CHAPTER XV.

THE TRUE STORY OF THE MURDER.

Detective Killett also arose from the table, and, approaching the bar, asked:

"Have you got a quiet little room handy, where I can drink one or two whisky punches by myself, and do a little writing?"

"Why--yes, there's a room in there that's vacant," answered the barkeeper; "but we haven't any writing materials."

"Don't let that trouble you," returned Killett, cheerfully, as he exhibited a pad of paper and a stylographic pen; "you see I carry my tools with me."

"All right then. I'll show you to the room, and bring you a punch as soon as I can get it ready."

"Thanks, my friend," and Killett followed him through the door by which Taylor and the couple with him had disappeared a few moments before.

On passing the door the detective found himself in a narrow hall, on one side of which was a black walnut partition, reaching about half way to the ceiling.

In this partition were two doors, leading to two small rooms, fitted up for card-playing.

The first of these rooms was now occupied by Taylor's party.

Killett was shown into the other.

He was in an agony of apprehension for fear those in the next room would hear the door open, or catch the sound of the barkeeper's voice.

But nothing of the kind happened. The door was opened noiselessly, and the barkeeper merely said:

"Here you are, sir. I'll bring the punch presently."

Killett nodded, and the dispenser of liquid refreshments went away.

The detective now seated himself close to the partition between the two rooms, took out his pad of paper and his pen, and prepared to listen with all his ears to what might be going on in the other apartment.

The first words that reached him were spoken by Taylor.

"So you ain't so blamed anxious to buy after all?" he was saying.

"That depends upon circumstances," returned Barney, quickly.

"What circumstances?"

Barney seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he abruptly asked:

"When did you see Hen Chamberlain last?"

"Who?" demanded Taylor, in a tone of surprise.

"Oh, pshaw! You know well enough who I mean. Call him Frank Clark, if you like."

Taylor started slightly, but presently said, calmly enough:

"You know Clark, do you?"

"Yes, old fellow, we know him from 'way back," was the reply, "but up our way he is Henry Burton Chamberlain."

"Hum," muttered Taylor; "I suppose that _is_ his name."

"Of course it is; and it seems to me that there need be no more mystery among friends."

"Ah! but remember, gentlemen, you are both strangers to me."

"That's true enough; but we are not strangers to Hen Chamberlain."

"Let's see--did you mention your names?"

"I don't know that we have to you. But that's an omission readily corrected. Mine is Barney Hawks, and this is my pal, Jake Klinkhammer."

"Ah, yes, I have heard Chamberlain speak of you. If I remember rightly, you have been in two or three little affairs with him?"

"I should say we had! and a good many more than two or three."

"You are pretty good friends of his, then?"

"We have proved that to his satisfaction a good many times, I believe."

"Well, that's all right. And now why can't we talk business?"

"Why, the fact is, Mr. Taylor, before we go any further in this matter, we would like to see Hen."

"What do you expect to gain by seeing him?"

"Something in the way of funds, if you must know."

"Ha, ha! I'm afraid you'll find there isn't much in that mine worth working."

"There ought to be, considering the rich vein you and he opened the other night."

"What do you mean?" demanded Taylor, now fairly startled.

"Oh, come, my boy," said Barney, quietly, "we know all about it, and can name pretty nearly the sum you brought away with you."

"You can?"

"Yes."

"Where did you get your information, in the fiend's name?"

"We have seen Sadie Seaton."

"The deuce you have! Are you detectives?"

"Detectives? Thunder! What are you talking about? I told you a moment ago who we were."

"I know, but----"

"But you don't believe us. Why, man, we had planned to do that little job ourselves. You only got in ahead of us, that's all."

"Then what's the matter--what do you want of us?"

"Well, the fact is, there was a little treachery practiced on us by Mr. Henry Chamberlain. It was our job; he knew it, and now we claim our fair share of the spoils."

Taylor lay back and laughed a bitter, ironical laugh.

"What the deuce is the matter with you?" demanded Barney, almost savagely.

"May I ask you one question?" inquired Taylor politely.

"Of course; what is it?"

"How much do you think we got out of that little job?"

"Close on to twenty thousand dollars."

Again came the bitter, ironical laugh.

"Twenty thousand dollars, eh?"

"Yes, close on to that."

"You feel pretty sure of it?"

"Yes; I tell you Sadie was pretty well posted. She knew what the old woman had by her that night; and the place shows for itself that you went through it thoroughly."

"Well, how much will you give me for my share of the boodle?"

"Mind, Taylor, we claim one half of all you brought away as ours by rights."

"Well, well, whatever you claim, what will you give me for all I brought away?"

"Four thousand dollars."

"Done! Ha! ha! that's the best bargain I ever made."

"In the devil's name, what's the matter with you, man? Are you trying to come some game over us?"

"Petter not!" growled Jake, warningly.

"There's been a pretty game played by some one," said Taylor, gloomily; "but it's been a bitter one for me. You think I brought away ten thousand dollars, don't you?"

"About that, yes."

"Well, the exact sum I got out of the job was--twenty-three dollars and seventy-one cents."

"Twenty-three dollars and seventy-one cents! Young man, what are you giving us?"

"I am giving it to you straight. That's all I got."

"And Chamberlain, how much did he get?"

"Twenty-two dollars."

"He made you believe that, did he?"

"That's all he had. We divided in the cars, coming home."

"Hum, there's something I don't understand here somewhere. Either Chamberlain has cheated you, or---- But suppose you tell us about the affair from the time you left this city."

"Well, I don't mind. We left the Grand Central Depot at 6:45 Monday night, and arrived in New Haven at 9:30.

"We had some drinks in a saloon near the depot, and about ten o'clock went to the Ernst place on Spruce Street.

"Passing through a narrow alley alongside of her blamed old rookery, we looked through the rear window and saw a certain young woman talking to Mrs. Ernst."

"Ah! did you know that young woman?"

"I did not."

"But Chamberlain did, eh?"

"Yes."

"And he told you who she was?"

"Yes."

"Well, was it Sadie?"

"Yes, it was Sadie."

"And you waited till she came out?"

"Yes."

"Did you speak to her?"

"Chamberlain spoke to her."

"What did he say?"

"I don't know. He led her a little one side and they had considerable jaw together, then she hurried away--crying, I thought."

"Humph; and what happened then?"

"Why, as soon as Sadie had left the basement, the old woman locked the front door, and then came round and fastened the back door with an iron bar."

"About what time was that?"

"It wanted just a quarter to ten."

"What did you do then?"

"We went softly down the area steps from the yard, and Chamberlain rapped on the door."

"Did it fetch the old gal at once?"

"Almost instantly. 'Who's there?' she asked.

"'It vos me, ma'am,' answered Chamberlain, disguising his voice, and talking with a German accent. 'Open, I got a letter for you.'

"'Who's it from?' asked the old woman.

"'August Tepley,' was the reply, 'and it's of special importance, I can tell you.'"

"I know that August Tepley," interrupted Barney, at this point. "He's a relative of the old woman, and came over from Bavaria awhile ago."

"Und I know him too," grunted Jake. "But go on, Mr. Taylor."

"Well," continued Taylor, "Mrs. Ernst took off the heavy bar and we stepped inside, I closing and locking the door myself.

"'Let's go into the saloon,' suggested Hen. 'You've got a light there, haven't you, old gal?'

"'Yes,' she said, and led the way to the bar-room.

"As soon as we got there Chamberlain called for drinks, and we soon managed to draw the old woman into conversation.

"She asked Hen if he had ever been in her place before.

"'Lord, yes!" he replied, 'more than a thousand times.' Then with a laugh, 'why, Mrs. Ernst, I have known you for years.'

"After that she appeared to recognize him, and really seemed glad to see him.

"Shortly after eleven o'clock the old woman asked for the letter we had brought. Chamberlain took an envelope from his pocket, and just as she started to come around the corner of the bar, he seized her by the neck and hurled her to the floor, while I threw a cloak over her head and face, and assisted him to bind and gag her.

"Hen then pressed a handkerchief, saturated with chloroform, over her mouth and nostrils, and gripped her throat until she was unconscious.

"We used handkerchiefs in binding her. Chamberlain tied her hands together, while I made her feet fast. We then picked her up, and laid her on the lounge in front of the bar."

"Your story is getting interesting," said Barney. "Well, after you'd got the old gal made fast, I suppose you began your search for the boodle?"

"Yes, I lost no time in opening the till, and took out four dollars in change--all the money in it."

"Not a big haul that," observed Barney.

"That's what we thought.

"'Must be more money somewhere,' said Chamberlain, and he began tearing up the carpets and ripping open the mattresses in the room, looking for it.

"'Let's try the other rooms,' he said, presently; and we took off our shoes, turned out the gas, lit a candle, and went into the old woman's bedroom.

"Chamberlain had bought a chisel in this city, for forty cents, and I tried to pry open a bureau drawer, that was tightly locked, with it.

"'You're making too much noise,' said Chamberlain; 'let me try it;' and he opened the drawer in a jiffy."

"Vos dere anyting in dot drawer?" asked Jake, curiously.

"Yes, by Jove! $41.10; and Chamberlain pocketed it quicker than you could say Jack Robinson."

"He did, eh? Vell, dot vos wrong."

"But he divided afterward, I suppose?" said Barney.

"Yes, on the cars, as I told you."

"All right; go on."

"Well, while we were ransacking closets and drawers, and looking under the carpets and between the bedding, the old woman came to, and yelled murder.

"Chamberlain ran into the room where she lay, and, seizing her by the throat, dashed her head against the woodwork of the lounge until she again became unconscious. I then wrapped a sheet around her neck, while Chamberlain put a fresh gag in her mouth.

"We then went on with our search, but not finding any more money about the rooms, Hen returned to the lounge and began searching the woman's clothes.

"As he took the sheet from her face he turned coolly around to me and said:

"'Jim, she's dead.'

"'So she is,' I answered, looking at her face."

"Well, did you find anything of value on the old woman?" asked Barney. "I believe she used to carry a pretty fat roll of bills in her bosom."

"No; we found nothing in her bosom or in her pockets."

"Vell, vhat did you do then?" asked Jake.

"Chamberlain sat down on the sofa at the feet of the corpse and put on his shoes. I leaned against the bar and drew on my gaiters. Then we helped ourselves to several drinks of the old woman's whisky, and filled our pockets with her cigars."

"Dot vos right; dot vos vhat I should hav' done. Then you vent off, eh?"

"Not at once. First Chamberlain walked over to the sofa, and took a closer look at the face of the dead woman, and looking up, he said:

"'She's dead, sure, Jim,' and so he took the handkerchief out of her mouth."

"He's a pretty cool hand," observed Barney.

"He's just that, as his next move shows."

"And what was his next move?"

"He took his revolver from his pocket, and coolly cocking it, said:

"Somebody may have heard us, Jim. Take off the bar and draw your gun. We may have to kill somebody else."

"Und, so 'elp me gracious! he vould hav' done it, too, if you had met somepody."

"You bet your life he would. Well, with cocked revolvers in our hands, we walked into the street, and made our way toward the railway station. In a saloon near the depot we had a couple of glasses of beer, and bought a pint of whisky. Then we took the 11.50 train for New York, and, as I told you, in the cars we divided the old woman's money."

"And got less than twenty-five dollars apiece?"

"Yes."

"Where did you leave the cars?"

"We got off the train on the other side of the bridge, and rode to Fourteenth Street and Third Avenue on the Third Avenue Elevated Road."

"Then you ought to have tried to establish an _alibi_."

"That's just what we did."

"How did you manage it?"

"'Let's go where we're known,' said Chamberlain, so in case of trouble we'll have an _alibi_.'

"'All right,' said I. 'Where shall we go?'

"'Come with me,' he replied; and we went to Ryan & Coopers' saloon, on the north-west corner of Hudson and West Twelfth Streets, and had several drinks.

"Chamberlain smiled as we came out.

"'Cooper can't forget us,' he said, 'for we treated him twice.'

"'That's so,' I assented; 'and I shouldn't wonder if that was a wise dodge.'"

"And what did you do then?"

"We separated."

"You've seen him since, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes, once or twice; but I don't know where he is now."

"You'd better find him, then, and at once."

"Why so?"

"Old Spicer, the sharpest detective on top of this earth, is on his track and yours."

"The deuce he is!"

"I'm giving it to you straight, young man."

"What in thunder shall I do?"

"Warn Chamberlain in some way, and then dig--that's my advice."

Killett waited to hear no more; but, quietly slipping out of the little room, he went to the bar, paid for his punch and left the saloon.

Outside he found Stark and Rouse, and after a few hurried words with them and a rapid glance around, he hastened away.