of his interview with the beautiful
Zulima.

“Say, old man,” remarked Hare, “the murder of Monte Murphy is none of
your funeral.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let the chaps at police headquarters find his murderer.”

“They could not possibly succeed unless Tony Riley, Enoch Cook, or
myself give them a pointer,” said Burt.

“Burt, I don’t like that idea of yours in trusting Cook.”

“Why not?”

“That fellow could not act square, no matter how hard he might try.”

Burt laughed.

“You don’t seem to have a very high opinion of the gentleman.”

“No; and I’ll bet you’ll find that I’ve made no mistake in my
estimate of him.”

“He’ll turn out all right, see if he don’t,” remarked Burt.

“You say you are going to scoop Mike Quick in?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll take hold of the other end, then,” said Frank.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll make Bull Blair disgorge.”

“Can you find him?”

“I’m sure to.”

“I had intended to take that matter in charge myself.”

“Leave it to me.”

“You know what kind of a man you have to deal with?”

Hare laughed lightly.

“Did you ever know me to show fear?” he inquired.

“No; but you cannot take too many precautions in dealing with Bull
Blair.”

“I shall capture him easy as a wink.”

“Frank, you are, without exception, the most sanguine person I know.”

“I believe in a man having perfect confidence in himself.”

“Yes; but there is such a thing as men failing because of
overconfidence.”

“What! Are you going to read me a sermon?” smiled Hare.

“No; but I wish you to steer clear of danger, my boy.”

“If a stranger heard you talk, he would put me down for being a
blooming innocent.”

“Where do you expect to find your man?” asked Burt.

“At Steve Shaw’s.”

“Does he hang out in that crib?”

“Sure.”

“It seems to me, Frank, that you know where every criminal in New
York hangs out.”

“Ain’t that business, old man?”

“Well, yes.”

“You are sure Bull Blair is the man you want?” asked Frank.

“Why do you ask?”

“Bull claims to have become converted from his wicked ways.”

Burt laughed.

“If the gentleman was ever converted,” he said, “he has again fallen
from grace. His pal, Tony Riley, says Blair was into the job.”

“Well, I’ll have a go at him.”

At ten o’clock that night, Frank Hare, attired as a “tough,” entered
a basement saloon on Cherry Street. There was a platform at the rear
upon which was seated a long-haired young man, who banged away at a
decrepit piano. At the tables, scattered around the room, were many
men and women.

As Frank’s luck would have it, Blair was there, and alone. Bull
was a great brute, standing all of six feet high, and being built
in proportion. There was no beard on his face, and he had one eye
missing. In front of the rascal stood a bottle of liquor, a small
pitcher of water, and a glass.

Mr. Blair seemed in very good humor. Frank seated himself opposite
the brute, and called for a drink. He was promptly waited upon.

“Say, young fellow,” remarked Blair, “who told you that you might sit
down at this ’ere table?”

“Cully, have you any objections to me sitting here?”

“My name ain’t Cully.”

Bull glowered at Hare.

“You don’t own the table.”

“Young fellow, I don’t allow any one that comes in here to give me
lip!”

“Where do you bury your dead?”

“I’m Bull Blair.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance.”

“Never heard of me before, eh?”

“No.”

“You wouldn’t be so sassy if you did,” said Blair.

“Wouldn’t I?”

“No; you know that I generally thump those that give me back slack!”

“Are you going to thump me?”

“I ought to.”

“Don’t.”

“Well, I won’t. Have a drink with me, and we’ll be friends. I’m
waiting for a pal of mine, and he is a deuced long time in getting
here.”

Hare knew he referred to Tony Riley.

“I’ll drink with you.”

Frank did.

“Where do you hail from, young fellow?” asked Blair.

“Philadelphia.”

“That town’s asleep, and it ain’t ever going to wake up.”

“That’s the reason I skinned out for New York,” said Frank.

“On the ‘cross’?”

“I’ve done a couple of stretches in Moyamensing Prison.”

“What’s your lay?”

“Second-story.”

“Ever been in an out-and-out house-cracking job?”

“Yes--once.”

“I rather like your looks.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Have another drink?”

Frank joined the rascal in a drink.

“Got any friends here?” asked Blair, after a pause.

“Only one.”

“Do I know the party?”

“Can’t say.”

“Who is he?”

“A chap named Mike Quick.”

“So you know that jay, eh?”

“I’ve met him a couple of times, and he told me if ever I came to New
York to drop in and see him.”

“Have you been to his place?”

“Just came from there.”

“Didn’t get much of a welcome, eh?”

“Mike was away from home.”

“Who did you see?”

“The bartender.”

“Did he say he expected his boss back very shortly?”

“No.”

Bull laughed wearily.

“I guess you ain’t likely to see your friend for a spell,” he said.

“Why, is Mike in trouble?”

“If he ain’t, he’s likely to be at almost any moment.”

“What has he done?”

“I ain’t going to tell you that.”

“Are you afraid to trust me?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Ain’t I a friend of Mike Quick’s?”

“So you say.”

“Well, you don’t suppose I’d lie about such a small matter?”

“Some people can’t help lying, no matter how much they try.”

“I ain’t one of that sort.”

“You do look like a good fellow, even if I do say it to your face. By
the way, you haven’t told me your name.”

“Dan Dimont.”

“Don’t like it.”

“Why?”

“Sounds too much like the name of a song-and-dance man.”

Hare laughed.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do if Quick has gone away for good.”

“What do you mean?”

“I counted upon getting a gift from him,” replied Frank.

“Broke, eh?”

“No; I’ve got a little stuff.”

“Then what’s the use of growling?”

“I want work to do.”

“Are you sure you don’t know any of the boys except Mike Quick?”

“I wish I did.”

“I’ll have the friend for whom I’m waiting put you onto something
good.”

“Have you anything on hand?”

“What do you mean?”

“Simply that you let me into something where I can make a stamp.”

“I might take you in myself, only for one thing.”

“What is the objection?”

“I don’t know how far you can be trusted,” replied Bull.

“I wish you did know me well,” replied Hare.

“Would you, now?”

“Yes; I rather think you must be a pretty good one.”

Blair smiled complacently. The other’s flattery touched him. Like
many men in higher walks of life, the rascal was filled with
self-conceit.

“Who do you know in Philadelphia that amounts to anything?”

“There’s Stonewall Bob; he’ll vouch for me,” replied Frank.

“What!” cried Bull, in surprise; “do you mean to say you know
Stonewall?”

“Yes; I’ve worked with him.”

“Why didn’t you say that at first, my lad?” remarked Blair.

“I didn’t suppose you knew.”

Bull laughed.

“I’d be a nice gilly if I didn’t know the best crook outside of New
York! So you know Stonewall Bob, eh?”

“I told you I did.”

“If I had met you last night, I’d have put a big-sized bone in your
way.”

“Why, were you onto a good thing?” asked Hare nonchalantly.

“I turned the best trick of my lifetime,” answered Bull proudly.

“How much did it amount to?”

“I haven’t made up a valuation of the stuff yet.”

“It must be considerable, if it’s the best haul you ever made.”

“Are there any jewelers in Philadelphia that have big capital, and
would be willing to handle any stuff that might be brought to them?”

“I know one who has paid out as much as fifty thousand dollars for a
single lot of diamonds,” said Hare.

Bull Blair’s eyes brightened.

“That is the very chap I want to deal with,” he said.

“Have you diamonds?”

“Yes; and some watches.”

“I don’t think the party I allude to will touch the watches.”

“That don’t matter; I can easily dispose of them here in New York.”

“I’ll go with you to Philadelphia to-night, if you choose?”

“What’s the matter with waiting until to-morrow, eh?”

“As you say.”

“There’s your friend.”

Hare turned and looked toward the door. He gave a little start. Mike
Quick had entered the place.




                            CHAPTER XXII.

                        DETH KILLED BY ENOCH.


“Barry,” said Ajeeb, after Enoch Cook was carried from the parlor,
“do you believe that fellow?”

“Why not?”

“I think he is a lying rascal.”

“It seems to me,” remarked Billy, “that you are suspicious of every
one with whom you come in contact.”

“I’ve never been suspicious of you,” said Ajeeb snappishly.

“Then I am a bright and shining exception to your general rule.”

“It does not seem probable Kidd and Cook would allow themselves to be
robbed.”

“Enoch told you that the others had the drop on him and his pal.”

“Even so, they would not give up such a precious treasure without a
struggle.”

“They wouldn’t fight against such terrible odds,” said Barry.

“I would.”

“Those rascals are not so brave as you.”

“At any rate, Cook has put his head in the lion’s jaw.”

“What do you propose to do with him?” asked Billy.

“That is a strange question.”

“Why strange?”

“Have you not heard me affirm, over and over again, that I would
punish with death those who, with sacrilegious hand, handled the Eye
of Jobu?” asked the heathen priest.

“Then you mean to have Cook killed?”

“Most certainly.”

Barry appeared disgusted.

“Ajeeb,” he said, “don’t you think you are going too far?”

The Abyssinian laughed, and his cruel eyes grew brighter.

“I but intend to do my duty, as I understand it,” he replied.

“You are not required by any law, human or divine, to kill this man.”

“I will not argue the matter.”

“Then you will rue the act, if you put this man to death.”

“Hundreds have been killed because I willed it.”

“Yes: but that was in your own country,” remarked Barry.

“The victims had friends.”

“And they were probably afraid to make an effort to revenge
themselves upon you.”

“I shall never die by violence.”

“No man can tell what is to be the method of his death.”

“I who have the power to read the future, can, my friend.”

“You can’t make me believe that you, or any one living, can penetrate
the mystery of that which is to come.”

“Why should I not kill both Cook and Stolburst?”

“Go ahead; just count me out from this time forth.”

“What do you mean?”

“I intend to look out for my own safety, that’s all.”

“I do not understand.”

“I mean that I intend to cut loose from you,” said Barry.

Ajeeb’s brow darkened. His steely eyes glittered dangerously as he
glanced at his English friend. He felt that he could but ill afford
to lose Billy’s help. The latter was more or less acquainted among
the thieving fraternity of New York, and might be able to help him
recover the Eye of Jobu.

It was particularly galling to Ajeeb to have Barry speak of deserting
him. The heathen priest had been so long accustomed to command that
he expected deference to his wishes from all.

“My friend,” said the Abyssinian, “have I not always treated you
right?”

“Yes; but I’ll take my oath you won’t make me a murderer!”

“I have not asked you to kill any one,” remarked Ajeeb.

“It amounts to the same thing. I duped Stolburst so that his capture
became easy.”

“Well?”

“That makes me an accomplice, in the eyes of the law, to anything
that may befall the man while he is in your power.”

“No outsider knows you helped to kidnap him,” said Ajeeb.

“Neither does any outsider know you had one of the poor devil’s ears
cut off; but it will come to light some day.”

“Not unless I am betrayed.”

“You know very well that I will not betray you.”

“One sometimes does not know who to trust,” said the Abyssinian.

“Do you mean to imply that I might, under any circumstances, become
an informer?”

Barry’s features had become pale from anger.

“No,” smiled Ajeeb. “I would trust you just as I trust Ashah; and he,
you know, is a model of fidelity.”

“Be sensible, Ajeeb; you can gain nothing by sacrificing these men.”

“The great Jobu has been desecrated. I would be his unworthy priest
were I not to mete out dire punishment to the offenders.”

“Do you speak from your heart?”

“I do.”

“Well, I never did think you were such a terrible fanatic!”

“I would willingly sacrifice my life if by doing so the green diamond
would be returned to the head of Jobu.”

It appeared to Barry that the Abyssinian meant what he said.

“I’ll help you, but only under certain conditions,” said Barry.

“I’ll pay you anything you may demand,” returned Ajeeb.

“It is not the financial end of the affair I wish to discuss.”

“No?”

“You must promise not to have either of your prisoners killed.”

“You have suddenly become very tender-hearted, I see.”

“I’m not going to run chances of swinging on a gallows.”

“Suppose I refuse to make the promise you require?”

“In that case,” replied Barry, “I cannot work further with you.”

Ajeeb bit his lip nervously.

“Well,” he said, after a long pause, “I cannot afford to lose you.”

“Then you’ll agree that no further harm is to be done these men?”

“I’ll agree to that.”

Just the same, Ajeeb determined that death should be meted out to
Cook and Stolburst. For the present, he would allow them to live. As
soon as he had no further use for Barry, the blow would fall.

It was now evident to the Abyssinian that Stolburst knew nothing as
to the whereabouts of the diamond. Still, he did not regret having
punished Stolburst as he did.

“Remember,” said Barry, “that, if I discover you break your word, I
shall leave you to find this diamond without my aid.”

“I never yet was accused of not living up to a bargain.”

A shriek, loud and long drawn out, echoed and reechoed throughout the
house. Both men started.

“What can this mean?” cried Barry.

“Come.”

Ajeeb led the way to the cellar.

There, on the floor of the red-curtained apartment, lay Deth, with
his own poniard driven into his breast.

In one corner stood Stolburst, and he trembled with fear.

Enoch Cook had disappeared. Barry and Ajeeb had passed him in the
darkness as they came down the cellar stairs. Cook had flattened
himself out as much as possible against the wall. When they passed,
Enoch ran lightly up-stairs and passed out of doors.

His attack on Deth had been so sudden, and his execution so swift,
that for a moment Stolburst was paralyzed. Before he regained
complete possession of his faculties, Ajeeb and Barry appeared. Then
flight was out of question.

Ajeeb’s face was black with passion when he comprehended what had
occurred. He raised Deth’s head.

A sound similar to the howl of a dog escaped the heathen priest. The
man was dead.

Ajeeb allowed Deth’s head to slip from his grasp. Billy saw that his
friend’s face was distorted with anger.

Ajeeb sprang at Stolburst, and, clutching him by the throat, dragged
him in to the middle of the apartment.

“Accursed dog!” exclaimed the Abyssinian; “is this your work?”

Stolburst’s throat was gripped so hard he was unable to answer.

“Ajeeb!” cried Barry, catching hold of the other’s arm; “you already
forget the promise you made me!”

“I forget nothing.”

“Can’t you see that you are strangling the poor devil?”

Billy caught hold of Ajeeb’s arm, and forced him to release his hold.

Stolburst sank to the floor, gasping for breath. It was several
minutes before he found himself able to articulate. Ajeeb stood over
him, like an avenging angel.

“Mercy!”

That was the first word that fell from the prisoner’s lips.

“You have nothing to fear,” said Barry.

Stolburst looked gratefully toward the speaker, and then he arose to
his feet.

“Where is Cook?” thundered Ajeeb.

“I know not.”

“Was it you who stabbed my faithful Deth?”

“No; I would not harm him.”

“You attacked him before.”

“True; but I did not seek to do him injury,” replied Stolburst.

“How did Cook manage to get hold of Deth’s poniard?”

“He suddenly snatched it, and drove it into the man’s breast. I
closed my eyes when Deth fell, and when I opened them Cook was gone.”

Ajeeb uttered a fearful malediction, and ran up-stairs. He found the
hall door open. It was plain that Enoch had escaped.

Ashah was absent. Had he been in the house, Cook might not have
escaped so easily.

Ajeeb returned to the cellar. His anger, if anything, had increased.

“Did not Cook tell you he intended to attack Deth?” asked Ajeeb.

“He uttered not a word of his plan to me,” replied Stolburst.

“Why did you not follow him?”

Stolburst did not reply.

“Come away from here,” remarked Barry.

“What for?”

“We can talk more at our leisure up-stairs.”

There was a piece of rope lying on the floor.

Ajeeb picked it up and bound his prisoner’s wrists together. Then he
followed his friend from the cellar, leaving Stolburst alone with the
dead.

“Ajeeb,” said Billy, “your luck has begun to turn.”

“What do you mean?”

“The next man you will have to deal with is Burt Cromwell.”

“Pursuit of me,” said the Abyssinian savagely, “will mean death for
him!”




                           CHAPTER XXIII.

                           THE BIRD FLOWN.


When Burt visited his office the morning after the occurrence at
Ajeeb’s, he found Enoch Cook awaiting his coming. Burt had spent
nearly the whole of the night previous in looking for Mike Quick
without succeeding in finding him.

“Well,” he said, “you look rather excited, Enoch.”

“I ought to be excited.”

“Why?”

“I may say that I came near croaking,” said Cook.

“How?”

“Mister Ajeeb would have cooked my little goose if I did not leave
his neighborhood when I did,” replied Enoch.

“You talk in riddles.”

“I found Ajeeb.”

“And tracked him to his lair?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see Stolburst?”

“Yes.”

“Then he still lives?”

“Yes; but Ajeeb has deprived him of his right ear.”

“The monster!”

It was now the detective that was excited.

“I guess Ajeeb would have had me killed offhand.”

“Then you were also in his power?” asked Burt.

“Yes; I met him at Union Square, and followed him to his house. Ashah
shadowed me, but I didn’t know it at the time. To make a long story
short, the giant knocked me out, and carried me a prisoner into the
house.”

“How did you manage to escape?” asked the detective.

“I stabbed the Abyssinian who stood guard over me and Stolburst with
his own knife. I guess I killed him; but that won’t count as murder,
will it?”

“No. But why did not Stolburst come away with you?”

“That’s something I cannot understand,” replied Enoch. “I called
to him to follow. I guess Ajeeb and his friend intercepted poor
Stolburst’s flight.”

“Who is Ajeeb’s friend?”

“An English crook.”

“His name?”

“Stolburst told me he learned the fellow’s name was Billy Barry.”

“I know him,” said Burt; “and I can’t understand how he came to know
this heathen priest.”

“He is the chap that engineered the job that led to Stolburst’s
capture.”

“How was that job worked?”

Enoch related the story as he heard it from Stolburst. The latter
still believed that the beautiful Zulima was a party to the plot. As
he had once almost loved the girl, the poor captive now loathed her.

“How many people are there in this house,” asked Burt, “besides Ajeeb
and Barry?”

“I saw no one, now that Deth is dead, except Ashah.”

“I guess we can manage him.”

“You will surely not enter that den alone?” remarked Cook.

“Why not?”

“The odds against you will be too great, and you may lose your life.”

“Where is this house?”

Enoch told him.

“That arch-devil Ajeeb,” said Burt, “has chosen an aristocratic
neighborhood for his residence.”

“The high priest has an unlimited supply of money.”

“How do you know that?”

“I had it from Stolburst.”

“That gentleman is apt to exaggerate things in which the Abyssinians
are concerned.”

“I heard it said in Gondar that the priest Ajeeb had control of the
moneys of the temple, which amounted to millions.”

“In that case,” said Burt, “Billy Barry must be living in clover.”

“Have you seen Quick?”

“No; have you?”

“I had no chance.”

“You are quite sure you did not send him word that I had discovered
his crime?”

“I swear I did not!”

“I begin to think the rascal has skipped the town.”

“Is his place closed?”

“No.”

“Then it is safe to bet that Mike is in town,” said Enoch.

“How do you stand with his bartender?” asked Burt.

“Up in G.”

“Then you should be able to locate the rascal.”

Cook’s countenance fell.

“Don’t ask me to do that,” he pleaded.

“Why not?”

“Quick has been a good friend of mine, and I can’t give him the
‘razzle-dazzle.’”

“Oh! that’s it?”

“You wouldn’t go back on a man that had treated you well?”

“I suppose not.”

“Well, that’s my case,” said Enoch. “I promised you I would not tell
Mike you were looking for him, and I will live up to that promise,
but do not ask me to do more.”

Burt looked at his companion in some surprise. He had believed that
Enoch had no feeling for any one but himself.

“Well,” he said, “I guess I can locate this fellow without your aid.”

Cook hoped Quick might escape arrest.

“I’m sorry Mike has got himself in such a bad box,” he said.

“He may thank you for it. Quick would never have visited the ‘fence’
only you put him onto Monte Murphy.”

Enoch became pale.

“I certainly did not believe,” he said, “that Mike would murder the
man.”

“Perhaps he, instead of Bull Blair, secured the great green diamond.”

“No; Tony Riley said Blair had gathered that in.”

“My opinion of Riley is that the fellow is an unmitigated liar.”

“I think he told the truth that time.”

“Do you know where Blair hangs out?”

“I might be able to find out.”

“I wish you would.”

“I’ll go to work to-day.”

Both men then left the office.

Burt went to the house occupied by Ajeeb, accompanied by two
policemen in citizen dress. In answer to Burt’s ring, the door was
opened by a middle-aged colored woman.

“Can I see the master?”

Burt and one of the policemen pushed past the negress, while the
other officer remained on guard outside.

“Who do you mean?”

“He is known to me as Ajeeb.”

“The gentleman does not live here any more,” said the woman.

“Where is he?”

“Mister, I’d like to know that myself.”

“When did he leave?”

“When I came here this morning he was gone; that’s all I know.”

“Don’t you live here?”

“No. I come every morning and do the cleaning up.”

“You know that a man has been confined as a prisoner in the cellar of
this house for many days.”

“Laws, you don’t say so?”

Burt saw the colored woman’s surprise was genuine.

“Who are there in the house beside yourself?” he asked.

“No one that I know of.”

“Which is the way to the cellar?”

It was pointed out. Burt found the red-curtained apartment in which
Stolburst had been kept prisoner. The latter was not there. On the
floor lay the body of Deth.

Burt searched the cellar thoroughly. Stolburst had been removed--that
was plain.

Burt bitterly cursed his luck. He was as far from finding Stolburst
as when he began to search for him. Next he and the police officer
went through the house.

On the mantel of a room that the negress said had been occupied
by the heathen priest, Burt found a small miniature, painted on
porcelain. The colored woman declared it to be a likeness of Ajeeb.
Burt studied the features carefully, and then placed the painting in
his pocket. He again questioned the negress.

“How long have these people been here?” he asked.

“About three months.”

“Does Ajeeb own the furniture?”

“Not all; he owns some of it.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I worked for the people who owns this house, and who lived here
before he came.”

“Did he have many visitors?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“When did you leave the house, as a rule?” asked Burt.

“Along in the afternoon.”

“And you never heard any cries for help proceed from the cellar?”

“I’d have told the police if I did,” replied the woman. “You are not
a friend of Mister Ajeeb, I guess?”

“Hardly.”

“What for does he want to keep any one a prisoner?”

“You are going to take a hand at questioning me, I see.”

“I’m mighty curious.”

“Well, aunty, your curiosity is not destined to be satisfied this
time.”

“Won’t tell me, eh?”

“No.”

There came a sharp pull at the bell. The negress opened the door and
ushered Zulima into the house. The princess started when her glance
rested upon Burt.

Her first instinct was to withdraw, but she conquered it. The girl
walked majestically into the front parlor. Burt followed.

“I suppose,” he said, “you came here on an errand similar to my own?”

Zulima looked at the detective scornfully.

“What do you mean?”

“That you came here to see that delightful uncle of yours.”

“It is nothing to you why I came here,” remarked the girl saucily.

Burt smiled.

“You look more beautiful than ever,” he said, “when you are angry.”

“Why should you insult me?”

“I never, knowingly, insulted a woman in all my life.”

“Your sneering compliment was an insult,” declared Zulima.

“Perhaps, then, I shall lower your dignity much further.”

“What do you mean?”

“I may put you under arrest, and have you locked up in prison.”

Zulima’s cheeks blanched and her lips trembled.

“I have broken no law.”

“You helped Ajeeb entrap Stolburst, who had so long been your friend.”

“That is not so.”

“You knew he was in your uncle’s power?” said Burt.

“Yes.”

“You made no effort to effect his release by reporting the matter to
the police.”

“I am not an informer.”

“Do you know that Ajeeb cut off one of his prisoner’s ears?”

“My uncle never informs me of his acts,” she replied.

“Your heart must be just as bad at the core as his.”

“Thanks. Your opinion of me is not very exalted.”

“Was not Stolburst your friend?”

“Yes.”

“And you were willing he should be sacrificed without moving a hand
to save him?” asked the detective.

“The man is a thief, and worse than that--a liar.”

Now Zulima’s face became flushed with excitement.

“You must have held his friendship pretty cheap when you were willing
to throw it aside at the behest of your uncle.”

“I will tell you the object of my present visit,” said the girl.

“I wish you would.”

“I came here to ask my uncle to set the man at liberty.”

Burt smiled at this. He believed she uttered an untruth.

“You know very well,” he said, “that Ajeeb would not grant that
request.”

“Perhaps, sir,” returned Zulima icily, “you know my uncle better than
I.”

“I don’t know him at all, but I hope to soon make his acquaintance.”

“Beware; he is one of the anointed of Jobu.”

“With all respect for you, allow me to say that if he were a priest
a hundred times over he shall be made to suffer at the hands of the
law,” said Burt.

“Rash man, you will rush to your own destruction.”

Again Burt smiled.

“My lady,” he remarked, “I never allow myself to be frightened at
threats.”

“Of what is Ajeeb accused?”

“I have already spoken of the torture to which Stolburst was
subjected.”

“The man has not been murdered,” she remarked calmly.

“He is disfigured for life.”

“To prove your case you will be obliged to produce Mr. Stolburst.”

“I’ll find him.”

“No. Ajeeb intends to kill him and bury his remains.”

The beauty’s features wore a smile as she made the extraordinary
statement.




                            CHAPTER XXIV.

                     HARE’S DISGUISE PENETRATED.


Hare would have given anything if Burt was present when Mike Quick
entered Shaw’s. He was wise enough to recognize the fact that he
would have no chance to take the murderer unaided from the den. There
were at least twenty desperadoes in the place and every man of them
would, if called upon, help Quick resist the detective.

“Don’t you see your friend?” asked Bull Blair, nodding toward Mike.

“Who do you mean?”

“The bloke who is after coming in.”

“I don’t know him.”

Blair looked at his companion in undisguised amazement.

“Here you’ve been telling me you were acquainted with Mike Quick.”

“So I am.”

“There he is, standing at the bar.”

“Is that man’s name Mike Quick?” asked Frank innocently.

“Of course it is.”

“That’s strange,” remarked the detective nonchalantly; “the Mike
Quick I know is a young fellow like myself. Perhaps it is that chap’s
son.”

“He ain’t got a son.”

“I never saw that man before.”

“Well,” said Bull, “he’s the only Mike Quick in this town that I ever
heard of.”

“Perhaps the fellow I knew was only giving me a ‘barney’ as to his
name.”

“I think you are giving me a ‘barney,’” remarked Blair.

Hare appeared offended.

“If you doubt my word,” he said, rising from his chair, “I guess we
will cut our acquaintanceship right here where it began.”

“Sit down.”

Frank grumbled and did so.

“Do I look like a fraud?” he asked.

“No.”

“Well, I ain’t one.”

“Don’t get your Irish up for such a little thing,” said Blair.

“I treat every one square,” remarked Frank, “and look for the same
treatment in return.”

Bull laughed.

“You’re full of fight,” he said, “and I rather like that.”

“Is this Quick you know on the cross?” asked Hare.

“Yes, and I know no other of the name in the same line of biz; that’s
the reason I took you up.”

“Then the fellow I met traveled under his name.”

“That’s just about the size of it. The chap was some one who makes
Quick’s his headquarters.”

Hare chuckled softly to himself. He had cleverly got out of what
threatened to be a serious dilemma. Bull called for more drinks.
After finishing his own, he excused himself for a few minutes.

Blair went up to the bar, where Quick still remained.

“Mike,” he said, “I want to see you alone for a few minutes.”

“What is it, Bull?”

“Something that will interest you.”

The two men adjourned to a small room that was partitioned off one
corner of the dive. There they seated themselves.

“First of all,” said Bull, “I want to ask you a question.”

“Drive ahead.”

“Do you consider me a friend of yours?”

“Why, certainly.”

“I was never known to blab, was I?”

“I’ve always heard you spoken of as a square man, and I so consider
you myself. What are you trying to get at?”

“Mike,” said Bull, and he looked the other straight in the eyes, “was
Monte Murphy well the last time you saw him?”

Quick gave a great start. His face became pale and he sank his nails
deep in his palms.

“What do you mean?” he asked, in a hoarse voice.

“You know.”

Mike glared fiercely across the table at his companion. This man knew
of the crime he had committed at the fence? Was Monte dead?

If so, this man could perhaps send him to the gallows. Why not kill
Blair?

That thought came to him, but he dismissed it. Had they been alone
in some unfrequented spot he would have attempted the other’s life.
Perhaps more than Bull knew of it?

That thought was anguishing. Blair noted the changing emotions of the
man as they appeared on his features.

“I rather gave you a lift in that job,” said Bull.

“Eh?”

Quick spoke in the manner of one in a dream.

“I found Murphy alive, and----”

“You finished him!” exclaimed the murderer, with a glad cry.

“He must be dead now.”

Quick’s joy showed itself upon his face. He reached his hand across
the table.

“Shake!”

Bull grasped the extended hand.

“Mike,” said Blair, “your secret is safe with me.”

“It is you who murdered him.”

“I?”

“Did you not finish him up?”

“I never said so.”

Quick looked daggers at his companion.

“What did you do?”

“I did not harm the man.”

“Explain.”

“I merely placed him in the cellar, where any cry he might make for
help would not be heard,” replied Bull.

“Then you don’t know whether the old wretch is dead?”

“His life was fast passing away when I left him; he must be dead now.”

“Of course it was Murphy who told you I stabbed him?”

“Yes.”

Quick smiled fiercely.

“I didn’t stab him--but I was present when the deed was done.”

Blair did not believe this statement.

“It is all the same who stabbed the old man,” he said. “I would never
give you away.”

“Did you visit the ‘fence’ alone?”

“Yes.”

Bull did not think it advisable to let his companion know that Tony
Riley was with him.

“What brought you there?”

“I wanted to sell Murphy a watch.”

“How did you get in?”

“I found the door open, and, hearing Monte’s moans, I went to his
room.”

“I was a fool to have run away,” thought the murderer.

Then he said aloud: “I’m much obliged to you, Bull, for what you did
in placing the old fellow in the cellar.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Now, as it happens, the fellow who did the cutting is an old friend
of yours.”

“Who is it?”

“Bull, you can’t expect me to tell you his name.”

“Why not?”

“I swore never to breathe it to any one,” replied Quick.

Blair smiled. He knew quite well that there had been no one concerned
in the crime beside the man who now sat opposite to him.

“Well,” remarked Bull nonchalantly, “of course I can’t expect you to
go back on your oath.”

“I know it would be safe to tell you the chap’s name, but you see how
I am placed.”

“The police will never be able to get onto you, Mike.”

Quick laughed nervously.

“I wish I could be sure of that,” he said. “Do you want to do me a
favor?”

“Of course--what is it?”

“I’d like to have you go up to the fence and see if Monte is still
alive.”

“You are quite moderate in your demands,” remarked Bull cynically.

“I’m not asking much.”

“Then what’s the matter with you going up there yourself?”

Quick shook his head.

“No,” he said; “strange as it may appear, I have a superstitious
dread of going near that house,” he replied.

“I don’t care about going there myself.”

“Then you won’t go?”

“I’d like to oblige you.”

“Why don’t you refuse pointblank, and have done with it?”

“I do refuse.”

“Then you are not such a big friend of mine as I thought.”

“You have gall to ask another to do what you fear to do yourself.”

“I expect to pay you for the trouble,” replied Mike.

“Nothing you could offer would induce me to go to that house.”

“You are as big a coward in this particular matter as myself.”

“Say no more about it.”

“Remember,” said Quick, “you have given me your word never to speak
of the murder, if murder it is.”

“You have my promise.”

“Good. Let us go out and have a drink.”

They went out to the bar. After drinking with Mike, Bull rejoined
Hare. At about the same moment Quick left the dive.

Frank’s first impulse was to follow the murderer. By doing so he
would lose the grip he had obtained on Blair. He had been assigned to
capture the latter, and Frank decided to live up to his instructions.

It was not his purpose to make an early arrest, however. He believed
that if he played his cards sharp he stood a good chance of locating
the great diamond of which Burt was in search. There was an old head
on Frank Hare’s young shoulders.

“I gave that chap a fine scare,” said Bull, with a coarse laugh.

“Who?”

“Who? Why, that fellow Mike Quick,” was the reply.

“How did you do it?”

“Now, my boy, you are asking entirely too much.”

“I thought you intended to tell me all about it.”

“But, you see, I don’t.”

“Then my curiosity must remain unsatisfied,” remarked Frank.

“Just about.”

“You were saying you would introduce me to a chap who would put me in
the way of making some ducats.”

“Curse that Tony Riley!” exclaimed Bull; “he should have been here an
hour ago.”

Mr. Blair would have been perturbed if he had known his friend
languished in a station-house cell.

“Is Tony Riley your friend’s name?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“No, but I’d like to.”

“Why would you?”

“Because he must be away up, or you would not travel with him.”

Again the ruffian’s vanity was tickled.

“How much money have you got?” inquired Bull.

“Enough to keep me for a few days,” replied Hare.

“Come and bunk with me.”

Hare was delighted.

“You are very kind.”

“Not to everybody.”

“You’ve treated me to-night as if I was a dear friend.”

“That’s because I’ve taken quite a shine to you.”

“Then I’m in luck.”

“You’d be in better luck if you had got acquainted with me about
twenty-four hours earlier.”

“Do you intend to take your diamonds to Philadelphia for sale?”

Blair’s brow grew dark, and he glanced suspiciously at his companion.

“Who said anything about having diamonds for sale?”

“You did.”

“I’ll take my oath I didn’t.”

“You forget.”

“I ain’t one of that kind.”

“Let it go at that.”

“Suppose I have got some diamonds?” said Blair.

“As I told you before, I can introduce you to a man who will pay you
more than you can get here in New York.”

“We’ll talk about that in the morning, young fellow.”

“As you choose.”

“You can bet it is as I choose. Let us have another drink.”

“Haven’t we had enough?”

“One more, and then we will go home. You’ll bunk with me?”

“I’m glad to get the chance.”

“I’ll stake you in grub and liquor until you make a strike.”

“You won’t find me ungrateful,” returned Hare.

“I hope not.”

They drank their liquor and left the dive together. Bull conducted
his new-found friend to a small lodginghouse, a few blocks distant
from Shaw’s.

Frank found the rascal’s room neatly furnished, and it contained two
cots. He was glad of this latter, as he would not be obliged to rest
at the side of Blair.

Bull closed and locked the door. Then he seemed to instantly sober
up, although he must have drunk more than a quart of whisky.
Springing upon the detective, he bore him to the floor.

“Frank Hare, I know you!”




                            CHAPTER XXV.

                         ZULIMA BREAKS DOWN.


Burt Cromwell looked upon the beautiful Abyssinian in disgust when
she spoke of her uncle intending to murder Henry Stolburst.

“I have heard,” he said, “that savages were proverbially grateful.”

“I am not a savage.”

“You are worse.”

“Save your taunts; they have no effect upon me.”

“Has your uncle any other residence than this?” asked Burt Cromwell.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Near Gondar, Abyssinia.”

“You are quite humorous,” remarked the detective. “Ajeeb has a worthy
relative in you.”

“I suppose by this time uncle has at least removed his prisoner’s
other ear.”

Burt Cromwell received this with loathing. How could so beautiful a
being have so black a heart?

Zulima did not mean what she said just then. She really felt sorry
for Stolburst’s hapless condition. More than once she had implored
her uncle to set him free. She might as well have appealed to a
stone. Ajeeb knew no pity.

Zulima now took a keen delight in appearing as a monster in feeling
to the detective.

“I’ve no doubt,” said the latter, “but you would not mind joining in
the torture of your former friend?”

“If Ajeeb so commanded. I know no law but his.”

“Do you mean to say you are entirely subservient to his commands?”

“Entirely so.”

“Did he give you permission to leave your own country?”

“No; neither did he tell me I should not do so.”

“Suppose he had done the latter?”

“I should have remained in Abyssinia,” replied Zulima, giving
utterance to a lie.

“Do you really wish to see Henry Stolburst die?” asked the detective.

The beauty broke down. Flinging herself upon a sofa, face downward,
she gave way to a fit of weeping.

Burt remained silent until the girl’s tears were expended. Then she
arose from the sofa.

“Monsieur,” she said, “I hope they will not kill their prisoner.”

“You talked in quite a different strain not long ago.”

“That was to tantalize you.”

“Why should you tantalize me?”

“I don’t know. I believe I have not been myself since I first saw my
terrible uncle in New York,” she replied.

“Do you really think Ajeeb has killed his prisoner?”

“I know nothing about it any more than you do.”

“When did you see your uncle last?” asked Burt.

“Yesterday.”

“Did you speak of Henry Stolburst?”

“Yes; uncle said he was satisfied Henry Stolburst could not return
the Eye of Jobu.”

“Did he say anything further?”

“Yes; he said he was tired of keeping the man a prisoner.”

“He did not hint at murder?”

“No.”

“You don’t think he would be likely to set Henry Stolburst free?”

“No; he would not do that.”

“Then the only way he could rid himself of the man would be by
murdering him.”

“Ajeeb does not consider murder a crime,” remarked Zulima.

“He must know something of the laws of this country.”

“My uncle knows of the usages of most nations. He has traveled
extensively in Europe.”

“Do you know a man named Barry?” asked Burt.

“I’ve heard the name.”

“Have you ever seen its owner?”

“No; I only know that uncle has a friend of that name.”

“Do you know whether this man was concerned in the kidnaping of Henry
Stolburst?”

“My uncle never told me anything relating to that affair.”

“Henry Stolburst believed you aided in the scheme,” said Burt.

“Then he does me an injustice.”

“Didn’t you know that Ajeeb intended to make him a prisoner?”

“No; I did hear my uncle say Henry Stolburst would regret having
removed the eye of our god, or words to that effect.”

“Would you have warned Henry Stolburst if you knew he was in danger?”

“Frankly, I would not.”

“Then you did not care whether he suffered?”

“At that time--no.”

“Your feelings have since undergone a change, eh?”

“Yes. Now I do not think the gentleman’s offense is so great as Ajeeb
makes it out.”

“Have you any idea where your uncle has taken refuge?”

“Not the slightest. He is a man of infinite resources.”

“So he seems to be.”

“In Gondar, no one knows where he resides,” said Zulima.

“Why is that?”

“I know not.”

“He fears assassination, perhaps?”

The girl smiled.

“None there would dare attempt injury to the high priest, even by
order of the king.”

“You don’t mean to say that Ajeeb is a bigger man than King John?”

“Of course not; but the king would not dare injure him.”

“Would you tell me where Ajeeb is if you knew?”

“I should have to consider the matter for a long time before I could
properly answer that question.”

“Do you still reside in the St. Joseph flats?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I may want to see you again, that’s all,” said Burt.

“To put me in prison, perhaps?”

“If it comes out that you had anything to do with the kidnaping you
will have to suffer with the other guilty parties.”

“You talk as if you were confident of bringing Ajeeb to justice.”

“Yes; I speak from conviction.”

“I hardly think you will succeed in your mission; and now, with your
permission, I will return home.”

“As you choose.”

Zulima immediately left the house.

Burt and the two policemen returned to the station-house. Burt
reported the finding of Deth’s corpse, and a coroner was notified.

Burt did not allow it to appear that he knew under what circumstances
the Abyssinian met his death. Leaving the police station, the
detective sauntered down Sixth Avenue to Tenth Street. On the corner
he saw Billy Barry smoking a cigar and having his boots polished.

When the latter operation was completed, Barry started down Sixth
Avenue. Burt followed, and saw his man enter a liquor saloon.

Billy had but finished a cocktail when the detective touched him
on the shoulder. The drinker turned quickly around. He gave a
perceptible start upon finding himself confronted by Burt.

“Well, sir.”

The Englishman fitted a pair of glasses on his nose as he spoke.

“I’d like to have a few words with you in private.”

“I don’t know you, my man.”

“You will very soon discover who I am,” said Burt.

Barry led the way into one of many small, curtained compartments,
fitted up around the sides of a large rear room. Both men sat down.
Billy did know who his companion was, and he felt rather uneasy.

“I did not know you were on this side of the ocean,” remarked the
detective, “until this morning.”

“Who do you take me to be?”

“Billy Barry, a notorious London crook,” replied Burt.

The other flushed up to the roots of his hair.

“You are exceedingly complimentary?” he remarked.

“I about hit the nail on the head, just the same?”

“Who are you?”

“Don’t you know?”

“I shouldn’t have asked you if I did,” replied Barry.

“My name is Burt Cromwell, and I am a detective.”

“I don’t see what business you can possibly have with me.”

“First of all, I want to make some inquiries about a dear friend of
yours.”

“A friend of mine?”

“Yes; one you must have been bleeding rather liberally.”

“I certainly do not know what you are trying to get at.”

“I refer to the Abyssinian priest who is known as Ajeeb.”

Again the English crook started. How had the detective learned of the
connection?

That puzzled the rascal. First he thought that perhaps Burt Cromwell
had captured Ajeeb and the latter had informed against him. Billy
dismissed that thought almost at its birth. Ajeeb would never squeal,
he told himself.

“I don’t know the man you refer to,” replied Barry.

“I have proof that you do know him,” said Burt Cromwell.

“Proof, eh?”

“Yes; that of Enoch Cook.”

A light broke upon Billy. Stolburst had told his fellow prisoner
about him.

“I don’t see that it is any of your business who my acquaintances
are.”

“In this case I choose to make it my business,” said Burt.

“You are very impudent.”

The detective laughed.

“Don’t try to play the role of a highly indignant gentleman--it won’t
fit you.”

“What about this Ajeeb?”

“Oh! you choose to admit that you know him, eh?”

“Is it a crime to know him?”

“No; but those who associate with him are always mixed up in his
crimes.”

“I did not cross the ocean to do any funny business.”

“Come over for pleasure, I suppose.”

“That’s just the size of it.”

“I know you are in this man’s employ,” said Burt.

Barry laughed. His mirth was forced, however.

“My dear fellow,” he said, “this Ajeeb has millions of money.”

“Then you have had a very soft snap,” remarked Burt.

“Having so much money, why should he engage in crooked work?”

“His mission to this country is one of murder, as you know.”

“I do not know of the Abyssinian having killed anybody.”

“How about Henry Stolburst?”

Barry expected to be asked that question, and he was prepared.

“Who is he?”

“The unfortunate man who is in this demon’s power, and who has been
tortured by him,” replied the detective hotly.

“I know no such man,” returned Billy promptly.

“You know it will not avail you to lie to me.”

“I’m giving you a straight story.”

“It was you who decoyed the man into Ajeeb’s power.”

This was only a chance shot, but it went straight to the mark. Barry
became very pale, and he fidgeted nervously in his chair.

“Burt,” he said, with a forced smile, “you are talking through your
hat.”

Burt smiled. He saw he had the villain cornered.

“I will prove my assertion,” he said, “at the proper time.”

“I defy you to prove anything crooked against me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Are you through with me?”

Barry made a motion as if to rise.

“Oh, no; keep your seat.”

“Well?”

“Of course you know where your friend has removed?”

“Has he moved?”

“You know that very well.”

“I saw him last night, and he said nothing about changing his
residence.”

“You were at his house when his slave, Deth, was killed?”

“I know nothing of any one being killed,” said Barry.

“How grossly misinformed I am,” sneered the detective.

“You certainly are.”

“Come.”

“Where?”

“You are my prisoner.”

“Am I?”

Barry reached for his revolver as he spoke.




                            CHAPTER XXVI.

                        BULL BLAIR’S ESCAPE.


Bull Blair’s attack was so sudden and unexpected that Frank Hare
found himself stretched on the floor before he well knew what had
happened.

“Curse you, you shall never leave this room alive.”

Blair produced an ugly-looking knife.

“You thought you had me nice,” he added; “and so you did at first.”

The brute fell on one knee. At that moment he found himself covered
by the detective’s revolver.

“Drop that knife or I will send you to the devil, your master.”

Bull arose hastily to his feet.

Hare did likewise.

“Are you going to drop that knife?” said Frank sternly.

Blair was cowed. He knew the detective would shoot if he hesitated.
With a muttered oath he flung the weapon upon the bed.

Frank had had a narrow escape. He wondered why the desperado had not
allowed him to retire before attacking him. That was what Bull had
intended to do; but, acting upon a sudden impulse, he did not wait
for what would have been a more favorable opportunity.

“Now,” said Hare, when the other discarded his knife, “you are my
prisoner.”

“What for?”

“For robbing Monte Murphy and leaving him to die.”

Bull’s eyes seemed to grow as large as saucers as he looked
wonderingly at the detective. How had the latter gained his knowledge?

That query puzzled the villain. Blair determined to present a bold
front. That was not easy. Like every other bully, he was at heart a
great coward.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said.

“In court I will be more explicit,” remarked Frank.

Bull was an old offender. He had twice been convicted of burglary.
At best he would get a long term, and that would practically mean
imprisonment for life, as he was past fifty years of age.

The rascal’s mental torture was something difficult to describe. He
had no hope of mercy if arraigned in court. How he bitterly cursed
himself for having made a premature attack on the detective.

“Hold out your right hand.”

Bull did not seem inclined to obey.

“Quick, or I’ll shoot.”

The hand was put forward. Hare snapped a steel cuff on it, and soon
after the connecting one enclasped Blair’s other wrist.

“Now,” said Hare, “I’ve just got you where I want you.”

“This is all dead wrong.”

“Why, my dear fellow.”

“Because I have committed no crime,” replied Blair.

“I suppose you’ll even deny having assaulted me?”

“I did that in a fit of passion.”

“I’m now acting in a fit of passion,” sneered Hare.

“Frank, I didn’t mean to harm you; I swear I didn’t.”

“Oh, I don’t suppose you would have done much more than killed me.”

“If I wanted to murder you I should have waited until you went to
sleep.”

“Yes, that would have been the better way; but then I would not have
gone to sleep.”

“I never robbed Monte Murphy.”

“You did more; you threw him into a cellar to die.”

Blair gave a sudden start. It was plain to him that Murphy lived, or
had lived long enough to tell what happened him to whoever found him.

“I never injured the man.”

“You found him dying from a stab wound. I know all about it.”

“Did Monte make this charge against me?” asked Bull.

“Yes.”

“The man must have taken leave of his senses.”

“No, but he has taken leave of life,” said Frank.

“Did he also accuse me of having stabbed him?”

“No; but you might have saved his life if you had got a doctor, or
sent Tony Riley after one,” replied Hare.

“But I tell you I have not been across Murphy’s threshold in weeks.”

“Your pal, Tony Riley, was arrested there to-day.”

The villain became deadly pale.

Now he believed that, instead of Murphy, it was his pal who had given
the detective the information the latter possessed.

“Riley is no pal of mine.”

Frank smiled.

“You told me in Shaw’s that he was; I guess at that time you had not
tumbled to whom you were talking.”

“I haven’t done a job with Tony in a long time.”

“I’m rather surprised you do not deny knowing the man.”

“I know him,” said Bull, and he uttered a terrible oath.

“You don’t feel very pleasant toward him, I see.”

“Would you like to have a man tell lies about you?”

“How do you know Tony spoke of you? I didn’t say so.”

“It would be just like him; that duck ain’t worthy of belief.”

“In that case he strikingly resembles you,” smiled Hare.

“I may be bad, but I wouldn’t lie to save myself from the gallows.”

Bull spoke with affected dignity, which caused the detective to laugh
outright.

“I haven’t said anything funny,” growled Blair.

“It struck me that way.”

Bull glanced at his manacled wrists, and something like a groan
escaped him. Would he ever be free again?

“Now,” said Hare, after a pause, “where are those diamonds you wish
to dispose of to my Philadelphia friend?”

“They are not here.”

“I asked you where they were.”

“A friend is minding them for me,” replied Blair.

“Do you think I am such a gawk as to swallow that story?”

“I can’t help it.”

“Those diamonds you stole from Monte Murphy.”

“I stole nothing from him.”

“Is there among the gems one large one of a greenish tint?”

“I have no such stone.”

“Of course the ones you have were not stolen?”

“I bought them on speculation,” replied the prisoner.

“Well, Bull,” said Hare, “you are, without any exception, the best
single-handed liar I ever encountered.”

“I’m telling a straight story.”

Hare locked the door and put the key in his pocket. Then he began
a search for the burglar’s plunder. Almost all Bull’s earthly
possessions were contained in a cedar box.

Frank ransacked this without finding that of which he was in search.
He turned everything in the room upside down. It began to appear that
Blair had for once been truthful.

“You will find no diamonds or jewelry here,” said the latter.

“In whose keeping is the swag?” asked the detective.

“I have no diamonds here or anywhere else,” replied Bull.

“I know that you have at least the one I spoke of.”

“Frank, I was only joking when I spoke to you of having diamonds for
sale.”

“Were you also joking a moment ago when you said the jewels were in
the keeping of a friend?”

“Of course. Do you suppose I’d trust any of my acquaintances with
articles of value?” remarked Bull.

“Come,” said Hare sternly, “I have put up with quite enough of your
nonsense.”

“I’m treating you on the square.”

“Where are those diamonds?”

Frank’s blue eyes flashed angrily.

“Again I tell you I have no diamonds,” said Blair, “but if you give
me freedom, I can tell you something that will interest you, or I am
mistaken.”

“What is it?”

“Mind you, I only accidentally learned this thing.”

“Speak out.”

“I can tell you,” said Bull, with a sneaking smile, “who inflicted
Monte Murphy’s death-wound.”

The villain’s promise to Quick did not weigh as a feather with
him. Blair would willingly sacrifice Mike, or any one else, for
that matter, to achieve his own ends. Better, he argued, that the
dive-keeper should be hanged than he should end his days within
prison walls. The brute was thoroughly selfish to the last degree.

“How did you learn who the murderer is?” inquired Frank.

“Quite accidentally, as I before remarked.”

“Didn’t Monte Murphy tell you?”

“No.”

“How then did you learn?”

“From the party himself.”

“Men who commit murder do not go around bragging about it.”

“The man is a close friend of mine,” said Bull.

“And you are quite willing to sacrifice him, eh?”

“He’d do the same on me,” growled the prisoner.

“Blair, you are even a blacker rascal than I thought.”

“Every one should look out for himself, that’s the way I look at it.”

“You certainly take an elevated view of what one friend owes another.”

“Give me freedom, and I will tell you who killed Monte Murphy.”

“I refuse.”

“Don’t you want to know?” cried Bull, in surprise.

“No.”

“That’s queer.”

“Not at all. I already know.”

Blair’s countenance fell. He had played his last card and lost.

“It is all up with me,” he said.

“Give me that greenish stone and I will set you at liberty.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes.”

“You will find it in the water-pitcher.”

Frank darted for the utensil named. He had hardly turned his back,
as he was obliged to do, when he was startled by a crash of wood and
glass. Bull Blair had leaped through the window to the street below.




                           CHAPTER XXVII.

                       BILLY BARRY, OF LONDON.


Before Barry could draw his revolver he was downed by a blow from the
detective’s fist. Before the man could rise Burt was upon him. Burt
disarmed the fellow, and then allowed him to get up.

“My friend,” said the detective, “you see you are not so smart as you
think.”

A bump arose on Barry’s forehead where he had been struck. The
English crook fairly boiled over with wrath.

“You shall pay dearly for that blow,” he said.

Burt laughed.

“I am quite accustomed to being threatened,” he remarked.

“I never make idle threats.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“I will if I feel so disposed.”

“Then you better not feel so disposed, unless you want more of the
same treatment,” said the detective.

Barry glared at his companion, who had leisurely seated himself.
Billy also dropped into a chair, but he did not know why he did so.
Flight was out of the question. Had it been night it would have been
very different.

Now Sixth Avenue was crowded with shoppers, and he could not go very
far without being stopped with a short turn.

“I can’t see,” remarked Billy, “why you should choose to make me
a prisoner. It is possible that this Abyssinian may have some
nefarious scheme afloat, but I am not a party to it.”

“Why did you draw a revolver on me if you did not fear arrest?”

“I did not draw one.”

“It amounts to the same thing. You tried to do so.”

“I certainly do not want to be arrested. I am told that the chief of
police here has all crooks, who appear in public places, gathered in
and sent to prison.”

“You admit being a crook?”

“I was one in England up until about a year ago.”

“Is it not possible the English authorities are searching for you
now?”

“There is no charge hanging over me, my friend.”

“I only have your word for that,” remarked Burt.

“This time my word goes.”

“Where did you become acquainted with the Abyssinian?”

“In London.”

“How long ago?”

“About five years.”

“You are old friends, eh?”

“I never considered him anything more than an acquaintance.”

“Now, Barry,” said the detective, “I know you were concerned in
kidnaping Henry Stolburst.”

“I have never even seen the man,” returned Billy.

“You know such a person exists?”

“Yes; I’ve heard Ajeeb say Henry Stolburst stole a great diamond from
a temple near Gondar,” said Barry.

“Have you ever been in Abyssinia?” inquired Burt.

“No, and I don’t want to go there.”

“What have you against the country?”

“It is not the country, but the people who live there.”

“What about them?”

“They are rather too hot for my blood, that’s all,” replied Barry. “A
man’s life is not worth much with them chaps.”

“Is Henry Stolburst dead?”

“Do you suppose Ajeeb would tell me if he killed him?”

“You are very deep in this heathen priest’s confidence.”

Barry smiled.

“It is evident you do not know Ajeeb,” he said.

“Well?”

“That man makes no confidants; he keeps everything entirely to
himself.”

“You surely know that he made Henry Stolburst prisoner?”

“As regards that, I’ve learned more from you than I ever heard from
him.”

Barry spoke with an air of conviction, but Burt did not believe him.

“Do you mean to say the Abyssinian never told you he held Henry
Stolburst prisoner?”

“That’s exactly what I do say.”

“I can hardly credit you.”

“Ajeeb did say something a few days ago about making Henry Stolburst
give up the diamond he had stolen.”

“He did not speak of the means he intended to apply to effect this
end?”

“Not to me. You seem deeply interested in this explorer.”

“I am.”

“Is he your friend?”

“He is my employer.”

“Your employer?” said Barry; “I cannot understand that.”

“He engaged me to find this diamond of which Ajeeb is in search.”

“Have you succeeded?”

“I shall succeed.”

“What disposition does Henry Stolburst intend to make of the stone?”

“He did intend to give it to Ajeeb,” replied Burt.

“Has he changed his mind?”

Burt smiled.

“My friend,” he said, “we seem to have changed positions.”

“How?”

“You have become the inquisitor,” replied Burt.

“Well,” said Barry, drawing in a long breath, “I do not think Ajeeb
would murder the man.”

“Only a moment ago you expressed entirely different sentiments.”

“I don’t know that I did.”

“You remarked that these Abyssinians placed little or no value on
human life,” remarked the detective.

“That is truth.”

“Then, knowing that Ajeeb hates this man, you say it is not likely he
has been murdered.”

“This is America, and there are laws to be feared. At home Ajeeb’s
acts would not be questioned. In Gondar he is looked upon as a
prophet.”

“Is Ajeeb a fanatic?”

“I never knew a more thoroughgoing one. When I first knew him I used
to believe that the devotion in which he spoke of his idols was not
sincere, but I afterward learned he was in dead earnest.”

“Now, Barry, you must know where Ajeeb has taken up his residence.”

“I don’t; and I’d advise you to go slow in arresting him.”

“Why?”

“You know it is dangerous to play with edged tools.”

“I never yet saw a man that I feared,” remarked Burt.

“I am not attempting to advise you; but I do say that I would not
incur this man’s enmity for anything.”

“Afraid of him, eh?”

“Yes, I’ll confess that I am afraid of him,” said Barry.

“Well,” said Burt, “you should not have linked yourself with the man.”

Burt could not prove that the English crook had had anything to do
with the disappearance of Henry Stolburst, without the evidence of
the latter. He could have arrested the fellow for attempting to
assault him, but Barry would get off with a fine.

Burt deemed it best to allow the man to go free. He determined,
however, to keep a watchful eye on him.

“I assure you,” said Barry, “that I have had no hand nor part in any
of Ajeeb’s schemes.”

“You visit him frequently?”

“I’ve been in his house but twice,” replied Billy.

“Would you prevent him from killing this man Henry Stolburst if
opportunity offered?”

“I would. Never have I shed human blood or countenanced the act.”

“I guess if you were in a tight corner you would not hesitate to
shoot?”

“Perhaps; I have not a very good command over my temper.”

“I’ve decided not to arrest you,” remarked Burt, “as I had at first
proposed.”

Barry smiled.

“Will you have a glass of wine with me?” he asked.

“No; good day.”

“I’ll have Hare shadow him,” thought Burt, “and in that way we will
locate this infernal Abyssinian.”

Burt made his way to his office, and found Frank there.

“Did you get your man?” asked Burt.

“I had him.”

“And let him slip through your fingers, eh?”

“That’s just the size of it,” replied Hare, with a laugh.

Burt looked disgusted.

“You seem to regard Blair’s escape in a humorous light,” he said.

“There can be no harm in a man laughing at himself.”

“How did it happen?”

The first part of the young detective’s narrative is already known
to the reader. Frank, of course, did not find the Eye of Jobu in the
water-pitcher.

When Bull went crashing through the window, which was on the third
floor, Hare ran down-stairs and into the street. He expected to find
his man dead, or at least badly wounded. He did not find him at all.

Blair had lighted on a canvas awning, and, by a sudden wrench,
snapped the chain connecting the handcuffs. Then he slipped down one
of the poles that supported the awning to the street. Beyond a severe
shaking up the desperado was unhurt.

“So,” said Burt, when his companion finished, “you saw Mike Quick?”

“Yes--at Shaw’s,” replied Frank; “and I was sorry you were not with
me.”

“Were you speaking to him?”

“No; but he and my friend Bull had a long chin.”

“I wonder does Quick suspect his crime is known?”

“I don’t think so. Since seeing Quick I told Blair I knew all about
the killing of Murphy,” replied Frank.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“There was no harm in it.”

“Suppose Bull runs across Mike Quick?” said Burt.

“Well?”

“Why, can’t you see that Blair will tell Quick we are after him?”

“I have an idea that Bull will not care for another interview with
Quick.”

“You should not have told him, all the same.”

“Why, Burt, I had him dead as a prisoner,” said Hare.

“But he got away.”

“Yes; but I never thought he had a chance of doing so.”

There came a sharp rap on the door.

“Come in.”

Enoch Cook entered, and he puffed for breath.

“I have located Bull Blair,” he said.




                           CHAPTER XXVIII.

                      MIKE QUICK GIVEN A SHOCK.


Frank Hare was wrong in the opinion that Blair would not seek an
interview with Quick. The morning after his escape from the young
detective, Bull went around to Mike’s dive. The bartender was quite
well acquainted with his visitor.

“Where is Mike?”

The bartender laughed.

“The boss has gone down South on a hunting trip,” he replied.

“You don’t sa-ay!”

“Yes; been gone over a week now.”

“Then it is strange I should be talking with him yesterday.”

“I’m only giving you what he told me when he went away.”

“Young fellow, you are entirely too fresh--see?” remarked Bull. “You
have not been employed in this place a week.”

In fact, it was the fellow’s first day in Quick’s employ, he having
been engaged the night before to take the place of the bartender who
had on one occasion knocked Burt out.

The newcomer, Jim Elford, was an ex-sneak-thief.

“Sa-ay, Bull, you can’t see the boss--understand?”

“Why can’t I see him?”

“Just because I say you can’t.”

“Are you the boss here?”

“Just now I am.”

“Is Quick in the house?”

“Sonny,” remarked Jim, who was many years younger than the man he
addressed, “you can’t get any information from me.”

“What have I done to you?”

“Nothing, and I’ll take care you don’t do anything to me.”

Bull felt like dragging the fellow from behind the bar and mauling
him.

“I know,” he said, “that Mike wants to see me, Elford.”

“I’ve got nothing to do with that.”

Quick was up-stairs. He had left instructions with the bartender
to deny that he was at home. Jim seemed bent upon carrying out his
employer’s instructions to the very letter.

“Well,” said Blair, “give me some of your whisky.”

Elford put out a bottle and glass, and his visitor drank.

“I’ll bet,” he said, “Mike Quick will rue not seeing me.”

“Can’t you leave any message you have with me?”

“No.”

“Afraid to trust me?”

“What I have to say is meant for Quick’s especial ear,” said Bull,
“and as I can’t see him I suppose I had better sneak.”

Blair moved toward the door. Jim called him back.

“Stop here a moment,” said the bartender, “and see that no one runs
off with the place.”

Elford then went out by a rear door.

He was absent only a few moments.

When he returned he said: “You’ll find Mike in the room above the
store.”

“Now, Freshy,” sneered Bull, “you see I knew what I was talking
about.”

Blair found the dive-keeper in the room indicated by Elford.
Quick seemed in the best possible humor, and a smile wreathed his
dissipated-looking features. He had been reading an account of the
finding of Murphy’s body in a morning paper.

No mention was made of the fact that the “fence” was alive when
found. Mike now felt sure that his victim was found dead. The case
would, he believed, go down in the annals of New York history as
a mystery. But no. The man who now called to see him knew who the
murderer was.

Quick set his teeth hard when this occurred to him.

“Well?” said Mike, when Blair appeared, “this visit is unexpected.”

“It is well I got to see you at all.”

“How is that?”

“That chap, Elford, denied that you were in,” said Bull.

“He was only carrying out my instructions; you can’t blame him.”

“Mike,” said Blair, “my reason in coming here was to prove I am your
friend.”

“I’ve never doubted it.”

“You must clear out of here!”

“Must I?”

“Yes; the detectives are onto you,” answered Bull.

Quick started.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I say. They know who stabbed Monte Murphy.”

“Who told you this?”

“One of them.”

“Come, now, Bull,” said Mike, with a forced smile, “I ain’t going to
believe that.”

“It is Bible truth.”

“Have you friendly relations with the police?” remarked Quick.

“This fellow played me for a sucker, and came mighty near ramming me
into jail.”

“Who is he?”

“Frank Hare.”

“I don’t know him.”

“He knows you.”

“Is he one of McClusky’s fly coppers?” asked Mike.

“No; he works for Burt Cromwell.”

At the mention of that name the dive-keeper became very pale.

“Do you mean to say Burt knows about that Elizabeth Street business?”

“Yes; he found Murphy just before the latter died.”

“And Murphy spoke to him?”

“Yes.”

Now Quick trembled like an aspen. Never in his wicked life had his
position been so fraught with danger to himself.

“You say Hare tried to arrest you?”

Bull told of his escape.

“Now,” said Quick, “what did he wish to arrest you for?”

“Stealing that watch I spoke to you about,” replied Blair.

Bull did not wish his companion to know the real reason of his visit
to the “fence.”

“Do you know Enoch Cook?”

“Yes.”

“Have you seen him lately?”

“I met him as I was coming here,” replied Bull.

It may be stated, in passing, that Enoch had shadowed Blair to the
dive, and then hurried to Burt’s office to tell what he had done.

“I’d like to see Cook.”

“Perhaps I can answer as well.”

“No; you haven’t got the brains of Enoch,” remarked Quick. “I’d like
to have him advise me what to do.”

“Do you know where he hangs out?”

“He has been hanging out here up until a few days ago.”

“You don’t know where I would be likely to find him then?”

“No,” replied Mike. “Now, Bull, suppose you are arrested for stealing
this watch?”

“I guess,” replied Blair, laughing nervously, “I will have to go up
the river.”

“That ain’t what I’m getting at. I’m afraid you may be tempted to
‘peach’ on me.”

Bull looked horrified. How could any one take him for an informer?

The idea was ridiculous. At least he told his companion that it was
preposterous.

“Well,” remarked Quick, evidently distrustful of Blair, “I’d like to
feel sure you would be true to me.”

“I will be, I swear it.”

Bull raised a hand and his eyes to the ceiling. Before his visitor
had entered the room, Quick believed that Monte Murphy had not seen
any one but Blair before dying. Well it was for the latter that he
told of the old “fence” being found alive by the detective.

When Bull was announced, Mike thought that if he put his victim out
of the way it would never be known who killed Murphy. He had about
made up his mind to kill Blair. Now he could gain nothing by doing
so, as he quite readily recognized.

“Bull,” said Quick, “I am going to leave the city. Suppose you come
with me.”

“Where do you intend to go?”

“I have not figured on any place in particular.”

“How is Boston?”

“No good; Chicago is better.”

“Have you any money?”

“A few thousand.”

“I’m your man. When will you start?” asked Bull.

“I’ll meet you at the Pennsylvania Depot, in Jersey City, at eight
to-night.”

“It is a bargain. Now I will be going.”

After the departure of his visitor, Quick paced the room nervously.
His conscience did not trouble him. His mind was perturbed simply
because his crime had been discovered. And what had he gained by
killing the old “fence”?

Nothing. The man who had just left gained that of which Quick had
gone in search. Could Mike have known that Blair had the green
diamond, he would not have allowed him to depart so readily.

Bull had not the remotest idea of keeping his appointment with the
dive-keeper. But he did intend to leave New York on his own hook.

Blair believed that, to save himself, Tony Riley would tell the
police all he knew about the robbery. Bull made up his mind not to
visit any of his usual haunts.

Quick was startled by hearing what seemed to be a row down-stairs.

“Jimmy don’t seem to be able to keep them roosters from fighting,” he
remarked. “It would be different if I was behind the bar.”

Suddenly everything became quiet and Mike dropped into an armchair.
At that very moment the door of the room was thrown open.

Burt Cromwell stood upon the threshold.




                            CHAPTER XXIX.

                      PIERRE JACQUET’S REVENGE.


At sight of the detective Quick sprang to his feet. Not until then
did he see that Burt Cromwell had a cocked revolver in his hand.

“Sit down!”

Mike obeyed mechanically. When Enoch Cook told the detective he had
located Bull Blair at the dive, Frank Hare wanted to go there.

Burt Cromwell insisted upon taking the matter in his own hands. Of
course he prevailed.

Burt Cromwell had not expected to find Quick at the dive. The row
heard by the latter occurred between Elford and the detective. Burt
Cromwell had left the fellow insensible on the barroom floor. Then he
locked up the place, before beginning a search of the premises for
Bull Blair.

“I did not expect to find you here, my man,” said Burt Cromwell,
after a pause.

Quick looked vacantly at the detective for a full minute. Then he
spoke.

“By what right do you force your way into my apartments?” he said.

“You know why I am here!”

Yes; only too well did the rascal know.

“I don’t know.”

“Where is your friend?”

“Whom do you mean?”

“Bull Blair.”

“He is no friend of mine.”

“He was here?”

“Yes,” grumbled the dive-keeper.

“I suppose he called around to tell you he had secured that wonderful
green diamond?” remarked Burt quietly.

Quick started. His nervous excitement was mirrored upon his face.
Blair had secured the prize. The thought was galling.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said.

“You know very well I mean the diamond Cook told you about.”

It now broke upon the wretch that Enoch, in whom he had so deeply
trusted, had turned informer. On all sides he seemed surrounded by
enemies.

Mike groaned in very anguish of spirit. He cursed himself for having
returned to his den.

“Cook never spoke to me about any diamond,” he said.

“I prefer to believe Enoch in preference to you,” remarked Burt.

Quick made a motion as if to put his hands behind him.

“Keep your hands in view, or I will shoot,” cried Burt determinedly.

Mike placed his hands on his knees.

“Will that answer?” he asked.

“Yes; keep them there.”

“I shall.”

“Now, my friend, will you please tell me what led you to kill Monte
Murphy?”

The dive-keeper’s cheeks became ashen pale.

“I did not kill the man.”

“I have his word for it, and he should know,” said Burt.

“I have not even seen the man in more than a year.”

“Mike, lying will avail you nothing.”

“When was he killed?”

“You should know the hour at which you stabbed; he died some time
later.”

“Burt, I swear I am guiltless of the charge you make.”

“Then you will be given a chance to prove your innocence. Bull Blair
knows that you stabbed the old man.”

“Does he say so?”

“No; but he will tell all he knows readily enough when he is placed
on the stand.”

Now Quick believed his late companion had been arrested. He did not
dare ask Burt if such was the case.

“Burt, you are really barking up the wrong tree,” said Quick.

“Do you intend to submit quietly to arrest?” remarked Burt.

“What’s the use of kicking?”

“Hold out your hands together and as far as you can.”

The dive-keeper obeyed. All his brutal courage seemed to have oozed
out at his finger ends. In a jiffy Burt snapped handcuffs on the
fellow’s wrists.

“Now, my friend,” said the detective, “I’ve got you snug enough.”

“Burt, would you mind answering a question of mine?”

“Certainly not.”

“Has Enoch Cook turned up as an informer?” asked Quick.

“I don’t know as you can properly designate him as an informer. Just
now, however, Enoch is in my employ.”

An oath escaped the prisoner. If Cook was in the detective’s employ,
he certainly could not be anything else but an informer. That’s the
way Quick argued the matter.

“Enoch used to talk very loud against you chaps,” remarked Mike.

“He has come to see the error of his ways,” smiled Burt.

“Oh, no; he is an old hand and cannot lead a straight life, no matter
how hard he may try,” declared Quick.

“Just now he is endeavoring to do reparation for a wrong to which he
was a party.”

“Was Kidd in the job?”

“Yes--the prime mover.”

“Have you arrested him?”

“Not yet.”

“When Dick comes to find out that Cook has gone back on him there
will be some hair pulling, or I lose my guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“That Kidd will have Enoch’s scalp,” replied Mike.

“I guess Cook is fully able to protect himself.”

“He may be.”

“Some time ago you denied knowing Dick Kidd; now you speak of him as
a firm acquaintance,” remarked Burt.

“I’ll tell you how it is.”

“Don’t; I haven’t time to listen to explanations,” said Burt. “Come.”

“Must I go?”

“You don’t suppose I am joking with you, my man?”

“I wish to Heaven it were a joke!” said the dive-keeper.

“So do I, for your sake. I do not like to help forward a man to the
gallows.”

The gallows!

At mention of that Quick felt his blood run cold. He had always
considered himself courageous in a marked degree. It was that his
brutal instincts blinded his reason. At bottom he was not as brave as
the ordinary man.

Now he felt limp. There was no ray of hope in his mind. Why had he
allowed the detective to make him a prisoner so easily?

He regretted being so docile. Better to have been shot and killed by
Burt than to die on the scaffold.

The man worked himself into such a nervous condition that finally he
became terror-stricken.

“Burt,” he said, “I will give you everything I possess in the world
for one hour of freedom.”

“You know very well I cannot consider such an offer.”

If Burt had had the slightest doubt of the man’s guilt it vanished
now. He never saw a more guilty-looking being.

Quick trembled in every limb and his knees became weak. Burt feared
the fellow was going to collapse.

“I am not guilty!”

The murderer’s voice was low and husky.

“We will leave that for the court to decide,” said Burt.

Then he inserted his arm within that of his prisoner and led him from
the place. That was Mike Quick’s last farewell to the dive over which
he so long presided. At the same time that Mike was being led to
prison another affair in which we are interested was taking place.

The scene was a café on Bleecker Street and the parties Pierre
Jacquet and Mr. Richard Kidd.

The latter had moved his place of residence to that quarter. Only the
day before Pierre had been discharged from the hospital as cured. The
meeting of the pair was purely accidental.

Kidd was engaged eating breakfast when the man he had wronged
entered. At sight of Dick the Frenchman gave a great start. Then he
conjured up a pleasant smile.

Kidd grew ghastly pale as Jacquet approached him. He had no weapon
and he cursed himself for leaving his room without arming himself, as
was his custom. Pierre seated himself at the same table and opposite
Dick.

“You do not seem to have much appetite, monsieur.”

Kidd glanced apprehensively at the other. Jacquet’s face still wore a
smile.

“I’m glad to see you,” remarked Dick, for the want of something
better to say.

“I thought you would be.”

“I did not, however, expect to see you in America,” remarked Kidd.

“No?”

“You seemed so wrapped up in Paris I did not suppose you would ever
leave it.”

“I came to New York to pay a visit and for a change of scene.”

“Have you friends here?”

“Are you not my friend?”

“Certainly.”

Kidd had never uttered a greater lie.

“You see, then, I have at least one friend,” laughed Jacquet.

“You did not cross the ocean to visit me, surely?”

“Who knows?”

“How are all my friends in Paris?”

“Quite well; and they will be delighted when I go back to learn that
I have met you.”

Every moment Kidd thought that the Frenchman was about to spring at
him. Jacquet continued to wear that imperturbable smile.

“I shall be delighted to show you around,” said Dick.

“How is Aimee?”

“Who do you mean?”

“My wife.”

“How should I know? Is she not well?” remarked Kidd.

The latter felt that a crisis was coming. He looked toward the door
longingly. Had he sprung toward it Pierre could easily intercept him.

“Villain!” hissed Jacquet, and now the smile disappeared; “you stole
my wife from me!”

Kidd laughed. The wretch’s laugh was unreal.

“I have never seen your wife since I left your cabaret; some one has
been imposing upon you, my dear Jacquet.”

“Aimee left a letter behind saying she had gone away with you, and
friends of mine saw you together at Havre.”

“A lie!”

“It is truth. I came across the ocean to see you, Monsieur Kidd.”

“Pierre, I will be candid with you,” remarked Dick.

“Well?”

“Your wife did come to America on the same vessel as I did.”

The Frenchman’s eyes blazed with passion and he compressed his lips.

“But,” continued Kidd, “I swear to you it was not a case of
elopement. I did not even know your wife contemplated coming to this
country until I met her on shipboard.”

“That is a nice tale.”

“It is a true one.”

“How can you prove it?”

“By your wife.”

“I have no wife.”

Jacquet’s speech contained more truth than he thought. Aimee
Jacquet’s remains had become food for the fishes long before.

“You have a wife.”

“I had one; she disgraced me, and is now forever dead to me.”

“She has not disgraced you.”

“No?”

“She is now in Philadelphia.”

“Do you know her address?”

“Yes; I have forgotten the number, but I have it written down in a
book, which is in my room. I know the name of the street is Callow
Hill.”

“Did she give you any reason for leaving me?” asked Pierre.

“She declared she could no longer mix with the class of people who
visited your cabaret,” answered Kidd.

Dick began to entertain hope that Jacquet believed his story. It did
seem so.

“Aimee did not tell you,” remarked Pierre, “that one of her brothers
is undergoing life imprisonment for murder and robbery?”

“No.”

“I did not know but she had confided her own family history to you.”

“I did not seek to win the lady’s confidence; as a matter of fact, I
desired her to return home.”

“How good of you, my dear Monsieur Kidd,” sneered the Frenchman.

“Pierre, you will not feel offended if I tell you something
unpleasant?”

“No.”

“I believe your wife has become insane.”

“Then you drove her to it!”

Pierre whipped out a revolver and fired pointblank at the destroyer
of his home. With a groan, Dick Kidd tumbled out of his chair to the
floor.




                            CHAPTER XXX.

                   THE PRINCESS VISITS STOLBURST.


The day after her interview with the detective Zulima had a caller in
the person of Ashah. The giant came in a coach and told the princess
her uncle wanted to see her. As he knew, the beautiful girl regarded
Ajeeb’s commands as imperative.

She entered the coach with Ashah and they were driven very far
up-town. Ajeeb had taken possession of a somber-looking building that
stood alone by itself. During the journey the ill-assorted couple
never exchanged a word.

Upon arriving at their destination they found Ajeeb was not at home.
He had left a note behind saying he would not return for an hour.

“Ashah,” said the princess, in her most gentle terms, “is the
prisoner under this roof?”

“Yes.”

“I should like to see him.”

The giant frowned.

“That would not be pleasing to my master,” he said.

“Did Ajeeb tell you I was not to be allowed to see Stolburst?”

“No.”

“Then why do you refuse to grant my wish?”

“I have not refused.”

“Then conduct me to where Stolburst is,” requested the girl.

“Don’t you think Ajeeb would be angry if I did so?”

“Why should he? Am I not of the same faith? There can be none who
grieves more for Jobu’s loss than I.”

Ashah really believed this.

“Come,” he said.

The giant conducted Zulima to a room on the top floor and there left
her. Zulima saw her old friend stretched upon a lounge, and bound
hand and foot.

Stolburst’s cheeks were sunken, and his eyes looked dull. At sight of
his visitor color suffused the prisoner’s thin cheeks.

“You here to taunt me?” exclaimed the prisoner bitterly.

Tears sprang into the beauty’s eyes. Not until now did she fully
realize how much the man had suffered. She felt that she was
responsible for much of Stolburst’s suffering.

“I did not come here to taunt you,” said Zulima.

“Then leave me.”

“Leave you?”

“Yes; I cannot bear to look upon your false face.”

Now a tear stole down the girl’s cheek. Stolburst saw it. He thought
she was shamming grief.

“I came here to assure myself that you still lived.”

“Life can never be but a mockery to me, deformed as I am.”

“Yesterday I saw one who will free you,” said the girl.

“Who?”

“His name is Burt Cromwell.”

“I suppose you came to tell your uncle all about it?”

“Nothing of the kind.”

“Why are you here?”

“Ajeeb sent for me.”

“What does he want?”

“I have not seen him yet; he is away from home.”

“To-morrow,” said the prisoner, and he laughed hysterically, “your
uncle is going to even up matters for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing much; he merely promises to remove my other ear!”

“It shall not be!” cried the girl, with heightened color.

“Who will prevent it?”

“I!”

“What!” cried the prisoner; “you would not dare run counter to your
uncle’s wishes?”

“I have resolved to do so,” said Zulima, in a low whisper.

Stolburst looked at his visitor in wild amazement. He still believed
that it was she who had planned his capture. Was she only torturing
him by holding out hopes which would never be fulfilled?

He believed so. Experience had taught him that the Abyssinians were
cruel to a most remarkable degree.

“If you intend to help me,” said Stolburst, “cut my bonds at once.”

“No.”

“I thought you were but making sport of my misery.”

“You misjudge me.”

“Yes, once I did,” he said; “but since then my eyes have been opened
to your true character.”

“On my knees I have begged my uncle to give you freedom.”

“I won’t believe that.”

“It is truth.”

“Then why do you not release me now, while you have the chance?”

“Ashah is down-stairs and he would kill you if you tried to escape.”

“Then how do you propose to free me?” asked Stolburst.

“By sacrificing my uncle!”

“Explain.”

“I shall tell the detective where to find you,” said Zulima.

“Do you know where to find him?”

“No; but he spoke of calling upon me,” replied the girl.

Stolburst told her where Burt’s office was.

“Now,” said Zulima, “I must go down-stairs before Ajeeb returns.”

“Will you see the detective to-day?”

“Yes, if it is possible.”

“Excuse my cruel words,” said Stolburst; “you are not the wicked
creature I thought.”

Zulima smiled and left him. When Ajeeb appeared he told his niece he
wished her to take possession of his former abode. She acquiesced.

Zulima did not tell her uncle of having met the detective. Neither
did she speak of her visit to the explorer. Her interview with Ajeeb
was very short.

At its conclusion she departed. Zulima noted well the number of her
uncle’s residence. She lost no time in going to Burt’s office.

There she met Frank Hare, who was, of course, unknown to her. He told
her that Burt was absent and he did not know when he would return.

Zulima declared she would wait. Hare asked her to confide her
business to him. This Zulima refused to do.

Frank did not press her. The young detective, as he drank in her
beauty, surmised who the visitor was. Burt had spoken to him more
than once about her. After having Quick committed to the Tombs Burt
returned to his office.

Then Hare very prudently took his departure.

“My dear madam,” said Burt, “have you been waiting long to see me?”

“About an hour, but I did not mind,” replied Zulima.

“Can I do anything for you?”

“Yes.”

“Name it.”

“I want to exact a promise from you,” said the girl.

“What do you require?”

“That if I help you find Mr. Stolburst you will not arrest my uncle.”

Burt smiled. He now felt sure the girl knew where the explorer was
confined.

“I’m afraid,” he said, “that you are asking too much.”

“Then you will not agree to my terms?” said Zulima.

“It is impossible.”

“What do you care whether Ajeeb is punished so long as you secure the
freedom of your employer?”

“But I do care.”

“Why?”

“Because I would be false to my duty if I were to allow so great a
rascal as Ajeeb to escape punishment.”

“I am sorry you have arrived at that decision,” remarked Zulima.

“It is unalterable.”

“Then I cannot help you.”

“You have learned where Stolburst is?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t you know yesterday?”

“No, sir.”

“Have you seen the poor fellow?” inquired Burt.

“Yes, and talked with him.”

The fact that she had promised Stolburst to secure his freedom was
ever present.

“I cannot promise what you ask, so I suppose I shall have to find my
man without your aid?”

Zulima was surprised at the detective’s coolness. She thought he
would jump at her offer when she made it. She felt much chagrined
over his failure to do so.

“Without my aid,” said Zulima, “you will never succeed.”

“I shall at least try very hard,” smiled the detective.

The girl became uneasy. This was quite apparent.

Burt believed she would tell him what he desired to know without him
entering into conditions. There was a great struggle going on in the
beauty’s mind. It was pity contending with duty.

The law would not take her uncle’s life. Her uncle might take
Stolburst’s life. The battle was over.

“I will tell you where to find Mr. Stolburst,” she said.




                            CHAPTER XXXI.

                             CONCLUSION.


Zulima told the detective where her uncle was domiciled. Then,
womanlike, she burst into a flood of tears. Bitterly did she regret
ever having become acquainted with the explorer.

Burt found Frank in the hallway and told him of his discovery.

“Have you got Bull Blair?” asked Hare.

“No.”

“Then you look after the Abyssinians and I’ll have another try at
cooking his mutton.”

“Don’t you want to come with me?” remarked Burt.

“Do you want me?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then I will look Bull up if I can. He won’t give me the shake this
time if I succeed in getting the nippers on him.”

Burt returned to Zulima. She had stopped weeping.

Rising to leave she said: “The information I have given you may cost
me my life.”

“There is no danger of that.”

“At any rate,” said the beauty, “life now holds no promises for me.”

Bowing to the detective, she departed. An hour later the house
occupied by the heathen priest was surrounded, front and rear, by
a score of policemen. Accompanied by two sergeants of police Burt
forced his way into the house by way of the basement door.

As the door gave away Ashah sprang for the detective with uplifted
sword. Burt dodged the blow aimed at him and fired at the giant.

Ashah tumbled to the floor with a bullet in his brain. The faithful
slave had died in defense of his rascally master.

“This way!” cried Burt, and he led the way up-stairs.

The two sergeants followed with drawn revolvers. When they reached
the parlor floor they heard two pistol reports up-stairs.

That caused the little party to accelerate their speed.

Burt readily found Stolburst’s new quarters. Upon the floor lay
Ajeeb, with a smoking revolver in his hand. Blood flowed in a
continuous stream from a little hole in his forehead, the edges of
which were blackened with powder. He had bragged to Billy Barry that
he should never die by violence, yet he had in the end inflicted
death with his own hand.

Before shooting himself Ajeeb had shot Stolburst. The bullet aimed at
the latter’s heart had struck a rib and glanced off. Seeing escape
impossible, Ajeeb determined to kill both his prisoner and himself.

Luckily for Stolburst, the villain’s plan had miscarried.

Burt cut the bonds that encircled the prisoner’s ankles and wrists.
Stolburst was insensible, but he soon came around. When he saw the
detective bending over him the unfortunate man’s features became
illuminated with joy.

“At last!” he murmured.

“Yes; you won’t suffer any more.”

“The Eye of Jobu--have you recovered it yet?”

“No.”

The explorer’s countenance fell.

“Too bad--too bad!”

“I have a good prospect of securing it,” said Burt.

“Tell me upon what you base your hopes.”

“Not now.”

“But I must know.”

“You are too weak to converse; I will tell you soon enough.”

A doctor was sent for, and when he came he dressed Stolburst’s wound.
The physician was greatly surprised to see the man had but one ear.
Burt took him aside and told him how Stolburst had lost the ear.

“There is a man in Paris who could do something for him.”

The doctor gave Burt the party’s name and Burt wrote it down. Then he
had Stolburst conveyed to a hospital in an ambulance.

As Burt was leaving the house Zulima met him on the stoop.

“Did you arrest my uncle?” the beautiful girl asked.

“No.”

Her face brightened up.

“I am so glad!”

“Zulima, your uncle is dead.”

The princess did not cry. For a moment she regarded the detective
with a stony stare.

“Where is the body?”

“In the room where Stolburst was confined,” replied Burt.

“Did you kill him?”

“He killed himself.”

Without another word the princess went up-stairs.

Burt took his departure.

It now becomes necessary for us to follow Frank Hare. That cheerful
and ambitious young man got himself up like a beggar. Then he
sauntered out to find Bull Blair.

For hours he went from saloon to saloon in the Fourth and Sixth
Wards, begging. His receipts were lamentably small. At about
nightfall he flushed his quarry. He came on Blair in a beer saloon on
Baxter Street.

As when he met him in Shaw’s, Frank found him alone.

“Please help a poor man,” said Hare, going up to the burglar.

“Clear out!”

“Won’t you give me a little something?” pleaded the pseudo-beggar.

“Haven’t got anything. I’m thinking about going into your line of
business myself.”

“Ain’t you Bull Blair?”

The rascal started at mention of his name, but he did not discover
Frank’s identity.

“Suppose I am?”

“I’ve been hunting for you all day,” said Hare meekly.

“What have you been hunting me for?” asked Bull.

“Because I’m getting paid for it.”

“Paid for it?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Who is paying you?”

“Mike Quick’s bartender.”

“How do you know me?”

“Lord bless you,” said Hare, “I haven’t been traveling about this
district for years without knowing some of the people who live in it!”

“I don’t ever remember seeing you before,” returned Blair.

“That ain’t my fault.”

“Who said it was?” said Bull. “So Jimmy Elford told you to find me?”

“Yes; I’m to get a dollar for the job,” replied Frank.

“Well, you’ve earned the dollar.”

“That’s a mighty comfortable thing for me; I won’t have to roost in
City Hall Park to-night.”

“What does Elford want?”

“To see you.”

“Why didn’t he look for me himself?” remarked Blair.

“I didn’t ask him.”

“Have you no message?”

“He told me to say that Burt Cromwell had gathered in his boss.”

Bull started.

“What!” he exclaimed; “has Mike Quick been arrested?”

“Sure as a gun.”

“I can’t do anything for him.”

“I’m not asking you.”

“Don’t be so sassy,” said Blair. “Where can I see Elford?”

“Down at Shaw’s.”

“I don’t like to go there.”

“You needn’t go in; I’ll have him come out to you.”

“Is Quick’s place closed?”

“I guess so; the bartender told me he was going to close.”

“Come along, then; we will go to Shaw’s.”

When in the vicinity of the Oak Street Police Station Frank suddenly
presented a revolver at his companion’s head.

“What does this mean?”

“It means,” replied Hare, speaking in his natural voice, “that you
won’t get away from me this time!”

Blair recognized the detective for the first time.

“If you try to escape,” said Frank sternly, “I’ll put a bullet
through your head! Now march!”

The young detective landed his fish in the police station. Then he
reported the capture to his chief.

“Did he turn over the green diamond?” said Burt.

“No,” replied Hare nonchalantly; “but he’ll weaken, see if he don’t.”

Frank’s prophecy was fulfilled. The next day Blair sent for him and
told him where he had buried the booty he had secured at Murphy’s.
The spot indicated was beyond the Harlem, but Hare had little
difficulty in finding it.

That afternoon he very triumphantly turned over the treasure to his
chief. Both detectives took considerable interest in examining the
great green diamond.

Mike Quick was convicted of the murder of Monte Murphy. He was never
hanged, having been carried off by an attack of pneumonia.

Bull Blair was sent up the river for twenty years, while his pal,
Tony Riley, got off with ten. After the death of the heathen priest
Burt lost sight of both Billy Barry and the beautiful Zulima.

Dick Kidd died of the wound inflicted by Pierre Jacquet, who fled the
country and was never captured afterward. When Kidd felt that death
was near he confessed to the murder of Aimee Jacquet.

Enoch Cook drifted to Chicago, and was killed in a drunken row there.

Henry Stolburst sent the Eye of Jobu to King John of Abyssinia. He
went to Paris and visited the physician already referred to. The
latter did much to relieve the explorer of his horrible appearance.

But he has never forgotten that he owes his rescue to Burt’s
fidelity, and whenever, in the course of his travels, anything comes
up that he can turn over to Burt he does so.

“Burt Cromwell,” he is fond of saying, “is the best detective I have
ever met in the entire world.”


                              THE END.




                           MAGNET LIBRARY

 A weekly publication devoted to Detective literature. March 4, 1905

                               No. 435


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                         Transcriber’s Notes

  The Table of Contents at the beginning of the book was created by
  the transcriber.

  Inconsistencies in hyphenation such as “every-day”/“every day” have
  been maintained.

  Minor punctuation and spelling errors have been silently corrected
  and, except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the
  text, especially in dialogue, and inconsistent or archaic usage,
  have been retained.

  Page 15: “as great as his devoteees” changed to “as great as his
  devotees”.

  Page 56: “dive-keeper adjourned to the rear room, where they seatd”
  changed to “dive-keeper adjourned to the rear room, where they
  seated”.

  Page 57: “famous fences in New York--Monte Murhpy” changed to
  “famous fences in New York--Monte Murphy”.

  Page 196: “the desperado was uphurt” changed to “the desperado was
  unhurt”.