Charlevoix county herald., 1914-06-13
CHAPTER XVIII.
Shaughnessy Afraid.

"Oh, | will answer the question
with perfect directness, if that is
what you want, Shaughnessy," Mo-
reaux replied with the trace Of a
smile about the corners of his mouth.
81 don't know where she is"
"You lie."
All the lassitude and ease of posi-
ton left Birge Moreaux with the
suddenness of flash of light, and
he had taken stride forward and
shot out his right arm before there
was the slightest opportunity for
Shaughnessy to anticipate the act.
An observer, had there been one,
would have said that Moreaux had
invited the word that had impelled
the attack, and that his manner had
been of studious purpose to throw
the other off his guard.
1t is certain that the clenched fist
of the artist caught Shaughnessy
upon the neck under his chin before
the latter could raise his own hands
or otherwise avoid the blow.
And there was power behind it.
The big operative went to the floor
in a crumpled heap, not stunned, but
gone from him by that shock to his
more have risen to his own defense
pated it, or its paralyZing effect.
Yet he remained conscious, and his
eyes rolled in his head while he
f1oundered upon the floor in an effort
to reach for the weapon that he
carried in his pocket.
But Moreaux, suddenly become a
man of swift action, thrust a hand
into one of his side pockets of
Shaughnessy's coat and drew out the
handouts which every plain-clothes
man carries with him, and he
snapped them upon Shaughnessy's
wrists with the ease and assuredness
that the operative himself might
have employed had the conditions
been reversed.
Then, with surprising strength, he
assisted Shaughnessy to his feet,
and grasping him by tn coat be-
meath his arms, walked the yet
partly helpless man in front of him
across the studio and through the
open doorway to the elevator shaft.
Shaughnessy was beginning to
swear, but Moreaux seemed not to
hear. His calm and handsome fea-
lures had settled into a hardness of
exp ession that was foreign to them.
He guided his captive into the cage,
stepped in after him, threw on the
lever, and they shot downward.
At the bottom of the shaft he
guided Shaughnessy in the same
manner toward the Blank Street
door, pulled it open, showed the oper-
alive into the street, and closed it
again-and then he twisted small
brass knob between his thumb and
fingers, thus shooting an extra bolt
into commission and rendering a key
to that door useless.
And he did it all without uttering
one word in response to the profane
protests of the conquered man whose
vocabulary powers had been restored
much more rapidly than his vitality.
Then he returned to the elevator and
to his studio on the tenth floor.
Shaughnessy found himself upon
the street at dawn with his hands
locked together in front of him by
his own handouts. with a deadly
faintness not unlike nausea biting at
his vitals, and with the overwhelm-.
ing sense of his own defeat-and
perhaps disaster as well-enraging
every impulse within him to mad
ness. For suddenly he was beset by
actual terror of the man who had
overcome him so easily.
Shaughnessy was afraid.
He picked up a stray newspaper
from the gutter, and worked it into
position over his manacled hands
until it covered them from sight.
The gray of dawn was over the
CITY. Milk wagons and butcher carts
ratified and thumped within his hear
ing as he started away, walking UNI
certainly because the effect of that
terrific blow against his Adams APP
pie was still upon him.
But he recovered as he went for
ward, so that soon he was enabled
to hurry, passing block after block,
and crossing many streets until he
arrived at a flat-house where he
knew the vestibule door was never
locked. and where he raised his man.
acled hands to an electric button
and held it beneath the continued
pressure of one of his thumbs until
the clicking of latch released the
inner door.
He stumbled up two flights of
stairs to be confronted by Holder
ness, whose face was like thunder
cloud because he had only just gone
to bed and to sleep when the bell
awakened him. But Shaughnessy
paid no heed. He thrust out his
manacled hanls.
"Unlock 'em," he ordered. "Then
get into your clothes and come with
me. Oh! Them? They weren't work
ing right. | was trying them and
snapped them on myself. Then /
couldn't get at my key Thanks"
He dropped the handouts into his
pocket. "Come on. Get your things
on and go with me-"
Like blazes | willW Holderness
replied lotly. Its daylight. Where
the"
"You know who Birge Moreaux is
the artist? IL was out at his place
where Shannon got that wad. Well,
his studio was busted open last
night. 1t was Faber's work, too, or
I'm a Dutchman. Anyhow j can