The Republican., 1899-01-26


had not, to his knowledge, ever seen
before. His whole air was mysterious,
and he glanced furtively from right to
left, as if desirous that the attention CT
passers-by should not be attracted.
Not a word" he said, warningiy, rais-
ing a very dirty foretinger.
"Oh, know all about that" returned
Eumondson, airily. "Your wushup,
cautioned the prisoner, etc"
"Recognized you in a moment, but
I've only just seen you," went on the
stranger, hurriedly; and, thrusting
something into Edmondson's breast
pocket, he instantly darted away and
was quickly swallowed up in the flow
ing tide of humanity.
The reporter was for some moments
too much astonished to move or speak;
Re could only gaze after the man open
mouthed? What did it mean? Here he
lad been practically caught, only to be
let go again! All, what was in his
pocket? 1t was an envelope, sealed but
unaddressed. Hastily tearing it open
he found inside a short note:
"Tuesday.-Shall have the money for
you on Thursday night. VIII be at st.
Fancras in time for you to catch the
midnight train to L'pool."
Instantly a flood of light dawned on
him. He had been mistaken for the
murderer, not by a detective, but by
an emissary of the mans friends, who
were assisting him to fly from Englaad!
Doubtless the fugitive was then in town,
and should have been at Charing Cross
at about the time he (Edmondson) was
there.
''Was there ever such coincidence
or lucl?' thought the reporter. ANY
thing more extraordinary never heard
of. Why, this little adventure will be
wcrth no end of copy must find Dob
SON."
Hailing cab, he drove to Scotland
Yard, and giving a constable one of
his own cards, asked to see Inspector
Dobson. He was shown into a small
room, and presently that gentleman en-
tered. When he caught sight of his
visitor he seemed not a little perplexed,
e,ancng two or three times with knit
Jed brows from Edmondson's face to the
bit of pasteboard
The reporter burst into de"p-chest-
ed laughter. It's all right" he said.
Then he told the detective of his quest
FOR copy" and its wholly unexpected
result. Here is the letter." he con-
cluded, pulling from his pocket the
note given to him at Charing Cross.
''and, unless l am greatly mistaken. it
viii lead to the arrest of the Plymouth
murderer"
Inspector Dobson read and reread
the message, smiling massively the
while. "Capital!" he exclaimed.
isn't it?" asked the reporter glee-
fully. 1T gives the whole thing away"
Just So said the inspector. And
you've put us in for a smart capture by
plan to show us up! BY the way,
what are you going to do about your
article now?"
That depends upon circumstances"
responded Edmcndson, cautiously.
The detective looked at the note
TUESDAY. 1t is now Thursday; so he's
going to cut down to Liverpool to-
night"
ITO think of his taking the high road
to America!" said Edmondson, with
scorn. He couldn't have dogs chance
of getting through in any circum
stances. What an ass he must bel"
Criminals of his class generally
are" said the detective, sententiously.
What about to-night?" he queried alb
ruptly. You'll turn up at St. Pan
cras?"
"Certainly."
"Do so, by all MEANS" said the in
spector. you'll have big sensation
tomorrow. I'll meet you outside the
station, opposite the clock tower, at
half-past 11-no, say quarter past"
Shortly after II o'clock the reporter
was at the appointed place of meeting
Inspector Dobson was not there, nor
did he put in an appearance at the
quarter hour. Edmondson paced to and
fro, fuming with impatience and fire.
quently glancing at the clock, till the
hands indicated that in ten minutes the
express to the north would start on its
long journey. Still there was no sign
of the detective. The reporter, his
mind teeming with a thousand fore
bodings, then strolIed up to the de-
parture platform. Beginning at tie
guards van, he walked from end to end
of the midnight train, looking in every
compartment; but to his bitter chagrin
he could not see anybody in the least
like his mental portrait of the Plym-
outh murderer. Scarcely had he
reached the engine than there was
banging of carriage doors, a waving of
lamps, a mellow whistle, and then the
train moved out of the station.
'Confound it," muttered Edmond
son, as he watched the red light on the
rear van grow fainter and fainter
Neither Dobson nor the murderer
here. What's happened now?"
The question remained unanswered
till the following morning, when the
pressman found on his desk a letter
from Inspector Dobson:
Our detectives" wrote that gentle
man, may be asleep Comet, August
14), but they are sufficiently wide
awake to hoax some enterprising but
credulous journalists. BY accident |