CHAPTER XVIII.

OLD SPICER'S SPEAKING-TUBE.

"Well, Crowley, what have you to offer?" asked Killett, with a great show of interest.

"We have tracked Hawks and Klinkhammer, by different routes, to the same hotel--a quiet affair uptown," was the answer.

"And are they there now?"

"Yes; closeted in No. 24 with a guest."

"Is the guest a new arrival?" asked Old Spicer.

"I was told not--that is, he has occupied his room, off and on, for several months."

"Off and on, eh? That is, he goes and comes as he pleases."

"Exactly."

"Humph! What's his name?"

"Bissell--E. E. Bissell he signs himself."

"Young or old?"

"Young--that is, under thirty."

"Who's on duty there?" asked Killett.

"Rouse and Quackenbush."

"Well, Old Spicer, one of us ought to look after this matter, while the other waits for news of Chamberlain here."

"I believe I'd better go up to the hotel," said Old Spicer, after a moment's reflection.

"Very good, then, I'll stay here."

"We can keep each other posted as to our movements, eh?"

"Certainly, and we should be careful to do so."

"All right; I will go with Crowley, then, unless you want him here."

"I was just going to suggest that I might want him."

"All right, you keep him, and I'll find my way to the hotel alone;" and Old Spicer went out.

He took the elevated road up town and soon arrived at the hotel.

He found Quackenbush on the lookout, and learned from him that Rouse was endeavoring to catch some fragments of the conversation that was going on in No. 24.

"What!" he exclaimed, "isn't he in the next room?"

"No," was the reply, "there is no chance for that. On one side there is a short hall, a passageway, and on the other a room that is occupied by a gentleman and his wife."

"Hum. Well, there must be a room overhead."

"Lord, yes. I never thought of that."

Old Spicer hurried to the landlord, who happened to be in the office.

After a moment's conversation, he asked:

"What's the number of the room over twenty-four?"

The landlord considered the question for a moment and then said:

"Thirty-six."

"Good! give me the key to thirty-six."

"What do you want of it, sir?"

Old Spicer gave him a hurried but plausible explanation.

The key was at once handed to him.

He went back to Quackenbush.

"Come with me," he said. "I shall take Rouse up to thirty-six with me, and I want you to remain in the vicinity of twenty-four, so that, in case they leave the room, you can follow them."

"All right, sir," and the two went upstairs.

They found Rouse in the little passage at the side of the room. He had been at work boring a hole through the plastering, but unfortunately had chosen the wrong spot, and so his hole had come out in a closet on the other side.

"Come with me, Reub," said Old Spicer; "Quackenbush will remain here."

"It would be worth big money to know just what is being said in there," returned Rouse regretfully.

"Of course, and that's what I am bound to find out."

"How do you propose to do it?" asked Rouse, in surprise.

"There is a room overhead."

"Undoubtedly."

"And in that room is a ventilating flue, which runs down through the room below and out through the roof above."

"I see! I see!" exclaimed Rouse, in high glee. "We have only to reach the ventilator to hear all that is going on in Bissell's room."

"Right, provided the ventilator in twenty-four is not closed."

"I've no fear of that--they're never closed."

"Very good; then we are likely to hear something to our advantage."

By this time they had reached room No. 36, and, thrusting the key into the lock, Old Spicer opened the door.

His eyes at once sought the ventilator.

It was over the mantel-piece and at a considerable distance from the floor.

"How can we get at it?" asked Rouse.

Old Spicer cast a rapid glance about the room.

"Nothing here that will answer the purpose," he muttered. Then catching Rouse by the sleeve, he exclaimed:

"Come with me," and he conducted him to a private sitting-room opposite, the door of which was open.

A strong and fair-sized table stood in the center of the room.

"Take hold of it," said Old Spicer, and within one minute that table was standing in front of the mantel-piece in Room 36.

"Now, then," continued the old detective, "bring a couple of stout chairs, these in this room are too frail to stand on."

Rouse vanished, but soon returned with the chairs, which he placed upon the table.

Old Spicer then locked the door, and the two men mounted on to the elevated chairs and placed their ears to the ventilator.

The next instant a smile of satisfaction spread over both their faces.

"A regular speaking-tube," whispered Rouse.

"Remember that!" returned Old Spicer in his ear; "and on no account utter a word above the lowest whisper."

Rouse nodded, and both gave their undivided attention to what was being said in the room below.

It was Mr. E. E. Bissell who was speaking. There could be no doubt about that, and he was talking right to the point.

"There's no use continuing this interview a moment longer," he was saying. "The man's dead, I admit that fact; but such a bungling piece of work I never heard of before."

"It wasn't a job to be proud of," muttered Barney.

"I should say it wasn't! However, he _is_ dead; and while Reed, of the Consolidated Road, has hit pretty near the mark, neither he nor any other live man suspects that I am mixed up in the affair; hence, so long as you two keep your mouths shut, I am satisfied."

"We're as dumb as oysters," asserted Barney.

"Dot's schust vhat ve are," chimed in Jake.

"I'm glad to hear it. And now I am going to pay you in full, and add a couple of thousand on one condition."

"Vhat vos dot condition, Mr. Pissell?" asked Jake eagerly.

"That you both solemnly swear never, as long as you live, to enter the State of Connecticut again."

"Hem, dot vos schust a leetle hard, Mr. Pissell."

"May be it is; but how can you earn a thousand dollars a piece so easily?"

"Dere vos somedings in dot, I confess."

"Of course, and so you swear do you?"

"Vell, vhat you say, Parney, schall ve swear?"

"Of course," answered Barney, impatiently, "you know as well as I do, there's nothing else for us to do."

"Ah-ha!" exclaimed Bissell, "you never intended to return to Connecticut."

"Not likely," responded Barney, dryly. "I fancy our necks are worth as much to us as yours is to you."

"Put," Jake hastened to ask, "you vill gif us der extra dousands all der same, eh?"

"You _bet_ he will!" growled Barney.

"Oh, yes," exclaimed Bissell, with alacrity, "I don't care what motives keep you out of that state, or, better still, out of the country. I am only too willing to pay you, so long as you _do_ keep out. And now here's your money. Adding the $2000 it makes $12,000, or $6000 apiece. Pretty good pay for one night's work, eh, boys?"

"No more than we fairly earned, sir," retorted Barney; "though, as you say, there was a little bungling."

"I find no fault, you understand," said Bissell. "Indeed, it was I who set the price, and if it only leads to what I hope and expect it will, I am a good deal more than satisfied."

"The lady has heard of the--the _accident_?" said Barney inquiringly.

"Ye-yes, I believe she has."

"How did she take it?"

"Made a great fuss at first, but I hope that's over by this time."

"Oh, she'll come round, never fear. She had to make a little fuss, you know, for appearance sake."

"That's it, exactly."

"Well, we wish you luck, Mr. Bissell, and now, good day."

"Good-day, gentlemen--but stay! one word: When do you leave New York, and in what direction?"

"We leave this very day, and we're going to Mexico or Central America."

"You couldn't have chosen more wisely. I wish you the best of luck and continued prosperity."

"Thank you, sir."

"I shall always feel an interest in your welfare. Write to me, when you get settled down there."

"We'll do it, sir.

"You know my address?"

"Yes, Emory E. Bissell. But shall we direct to this hotel?"

"You may as well. But never mind the Emory; perhaps we've used that name too freely already among the wooden nutmegs, E. E. Bissell will do."

"All right, sir, we'll remember. And now is there anything more to say?"

"I wish you could tell me how Conductor Mason and Peter Coffey are coming out in this affair?"

"That's more than we know ourselves, sir. They were so closely connected with Way in the illicit liquor trade and otherwise, that it's more than likely to go hard with them."

"I'm sorry; but I see no help for it."

"There is no help for it--if we're to get off scot-free."

"Well, you'd better do that--if you can."

"We mean to. And now, once more, good day."

"Good day," and the two worthies were gone.