CHAPTER XIX.--THE MAN BEHIND THE SCENES.

"Not my son!" shouted the old man. "This has gone quite far enough! Jap, call the police, and order this mad youngster taken away."

The younger man broke into a harsh laugh and turned to those who had just entered. Slocum and Chang Chee were whispering together, and a dangerous looking knife showed in the hand of the false ranger.

"You hear what father says, boys," Lemon said. "Remember that."

"What is this kid doing here, anyway?" demanded Slocum.

"He came here, evidently, for the purpose of blackmailing me," Lemon said. "He has papers stolen from the mountains--lists, he says they are--and they should be taken from him by force."

Slocum and Chang Chee started toward the boy, but he waved them back with his hand.

"I will lay the papers on the table," he said. "You are quite welcome to them for the present."

"I'll take him down to the police station," said Chang. "He ought not to be at large. Come, youngster."

"You seem to be able to talk pretty good English now," laughed Ned. "Much better than the slang you gave out in the mountains."

"Come!" shouted the Chinaman. "You are here alone, so there is no need of a fight. Come along!"

"We'll see about my being here alone presently," Ned said. "Anyhow, I'd better be here alone than with any one of you in the dark streets. I should be murdered before a block was passed. That is what you came to Frisco for, to murder me--just as the man in the lake cavern was murdered."

Those in the room looked at each other and remained silent. There was a tense moment, when every person there seemed gathering for a spring, when the lust of blood seemed in every glaring eye, but it passed.

"Where are the Chinamen you brought away from the British border?" asked Ned of Chang Chee. "Are they in this city? Oh," he continued, as Chang glared at him, "we knew that you were about to bring in a batch. You usually light forest fires in order to attract the attention of the rangers when you get ready to unload a band of Chinese on Uncle Sam. That is Doyers street cunning, Chang!"

"You see," he went on, "we have had the good luck to discover why the forests in Northern Idaho and Montana have been set on fire so frequently. I don't care to say what I think of the wisdom of your course in so attempting to hide your movements, except that it attracted attention instead of diverting it. You firebugs might have been arrested long ago," he continued, turning to Slocum, "but it was thought best to wait until the head center of the whole conspiracy was in the hands of the law. Now that this has been accomplished, I may speak."

The people standing around the boy looked into each other's faces, and there was a movement as if to draw weapons.

"Permit me to congratulate you on the discovery of the leader of the outlaws," the old man said with a snarl. "Perhaps you will be kind enough to give us his name?"

"There are no objections that I know of," was the reply. "His name is Felix Emory. You may have heard of him."

"An old acquaintance of my son Albert," the old man said.

"That is the name of the man who was so mysteriously murdered in the Kintla lake cave," Slocum observed. "Why do you place the crime on the dead?"

"Felix Emory," Ned said, "is not dead. He is alive at this moment--alive and in this room!"

The young man broke into a jarring laugh and turned to the old man.

"You remember the strange resemblance between Felix and myself," he said. "Well, it seems to have deceived this clever young man. By the way, Slocum, why don't you take the lad to the police station? We have no more time for him here."

Slocum and another sprang forward, but Ned opened the door with a quick motion and stood beyond their reach.

"The man found dead in the cave," the boy said, facing the old man, "had met with an accident in his youth. The first joint of the little finger of the right hand was missing. Also, there was a scar over his left eye--a trifling scar, made with a knife in the hands of a playmate. Do you recall these marks of identification, Mr. Lemon?" he added.

The old man threw his hands to his face and stood silent for a moment while the others looked on in perplexed silence. When he uncovered his face again he stepped forward to the man he had called his son on entering the room.

"Let me see your hands, Albert," he said, kindly. "Bend down so I can see the scar on your forehead!"

"Step aside, you old fool!" the young man cried, pushing the old man back rudely. "We have had enough of this, boys," he continued, turning to the others. "The game is up unless we get rid of this dotard and this boy. Why don't you get busy?"

The old man dropped into a chair and lifted his face to Ned's.

"You found my son murdered?" he asked. "Then this man Felix Emory stands in his shoes! Even I was deceived by him! Why, he has been calling upon me for large sums of money during the past month. He has taken possession of my boy's rooms. Was it this man Emory who killed him?"

"We believe so," was the reply. "The proof is within reaching distance."

"Out with them both!" shouted Emory.

"Your son Albert took this man in and tried to do something for him," Ned went on, "and was robbed and murdered for his pains. This man Emory was the leader of this choice band of smugglers and firebugs when he came to your son. The band was on the point of scattering because the officers were close on their track. They needed a man well up in the world--a man against whom the breath of suspicion had never been blown--to represent them in the opium market and the smuggled Chinamen market. They sent this man Emory to your son with a proposition, and he turned him down. Then they parted. But Albert knew too much and so he was lured to the woods and killed, and Emory stood before the world as your son. It was a devilish plot, great wealth being the object. If you will look at the stubs in this check-book you will see the difference in the hand-writing."

"I rather admire your nerve, boy," Slocum said to Ned. "You've got the right kind of courage to stand up here and tell all this to us. You know very well that we can never let you go out of this place alive? That even this old man must suffer for your bit of foolish daring?"

"I'd like to have the training of that kid for a few years," Chang said. "I could beat the world with him!"

"Well, you all know what we've got to do," Emory said, angrily. "We've got to get rid of the boy and this old man. If we do not, there is an end of a rather profitable business. Besides, with Albert Lemon dead, I become his heir, with no possible chance of being identified as Felix Emory."

"You devil!" shouted the old man. "You murderer!"

Enraged by the exclamation, Emory made a rush for the old man, but was stopped by a voice from the doorway opening into the rear room.

"That'll be all for you!" the voice said.

It was Jimmie who stood in the doorway, smiling, and making about the worst bow a Boy Scout ever made.

"Don't wiggle about so, gentlemen," he added, "for the men behind this partition have you all covered with repeating rifles, and some of them are nervous. Stand still while a friend of mine presents you with wristlets."

Jap turned and faced the frightened group and then pointed to the wall, near the ceiling, where a line of two-inch holes were seen, at each hole a shining eye.

"You see," he said, "I cut those holes there to-night, so the boys wouldn't have to lie hidden under the furniture. There's a gun behind every one of them. And now, with your permission--"

Jimmie passed out a bunch of clattering, ringing handcuffs, and Jap slipped them on the wrists of the prisoners. As he did so Frank came dashing into the room, swinging his cap aloft. Ernest, Jack, Pat and Liu were there, too, overjoyed at the great victory.

"Wow!" he cried. "Here's a wire saying that the bunch was captured at Portland to-night, and another from Missoula says the men left in the caverns were caught yesterday. I have the honor to report, Mr. Sherlock Holmes Nestor," he added, with a low bow, "that the round-up is complete."

"Our day will come directly," Emory shouted. "You haven't a word of proof against any of us. Your story sounds all right here, but wait until you get into court. Our lawyers will pick your yarn apart like a rag doll. And you, Jap," he went on, turning to the servant, "when did you turn against me?"

"There have been two instances of false personation in this case," Ned said. "You, Emory, personated Albert Lemon, whom you murdered, and you, Jap, personated the servant Emory brought here after he had seen you carried out of the rooms for dead."

"Then that isn't my servant at all?" asked Emory.

"I was in the employ of Albert Lemon," answered the Jap, "when you took him away and killed him. When you came back from the mountains you caused me to be drugged and killed, as you supposed. But your servant hesitated in the work. He finally turned against you, and permitted me to come here in his stead. It was he who disclosed the hiding place of the duplicate key. He told me, and I told Mr. Nestor."

"It is all a blackmailing conspiracy!" cried Emory.

"When Mr. Nestor came back to the city, three days ago," the servant went on, "I was told by the man I was personating in these rooms that the whole plot was known. He said that Mr. Nestor knew that you were not Albert Lemon, also that I, Albert Lemon's servant, still lived. I didn't have much to tell him when he came to me, but I told him all I knew."

"And you let him search my rooms?" cried Emory.

"Of course," was the cool reply. "He has everything required to send you to the gallows for the murder of Albert Lemon, and everything necessary in the case against the smugglers and firebugs, too. He found Emory's servant," he added, facing the father, "in a Japanese tea house, and brought him here to me after the closing scene was set for to-night. You may talk with him if you want to. He can tell you how the murder of your son was planned, also how the plot to kill Mr. Nestor in the mountains was laid--here in these rooms."

Again the old man sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. It was a severe blow to him. He had arrived in San Francisco that day, anticipating a pleasant month with his son. And now to find him dead!

"It would be interesting," said Slocum, speaking for the first time since the arrests, "to know just how this remarkable boy discovered the connection between this flat and the mountain caves."

"The murder brought the clue," Ned replied. "From the first the clue led here. And then the key without a stem, the smudge on Emory's finger, the typewritten sheets, the machine in the mountains--oh, it was all easy enough after the discovery that this man Emory did not know where Albert Lemon kept his duplicate key to that desk!

"The case is ended," Ned continued, "and all the parties wanted by the law are under arrest, so, if you don't mind, gentlemen, I'll go to bed!"

Jack, Pat, Ernest and Liu now advanced into the room and looked smilingly at their leader.

"You can't lose us," Jack said. "If you don't mind, we'll take you back to the Rocky Mountains for a little fun with the aeroplane. I guess there won't be any bold bad smugglers up there to distract our attention for a few weeks."

"And then," Jimmie cut in, "I hope you'll all go back to little old New York. I'm hungry and thirsty, and sleepy for a walk down the good old Bowery and the wise old White Way!"

The case against Felix Emory was so complete that he pleaded guilty on being arraigned in court and was sentenced to the gallows. Chang received a long sentence for his connection with the murder, and the smugglers and firebugs were sent to prison for ten years each.

The clean-up was so complete that Ned was requested to visit Washington and confer with the Secret Service chief regarding other cases.

"But, after all," he said, on leaving Jimmie and the other boys, including Ernest and Liu, in New York, "I don't think I want any more fighting forest fires assignments in the Secret Service. We'll go back some day and look over the ground, but I don't think I'll ever be able to get some of those rides in the air out of my mind."

THE END.

BEST BOOKS--NOW READY

Oliver Optic Series

For a full generation the youth of America has been reading and re-reading "Oliver Optic." No genuine boy ever tires of this famous author who knew just what boys wanted and was always able to supply his wants. Books are attractively bound in art shades of English vellum cloth, three designs stamped in three colors. Printed from large type on an extra quality of clean flexible paper. Each book in glazed paper wrapper. 12mo cloth.

1 All Aboard 2 Brave Old Salt 3 Boat Club, The 4 Fighting Joe 5 Haste and Waste 6 Hope and Have 7 In School and Out 8 Little by Little 9 Now or Never 10 Outward Bound 11 Poor and Proud 12 Rich and Humble 13 Sailor Boy, The 14 Soldier Boy, The 15 Try Again 16 Watch and Wait 17 Work and Win 18 The Yankee Middy 19 The Young Lieutenant

ALWAYS ASK FOR THE DONOHUE

Complete Editions and you will get the best for the least money

All of the above books may be had at the store where this book was bought, or will be sent postpaid at 75c per copy by the publishers

M. A. DONOHUE & CO.

701-727 S. Dearborn St., CHICAGO

ALWAYS ASK FOR THE DONOHUE

Complete Editions and you will get the best for the least money

THRILLING, INTERESTING, INSTRUCTIVE

BOOKS By Harry Castlemon

No boy's library is complete unless it contains all of the books by that charming, delightful writer of boys' stories of adventure, HARRY CASTLEMON. The following are the titles, uniform in size, style and binding:

1 Boy Trapper, The 2 Frank the Young Naturalist 3 Frank in the Woods 4 Frank on the Lower Mississippi 5 Frank on a Gunboat 6 Frank Before Vicksburg 7 Frank on the Prairie 8 Frank at Don Carlos Ranch 9 The First Capture 10 Struggle for a Fortune, A 11 Winged Arrows Medicine

All of the above books may be had at the store where this book was bought, or will be sent postage prepaid at 75c each, by the publishers.

M. A. DONOHUE & CO.,

701-727 S. Dearborn Street, CHICAGO

ASK YOUR BOOKSELLER FOR

THE DONOHUE COMPLETE EDITIONS

and you will get the best for the least money

ALWAYS ASK FOR THE DONOHUE

COMPLETE EDITIONS--THE BEST FOR LEAST MONEY

WOODCRAFT for Boy Scouts and Others

By OWEN JONES and MARCUS WOODMAN

With a Message to Boy Scouts by SIR BADEN-POWELL, Founder of the Boy Scouts' Movement.

One of the essential requirements of the Boy Scout training is a Knowledge of Woodcraft. This necessitates a book embracing all the subjects and treating on all the topics that a thorough knowledge of Woodcraft implies.

This book thoroughly exhausts the subject. It imparts a comprehensive knowledge of woods from fungus growth to the most stately monarch of the forest; it treats of the habits and lairs of all the feathered and furry inhabitants of the woods. Shows how to trail wild animals; how to identify birds and beasts by their tracks, calls, etc. Tells how to forecast the weather, and in fact treats on every phase of nature with which a Boy Scout or any woodman or lover of nature should be familiar. The authorship guarantees its authenticity and reliability. Indispensable to "Boy Scouts" and others. Printed from large clear type on superior paper.

Embellished With Over 100 Thumb Nail Illustrations Taken From Life.

Bound in Cloth. Stamped with unique and appropriate designs in ink.

Price, 75c Postpaid

M. A. DONOHUE & CO.

701-727 S. Dearborn St., CHICAGO

End of Project Gutenberg's Boy Scouts in the Northwest, by G. Harvey Ralphson