SECRET SERVICE.
OLD AND YOUNG KING BRADY, DETECTIVES.

Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Class Matter at the New York, N. Y., Post Office, March 1, 1899. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1900, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C., by Frank Tousey, 24 Union Square, New York.

No. 84. NEW YORK, August 31, 1900. Price 5 Cents.

The Bradys’ Race for Life;
OR,
ROUNDING UP A TOUGH TRIO.

A Detective Story of Life.
BY A NEW YORK DETECTIVE.

Van and Burke fought like tigers, but were finally overpowered. “You are trapped, my fine birds,” cried Old King Brady jubilantly. But at this moment Ah Ling appeared on the scene. The uproar had attracted him. With white, scared face he stared at the detectives.

CHAPTER I.
A MYSTERIOUS CRIME.

This thrilling cry rang out upon the night air in one of the side streets of New York City.

The few pedestrians in the bleak, storm-swept vicinity paused and instinctively looked for the cause of this blood-curdling appeal.

As usual, no officer chanced to be within call. Two men who were on their way home from business, however crossed the street with long strides and plunged into a dingy area.

No person could be seen in the area, but one of the men, whose name was Mortimer Smith, bent over and cried:

The snow in the area was trodden and saturated with blood. All the ghostly evidences of a crime save the body of the victim were there.

The two men noted this, and for a moment seemed about to enter the dwelling. But Smith said:

These two well-meaning and worthy citizens started for an officer. They reached the nearest corner and found a patrolman just pulling in an electric call.

Upon their statement of the case the officer made it a hurry call, and then hastily returned to the area with them.

Naturally the guardian of the peace hesitated ere entering the place alone and in the dark.

The police captain at once surrounded the house. That is, men went to the alley in its rear while the place was entered from the front.

But just as the officers with dark-lanterns entered the tenement they were met by a sudden wall of smoke.

The criminals had sought to conceal the evidences of their crime by means of the flames.

The fire alarm was given and into the street now there dashed the fire companies.

Lines of hose were quickly run into the building and preparations made to subdue the fire.

Not one of the inmates of the place had thus far put in an appearance. Indeed, it seemed deserted.

But while the police had been hesitating about entering the smoke-filled dwelling, two men had joined them.

“Hello! What is wrong here?” said one of them, a tall, strong-framed man, dressed in a tightly-buttoned blue coat, old-fashioned stock collar and wide-brimmed slouch hat.

“Ah, Old King Brady!” cried the police captain. “Here is a case for you. It looks like murder and attempt to conceal it by means of arson.”

“The smoke is so dense that it is not safe. The firemen will soon have the blaze under control.”

“Bah!” cried Old King Brady. “By that time evidence of the crime will be missing. Come on, Harry!”

This to his younger companion. The officers were startled and the police captain cried:

“Come on, Harry,” he said to his young companion, “this is work for us.”

And then before the police could recover from their surprise, both plunged into the dark hallway and the smoke.

“Here, stop them!” cried the police captain. “They are going to their death.”

The Bradys, detectives of the first class, and the best in the Secret Service, were out of sight.

But Old King Brady, Gotham’s greatest detective, and his protege and pupil, Harry Brady, knew that if the mystery was to be solved, great risk must be incurred.

So they plunged unhesitatingly into the burning dwelling. The possibility of death never deterred either from exact fulfillment of duty.

He believed that it was confined to a point in the rear of the tenement and had, as yet, not extended beyond one room.

It could hardly furnish light enough to penetrate the pall of stifling smoke, but yet enabled them to find their way up the stairs.

A trail of blood marked the floor. In the trail lay a white handkerchief of dainty texture.

They felt certain of a sure revelation of the mystery. The blood trail led to the door of a room at the end of the corridor.

But in their mind’s-eye they saw the mangled remains of the murderer’s victim. So they threw themselves against the door.

Flames and smoke filled the doorway and forbade their entrance. They were driven back.

“No use, Harry!” cried Old King Brady. “We are beaten for just now. We must get out of here.”

The detectives reached the stairs. But escape in this direction was cut off. Flames were in their faces.

At the other end of the corridor was a window opening upon the street. The detectives made a rush for this.

They reached it just as the sash was carried away by a stream of water from the firemen’s hose. This gave the detectives a chance.

Harry vaulted lightly over the sill. It was fifteen feet to the area below. The firemen shouted, but Harry dropped to the flagging.

By this time a great crowd was in the street, attracted in spite of the driving storm.

The firemen were badly handicapped by the snow, but yet fought their way bravely while the rickety tenement was being consumed.

A tragedy had been enacted, which the flames concealed and the only clew which the Bradys had secured was the delicate lady’s handkerchief.

This alone could furnish the only suggestion to be gained in any way from the affair.

Whether it would prove a sufficient means for the complete revelation of the mystery or not, remained to be seen.

CHAPTER II.
FOLLOWING THE CLEWS.

To evolve the truth from the matter as it now stood did not by any means seem easy.

Insurmountable difficulties had seemed to present themselves. All hung upon the single clew.

It was of delicate workmanship and had certainly belonged to a lady of refinement.

All manner of deductions could be made. It might be assumed that the victim was a wealthy woman, decoyed into a trap of death and for some unknown purpose murdered.

So nearly consumed were they that it was not easy to say whether they were those of a man or a woman.

But beyond this, all was a wall of mystery. The detectives learned that the inmates of the tenement were an Irish family by the name of Roche.

They were honest working people and had been absent for the night on a visit to an adjoining town.

Thus matters remained in statu quo when one day the detectives dropped into the office of the Chief of the Secret Service.

“Hello, boys!” called out the chief, in his cheery way. “What is the good word to-day?”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the chief. “Well, that is something. Let me see the handkerchief.”

“Oh, I recall,” he said, “I left that handkerchief in the room at our lodging house. Do you remember, Harry?”

“Many a dark crime has been covered up in that same way,” he said. “Nothing obliterates the traces of a crime like fire.”

“That is right,” agreed Old King Brady. “The oddest thing of all is that the house was occupied by people who could have had no possible connection with the crime on account of absence.”

“Well, that is strange,” agreed the chief. “You cannot explain the dragging of the body into that house in particular?”

“It would seem that the perpetrators of the crime were acquainted with the fact that the inmates were away and that an excellent chance was afforded to cover up the murder,” said Harry.

“I’ll wager that state of affairs will not last long,” he 4 said. “The Bradys were never yet defeated, and I’m sure this case will meet the fate of all others.”

“If you were not already engaged on this case I could give you another which would interest you,” said the chief.

“I think not,” he said. “It is a case which will require the best efforts of a man, and could hardly be divided.”

“Certainly!” agreed the chief, as he turned to his notebook. “Here are the details.”

“A mysterious disappearance. A beautiful young society lady and heiress, of Westchester, drops suddenly from sight. Not a clew to her whereabouts.

“Miss Evelyn Grimm, daughter of the late Theophilus Grimm, and heiress to a vast estate now held in trust by Napoleon Blood, her uncle, awaiting her coming of age, suddenly disappears. The uncle is frantic and has used every means to trace her.

“The only clew is a brief note of appointment, written in a masculine hand, with these words:

“‘Miss Grimm: I will be at the Union Square rendezvous at ten o’clock. Do not fail to meet me, for I have business of very great importance. D. B.’”

When he looked up he was startled at the expression on the faces of the detectives.

“Well, perhaps I am,” replied the old detective. “I beg leave to ask you the name of that young lady?”

“And kept an appointment at ten o’clock Wednesday evening at Union Square?”

“That is so!” The chief gave a start. “By jove!” he exclaimed. “You don’t really think that—there is any connection——”

“The name on the lace handkerchief which we found in the burning tenement, bore the name of Evelyn Grimm.”

“Whew!” he exclaimed. “I never dreamed of such a thing. But—I can see it plainly now.”

“On my word, this is a surprise,” said the chief. “But this is light upon the mystery. We now know the identity of the victim.”

“It is easy to assume that the young girl was decoyed to Fifteenth street and foully murdered.”

“A gentleman to see you, sir,” replied the clerk, handing the chief a card. The latter glanced at it.

“The uncle and guardian,” said the chief. “What does he want to see me for? Perhaps he has a clew!”

“Wait a moment,” said the chief, “I want you to hear what this visitor has to say.”

“We will fix that,” said the chief, drawing the wing of a folding screen across a corner of the room. “Get behind this and listen.”

In a few moments the door again opened and the clerk showed Mr. Blood into the room.

Napoleon Blood, uncle of the missing heiress, was a sharp-eyed, hatchet-faced man of not altogether prepossessing appearance.

“Ah, if you could only give me a clew to the fate of my dear niece I would be forever in your debt,” replied Blood, in a psalm-singing tone.

“Well, it may be only theory, but sometimes I think it fact. I do not wish to wrong the young man—but—you 5 see young people will be foolish—and—I—of course, this is all confidential.”

“He is a poverty-stricken clerk,” continued Blood, “but he dared to aspire to the hand of my niece. Of course I forbade the thing at once. My niece acted very rebellious and forward and I was obliged to be very peremptory with her.

“I suspect that young Banks made the appointment with her which the note indicates. They very likely quarreled. Probably he tried to induce her to elope with him. When she refused, he might have, in a fit of rage, killed her and dragged her body into the tenement.”

He was silent a long while. His gaze was fixed on Blood so long that the latter became nervous.

“I am sure,” said the notary, “that this clew, if followed up, will yield an explanation of the motive. I would suggest that detectives shadow young Banks and even that his lodgings be searched. I am convinced he is guilty.”

“Is it so bad as that?” said the chief, quietly. “We will consider your proposition, Mr. Blood. We are glad to get all the hints possible.”

CHAPTER III.
IN SLY JIMMIE’S PLACE.

“Well,” he said, “I give you the hint. Make the most of it. I could have given it to the private detectives, but I thought the Secret Service safer.”

“That was a wise move,” said the chief. “The Secret Service is all that its name implies, absolutely safe!”

The door closed and Blood was gone. The detectives emerged from behind the screen.

“Well, I think so,” agreed Old King Brady. “There is a dark game underneath all this. Somebody has been fearfully wronged.”

“Thank you!” replied Old King Brady. “We shall see you again when we have something worth reporting.”

Then parting salutations were exchanged and the detectives went out upon the street.

By a process of reasoning, therefore, the Bradys managed to hit upon what they believed was a true line.

To them it looked logical that there was an animus in the purpose of Blood in throwing suspicion upon the young clerk, Allerton Banks.

They discovered that Allerton Banks was a young man of character and reputation beyond reproach.

Moreover, by inquiry, they learned that he could not possibly have written the note of appointment signed D. B., and that it was easy for him to prove a certain alibi.

On the other hand, investigation showed that Napoleon Blood was a crotchety, narrow-minded old usurer and that he handled the inheritance of Evelyn Grimm as if it was his own.

In fact, now that it was assumed that she was out of existence, the property was likely to revert to him as the next and only heir.

“I can see only one party at the bottom of it all,” said Harry, “and that is Napoleon Blood.”

“Oh, yes. The crime that evening on Fifteenth street could not have been committed by him alone.”

So the detectives made their diagnosis. It was in order now to place Blood under close surveillance.

One day Blood left his office in Wall street and made his way to Chatham Square.

Here there was a small bar-room known as the “Travelers’ Rest,” and kept by a notorious fence called Sly Jimmie Callahan.

That the eminently respectable Mr. Blood should visit such a place as Sly Jimmie’s, was odd, to say the least.

So they kept close behind the notary and followed him into Sly Jimmie’s place.

Blood kept his collar turned up and his hat pulled over his eyes as if to escape recognition.

“Whew!” whispered Old King Brady. “When did they return? They have not been seen around New York for five years.”

The tall, lantern-jawed fellow with the patch over his eye was Dick Burke. He was a cool, shrewd villain, and the brains of the trio.

The hump-backed, heavy-jowled fellow with the scar on his cheek was Dan Collins.

The short, pudgy rascal with the leer and St. Vitus dance was Martin Van, as atrocious a monster as ever saw the light of day—a veritable Caliban.

They couldn’t conceal their identity anywhere, yet they were mysteriously elusive and always fooled the detectives.

They managed to perpetrate the blackest of crimes and yet cover their tracks so well that they could not be cornered.

They also sat at a table and pretended to sip the vile beer which the place afforded.

So the Bradys were compelled to wait and be satisfied with the assumption that something of importance was being discussed.

They were content now to accept as a fact that their first theory was absolutely correct.

It was a horrible thing to think of. The young girl decoyed by the note of appointment to the Fifteenth street rendezvous on that fearful stormy night in winter. The fearful murder and the burning of the tenement.

But the trio were capable of even worse crimes than this. The detectives were assured of this.

Blood shook hands with each and left them. The detectives caught only one sentence uttered by Blood:

This they proceeded to do. The three villains now walked away toward the Bowery.

The detectives shadowed them from one place to another until long past midnight.

Then they turned into a cheap concert hall in Bleecker street, known as Dan Maguire’s.

Suddenly Burke arose and walked leisurely to the bar where the detectives stood, apparently engaged in drinking beer.

“Come!” continued Burke. “We’d like to talk with ye. Come over an’ sit down.”

“I—I can’t leave my friend, thank you,” replied Old King Brady. “It is evident you take me for somebody else.”

It was certain that their disguise had been penetrated by the keen rogues and they were known.

Concealment was out of the question. Old King Brady saw that a bluff would be foolish.

“Well, we lay you up for the gang that burned the Fifteenth street tenement.”

“Mebbe so! But ye can’t clinch us. Anyhow, come over an’ sit down, we want to talk with ye.”

CHAPTER IV.
THE PRIVATE DETECTIVE.

It was a strange thing for the detectives to sit at the same table in a friendly way with three men whom they meant to hang, if possible.

And detectives certainly meet with queer experiences. This was one of them beyond a doubt.

“Ah, that’s odd!” said Burke, with bad grace. “Mebbe it would be to yer interest to.”

“We do not drink anyway,” replied the old detective. “Not with anybody except when absolutely necessary.”

“Well, all right. Now let’s get to the point. What be ye shadowing us fer?”

“Humph!” exclaimed Collins. “Do ye think we had anything to do with killing that gal?”

“That is just it,” replied Old King Brady. “I know that you are the hired tools of Napoleon Blood!”

“Ugh!” said Collins, in a gritty voice. “Whoever runs up ag’in’ the trio has a hard time.”

“You are talking to the wrong man,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do or say will scare me. I mean to put you fellows in the electric chair.”

“Ye don’t know what ye’re doin’. No man ever run up ag’in’ us that didn’t get the worst of it. Nuthin’ kin save ye if we git after ye. Don’t fergit that. Ye’ll have a hot race fer life!”

“All right,” said the old detective, rising, “you understand me, and I understand you.”

“And you will soon find yourselves in the meshes of the law,” retorted Harry. “Remember that escape is impossible. You are not for a moment lost sight of and whatever comes you are always within our reach!”

“You say you will hound us,” said Collins. “Why don’t you arrest us now?”

“Have your fun now,” he said, “you may not have the stomach for it later.”

They had no idea of leaving the vicinity, though. Their purpose was to remain as long as possible in close touch with the villains.

What they were satisfied of in their own minds could never be proved in a court of law.

But the bull-dog tenacity of Old King Brady’s nature was never more evident than now.

“Harry,” said Old King Brady in a low tone of voice, “that old Blood is a fiend in human shape.”

At first, unseen to both, a man with muffled features had been standing in the shadows of the doorway.

“You are tracking the trio with a belief that they are involved in that affair at the Fifteenth street house.”

“Look here, Scott,” said Old King Brady, “you’re not a Secret Service man.”

“It isn’t necessary to be in the Secret Service to be a detective,” he snapped.

Scott looked angry and baffled. He glared at the detectives savagely. Then muttering he began to move away.

“Better let this matter alone entirely. It makes no difference what you do, you’re going to get the worst of it. Old Blood will surely be found out.”

“You talk like fools!” growled Scott. “But just keep on and we’ll see who comes out best. I work for money, I do!”

“It is easy to understand him,” said the old detective. “He is only a tool for Blood.”

“It is evident the old usurer means to put the young cashier out of the way,” said Harry.

Old King Brady gave a great start. A man had crossed the street and now passed very close to the detectives.

“By Jupiter!” exclaimed Harry. “I’d like mighty well to know just what their conversation will be.”

“Well,” said the old detective, with sudden inspiration, “I think I have a plan.”

“Well, I think there is a small window on a level with the ground. It is directly over the table where those fellows sit.”

“It is true. I remember seeing it. Now, if we can only creep in there and either open the window or remove a pane of glass, we ought to hear every word.”

Here they made an agreeable discovery. It was not necessary to open the window or remove the glass.

The old usurer seemed greatly excited that the Bradys were possessed of a knowledge of his complicity in the crime.

“Curse them!” cried Blood, savagely. “I hope they do not know too much. Did you admit anything?”

“You bet we didn’t!” said Collins, angrily. “What do you take us for?”

“You bet!” cried Van, with a fierce grin. “Say the word, boss. We’ll give ’em a race fer life. What’s the job worth to ye in solid money?”

CHAPTER V.
OUTWITTING THE CROOKS.

“It’s understood,” said Collins, “when the Bradys are safe outen the way you will pay us ten thousand in gold?”

“Well, it’s worth that to me,” said Blood. “Once they are out of the way the course is pretty clear.”

“Ten thousand in gold!” said Burke. “That will take us to Australia. The twenty thousand we got fer the Fifteenth street job will start us in business, all right!”

“Look here!” cried Collins. “What be ye going to do with that young Banks, anyway?”

“My man Scott, a private detective, has worked that all right. Some of the girl’s jewelry, and a lace necktie stained with blood will be found in young Banks’ room to-morrow. Also, there’ll be blood on some of his clothes.”

“You’ll do!” jeered Burke. “If you’d join us this trio might become a quartette.”

“All right,” he said in parting, “see that you do your work well by the Bradys. I’ll keep an eye out all the while.”

Then the trio also separated for the night. It was a peculiarity of theirs to be seldom found together.

“We have got them solid!” cried Old King Brady. “We can now easily checkmate them.”

“He must be put on his guard and the dastardly scheme of Blood’s frustrated. Then we will have sufficient against both Blood and the trio.”

The Bradys left Sly Jimmie’s place. The air was crisp and cold, for the frigidity of winter had not yet passed away.

He roomed, while at work in the city, in Irving Place. The room was a specimen of the sort usually found in lodging houses.

He simply knew that a tall, hawk-eyed man roomed next to him. But he had never ventured a surmise as to the man’s character or identity.

The chambermaid had caught Mr. Scott, the hawk-eyed man, one day trying to fit skeleton keys to Allerton’s door.

But Mr. Scott profusely explained that he had got the wrong room by mistake and went into his own room.

All this the Bradys possessed themselves of very quickly after arriving at Allerton’s lodging house.

“I can assure you,” said young Banks, “the disappearance of my fiancee has been a dreadful blow to me. I have until now never given up hope that she might be found alive.”

“I fear there is no ground for such a hope,” said Old 10 King Brady. “You will do well to preserve your own life from the same gang.”

“Now, we must work sharp to beat Blood at his own game,” said Old King Brady. “Who could have access to your room here?”

“I do not even know him beyond the fact that he is a private detective and his name is Scott.”

“Yes, yes!” said Harry. “Well, such fellows make no trouble in finding their way through any door.”

“The answer we will give you speedily,” replied Old King Brady. “Overhaul your wardrobe. We must search every corner of this room.”

The young cashier went through his wardrobe. To his horror a suit of clothes was found smeared with blood.

The detectives kept grimly at work. Other incriminating evidence was quickly produced.

“Indeed?” said Old King Brady. “How did these bloody clothes come in your room?”

“Gentlemen,” he said, earnestly, “I swear to you that I have committed no crime. How the blood came here is an intense mystery to me. Could anybody have placed it there to incriminate me?”

“I’m glad you have come to your senses, young man,” he said. “Now you are getting near the mark.”

“All this is very strange and incomprehensible to me,” he said. “Can you kindly explain it all?

“And it is true that Evelyn was foully murdered?” he gasped. “I have had hopes until now. Oh, this is too dreadful! And it is all Blood’s work?”

“That is just what we are trying to do now,” said Old King Brady. “And I think we are in a fair way to succeed.”

“I hope so. Oh, gentlemen, I place myself in your hands! What ought I to do under these circumstances?”

“Keep very quiet,” advised Old King Brady. “Officers will come here to arrest you and to search your room. Make no objection. Even let them arrest you if they will. Have faith in us. We will not see you come to harm.”

They carried with them the blood-stained clothes and all the evidences of the murder.

The place was searched thoroughly, but not a trace of the evidence, supposed by Scott to be there, was found.

However, the warrant demanded the arrest of Allerton Banks and he was taken to the Tombs.

“The murderer found!” it read. “At last an arrest is made. It proves a great surprise, for the party charged with the crime by Detective Scott is no other than the lover of the missing girl, Allerton Banks.”

Then they caused an article to appear the next day deriding Scott and ridiculing the arrest.

Their purpose was to make wholesale arrests. They would scoop the whole gang at once.

They had evidence that Scott had secured the room next to Banks for the purpose of effecting an entrance.

They had the evidence of the chambermaid that he had been seen trying to pick the lock.

They could also show a warrantable motive for the crime and altogether quite sufficient evidence to convict the gang.

So the Bradys went first to the residence of Mr. Napoleon Blood in lonely Westchester.

“He has just gone to the city with Mr. Scott, the detective,” declared the servant.

He had seen the handwriting on the wall and at once took measures to protect himself.

CHAPTER VI.
SHADOWED.

With no one to appear against him young Allerton Banks was discharged as free of guilt.

Great excitement was created when it was known that a warrant was out for Napoleon Blood.

And the interest was at fever heat when it was learned that he had skipped for parts unknown.

They knew that Blood had money and would not be easily overtaken. But the Tough Trio could not get away so easily.

It came by mail, being post-marked at Station E, and was written in a coarse hand as follows:

“I believe you, Harry,” agreed Old King Brady. “But our move is to keep ahead of them.”

It is no light thing to ponder upon that three elusive deadly thugs are seeking one’s life and waking or sleeping there is never a safe moment.

They knew that it was true that they were under the constant surveillance of the trio.

How to turn the tables and place the other gang under the shadow was the question.

In a passing crowd or the glare of gaslight they will prove sometimes very effective.

But not always are they effective. The cunning crook penetrates the cleverest disguise with ease.

Every person has certain physical peculiarities which no disguise on earth can absolutely conceal.

The detectives decided finally that their only way to baffle their murderous foes was to make a literal race of it.

By keeping always just ahead of the trio they could be sure of safety and perhaps find a way of doubling and turning the tables on the foe.

“We will lead them a chase across the continent!” cried Old King Brady. “If they can catch us they may have our scalps. In the meantime we will try every kind of a decoy for them.”

It was a crowded thoroughfare and they knew that no attempt would be made upon their lives here.

The detectives watched very closely. Twice they saw their birds at a corner far down the street.

“It looks like it. Well, we would be foolish to go their way. Let us give them the slip through this alley.”

So the detectives slipped away and into another street. Soon they were on Broadway.

“Aha!” said Old King Brady, triumphantly. “That’s the way to slip them. I think we can fool them yet, Harry.”

But the young detective clutched his arm and said: “Don’t you believe it. Just look across the street.”

“By Jupiter!” exclaimed the old detective. “That beats me! Where did he come from?”

“I tell you they are almost omnipresent,” declared Harry. “We can’t seem to turn the trick on them.”

“Well, we will!” cried Old King Brady, angrily. “We’ll catch that fellow. Stay here, Harry.”

But search as he would, he could find no trace of Collins. Baffled, Old King Brady returned to Broadway. “Confound the slippery rascal!” he cried. “There must be a way to trip them up.”

“Well, it may seem simple, but I think it will work. Go to an uptown hotel and register.”

“We will assume to go to our room. But in reality we will slip out by a rear entrance. Once the gang enters the hotel we will nab them.”

“I think they will. Certainly they will leave nothing undone to encompass our death.”

“It is an old hostelry and does not depend altogether on elevators. There are rear stairs for us to descend.”

They reached a corner of the long corridor when some-thing like a chuckle came to their ears.

Far down the corridor a man stood apparently studying the number on a room door. He seemed totally oblivious of the presence of the detectives.

“Great Scott!” exclaimed Harry, and said no more. The detectives looked at each other in sheer wonderment.

The trio seemed possessed of a supernatural faculty for making themselves invisible at will.

Completely mystified, the Bradys sat down in the hotel lobby and tried to think.

The foes were close upon their heels and could not be shaken off or decoyed. They were as elusive as the will-o’-the-wisp.

They were waiting only a favorable opportunity for pouncing upon their intended victims. They were slow and patient as the Hindoo thug himself.

“By Jupiter, Harry!” he exclaimed. “They certainly mean to catch us off our guard. What can we do?”

“We must make a race of it. Let them chase us. We will keep on the jump. At a favorable moment we will double back on our tracks and then—they are ours.”

“A good plan and the only one,” said Old King Brady. “They will pursue us. We are sure of that. We are not smart if we do not fool them in some way.”

CHAPTER VII.
THE RACE BEGINS.

They did not even spend the night at the Broadway Central Hotel. Instead they took a car for the Grand Central Depot.

It was arranged to go on to Boston by the night express. When they arrived in the Hub city they would at once slip onto the next train back.

The Bradys kept a sharp outlook and were certain that none of the gang were on the train.

“It looks like it,” agreed Old King Brady. “But I am not wholly sure. They have disappointed us several times.”

“That is true,” agreed Harry. “Yet I believe we will fool them this time.”

Just as they were about to retire, a short man with bushy whiskers and a tweed suit came into the car.

He claimed their attention at once, but neither remembered having seen him before.

He ignored them, however, and at once tumbled into his bunk. His snore could soon be heard above the rumble of the train.

The detectives had decided to stay in Boston during the day and take the night train back to New York.

Then they could assume the best disguise they had and perhaps shake their murderous pursuers.

The weather was typical of New England at the time of year and was most bitterly cold.

When the detectives registered at the Parker House, the fellow-passenger in the tweed suit also registered.

He was assigned to a room, as were the detectives. Young King Brady noted the coincidence, but thought nothing of it.

“We are blind fools! Far from eluding the gang, we are only getting into their way.”

“Well, I couldn’t at first. But after we registered, I went down into the wash-room. He was there as well!”

“I passed by him and chancing to glance into a side mirror I had profile view of him. He was indulging in the St. Vitus dance and his features were all contorted.”

He knew that Van had the St. Vitus dance. The coincidence was certainly suspicious.

“I declare!” he finally exclaimed. “Perhaps you are right, Harry. Those whiskers did not look really natural.”

“He is very likely in his room just now. Let us work the surprise on him. Fate seems to have played this into our hands.”

Their luck in having probed the fellow’s disguise seemed likely to stand them in good stead.

“Harry,” said Old King Brady, “we must proceed with due caution. You can slip out now and get an officer.”

“Very good. The officer can go right up to his room. I will go up one corridor and you the other. Then we have him trapped.”

The detectives had laid their plan well. As a matter of fact, their surmises were correct.

It was his purpose to follow them like a lynx and at a favorable moment strike one or both down with his own hand.

“Wait a moment!” said the occupant of the room. That was the last answer. The officer suddenly put his shoulder to the door and forced it in.

A window opening upon a fire-escape was open. It was by means of this that Van had escaped.

Downstairs dashed the detectives. As they reached the sidewalk they saw a man in a big overcoat turn the corner below into Washington street.

The detectives rushed after him. In the crowd, however, they lost track of their man.

This is the street of livery stables. From the door of one of these stables they saw a cutter sleigh drawn by a spirited horse emerge.

The same big overcoat and hat betokened that it was the crook. He looked back once and saw the Bradys.

His face lit up with evil exultation and he made a contemptuous gesture with his hand.

“Hold!” shouted Old King Brady at the top of his lungs. “Stop or I will fire!”

“Quick!” cried Old King Brady. “Give us the best horse you’ve got in your stable. We will pay for him.”

“Enough of that!” cried Old King Brady, thrusting a roll of greenbacks in the man’s face. “Your best horse. I’ll buy him. Here’s his value as security!”

The stable keeper quickly brought out a flea-bitten gray horse. He was attached to a light sleigh.

“By Scallay Square and Brighton street to Cambridge and Arlington?” said Old King Brady.

“That’s the best road horse in Boston. You’ll catch your man before he gets there.”

“If we can catch Van,” said Old King Brady, “we shall be all right. We will have only two bloodhounds on our trail.”

Highly elated, the detectives drove on. It was slow work getting out of the crowded streets. But finally they crossed the Cambridge Bridge and were out on a clear highway.

CHAPTER VIII.
AT THE ASYLUM.

But yet nothing was seen of the sleigh which contained Martin Van. To be sure he had a long start.

Arlington highway was reached and then they turned up the historic thoroughfare, the route of Paul Revere on his memorable ride, and entered Lexington.

The minute men of olden times who had met here to resist the advance of the British column of invasion, had once drank their flip and toddy in this ancient house.

As the detectives dashed along the snow-bound thoroughfare, Old King Brady gave a start.

In the tavern yard was a sleigh. It was the veritable cutter hired by Van in Boston.

“Now we have him!” chuckled Old King Brady, as he turned his horse into the yard.

At a counter stood a man of plain, stern features. He was evidently the proprietor and stared at the invaders.

The Bradys rushed out and leaped into their wagon. They drove on at full speed for Concord.

Moreover, a blinding snow storm had commenced to block the roads. After going a few miles the detectives found that their horse was giving out.

“On my word, Harry,” said Old King Brady, “I am afraid we are bound to get stuck.”

Suddenly, after floundering a while in the snow, a dim light was seen in the distance.

“There is a habitation of some kind,” said Old King Brady. “I think we had better strike for it.”

After a while they passed through a gateway and drew up in the yard of a time-stained and weather-beaten old mansion of revolutionary style.

“Reckon hyars some more storm-bound people,” said one of the boys. “Say, mister, what kin we do fer ye?”

“It looks as if we had got to trespass on you for the night,” said Old King Brady.

The big barn doors were with difficulty swung back. Then as the detectives entered they were given a thrilling start.

Right in the center of the barn floor was the cutter which Van had driven from Boston.

“By jove!” whispered Harry. “We’ve come up with the sharp rogue at last. He won’t slip us this time.”

“Jest so, sir! It came in by itself an’ nobody in the sleigh. I don’t know nuthin’ more about it.”

It seemed an altogether foolish thing for him to desert the horse and sleigh to go afoot such a wild night.

Wherever Van was, nothing could be done to secure him that night. He might be freezing somewhere in the snow.

However this might be, the Bradys knew that they could only make themselves comfortable for the night and wait for the morrow.

They were given seats by the fire and the housewife hustled about to get them something to eat.

The Bradys were soon toasting their frigid feet by the fire and listening to John Paine’s homely talk.

“I reckoned it ud be a pow’ful hard winter,” he said. “Everything p’inted that way.”

“Bekase if ye warn’t ye’d never ax that question. Why, the next house ain’t a house at all. It’s a mad-house!”

“I reckon so. It’s private enuff. Old Doctor Scraggs who keeps it has about four of ther wust dogs in this kentry. Nobody dares to go about there arter dark.”

They wondered if there could be any connection between Van’s disappearance and the asylum.

“I say!” he cried. “It’s all breaking away an’ the moon is coming out.”

“That settles it!” cried Old King Brady. “We’ll take a trip on snowshoes, anyway!”

The farmer made no further demur. For himself he couldn’t see the sense of it.

Warmly wrapped they did not feel the chill air. The moon had appeared high in the heavens and the air was sublime.

“It’s easy enough to understand it all now,” said Old King Brady. “You see Van went as far as he could with his team. Then he turned it into this man’s yard and went ahead on foot.”

Old King Brady paused. Both detectives had experienced the same thought. Was there any connection between the insane asylum of Doctor Scraggs and the Fifteenth street mystery?

The Bradys knew well that many of these private asylums are but prisons for innocent victims of evil plots.

On the charge of insanity a perfectly sane man may be kept for years, even to the hour of his death, in awful, torturous confinement.

It seemed certain that Van had not alone come on to Boston to shadow the detectives or even to decoy them.

As they glided along on their snowshoes, they were resolved to solve the mystery that night if possible.

CHAPTER IX.
A CLEVER GAME.

The hoarse barking was succeeded by others until the air became heavy with the uproar.

They had little fear that the dogs could reach them in that deep snow. But suddenly as they stood there in the moonlight a distant sharp crack was heard and the hiss of a bullet by Harry’s ear was a note of danger.

Why the asylum people should receive possible visitors in this warlike if not murderous fashion was a problem which needed solution.

“It is might queer,” said Old King Brady. “The place cannot be very straight to be sure. Can it be that they suspect our identity?”

“I say, what in darnation be yu afirin’ at us fer?” he shouted in a nasal twang. “Gosh hang it! We ain’t doin’ of anything to yu!”

“Wall, I’m Jim Simpson an’ this ere is my uncle Hank Small. We live up tew Concord an’ we’ve got tuckered out an’ thought mebbe we cud git yu to keep us until mornin’. We’re willin’ tu pay fer a nite’s lodgin’.”

“That don’t count,” came back the same gruff voice. “We ain’t got no use fer strangers around hyar, I kin tell ye. Better move on!”

“Wall, I must say ye’re mighty civil people tu try tu shoot us. I reckon I’ll send the constable down to see yu!”

“Ye wouldn’t want to spend the night hyar if ye knew what sort of a house this is,” said the gruff speaker.

“Eh?” retorted Harry. “What kind of a house is it? Dang me, but it looks big enuff for a hotel.”

“Yu don’t say! Say, now, I’d like to see a mad pusson. Won’t ye let us take a look at one?”

“Go on yer way an’ leave this place as far behind ye as ye can, or it’ll be the wuss for ye.”

“Durn it! But we’re all tuckered out. Take us in an’ give us a cup of suthin’ warm, anyway. Then we’ll go along.”

“Ye’ll git somethin’ hotter nor ye want if ye fool around hyar too long. Now git out!”

This reply seemed to have a peculiar effect upon the asylum people. A distant murmur was heard and then there came another hail.

On the way from Paine’s farm house they had effected a very clever disguise. They had borrowed some old coats, mufflers and hats of Farmer Paine.

With the use of false beards and wigs they had easily made themselves up for countrymen of the most verdant kind.

“What do you think?” whispered Harry. “Is our disguise good enough to risk a trip to the asylum if they finally decide to take us in?”

But the daring old detective was ready to take any risk, however great, to gain a valuable end.

“Naw! Somebody down in Lexington said they wuz New York people, but they didn’t look tu me tu be stylish enuff.”

“Well, Simpson, you an’ your friend can come over an’ we’ll take a look at ye. Mebbe we can put ye up fer the night.”

“Whoopla!” cried Harry. “We’re glad enuff of that an’ we’ll pay ye fur it.”

The detectives climbed over the fence and came along on their snowshoes. It required nerve to do this.

For aught they knew this might be only a subterfuge on the part of the villains to get them within range.

Three huge mastiffs were held in leash by a bull-faced keeper. In the gateway stood three men.

Two of these the detectives recognized at once as Burke and Collins of the trio. This was a revelation.

The three miscreants and the rascally gatekeeper keenly scrutinized the two detectives.

Collins held the lantern close up to their faces and studied them hard. Then he grinned.

“It’s all right,” he said. “They’re a couple of Rubes all right. Come in an’ we’ll keep ye till morning.”

“Isaac,” said Scraggs to the gatekeeper, “put the dogs back in the kennel. Show these two men to a room in the south wing. Give ’em a swig of whiskey.”

“Much obleeged to yu, mister,” said Harry, profusely. “I kin see yu are a gentleman. An’ yu kin bet Jim Simpson won’t fergit to make it up with yu.”

“That’s all right,” growled the asylum keeper. “Maybe you won’t like your room when you find out it’s next to a madman’s cell.”

“I say that anything is a durned sight better than freezing to death out in this tarnal snow.”

“Oh, I see! Well, come on, gentlemen, there’s business for us to do. Look here, you jays, you’re not lying to me about those two detec—I mean men in the sleigh? They really went back to Lexington?”

“Thet is about right,” said Yan’s voice from an open door in the building. “I know I had the start an’ a half hour afterwards I couldn’t have got through myself.”

Isaac, the bull-faced keeper, led the detectives across the snow-covered yard to a wing of the asylum which was dark and looked cheerless and grim enough with its iron-barred windows.

In a few moments, however, the Bradys were in the kitchen of the asylum and the keeper had prepared some hot whisky for them.

The detectives never made a practice of drinking, but the exposure and the chill made the potation welcome.

The fellow had the appearance of a sharp, ferret-like rascal, but in the hands of the wily detectives he was like wax.

“Betcher life Scraggy knows his biz,” said Isaac, in a tough way. “He’ll make anything pay. This ere asylum is a dead open cinch fer a fortune. See!”

“Gosh!” exclaimed Harry, rolling his eyes up. “Yu don’t say so? What kind of mad people is there here?”

“Oh, thar’s all kinds,” replied the keeper. “Them that’s fat an’ them that’s lean. Men an’ women, an’ anybody whose friends don’t want ’em around. Do ye see?”

“What’s that ye say?” interrogated Harry. “What’s that about people’s friends?”

“If ye don’t ax me too many questions I’ll tell ye no lies!” said Isaac with a shrewd wink.

“I say,” said Harry, in a dull way, “s’posin’ ye knew a man yu didn’t like! Couldn’t ye put him in this ’ere ’sylum an’ swear he wuz crazy?”

“You kin bet your dimes that this is a straight joint,” he said. “If anybody gits in hyar they stays hyar.”

“P’r’aps we won’t, you jay!” he declared. “This is a hot place for jays, you can bet!”

“Eh?” exclaimed the keeper in surprise. “Do women go crazy? Wall, I should say so!”

The detectives had the deepest of interest. They questioned Isaac closely and skillfully, but they could learn no more.

But they felt sure that before morning the chance would be given them to ascertain.

CHAPTER X.
THE ASYLUM PRISONER.

They had all their birds located and but for the embargo of the storm they might easily have summoned officers and completed the arrest of their birds.

Under ordinary circumstances there would have been scant chance of his being found.

Their foes, from dogging their footsteps with murderous intent, were now in the position of being dogged themselves.

The race for life which they had intended giving the detectives had been arrested by circumstances.

But the Bradys were not disposed to spend their whole evening in the kitchen of the asylum.

Somewhere within the walls of the place the four conspirators were holding a meeting.

“By gum, I’m awful sleepy,” he averred. “I reckon I’d like tew turn in. Ain’t it about time, mister?”

The detectives shuffled along after the keeper up several flights of stairs and finally they passed through a narrow corridor with iron-barred doors on either side.

A distant wailing cry gave the detectives a chilly feeling along the spine. There is no more dreadful sound than the cry of a maniac.

“Here ye are,” said the keeper, throwing open one of the iron doors. “Ye’ll be good an’ quiet here, fer Old Hickory, the only madman on this floor, is asleep. Thar’s a good bed fer ye!”

As they looked about the place they suddenly heard a little click and a chuckle behind them.

“Oh, I say, b’gosh! I don’t like thet kind of foolin’,” he said, angrily. “Open thet door, mister!”

Were the Tough Trio after all to be able to carry out their fearful threat of vengeance?

They exchanged glances. Then Harry placed his hands on the iron bars of the door.

“Gol durn it, friend, this ain’t no joke!” he said, entreatingly. “Let us out an’ we’ll say no more!”

“Let ye out? Wall, what fer? When we git two as good patients as you we allus holds ’em. You’ll be worth something to your friends, likely.”

“I believe ye’re durned liars. This is the safest place fer ye to-night. To-morrow the boss kin decide what to do with ye. I hope as how ye’ll have pleasant dreams!”

It was a clever game to keep them close prisoners for the night. But for what purpose?

Old King Brady was loth to believe this. He reckoned that it was only intended to keep them from wandering about the asylum, as curious countrymen might be tempted to do.

The detectives listened long and intently. They heard a door creak at intervals at the far end of the corridor.

It was possible that the wily keeper was on watch there to see what move to escape the two men might make.

“I don’t keer a durn!” Harry finally yawned. “I’m goin’ to have some sleep, anyway.”

They cast themselves heavily upon the iron cot beds. Then in a few moments both were snoring.

It was an easy matter to spring it from the socket. The aperture thus made was small.

But Harry squeezed far enough through it to reach the bar and lift it. The door swung back.

Noiselessly they passed from one corridor to another, past the doors of cells where madmen prattled, until suddenly Old King Brady gave a gasp.

It was more cheerfully furnished than the others. But the single occupant enchained the detectives.

Her face was clear and sweet. Her manner mild and gentle. Surely she was no maniac.

The Bradys paused and gazed upon the fair occupant of this cell as if spellbound.

When she did, finally, she gave a great start and half arose. A frightened light was in her eyes.

“I pray you be not alarmed, young lady,” said Old King Brady, in an undertone. “We are friends!”

“Perhaps so,” said Old King Brady, closely searching for any possible evidence of insanity.

No doubt she was confined here against her will. Perhaps she was the victim of some cowardly plot.

“Oh, I am thankful!” she said, joyfully. “For my prayer is answered. I shall die if I remain longer in this awful place!”

“Come a little nearer, young lady,” he said. “We are in danger of being overheard.”

Her large eyes were fixed upon the detectives questioningly. But it was plain that her confidence was wan.

“Oh, I am sure you are friends,” she said, earnestly, “and you will take me from this dreadful place.”

“Tell me your story,” said Old King Brady. “Who brought you here? Why are you here?”

“Oh, I do not know,” she said with a shudder. “They tell me that I am insane like the others in this place. But I am not. Truly I am not!”

CHAPTER XI.
THE RESCUE.

Old King Brady repeated the name with a horrified gasp. Both detectives rubbed their eyes.

“Did I hear you aright?” asked the old detective. “Did you say the name was Grimm?”

“He is my uncle,” she said. “He it was who declared I was insane and had me brought here!”

“That was the way of it,” he said. “Then you did not keep an appointment in Union Square on a certain evening?”

“I do not wonder,” said the old detective. “I will explain. That is the story of your mysterious disappearance as given to the world by your uncle.”

“Even traces of your clothing were found and other clews to show that you were burned in that dwelling.”

“I think you are right,” said Evelyn, with conviction. “And I believe my uncle is at the bottom of it. I know he always hated me and he wanted my heritage.”

“Now you have it right,” said Old King Brady. “He tried to hang young Allerton Banks for the supposed crime, but an alibi was proved.”

“The scoundrel!” she said, intensely. “He always hated Allerton. Oh, sir, who are you? Surely you do not keep this dreadful place?”

“Sh!” said Old King Brady, in a whisper. “We must be careful. No, my dear young lady, we do not. We are New York detectives, of the Secret Service. We are in quest of the villains who were supposed to be your murderers!”

“Oh, heaven be praised!” she said, ardently. “You will save me. You will take me back to New York. In another year my heritage will be mine. I shall contest my uncle’s right to put me in an insane asylum.”

“And well you may. It is as you say, only a scheme to beat you out of your inheritance.”

“We promise you he will. But now let us consider what is to be done. Very naturally you are anxious to escape.”

“But there are many things to consider. In the first place there is a terrible risk!”

“You see the gang of villains with whom your uncle is in league are here to-night. We want to entrap them.”

“Perhaps so. Or—it might be as well for us to liberate you now. But you must be very careful and not betray us.”

It creaked a bit, but after listening carefully the detectives were convinced that they were not betrayed.

In another moment Evelyn Grimm, the supposed victim of the Fifteenth street crime, walked out safe and well.

The Bradys felt that they had made a great step toward the winning of this remarkable case.

While they knew that the crime charged against the trio was thus disproved, yet there was sufficient evidence against the gang to hold them for the law.

So they did not deem the case by any means ended, with the liberation of Evelyn Grimm.

Luckily Evelyn knew the use of snowshoes. Harry was to accompany her to the Paine farm house.

Then he was to organize a band of the farmers, armed, and return. The asylum would be surrounded.

“Queer, isn’t it?” said Harry. “The charred remains of a body were found in the ruins of that Fifteenth street fire.”

“But I cannot see that that disproves the crime of murder. A murder must have been enacted.”

“I can see the gist of the whole diabolical plot,” said Harry. “Old Blood thought he could bury his niece forever in this asylum. The evidences of her presence in the burning dwelling would blind everybody and make them believe that she was burned to death.”

Then he descended and assisted the young girl down. The snowshoes were found in the kitchen which luckily was deserted and Harry quickly appeared with them.

They were put on and then Harry and his fair charge walked away across the white fields.

“Indeed, people will be surprised beyond measure when they learn that Evelyn Grimm is alive!” he mused. “It will prove a great sensation.”

He was desirous of becoming a listener to the same. He proceeded, however, with extreme caution.

Still further below he now heard the murmur of voices. The light in the corridor was dim.

But far below he saw a bright gleam which seemed to come from the reception room of the asylum.

Some of the boisterous patients had been drugged to keep them quiet. It was a villainous practice, but yet of common occurrence.

Old King Brady had half expected to run across Isaac or some one of the other keepers in the corridors.

“You know, curse ye, that ye agreed to keep the girl until she dies,” said Blood, in an angry tone. “And now you want to back out.”

“I never had any luck with women patients,” said Scraggs, persistently, “and I know what I’m talking about. You must pay me good money to keep her here.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Collins, sourly. “Why don’t ye make it a sure thing right off?”

“That’s work for a man younger than I am,” he said. “I’m too old to cover up the job.”

“That is just it,” said Collins, with a leer, “we could get a good price fer the body.”

“You are cracked!” he declared. “But if you want her you can have her. That settles it.”

“We are to put the gal out of the way. You don’t care so long as she never puts in an appearance ag’in’?”

“No! Curse her!” gritted Blood. “She has been nothing but a source of trouble to me. See that you make the job sure.”

“Trust the trio fer that,” said Burke with a horrible leer. “Come on, boys! The dainty female is ours.”

CHAPTER XII.
DISAFFECTION.

“The unconscionable scoundrels!” he muttered under his breath. “They are human fiends.”

And in that moment the old detective rejoiced that their would-be victim was beyond their reach.

If the trio of villains went to Evelyn’s prison cell to commit the contemplated horrible crime of murder, her escape would be discovered.

He reckoned that it would be very soon time for Harry to return from Paine’s with assistance.

The snow was too deep to admit of their making very rapid progress if they attempted to leave the asylum.

The trio of villains had arisen for the purpose of paying a murderous visit to the prison cell of the young girl.

“I’m not going to have any murder in my house, that’s all! I don’t care a picayune what you do with the girl, but you can’t kill her here. Do you see?”

“Humph!” exclaimed Burke. “You’re mighty particular. It’s an easy job. There’ll be no blood stains. We’ll just shut her windpipe and she can be carried out for a dead patient. See?”

“I don’t care!” he said. “It’s not going to be done here. That ends it.”

“Well, I don’t blame Scraggs for that, boys. This asylum is his way of making a living. If any scandal arose out of this place it would put him out of business.”

“That’s it,” agreed Scraggs. “Them’s my reasons an’ nothin’ more nor less.”

“Well,” said Burke, in a mollified way, “if that’s the way of it perhaps you’re right.”

“To-morrow we’ll take her away in a sleigh. A few miles from here is the Assabet river. We can dump her in under the ice and if she’s ever found it won’t be until Spring, anyway.”

“Good!” cried Blood. “That is the best way to work it. No need of having any hard feelings.”

“I haven’t any feelings about it,” said Burke. “So we’ll put it off until morning. One more drink, gents.”

Now that the fate of Evelyn Grimm had been settled, other matters came in for discussion.

“Haw! Haw!” he guffawed. “Every detective in this country thinks the girl was burned up in Fifteenth street.”

“We led ’em astray easy enough. The poor woman who was burned up there though——”

“Sh!” exclaimed Van, with a frightful contortion of the face. “Let thet rest.”

“Oh, it’s a tender subject with you, Old Bluebeard. How many more wives have you burned up ther same way?”

“Curse you, shut up!” growled Van, savagely. “I had to shut her mouth. She was false and would have betrayed the whole gang of us sooner or later.”

“Never mind that,” said Scraggs, “I am interested in those accursed detectives. You say a couple of them chased you as far as Lexington?”

“I do!” said Van. “For I’m the man they chased. Curse ’em! They are the Bradys of New York!”

“Well,” growled Scraggs, “I don’t want them to get their eyes on my place here. I’ve too much at stake. See?”

“Oh, don’t fret, we can handle the Bradys all right! Hello! What the deuce is that?”

A dark form rushed past him. The next moment Isaac, the keeper, sprang into the reception room.

“Quick!” he shouted. “They have got her! She is gone! She is gone, I tell you!”

“What are ye talkin’ about, ye cursed hyena?” he yelled. “Speak plain! What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. The two countrymen slipped a bar out of the cell door and they’re gone, too!”

Fierce exclamations filled the room. Van hurled the unfortunate keeper to the floor.

“You cursed traitorous dog!” he yelled, drawing a knife. “I’ll kill you for this!”

He flung himself forward and that moment might indeed have been the keeper’s last.

“Hold on!” he growled. “Hear the man’s story first. I’ve always found him true.”

“Oh, I swear it!” cried Isaac. “I left the door securely barred. Come and see for yourself. They were asleep before I left them.”

“Come on then, you dog!” hissed Van. “If I find you’ve lied, you shall die!”

“We’ve been fooled!” cried Burke, savagely. “I tell ye it was a game!”

“Curse it!” he cried. “We had the game right in our hands and didn’t know it. Them two jays were our men!”

As this conviction dawned upon the villains their fury was beyond expression. Words cannot depict it.

“Confound you for coming here at all!” he growled. “Why didn’t you lead those detectives somewhere else?”

“We thought this the best place,” said Van. “If things had worked the way I thought they would——”

“But they didn’t!” snapped Scraggs. “What are you going to do about it?”

“That’s the idea!” cried Van. “We are gaining nothin’ hyar. We ought to chase ’em.”

“No!” replied the asylum keeper. “What do you take me for? I’m no keeper of a logging camp.”

“No, nor anything else!” snapped Burke, viciously. “But if we can’t do any better we must wade.”

“That would be a fool’s game,” said the asylum keeper. “They can go four steps to your one on snowshoes.”

“So am I!” snapped Scraggs. “I wish I’d never seen you or your girl. This will be my ruin.”

“You’re awful afraid of being ruined,” said Blood, angrily. “I’ve paid you good money, Anthony Scraggs!”

In a short while the asylum would be surrounded by armed men and the birds would be in limbo.

He listened intently for some distant sound of the return of Harry. But time passed.

They abandoned it as impracticable. But they were alive fully to the exigencies of the moment.

The trio would trudge the best way they could through the snow to a distant railway station.

“I can hide you where nobody will ever find you,” said the proprietor of the asylum. “So have no fears.”

Old King Brady listened to all this with some misgiving. Would his men slip him after all?

CHAPTER XIII.
BAFFLED AGAIN.

Moreover, he had all he could do now to keep out of sight and assure his own safety.

Old King Brady knew that it would require some time to arouse the neighbors and organize a relief band.

He was half tempted to essay the conflict single handed. But he knew that it could only result in failure.

So he tried to remain patient and hopeful. The trio were now all ready to leave the asylum.

A fear came to the old detective that some mishap might have overtaken the young detective.

The three crooks now took their leave. Old King Brady felt the hands of his watch.

He heard the crooks leave by way of the big front door. He did not dare to follow them.

It might not be difficult to overtake them when Harry should arrive, for the trio had no snowshoes and must leave a plain trail.

It was half-past three before the long-looked-for summons came. The dogs were confined, so they gave no warning.

Scraggs, who had retired to sleep, scrambled out of bed and thrust his head out of a window.

“It’s yer neighbor,” said the voice of Paine, the farmer. “Come down, Scraggs, we want to see ye!”

“Well, I’m not to be aroused from my bed at this hour of the night,” replied Scraggs, angrily. “If you want to see me, come around in the daytime.”

“Well, you won’t see me!” replied Scraggs, hotly. “Get off my premises or I’ll fire on you!”

“No, ye won’t!” gritted the angry farmer. “Ye’ve run your rig hyar, Scraggs. We air goin’ to run you out of this kentry. If ye don’t come down we’ll come up after ye!”

Scraggs closed the window and then went down to the door. He met John Paine backed by a score of armed men.

“Look here!” he cried. “This is an outrage. I’m a peaceable, law-abiding citizen, and——”

“Oh, come off!” cried one of the invaders. “You’re a swindling old hypocrite, you are!”

“Where are those crooks who came up here yesterday?” asked Harry. “I mean Burke, Collins and Van?”

“Come now, that lie won’t save you. Search the place, men! We’ll find them and——”

“I reached Paine’s all right,” said Harry, “and the girl is safe. It took a long while to get these men together.”

“We must do so!” cried the young detective. “We have staked too much to lose now.”

“The old scoundrel! I have the town constable with me. We will arrest him and Scraggs, too.”

“Paine will look out for Miss Grimm until we want to take her back to New York. Everything is working all right.”

Scraggs was arrested at once and easily frightened into revealing the hiding place of Blood.

This brought the party to a railroad track. It was cleared of snow and far down the line a semaphore was seen.

“In that case,” declared Old King Brady, “we had better deploy and surround the place.”

“We want three men who are here waiting for a train,” said Old King Brady. “Where are they?”

There was no use in wiring ahead to make the arrest in Boston, for the train had reached that city long ere this.

Meanwhile, Evelyn Grimm had gone back to New York in the care of friends who were bound to see her wrongs righted.

It is needless to say that a tremendous sensation was created when the facts concerning Evelyn Grimm’s experience were made known.

It was known now, as overheard by Old King Brady, that the bones found in the tenement ruins were those of the last of Martin Van’s innumerable wives.

He had killed her in a fit of anger and by the suggestion of Napoleon Blood, had arranged clews to suggest that Evelyn was the victim instead.

The case had now simmered down to one thread and this the Bradys were taking up.

It was just as necessary as ever, therefore, for the detectives to capture the trio of villains.

The young girl’s friends took hold of her affairs, with the assurance that much of the inheritance would be saved for her.

For that they had not abandoned their purpose of assassinating the detectives was proved by the following startling message received by Old King Brady one day.

Old King Brady carefully studied the post-mark on the envelope. It was mailed at Station C, New York.

The Bradys were assured that their birds were in the big city, so they had returned to New York.

Then one day almost a grim accomplishment of the threat uttered by the villains occurred.

They were waiting for an uptown train. Suddenly as the train came thundering up a man with muffled features sprang out of the crowd.

With all his force he rushed against Old King Brady and hurled him from the station platform down in front of the train which was rushing in at the moment.

CHAPTER XIV.
A LIVELY CHASE.

But the force of the push sent the old detective far out into the air. He struck the further rail and the locomotive just brushed his body as it rolled over upon the next track.

Luckily no train was approaching for it was not the time of day for the expresses which used this track.

When he found that his partner had escaped death, he turned to look for the perpetrator of the deed.

Meanwhile, the train guards and policemen had climbed down to give assistance to the detective.

The police, learning who he was, asked no questions. The Bradys, it is needless to say, were on the qui vive.

“To think he was so near us and we did not know it. I fear we have lost ground, my boy.”

“Well,” said the young detective, resolutely, “we’ve got to rig a trap for those fellows. If we don’t they’ll finish us.”

Old King Brady was thoughtful. They had decided not to take the train and had left the elevated station.

They were walking down a part of Columbus avenue. The elevated trains thundered along overhead.

But before Old King Brady could elucidate his plan, exciting incidents came along in quick order.

Standing before the door of a liquor saloon on the opposite side of the street, sure enough, was Dan Collins.

He wore the same slouch hat and it was beyond doubt that he was the villain who had pushed Old King Brady off the platform.

On the opposite corner stood Martin Van. The crook seemed utterly oblivious of the presence of the detectives.

Instantly Van, who appeared to be studying something in his hand, began also to change his position.

“Ah! That is it!” thought the old detective. “He can see me plainly enough from the little mirror he carries in his hand.”

When Harry saw the old detective grapple with Van, he also saw Collins perform a strange act.

The next moment the spiteful little report rang out on the air and Old King Brady released his hold on Van and sank to the sidewalk.

Harry had crossed the street in flying leaps and was upon Collins like a panther.

People on the sidewalk paused in terror, not understanding the situation at all.

“What do you want here?” he demanded. “Get out before you’re bounced!”

“Easy, my friend,” said the young detective. “I am in pursuit of a criminal. He came into this place.”

“You stop me at your peril!” said Harry, sternly. “I am an officer of the law!”

“Is that so?” cried one of habitues of the place, jeeringly. “Well, we haven’t any use for you here!”

Harry saw that the situation was by no means a pleasant one. He was only one against ten.

“You pack of hounds! You are trying to aid in the escape of that man. You are thwarting justice.”

The bullet had struck him a glancing blow in the leg and had brought him down with the shock.

Realizing that the young detective might need assistance, he hailed a couple of policemen and started after him.

Harry was facing the gang of crooks, but the odds were too great for him and the result might have been serious had he been left to play his hand alone.

“I might have caught him but for these fellows who have tried to block me,” said Harry.

“If I am not mistaken, I know you, Jack Billings!” he said. “Up to your old tricks, eh? Where is Dan Collins?”

“Yes, you do, too,” said Old King Brady, sharply. “Come, out with it. I want the truth.”

“Really,” protested Billings, “I don’t know the man you are speaking of. But perhaps you are after a fellow who rushed through here a little while ago and went out through that rear door.”

“And you detained me here on purpose to aid his escape,” declared Harry. “Don’t you deny it. You shall pay for this.”

“Don’t lie about it. I shall see you later!” cried the young detective as with his companions he rushed through the door at the far end of the saloon.

CHAPTER XV.
WHICH ENDS THE CASE.

With their usual tenacity they hung out, still looking for a clew which they felt was bound to come.

If they did not do so the trio would trap them. It was a case of the survival of the fittest.

The Bradys failed to track their birds even the slightest distance. The trio had seemed to cover their tracks effectually.

One day they ran across a detective of the regular city force in a lower part of New York.

“There’s no use in you fellows trying to find the trio,” said this fellow, whose name was Whitman.

“Indeed!” said Old King Brady, caustically. “You are very sure of that, are you?”

“Well, I’ve been working up a case on the White Star Line dock. I know three men sailed from there last Saturday whom I am sure are the trio.”

Finally the fellow was bound to admit that he was not by any means sure of his statement.

He depended largely upon the imagination of another, and finally, much discomfited, admitted that he could not prove it.

“Ah!” said Old King Brady, with a smile. “Perhaps at last we have hit upon the right thing. Let us try it.”

“I am glad to see you!” he said. “And I believe I have valuable news for you!”

“Well,” said the chief, slowly, “yesterday we brought a man in here from Chinatown. He killed a man in an opium den.

“Ah! Then it is all right. Collins and two companions have been frequenting Ah Ling’s place in Mott street for a few days past.”

“I feel it in my bones,” said the young detective, “that the game is ours.”

“I agree with you,” said the chief. “If those fellows are taking dope you will surely get them.”

Under the influence of opium they are careless and easily entrapped. So Old King Brady’s spirits arose.

“The tip may be of no value,” said the chief, “but such as it is I give it to you.”

“I feel sure that it is of great value!” said Harry. “We will get our men this time.”

This would easily explain why the Bradys had not heard from the villains before.

The Bradys knew that it would be folly to attempt to gain admittance to his place in their own character.

And Harry, for the first time in a long while dressed up as a very handsome young lady.

“Ah, Melican lady buy fine handkerchief,” he simpered “Sellee cheap! Comee allee way China.”

Harry punched his rustic partner in the ribs and in true Bowery-girl style said:

“B’gosh! Haow much money do ye want fer the durned thing, Mister Chineeman?” asked Old King Brady.

“Sellee cheap. Allee same one dollar!” said the Celestial, winking at Harry.

“All right! Hyars yer dollar. Now take it gal, an’ I say, what’s that you told me about? I want to see all the sights. But I’ll be gol-blamed if I haven’t forgotten.”

“Yas, yas! That’s it. I dunno what it is, but b’gosh I’m reddy fer it.”

“Yeppee, me slee!” he said. “Hittee pipe. Heap fine tlime. Comee dis lay.”

The detectives followed the Chinaman through various corridors and down stairs until finally they were in the opium den.

Collins lay completely stupefied. Van was still smoking and Burke was getting ready for the same.

Not one of the gang was capable of offering much resistance. The Bradys quickly planned their coup.

“Everything is coming our way. Now, I’ll first slip over and put the handcuffs on Collins.”

“That will place them hors du combat. We must trust to a bold dash to get them out of here.”

He snapped the handcuffs on him and the fellow never moved. Then Harry took the signal.

Van and Burke were both half dazed. They fought like tigers, however, but were finally overpowered.

The uproar had attracted him. With white, scared face he stared at the detectives.

“Whatee de debbil you do?” he cried. “You no make such noise. Hi-hi, yeppee, yeppee, who you be? No pleece-man?”

“Yes,” replied Old King Brady, sternly, covering the Chinaman with a revolver. “We are detectives. These men are murderers. We are going to take them out of here. If you offer resistance, I will shoot you dead!”

Old King Brady kept Ah Ling covered while Harry went out to the nearest signal box.

In a very short space of time a squad of police were in the place. A short while later the Tough Trio were in the Tombs.

The three notorious criminals expiated their crimes in the electric chair. The Fifteenth street case soon became a matter of past history and the two famous detectives soon had their attention claimed by another undertaking even more complex and mysterious. The details of this we will reserve for another story.

Read “THE BRADYS’ LAST CHANCE; OR, THE CASE IN THE DARK,” which will be the next number (85) of “Secret Service.”

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These Books Tell You Everything!
A COMPLETE SET IS A REGULAR ENCYCLOPEDIA!

Each book consists of sixty-four pages, printed on good paper, in clear type and neatly bound in an attractive, illustrated cover. Most of the books are also profusely illustrated, and all of the subjects treated upon are explained in such a simple manner that any child can thoroughly understand them. Look over the list as classified and see if you want to know anything about the subjects mentioned.

THESE BOOKS ARE FOR SALE BY ALL NEWSDEALERS OR WILL BE SENT BY MAIL TO ANY ADDRESS FROM THIS OFFICE ON RECEIPT OF PRICE, TEN CENTS EACH, OR ANY THREE BOOKS FOR TWENTY-FIVE CENTS. POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN THE SAME AS MONEY. Address FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, 24 Union Square, N. Y.

SPORTING.

No. 21. HOW TO HUNT AND FISH.—The most complete hunting and fishing guide ever published. It contains full instructions about guns, hunting dogs, traps, trapping and fishing, together with descriptions of game and fish.

No. 26. HOW TO ROW, SAIL, AND BUILD A BOAT.—Fully illustrated. Every boy should know how to row and sail a boat. Full instructions are given in this little book, together with instructions on swimming and riding, companion sports to boating.

No. 47. HOW TO BREAK, RIDE, AND DRIVE A HORSE.—A complete treatise on the horse. Describing the most useful horses for business, the best horses for the road; also valuable recipes for diseases peculiar to the horse.

No. 48. HOW TO BUILD AND SAIL CANOES.—A handy book for boys, containing full directions for constructing canoes and the most popular manner of sailing them. Fully illustrated. By C. Stansfield Hicks.

FORTUNE TELLING.

No. 1. NAPOLEON’S ORACULUM AND DREAM BOOK.—Containing the great oracle of human destiny; also the true meaning of almost any kind of dreams, together with charms, ceremonies, and curious games of cards. A complete book.

No. 23. HOW TO EXPLAIN DREAMS.—Everybody dreams, from the little child to the aged man and woman. This little book gives the explanation to all kinds of dreams, together with lucky and unlucky days, and “Napoleon’s Oraculum,” the book of fate.

No. 28. HOW TO TELL FORTUNES.—Everyone is desirous of knowing what his future life will bring forth, whether happiness or misery, wealth or poverty. You can tell by a glance at this little book. Buy one and be convinced. Tell your own fortune. Tell the fortune of your friends.

No. 76. HOW TO TELL FORTUNES BY THE HAND.—Containing rules for telling fortunes by the aid of the lines of the hand, or the secret of palmistry. Also the secret of telling future events by aid of moles, marks, scars, etc. Illustrated. By A. Anderson.

ATHLETIC.

No. 6. HOW TO BECOME AN ATHLETE.—Giving full instruction for the use of dumb bells, Indian clubs, parallel bars, horizontal bars and various other methods of developing a good, healthy muscle; containing over sixty illustrations. Every boy can become strong and healthy by following the instructions contained in this little book.

No. 10. HOW TO BOX.—The art of self-defense made easy. Containing over thirty illustrations of guards, blows, and the different positions of a good boxer. Every boy should obtain one of these useful and instructive books, as it will teach you how to box without an instructor.

No. 25. HOW TO BECOME A GYMNAST.—Containing full instructions for all kinds of gymnastic sports and athletic exercises. Embracing thirty-five illustrations. By Professor W. Macdonald. A handy and useful book.

No. 34. HOW TO FENCE.—Containing full instruction for fencing and the use of the broadsword; also instruction in archery. Described with twenty-one practical illustrations, giving the best positions in fencing. A complete book.

No. 61. HOW TO BECOME A BOWLER.—A complete manual of bowling. Containing full instructions for playing all the standard American and German games; together with rules and systems of sporting in use by the principal bowling clubs in the United States. By Bartholomew Batterson.

TRICKS WITH CARDS.

No. 51. HOW TO DO TRICKS WITH CARDS.—Containing explanations of the general principles of sleight-of-hand applicable to card tricks; of card tricks with ordinary cards, and not requiring sleight-of-hand; of tricks involving sleight-of-hand, or the use of specially prepared cards. By Professor Haffner. With illustrations.

No. 72. HOW TO DO SIXTY TRICKS WITH CARDS.—Embracing all of the latest and most deceptive card tricks, with illustrations. By A. Anderson.

No. 77. HOW TO DO FORTY TRICKS WITH CARDS.—Containing deceptive Card Tricks as performed by leading conjurers and magicians. Arranged for home amusement. Fully illustrated.

MAGIC.

No. 2. HOW TO DO TRICKS.—The great book of magic and card tricks, containing full instruction of all the leading card tricks of the day, also the most popular magical illusions as performed by our leading magicians; every boy should obtain a copy of this book, as it will both amuse and instruct.

No. 22. HOW TO DO SECOND SIGHT.—Heller’s second sight explained by his former assistant, Fred Hunt, Jr. Explaining how the secret dialogues were carried on between the magician and the boy on the stage; also giving all the codes and signals. The only authentic explanation of second sight.

No. 43. HOW TO BECOME A MAGICIAN.—Containing the grandest assortment of magical illusions ever placed before the public. Also tricks with cards, incantations, etc.

No. 68. HOW TO DO CHEMICAL TRICKS.—Containing over one hundred highly amusing and instructive tricks with chemicals. By A. Anderson. Handsomely illustrated.

No. 69. HOW TO DO SLEIGHT OF HAND.—Containing over fifty of the latest and best tricks used by magicians. Also containing the secret of second sight. Fully illustrated. By A. Anderson.

No. 70. HOW TO MAKE MAGIC TOYS.—Containing full directions for making Magic Toys and devices of many kinds. By A. Anderson. Fully illustrated.

No. 73. HOW TO DO TRICKS WITH NUMBERS.—Showing many curious tricks with figures and the magic of numbers. By A. Anderson. Fully illustrated.

No. 75. HOW TO BECOME A CONJURER.—Containing tricks with Dominoes, Dice, Cups and Balls, Hats, etc. Embracing thirty-six illustrations. By A. Anderson.

No. 78. HOW TO DO THE BLACK ART.—Containing a complete description of the mysteries of Magic and Sleight of Hand, together with many wonderful experiments. By A. Anderson. Illustrated.

MECHANICAL.

No. 29. HOW TO BECOME AN INVENTOR.—Every boy should know how inventions originated. This book explains them all, giving examples in electricity, hydraulics, magnetism, optics, pneumatics, mechanics, etc., etc. The most instructive book published.

No. 56. HOW TO BECOME AN ENGINEER.—Containing full instructions how to proceed in order to become a locomotive engineer; also directions for building a model locomotive; together with a full description of everything an engineer should know.

No. 57. HOW TO MAKE MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS.—Full directions how to make a Banjo, Violin, Zither, Aeolian Harp, Xylophone and other musical instruments; together with a brief description of nearly every musical instrument used in ancient or modern times. Profusely illustrated. By Algernon S. Fitzgerald, for twenty years bandmaster of the Royal Bengal Marines.

No. 59. HOW TO MAKE A MAGIC LANTERN.—Containing a description of the lantern, together with its history and invention. Also full directions for its use and for painting slides. Handsomely illustrated, by John Allen.

No. 71. HOW TO DO MECHANICAL TRICKS.—Containing complete instructions for performing over sixty Mechanical Tricks. By A. Anderson. Fully illustrated.

LETTER WRITING.

No. 11. HOW TO WRITE LOVE-LETTERS.—A most complete little book, containing full directions for writing love-letters, and when to use them; also giving specimen letters for both young and old.

No. 12. HOW TO WRITE LETTERS TO LADIES.—Giving complete instructions for writing letters to ladies on all subjects; also letters of introduction, notes and requests.

No. 24. HOW TO WRITE LETTERS TO GENTLEMEN.—Containing full directions for writing to gentlemen on all subjects; also giving sample letters for instruction.

No. 53. HOW TO WRITE LETTERS.—A wonderful little book, telling you how to write to your sweetheart, your father, mother, sister, brother, employer; and, in fact, everybody and anybody you wish to write to. Every young man and every young lady in the land should have this book.

No. 74. HOW TO WRITE LETTERS CORRECTLY.—Containing full instructions for writing letters on almost any subject; also rules for punctuation and composition; together with specimen letters.

THE STAGE.

No. 41. THE BOYS OF NEW YORK END MEN’S JOKE BOOK.—Containing a great variety of the latest jokes used by the most famous end men. No amateur minstrels is complete without this wonderful little book.

No. 42. THE BOYS OF NEW YORK STUMP SPEAKER.—Containing a varied assortment of stump speeches, Negro, Dutch and Irish. Also end men’s jokes. Just the thing for home amusement and amateur shows.

No. 45. THE BOYS OF NEW YORK MINSTREL GUIDE AND JOKE BOOK.—Something new and very instructive. Every boy should obtain this book, as it contains full instructions for organizing an amateur minstrel troupe.

No. 65. MULDOON’S JOKES.—This is one of the most original joke books ever published, and it is brimful of wit and humor. It contains a large collection of songs, jokes, conundrums, etc., of Terrence Muldoon, the great wit, humorist, and practical joker of the day. Every boy who can enjoy a good substantial joke should obtain a copy immediately.

No. 79. HOW TO BECOME AN ACTOR.—Containing complete instructions how to make up for various characters on the stage; together with the duties of the Stage Manager, Prompter, Scenic Artist and Property Man. By a prominent Stage Manager.

HOUSEKEEPING.

No. 16. HOW TO KEEP A WINDOW GARDEN.—Containing full instructions for constructing a window garden either in town or country, and the most approved methods for raising beautiful flowers at home. The most complete book of the kind ever published.

No. 30. HOW TO COOK.—One of the most instructive books on cooking ever published. It contains recipes for cooking meats, fish, game, and oysters; also pies, puddings, cakes and all kinds of pastry, and a grand collection of recipes by one of our most popular cooks.

No. 37. HOW TO KEEP HOUSE.—It contains information for everybody, boys, girls, men and women; it will teach you how to make almost anything around the house, such as parlor ornaments, brackets, cements, Aeolian harps, and bird lime for catching birds.

ELECTRICAL.

No. 46. HOW TO MAKE AND USE ELECTRICITY.—A description of the wonderful uses of electricity and electro magnetism; together with full instructions for making Electric Toys, Batteries, etc. By George Trebel, A. M., M. D. Containing over fifty illustrations.

No. 64. HOW TO MAKE ELECTRICAL MACHINES.—Containing full directions for making electrical machines, induction coils, dynamos, and many novel toys to be worked by electricity. By R. A. R. Bennett. Fully illustrated.

No. 67. HOW TO DO ELECTRICAL TRICKS.—Containing a large collection of instructive and highly amusing electrical tricks, together with illustrations. By A. Anderson.

ENTERTAINMENT.

No. 9. HOW TO BECOME A VENTRILOQUIST.—By Harry Kennedy, The secret given away. Every intelligent boy reading this book of instructions, by a practical professor (delighting multitudes every night with his wonderful imitations), can master the art, and create any amount of fun for himself and friends. It is the greatest book ever published, and there’s millions (of fun) in it.

No. 20. HOW TO ENTERTAIN AN EVENING PARTY.—A very valuable little book just published. A complete compendium of games, sports, card diversions, comic recreations, etc., suitable for parlor or drawing-room entertainment. It contains more for the money than any book published.

No. 35. HOW TO PLAY GAMES.—A complete and useful little book, containing the rules and regulations of billiards, bagatelle, backgammon, croquet, dominoes, etc.

No. 36. HOW TO SOLVE CONUNDRUMS.—Containing all the leading conundrums of the day, amusing riddles, curious catches and witty sayings.

No. 52. HOW TO PLAY CARDS.—A complete and handy little book, giving the rules and full directions for playing Euchre, Cribbage, Casino, Forty-Five, Rounce, Pedro Sancho, Draw Poker, Auction Pitch, All Fours, and many other popular games of cards.

No. 66. HOW TO DO PUZZLES.—Containing over three hundred interesting puzzles and conundrums, with key to same. A complete book. Fully illustrated. By A. Anderson.

ETIQUETTE.

No. 13. HOW TO DO IT; OR, BOOK OF ETIQUETTE.—It is a great life secret, and one that every young man desires to know all about. There’s happiness in it.

No. 33. HOW TO BEHAVE.—Containing the rules and etiquette of good society and the easiest and most approved methods of appearing to good advantage at parties, balls, the theatre, church, and in the drawing-room.

DECLAMATION.

No. 27. HOW TO RECITE AND BOOK OF RECITATIONS.—Containing the most popular selections in use, comprising Dutch dialect, French dialect, Yankee and Irish dialect pieces, together with many standard readings.

No. 31. HOW TO BECOME A SPEAKER.—Containing fourteen illustrations, giving the different positions requisite to become a good speaker, reader and elocutionist. Also containing gems from all the popular authors of prose and poetry, arranged in the most simple and concise manner possible.

No. 49. HOW TO DEBATE.—Giving rules for conducting debates, outlines for debates, questions for discussion, and the best sources for procuring information on the questions given.

SOCIETY.

No. 3. HOW TO FLIRT.—The arts and wiles of flirtation are fully explained by this little book. Besides the various methods of handkerchief, fan, glove, parasol, window and hat flirtation, it contains a full list of the language and sentiment of flowers, which is interesting to everybody, both old and young. You cannot be happy without one.

No. 4. HOW TO DANCE is the title of a new and handsome little book just issued by Frank Tousey. It contains full instructions in the art of dancing, etiquette in the ball-room and at parties, how to dress, and full directions for calling off in all popular square dances.

No. 5. HOW TO MAKE LOVE.—A complete guide to love, courtship and marriage, giving sensible advice, rules and etiquette to be observed, with many curious and interesting things not generally known.

No. 17. HOW TO DRESS.—Containing full instruction in the art of dressing and appearing well at home and abroad, giving the selections of colors, material, and how to have them made up.

No. 18. HOW TO BECOME BEAUTIFUL.—One of the brightest and most valuable little books ever given to the world. Everybody wishes to know how to become beautiful, both male and female. The secret is simple, and almost costless. Read this book and be convinced how to become beautiful.

BIRDS AND ANIMALS.

No. 7. HOW TO KEEP BIRDS.—Handsomely illustrated, and containing full instructions for the management and training of the canary, mocking-bird, bobolink, blackbird, paroquet, parrot, etc.

No. 39. HOW TO RAISE DOGS, POULTRY, PIGEONS AND RABBITS.—A useful and instructive book. Handsomely illustrated. By Ira Drofraw.

No. 40. HOW TO MAKE AND SET TRAPS.—Including hints on how to catch moles, weasels, otter, rats, squirrels and birds. Also how to cure skins. Copiously illustrated. By J. Harrington Keene.

No. 50. HOW TO STUFF BIRDS AND ANIMALS.—A valuable book, giving instructions in collecting, preparing, mounting and preserving birds, animals and insects.

No. 54. HOW TO KEEP AND MANAGE PETS.—Giving complete information as to the manner and method of raising, keeping, taming, breeding, and managing all kinds of pets; also giving full instructions for making cages, etc. Fully explained by twenty-eight illustrations, making it the most complete book of the kind ever published.

MISCELLANEOUS.

No. 8. HOW TO BECOME A SCIENTIST.—A useful and instructive book, giving a complete treatise on chemistry; also experiments in acoustics, mechanics, mathematics, chemistry, and directions for making fireworks, colored fires, and gas balloons. This book cannot be equaled.

No. 14. HOW TO MAKE CANDY.—A complete hand-book for making all kinds of candy, ice-cream, syrups, essences, etc., etc.

No. 15. HOW TO BECOME RICH.—This wonderful book presents you with the example and life experience of some of the most noted and wealthy men in the world, including the self-made men of our country. The book is edited by one of the most successful men of the present age, whose own example is in itself guide enough for those who aspire to fame and money. The book will give you the secret.

No. 19. FRANK TOUSEY’S UNITED STATES DISTANCE TABLES, POCKET COMPANION AND GUIDE.—Giving the official distances on all the railroads of the United States and Canada. Also table of distances by water to foreign ports, hack fares in the principal cities, reports of the census, etc., etc., making it one of the most complete and handy books published.

No. 38. HOW TO BECOME YOUR OWN DOCTOR.—A wonderful book, containing useful and practical information in the treatment of ordinary diseases and ailments common to every family. Abounding in useful and effective recipes for general complaints.

No. 55. HOW TO COLLECT STAMPS AND COINS.—Containing valuable information regarding the collecting and arranging of stamps and coins. Handsomely illustrated.

No. 58. HOW TO BE A DETECTIVE.—By Old King Brady, the world-known detective. In which he lays down some valuable and sensible rules for beginners, and also relates some adventures and experiences of well-known detectives.

No. 60. HOW TO BECOME A PHOTOGRAPHER.—Containing useful information regarding the Camera and how to work it; also how to make Photographic Magic Lantern Slides and other Transparencies. Handsomely illustrated. By Captain W. De W. Abney.

No. 62. HOW TO BECOME A WEST POINT MILITARY CADET.—Containing full explanations how to gain admittance, course of Study, Examinations, Duties, Staff of Officers, Post Guard, Police Regulations, Fire Department, and all a boy should know to be a Cadet. Compiled and written by Lu Senarens, Author of “How to Become a Naval Cadet.”

No. 63. HOW TO BECOME A NAVAL CADET.—Complete instructions of how to gain admission to the Annapolis Naval Academy. Also containing the course of instruction, description, of grounds and buildings, historical sketch, and everything a boy should know to become an officer in the United States Navy. Compiled and written by Lu Senarens, author of “How to Become a West Point Military Cadet.”

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Transcriber’s Notes

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRADYS' RACE FOR LIFE; OR, ROUNDING UP A TOUGH TRIO: A DETECTIVE STORY OF LIFE ***

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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Bradys' Race for Life; or, Rounding Up a Tough Trio: A Detective Story of Life

The Bradys’ Race for Life; OR, ROUNDING UP A TOUGH TRIO.

CHAPTER I. A MYSTERIOUS CRIME.

CHAPTER II. FOLLOWING THE CLEWS.

CHAPTER III. IN SLY JIMMIE’S PLACE.

CHAPTER IV. THE PRIVATE DETECTIVE.

CHAPTER V. OUTWITTING THE CROOKS.

CHAPTER VI. SHADOWED.

CHAPTER VII. THE RACE BEGINS.

CHAPTER VIII. AT THE ASYLUM.

CHAPTER IX. A CLEVER GAME.

CHAPTER X. THE ASYLUM PRISONER.

CHAPTER XI. THE RESCUE.

CHAPTER XII. DISAFFECTION.

CHAPTER XIII. BAFFLED AGAIN.

CHAPTER XIV. A LIVELY CHASE.

CHAPTER XV. WHICH ENDS THE CASE.

These Books Tell You Everything! A COMPLETE SET IS A REGULAR ENCYCLOPEDIA!