The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1904-05-29
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IGIaI

I~ Strand there are, between that
great living artery of London life
! ISlttySI and the majestic, silent-dowing
- river various little uneven back
streets. so dissimilar in traffic, in buildings,
in the paving, in the people. in the MONDAY.
in the night, that one might imagine one s
self hundred miles away from the great
thoroughfare They are short streets, sloping
Streets dull streets, some of them even dis
d. NAL streets The majority of the houses
| are inhabited now by professional men, So
| licitors and others, to whom the quiet is a
| godsend. A few business houses, a few
| private houses, and one or two public houses
| sum up the rest.
| During the night, when business is over
| and only the public houses remain with any
| show of animation about them, the streets
are often lively with a liveliness which is
not altogether desirable Men and women
| of shauy and disreputable character make
! their appearance suddenly round the cor
ners, and as quickly dive into the doors of
| the drinking houses and are lost to view.
If you have any undesirable acquaintance
that you must meet, and are ashamed to
stop and talk to him in the light and glare
of the big thoroughfare above. make the
4
can converse quietly without the slightest
fear that anybody you know is likely to see
you.
| If you find your watch gone suddenly
while walking down the Strand, try one Of
these streets. and you will without doubt
discover that the thief has bolted down into
one of these turnings.
In the daylight an air of somnolence and
| sluggishness reigns supreme. 1t may be the
heat of July day. it may be the cold and
| gloom of a November afternoon, the effect
| is the samoa sense of stagnation; and
only the subdued hum of the ceaseless tor
rent of traffic in the Strand falls on the
ear to tell you that you within touch
of life and civilization.
| On an autumn afternoon towards o. clock
a stout, well-built man of about eight-and-
| forty came slowly down one OF the streets.
| He stopped at corner and glanced quickly
along another short street to his right See
| ing nobody, he turned to his left and en-
tered a public house two or three doors
| from the corner. Inside ne opened the
doors of the bars one after another in a
| quiet, professional sort of way, and still he
| did not find the person he evidently sought.
/ III the euu SALOON Detter fortune ATTENDED
| him. Sitting stool in the corner of the
saloon bar he saw tall, thin, seedy-look-
| ing individual about five-and-thirty. He
| lifted a pair of colorless, foxy-looking eyes
| as the stranger entered, and then lowered
| the newspaper with which he had partially
concealed his face.
| ''Hullor' said the stranger, 81 thought
you'd altered your mind and hadn't come"
I'm not counting publicity just at pres
| ent," was the answer. Il see one or your
pals from Scotland Yard in villers street
| and he looked bit hard at me I did
guy and came in here"
It's all right, said the other. You'd
| only have to tell him you were waiting
| for me-
"P'raps. And suppose any of my people
had spotted me talking to- to tee %s what do
| was going to mark on EN-
| And they wouldn't have been far off the
| truth, would they, Dick?" laughed the de-
| tective. playfully poking finger into the
others ribs.
well don't know-I amt made up my
mind yet. It's always dangerous. that sort
with a scorcher like Jack Bathurst you've
got to be jolly careful, l can tell you"
The man spoke in low tone, furtively
keeping his eyes on the door. He was not
nervous of the man he had come to meet,
for Detective Sergeant Jenkins bore among
the fraternity of which Dick Fulton was
being "a white man." His business was
to hunt evildoers and to run them TO earth,
but he did his business in such straight
forward and honorable manner that he had
earned the respect even of large number
of the men and women he brought into the
criminal dock. If Sergeant Jenkins prom
ised thing he kept his word If he could
do a kindness without doing an injustice
to his duty he did that kindness. If, he
sometimes did. he received valuable in
formation from a wretched woman whom
resentment and jealousy prompted to be-
tray the criminal he was in pursuit of,
and the detective promised not to bring
into &c inf l.
would keep his word and that she would
be safe. In many cases the informers
found that they were safe even without a
promise, and II was this trust placed i'm
| plicitly in him which enabled Detective
Sergeant Jenkins to obtain information
where others failed, and helped him to
| score his many great successes
But with the informers-"the Marks" as
| they called among the criminal classes
| lit is different. The outlaws of Alsata will
| tolerate the detective whose business IL is
| to outwit them; but for the mark" the
sneak who, oStensibly one of themselves
and loyal to them, uses his knowledge to
betray them to the police, the thieves and
murderers, the burglars and DULLES, the
| coiners and blackmailers have burning,
undying hatred.
Dick Fulton had met Sergeant Jenkins to
give informatio by which he would capture
a gang of daring and successful coiners, of
which he member. He knew the
fate which would be his If his treachery
were discovered; he knew that the gang
were suspicious. and that their eyes were
everywhere. Dick Fulton, hardened as he
was, DESTROYS he was of earning his
Judass reward, remembered the fate of a
brother mark and shivered.
1t was not because the bar was cold. He
shivered because he was afraid.
The sergeant repenished the glasses. He
had obtained nearly all the information he
wanted Warmed by the spirit he had i'm
bibed and by a feeling of revenge he har-
bored against the leader of the gang, Dick
Fulton had conquered his hesitation and
fear and had impaired to the detective the
details of the organization and the plan by
which the coiners had so long defeated all
his attempts to corner them.
well, here's fortune" he said, raising
his glass. with anything like decent luck
we shall lay Jack Bathurst and his little lot
by the heels tonight
Dick Fulton drained his glass and rose.
I'll be off, he said. IF I'm out of the way
too long they'll smell a rat"
There's one thing haven't settled.
Where shall i meet you to-night2'
BE outside the Surrey at 9. You'll see me
opposite soon afterwards. i shan't cross or
speak to you. You can follow me. See
where / go in. and do the rest your own
way"
Don't you worry" said the detective;
you leave Ii to me. l shall have my men
round the place within hour"
And when you're in, what about me?''
"Oh, that'll be all right. I'll give my men
the office. Put white handkerchief in your