The "Dock Rats" of New York Part 57

"Stand where you are," came the command, "or I'll make you."

"Are you really Vance?"

"Come up to Ludlow Street, and I'll prove who I am."

"I ain't going that way."

"Oh yes, you are; you've run right into my grip, and I'm going to shut you in with the rest of them, unless--"

The detective stopped.

"Unless what?"

"Unless you open up and tell me the whole story."

The fellow had a wicked eye. He saw that he had run into a snap, and he was determined to take a desperate chance to get out of it.

"I'm in for it," he remarked.

The detective had been watching the varying changes of expression upon the man's face, and dropped to the fact that the fellow contemplated some desperate expedient.

"I reckon, old man, the best thing for you to do is to own up, make a clean breast of it."

"Are you really Vance, or have I run against some other Government dandy?"

"I am Vance."

"I wish I were sure, old man, and I'd put you on the biggest lay of your life."

"You're safe to give me any information you possess."

"But if I let on to you I want to make sure of my rake in."

"About as sure as I am for the fifty dollars."

The man laughed, and said:

"Well, this is a nice joke all round."

"Yes, a nice joke," repeated the detective in a peculiarly significant tone.

"But," said the man. "I have some valuable information for Vance."

"And so have I some valuable information for you, Mister Man, and now throw up your hands."

"You are not in earnest," said the man, and he approached a step nearer.

"You will find out I am in earnest."

"Do you really intend to take me to Ludlow Street?"

"I do."

"Not to-night," exclaimed the man, and he sprung upon the detective, but he might as well have leaped head first at a hornet's nest.

The detective was ready for the man, and he brought him to his knees upon the gra.s.s, and an instant later the darbies were on him.

The man squealed like a pig, but the conviction was forced upon his mind that he had met Vance.

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

Having laid out the scoundrel, Vance bid the fellow follow, and taking him to Ludlow Street he left him in charge.

On the way to the jail the man begged like a trooper to be released, plead that he was only joking, and that he was really only a "crank," but the detective's invariable reply was:

"I know you and until you 'open up' and tell who employed you to 'shadow' me, you will be kept close."

Our hero learned from the incident the terrible risks that threatened him, and he determined to be even more careful.

It was midnight when Spencer Vance arrived on the coast. He had crossed the bay alone to the outer coast and proceeded toward the cabin of old Tom Pearce.

It was a windy, rainy night, and as disagreeable as could be, and, indeed, it was desolate enough without the roar of the breakers as they lashed themselves upon the beach.

The detective was proceeding along when he was suddenly summoned to a halt.

The detective at once suspected trouble, and his ready hand went to his pocket as a man covered with a rubber coat and slouch hat approached.

"Good-evening, stranger," said the man in the rubber coat.

"Good-evening," was the response.

"Are you acquainted around here"

"Well, I should say I was a little."

"Do you know a fisherman around here by the name of Pearce?"

"What do you want of Mr. Pearce?"

"Ah, you know him!"

"I haven't said so."

"But you do."