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The Sheridan Road Mystery, a fiction by Paul Thorne |
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Chapter 19. Kidnapped |
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_ CHAPTER XIX. KIDNAPPED Marsh slowly regained control of himself as he stood staring at the crumpled figure. Striding across the room, he bent over Newman. The man was breathing heavily, and his eyes had a dazed glare. Although he was not unconscious in the full sense of the word, it seemed probable that it would be some time before Newman could start any more trouble. Marsh decided, however, that it would be safer to provide against future possibilities, so he drew Newman's hands together and snapped on a pair of handcuffs. Suddenly Marsh realized that his doorbell was ringing furiously. This time he took no chances, and his automatic was in his hand ready for instant use when he opened the door. He found Morgan and Tierney in the hall. "For God's sake, what's the matter?" cried Morgan. By this time Marsh had recovered his calm and easy manner. "I had a visitor," he said, smiling, and slipping his automatic back into his pocket. "Come in." The two men passed through to the living room and Marsh closed the door and followed. "Where did he go?" asked Morgan, as Marsh entered the room. "There it is," said Marsh, contemptuously, nodding toward Newman. Morgan and Tierney hurried to the man and straightened him out on his back. Newman was still too dazed to do more than roll his eyes at them. "'Baldy' Newman!" exclaimed Morgan, looking up at Marsh. "How did you get him?" Marsh briefly explained the incident. "And what beats me," he concluded, "is how he got by the policeman at the door." "By a well-laid plan, Marsh. We were talking about it to the patrolman when the shooting began. That was the first we realized what the scheme had been." "What was it?" inquired Marsh. "I thought I heard a couple of shots sometime ago, but as nothing seemed to happen afterward, I concluded it was just somebody's tire." "You heard shots, all right," returned Morgan. "It seems that an auto stopped on Lawrence Avenue in front of the alleyway. Someone in the car fired two shots at the policeman on guard there. He immediately started for the car, and the man in front, who had also heard the shots, joined him. Naturally the car was out of sight before they had run half a block, and so they returned to their posts. They didn't even get the number of the license, although I suppose it would have been of little use if they had. When you look those things up you generally find that the car has been stolen from some respectable citizen." "Tierney and I arrived just after the patrolmen got back to the building, and the man in front told us about it. I was puzzled over just what the game was until we heard the shooting up here. Then I guessed that they had only drawn off the policemen so as to let someone get in, so Tierney and I beat it up the stairs as fast as we could. When you took so long to answer the door, we thought you were gone, sure." "Well, the little rat did have me wondering for a few minutes," admitted Marsh. "If he had really come to kill me I think he could have got me, all right. But the fact was, he just came to warn me, and intended to use his gun only as a last resort. Under such circumstances, if you can only keep them talking long enough, they get careless. You can see what happened to 'Baldy' because he stayed too long." "He'll have a long stay somewhere else now," commented Tierney, cheerfully. "And we'll make him talk same more before we get through with him," declared Morgan. "There is one thing I want to ask of you, Morgan," said Marsh. "Get him out of here as quietly as you can, and don't let the news get into the papers. We don't want the people who sent him to know exactly what has happened. Just let them wonder for a day or two." "I get your point," answered Morgan. He then went to the telephone and called the patrol wagon, impressing upon the man at the other end of the wire, the need for secrecy, and instructing him to have the patrol drive up the alley back of the house. "Now," said Morgan, as he turned from the telephone, "I suppose you want to hear about the information I was to get for you." "Yes," replied Marsh. "Were you able to get it?" "All that's worth knowing," returned Morgan. "I turned Tierney loose on this man Nolan, and looked up Hunt myself. You can dismiss Nolan from the case at once. He has a job as chauffeur with a big business man in Milwaukee, and hasn't been in Chicago for a month. At one o'clock last Tuesday morning he was bringing this man and his wife home from an affair at the man's club. Someone simply impersonated Nolan." "Now, about Hunt. I found that he started to work for Merton as his confidential secretary about five years ago. Merton apparently thought a good deal of him, and gradually put more and more of his business into his hands. About a year ago, he made Hunt his general manager, and Hunt has practically been running the entire business ever since. People in the financial district seem to consider Hunt a fine fellow. What he was doing before he went with Merton I have been unable to find out in such a short time." "I cannot say that this information helps us out very much," said Marsh. "Your news about Nolan simply confirms the idea I already had--that the Nolan message was a trick. I dug up some information today which looks like the best clue we have had so far. I think that by tomorrow afternoon we'll close in on the men we want. Telephone me at twelve o'clock tomorrow, Morgan, and I will tell you just what to do." At this moment they heard pounding on Marsh's back door. "I guess that's the wagon, Tierney," said Morgan. "Let them in." Tierney went back through the flat and returned immediately with two policemen, who gathered up "Baldy" Newman and his gun and carried them quietly out and down the rear stairs. "I'd like to tell the world," said Morgan, "that the West Side's most famous gunman has been captured with a man's bare hands. But we'll keep it quiet if you insist on it, Marsh." "After tomorrow, Morgan, you will have more than 'Baldy' Newman to your credit. Until then, our success depends on secrecy. Now, remember, telephone me at twelve sharp tomorrow." With that, the men parted for the night and Marsh, after making sure that all his doors and windows were securely fastened, went to bed. But twelve o'clock on Tuesday passed without Marsh receiving his expected message, for the very good reason that Morgan and Tierney could not get to a telephone. These two men spent the greater part of the morning in the financial district in a futile attempt to get further information regarding Hunt. About eleven o'clock Morgan suggested that they go to the North Side and get their lunch so that after telephoning Marsh they would be close at hand in case he wanted them quickly. They took the elevated to Wilson Avenue, and after leaving the train, turned east toward Broadway. At the corner stood a big, black limousine. The door was open and the chauffeur turned to them and said, "Say friends, will you help me get this guy out of the car? He's too drunk to move." Morgan saw that a man was lying back in a corner with his eyes shut, and nodding to Tierney, went over to the car. "I've been driving him for two hours," said the chauffeur, "and I don't think there's any chance of getting my money. I want to throw him out. He's too heavy for me to lift. You two guys look husky, and like good fellows, so I thought maybe you'd lift him out for me." As this sort of thing frequently came to the attention of the detectives, they did not suspect anything out of the ordinary when they climbed into the car and started to pull the man out of the seat. Suddenly the chauffeur slammed the door and sprang to the wheel. The man in the seat, who but a moment before had apparently been in a drunken stupor, now sat up, and drawing his right arm from behind his back, covered the two detectives with an automatic. "Sit down," he commanded, "and be quiet." In the meantime, the car was moving swiftly across Wilson Avenue. Turning north on Sheridan Road, its speed increased to a terrific pace. Morgan noticed this and hoped that it would attract the attention of the motorcycle police, but they met none of these men and the car soon left the city limits and passed through Evanston. From here on, the road was quiet and they passed only an occasional car. The man with the automatic now instructed them to hand over their revolvers. After he had these in his possession, he felt Morgan and Tierney over carefully to see that they had no other concealed weapon. Then, keeping them covered with the automatic, he reached out and drew down all the shades in the car so that they sat in a semi-darkness and were unable to see where they were going. Morgan judged that they had been riding about an hour when the car suddenly stopped. The door was opened and a man stuck his head in. The man was Wagner. "Turned the tables on you, didn't we?" he jeered. Then he stepped back and they saw that he also held an automatic in his hand. "Come on," he said, "step lively. You're welcome to our happy home." Tierney began to swear, but Morgan jabbed him with his elbow. It would be like committing suicide to show any fight now. "These bulls ought to travel in regiments for self-protection," taunted the man who had been with them in the car. But Morgan noticed, as he stepped out of the car, that the chauffeur had left his seat and was also standing ready with an automatic. These men might have their little joke, but they were taking no chances. The three men escorted Morgan and Tierney up the steps and into the house. Wagner then directed them to precede him up the stairs. They passed down a long hall and into a big room. "Make yourselves comfortable," sneered Wagner. "And I might as well tell you that you can make all the noise you want, because the nearest house is so far away they couldn't hear a fog horn. Just try to be nice, good little boys, and maybe we'll let you go sometime." He backed out of the door and they heard him turn the key. _ |
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