Out of a Labyrinth Part 60

There was a meeting of the vigilants that night and Gerry Brown, Mr.

Harris, Justice Summers and myself, were present with them.

I gave them the details of my investigation, and related the cause of Doctor Bethel's troubles. When they understood that the outlaws had looked upon Bethel as a detective, and their natural enemy, the vigilants were ready to antic.i.p.ate the rest of my story.

When everything concerning the male members of the clique had been discussed, I entered a plea for Adele Lowenstein, and my audience was not slow to respond.

Mr. Harris arose in his place, and gave a concise account of the visit paid by his wife and Miss Barnard to the dethroned heiress, as he had heard it described by Mrs. Harris.

Adele Lowenstein had been sincerely grateful for their kindness, and had consented to act precisely as they should advise, let the result be what it would. She would give her testimony against the horse-thieves, and trust to the mercy of the Traftonites. Her story may as well be completed here, for there is little more to tell.

She was not made a prisoner. Mrs. Harris and Louise Barnard were not the women to do things by halves. They used all their influence in her favor, and they had the vigilants and many of the best citizens to aid them. They disarmed public opinion. They appealed to men high in power and won their champions.h.i.+p. They conducted their campaign wisely and they carried the day.

There were found for Adele Lowenstein, the counterfeiter's daughter, "extenuating circ.u.mstances:" what the jury could not do the governor did, and she went out from the place, where justice had been tempered with mercy, a free woman.

The Hill was sold, and Miss Lowenstein, who had avowed her intention of retaking her father's name, sullied as it was, prepared to find a new home in some far away city.

One day while the trial was pending, Gerry Brown came to me with fidgety manner and serious countenance.

"Old man," he said, anxiously, "I've been thinking about Miss Lowenstein."

"Stop it, Gerry. It's a dangerous occupation for a fellow of your age."

"My, age indeed! Two years, four months and seventeen days younger than your ancient highness, I believe."

"A man may learn much in two years, four months, and seventeen days--, Gerry. What about Miss Lowenstein?"

"I'm sorry for the girl."

"So am I."

"Don't be a bore, old man."

"Then come to the point, youngster."

"Youngster!" indignantly, "well, I'll put that to our private account.

About Miss Lowenstein, then: She is without friends, and is just the sort of woman who needs occupation to keep her out of mischief and contented. She's ladylike and clever, and she knows the world; don't you think she would be a good hand on the force."

I paused to consider. I knew the kind of woman that we sometimes needed, and it seemed to me that Adele Lowenstein would "be a good hand." I knew, too, that our Chief was not entirely satisfied with one or two women in his employ. So I stopped chaffing Gerry and said soberly:

"Gerry, it's a good idea. We'll consult the lady and if she would like the occupation, I will write to our Chief."

Adele Lowenstein was eager to enter upon a career so much to her taste, and our Chief was consulted. He manifested a desire to see the lady, and she went to the city.

The interview was satisfactory to both. Adele Lowenstein became one of our force, and a very valuable and efficient addition she proved.

I had a.s.sured Jim Long,--even yet I find it difficult to call him Harvey James,--that his name should be freed from blot or suspicion. And it was not so hard a task as he evidently thought it.

Blake Simpson, like most scamps of his cla.s.s, was only too glad to do anything that would lighten his own sentence, and when he found that the Brookhouse faction had come to grief, and that his own part in their plot had been traced home to him by "the detectives," he weakened at once, and lost no time in turning State's evidence. He confessed that he had come to Trafton, in company with Dimber Joe, to "play detective," at the instigation, and under the pay of Brookhouse senior, who had visited the city to procure their services. And that Arch Brookhouse had afterward bribed him to make the a.s.sault upon Bethel, and planned the mode of attack; sending him, Simpson, to Ireton, and giving him a note to the elder Briggs, who furnished him with the little team and light buggy, which took him back to Trafton, where the shooting was done precisely as I had supposed after my investigation.

Dimber Joe made a somewhat stouter resistance, and I offered him two alternatives.

He might confess the truth concerning the accusations under which Harvey James had been tried and wrongfully imprisoned; in which case I would not testify against him except so far as he had been connected with the horse-thieves in the capacity of sham detective and spy. Or, he might refuse to do Harvey James justice, in which case I would put Brooks on the witness stand to exonerate James, and I myself would lessen his chances for obtaining a light sentence, by showing him up to the court as the villain he was; garroter, panel-worker, counterfeiter, burglar, and general utility rascal.

Brooks or Brookhouse was certain of a long sentence, I a.s.sured Blaikie, and he would benefit rather than injure his cause by exposing the plot to ruin and fleece James. Would Mr. Blaikie choose, and choose quickly?

And Mr. Blaikie, after a brief consideration, chose to tell the truth, and forever remove from Harvey James the brand of counterfeiter.

The testimony against the entire gang was clear and conclusive. The elder Brookhouse, knowing this, made very little effort to defend himself and his band, and so "The 'Squire" and Arch Brookhouse were sentenced for long terms. Louis Brookhouse, the two Briggs, Ed. Dwight, the festive, Larkins and the two city scamps, were sentenced for lesser periods, but none escaped lightly.

Only one question, and that one of minor importance, yet lacked an answer, and one day, before his trial, I visited Arch Brookhouse in his cell, my chief purpose being to ask this question.

"There is one thing," I said, after a few words had pa.s.sed between us, "there is one thing that I should like you to tell me, merely as a matter of self-gratification, as it is now of no special importance; and that is, how did you discover my ident.i.ty, when I went to Mrs. Ballou's disguised as a Swede?"

He laughed harshly.

"You detectives do not always cover up your tracks," he said, with a sneer. "I don't object to telling you what you seem so curious about.

'Squire Ewing and Mr. Rutger went to the city to employ you, and no doubt you charged them to be secret as the grave concerning your plans.

Nevertheless, Mr. Rutger, who is a simple-minded confiding soul, told the secret in great confidence to Farmer La Porte; and he repeated it, again in great confidence in the bosom of his family."

"And in the presence of his son, Johnnie?"

"Just so. When we learned that a disguised detective was coming into the community, and that he would appear within a certain time, we began to look for him, and _you_ were the only stranger we discovered."

"And you wrote me that letter of warning?"

"Precisely."

"And undoubtedly _you_ are the fellow who shot at me?"

"I am happy to say that I am."

"And I am happy to know that I have deprived you of the pleasure of handling firearms again for some time to come. Good morning, Mr.

Brookhouse."

That was my final interview with Arch Brookhouse, but I saw him once more, for the last time, when I gave my testimony against him at the famous trial of the Trafton horse-thieves.

When the whole truth concerning the _modus operandi_ of the horse-thieves was made public at the trial, when the Traftonites learned that for five years they had harbored stolen horses under the very steeples of the town, and that those horses, when the heat of the chase was over, were boldly driven away across the country and toward the river before a lumbering coal cart, they were astounded at the boldness of the scheme, and the hardihood of the men who had planned it.

But they no longer marveled at their own inability to fathom so cunning a plot.

CHAPTER XLII.

IN CONCLUSION.

When Winter closed in, and the first snow mantled the farms of Groveland, the poor girl whom Johnny La Porte had reluctantly made his wife, closed her eyes upon this earthly panorama.