The Great Green Diamond, by Inspector Stark

This line has become famous for its excellent stories of the detection of crime. Of late, it has taken truly remarkable strides in the public’s favor. The reason for this is that every book is a marvel of its kind. They are high-class tales, not of the “blood-and-thunder” order, but with plausible plots which hold the reader fairly captivated with breathless expectation. Among these are the stories of the adventures of Nick Carter and his clever assistants; of “Old Spicer,” the clever private detective, whose exploits are among the most remarkable ever performed by any detective. If you are in search of good, interesting matter, a decided change from that to which you have been accustomed, purchase a few of these titles. They will not only please and interest you, but will give you a clear insight into the methods of the various classes of criminals.

THE GREAT GREEN DIAMOND;
OR,
THIEF AGAINST THIEF

“A Deed of Darkness,” “The Mafia’s Victim,” “The Telegraph Clew,”
“The Shadow of an Assassin,” “A Kentucky Moonshiner,” etc.

Up the dingy flights of stairs in an old-fashioned down-town office building, Mr. Henry Stolburst mounted with a vigor and energy that belied the signs of age in his visage. Tall, spare, handsome, with remarkably bright and keen eyes, he yet looked older than his thirty-five years. This appearance of age was due to his heavily lined face and his white hair. But close observation would have revealed the fact that the lines on his face were those of care and worry, rather than of age, and the color of his hair was of such a peculiar shade of white that the observer would have felt perplexed by the conflicting evidences of age and youthful vigor.

With never a thought of his appearance, however, Henry Stolburst rapidly climbed the stairs until he stood before a door on which appeared the simple inscription:

Pausing but a moment, Stolburst opened the door and entered. Burt, although this was but a branch office of [6] his agency, happened to be seated at the desk, and glanced up as his visitor crossed the threshold.

“What!” said the latter, “are you Mr. Henry Stolburst, the African explorer?”

“I listened to one of your lectures on the Dark Continent with a good deal of interest the other evening.”

“Yes,” smiled Stolburst, “I do know a few interesting facts about Africa.”

Burt looked at his visitor in considerable surprise. Was the man crazy? That thought struck him at once. Having seen Stolburst on the lecture platform, he knew his visitor to be none other than the explorer.

“No,” said Burt; “but how can your life be possibly in danger while you are in a large community like this?”

“Nevertheless, it is. I have fought against savage tribes, and not more savage beasts. Several times have I barely escaped assassination by poison, knife, and other weapons; but never, in the jungles of Africa, was my life in more danger than at the present moment. I am not surprised you should think my statement a very rash one, yet it is true, nevertheless.”

“Perhaps if I heard your story,” said Burt, “I might [7] more readily understand whether your peril is fancied or not.”

“Would to God it were the former,” said Stolburst, and he gave a great start as he concluded speaking.

“This is no jesting matter. The eyes I speak of belong to a living creature.”

“Let me tell you there is in Abyssinia an order known as that of the Blue Nile. It is secretly abetted by the priests, and even the king, who fears it, is a member. This society is ruled by religious fanatics, to whom murder is simply a pastime. The Order of the Blue Nile has command of almost untold riches.

“I incurred the anger of these men, and they have sent right here to this country some of their members, I know not how many, to strike me down.”

“How else would I know that he is in this city? He visited me this morning.”

A sad smile passed over the face of the man who had so often faced death in many forms.

“No,” he replied, “it was not necessary to threaten me; I know what his pursuit of me means.”

“Tell me all about it, and then I may discover a way to circumvent your enemies.”

“First, I wish you to promise not to disclose any revelations I shall make now or at any other time.”

“Well,” said the traveler, “in a jungle near the city of Gondar, which is the chief and capital city of Abyssinia, stands a temple, the existence of which is known to few outside the members of this Order of the Blue Nile. In this temple is an immense wooden idol named Jobu. I never saw a more hideous-looking object than this same idol. His followers say Jobu is over a thousand years old.

“According to their belief, one day or another this monstrosity will be endowed with life, and help his devotees to capture all Africa.

“No European is allowed to gaze upon this idol, in front of whom a fire of perfumed herbs is kept burning night and day. The richest garments and jewels cover the inanimate Jobu. I saw the idol by bribing one of his watchers, for, mind you, Jobu has quite a suite of servants.

“In some way or another the high priest, Ajeeb, heard of the watcher’s infidelity. They have but one manner of punishing their unfortunate victims.

“Why,” said the detective, “they cannot possibly desire to put you to death simply because you gazed upon their idol?”

“For that matter,” said the explorer, “I had two white men with me when I visited the infidel shrine.”

“In the eye of this idol,” continued the explorer, “was a diamond having, queer to say, a distinctively greenish tint. The stone is larger and certainly more valuable than the great British crown jewel. It is claimed I stole the jewel.”

“People do not have much scruple when they deal with untutored barbarians,” replied Stolburst.

“The diamond was stolen from me by one of my servants, a man named Dick Kidd.”

“Now,” said Stolburst, not minding the interruption, “I want you to find this man, and make him give up the stone.”

“If he does,” remarked Burt, “he will refuse to give it up. By the way, is the man in this part of the country?”

“I think both he and his fellow servant, Sam Henry, are here in New York. It was here I engaged them before making my last trip into Africa.”

Stolburst took from his pocket two photographs, which he handed to the detective.

“I know that fellow; that is, I used to know him. He was a schoolmate of mine, but he went to the bad upon reaching manhood.”

“I have your word for it that if the diamond eye of the idol is recovered and given you it will be turned over to its proper custodians?”

“Because if the promise were not given I would not move in the matter. Now as to the man you know as Sam Henry, if he is the same party I take him to be, his correct name is Enoch Cook.”

“Both he and Kidd are very desperate men. I have seen their courage proven more than a score of times.”

“I never yet saw the man I feared,” remarked Burt, with quiet dignity. “As a boy Enoch Cook was a great boaster. How long was he in your employ?”

“I thought it better to deny ever having had the accursed gem in my possession.”

Seated in the neat and cozy parlor of an up-town flat was a very dark-skinned young woman and her maid. The former was almost black, but her features were oval, her lips small, and her hair straight and long. The maid was a French girl and rather pretty.

The French girl obeyed. A small man with dark skin and still darker eyes entered. His eyes were of extraordinary size, and for all that they had a piercing expression.

The expression seemed to have been painfully wrung from the woman’s heart. The visitor laughed.

Marie did not recognize the strange language used by the pair. For all that she noticed a hunted and frightened expression in her mistress’ eyes.

Zulima spoke in English, and waved her maid from the apartment. Very reluctantly Marie obeyed the command. She had taken an instant dislike to the visitor.

Marie was smart beyond her class, and knew the newcomer meant her mistress no good. She determined to remain in the hallway, where she would be within call.

“So, my pretty song-bird,” said the visitor, when the door closed behind Marie, “I guess you did not expect to see me so soon?”

“Has this Western world made you forget that the son of our good King John would make you queen of his harem?”

“Did he send you to bring me back?” said Zulima, greatly affrighted at the prospect.

“Yes, and was glad of the opportunity. In the world of the white man, women are looked up to and not downtrodden, as in our unhappy country.”

“You are not of age, and even the laws of this country will restore you to my possession,” he said.

Zulima shuddered. She had been taught to look up to this man and made to believe that his wisdom surpassed even that of the head sheik of Gondar.

“You mean,” said Ajeeb, and his face became distorted with rage, “that you would die rather than leave this American.”

“He has shown me that I have a better life before me than that of a slave, even if my master should be a prince.”

“I shall become rich, and courted by the great and mighty,” said Zulima. “Already I am learning the language of the Franks.”

“They will not crowd to see you; forget not you are an African, and a black.”

“He did not so act when he induced you to leave those to whom you were bound by ties of blood. Zulima, you will never be a singer for the public; I, Ajeeb, have said it.”

The man’s eyes blazed with a strange light, and a thrill seemed to pass through him.

“Would I not? You should know I never allow aught to stand in the way of the accomplishment of anything I set about.”

“I care not what may happen to me, I would not have harm come to him,” exclaimed the dark-skinned beauty.

Zulima shuddered. She had left Africa behind her forever, she hoped, but not so the superstitious belief in which she was raised. She believed the false god Jobu as great as his devotees claimed.

None had been more devout in their worship of the misshapen wooden idol than Zulima herself. She was quite certain that Jobu would one day make the Abyssinians rulers of the whole of Africa.

Stolburst had endeavored to teach the dark beauty Christianity. She had listened patiently to him, but he found himself unable to convince his charge that there could be a greater god than her own Jobu.

“Why should you be consulted? What woman among [16] us can elect or reject a husband without the consent of her male relatives?”

“I know it, and believed the custom was right before I had my eyes opened to the truth,” replied the girl.

“In a spirit of rebellion you ran away with an unbeliever. It was not altogether to bring you back to Gondar myself, Ashah, and Deth came across the great seas.”

“And he came out here into the West to kill,” hissed Ajeeb, his great black eyes sparkling.

Ashah, as she said, never went forth except to do murder. He was the executioner at the temple of the great Jobu. Hundreds, probably thousands, had met death at his hands. His very name was mentioned in Gondar with bated breath, and women frightened refractory children by naming him.

“Why should I die?” asked Zulima, and she cowered beneath her uncle’s fierce glance.

Ajeeb looked hard at her, believing she might be shamming. He satisfied himself that Zulima was sincere.

“It is true; and that is the principal reason I had for crossing the great seas.”

“The wretch who was on guard at the time,” said Ajeeb, his cheeks aflame with anger, “confessed all before he died.”

Zulima believed her uncle was right in the premises. [18] She did love Henry Stolburst. Far better did she love Jobu. Then, besides, she feared the god of her people.

“Thy will shall be done,” said Zulima, and her heart was stricken with terror.

Burt Cromwell had a good deal of hesitation about taking charge of Stolburst’s affair. He bluntly asked the lecturer if he could furnish references. This caused the latter displeasure. Burt cared nothing for that.

“It seems to me,” said the explorer, “that you conduct your business on a highly moral and independent plane.”

“That is because I want to live up to my reputation of being an honest man.”

Burt named them. The terms must have suited, for Stolburst agreed to them without haggling. Then he took his leave.

The explorer had a small suite of rooms in a leading hotel. That evening he received a visitor there who was entirely unexpected. It was Zulima, who had never before called upon him.

“My dear,” said the explorer kindly, as he conducted [20] his visitor to a chair, “what has happened? You seem unwell.”

“Better than any living creature,” she said, “I love the god of my fathers. To me devotion to the great Jobu means happiness in a future life. Now he is angry with my people.”

“My dear,” said Stolburst, “Ajeeb accused me of stealing the famous green diamond that formed the idol’s eye.”

“I see,” exclaimed Stolburst, in mingled anger and surprise; “your uncle has turned you against me.”

“I only owe you protection; if your services have a price, name it, and I shall pay.”

Zulima took a rather heavy purse from her pocket. Stolburst insisted upon her putting up the money, and she complied.

“Tell me,” said the dark-skinned princess, “did you steal the Eye of Jobu?”

The explorer spoke with all the firmness he could command. There was an undefinable something about the girl that seemed to daze his faculties.

The thought more than once suggested itself to him. He had never experienced a like feeling when in her presence before.

Now Zulima looked even more fixedly at her companion. Again he replied in the negative.

“It was because I had a very slight doubt of your innocence that I came here,” remarked Zulima.

“False friend,” said the princess, and she trembled with emotion. “I have read your heart.”

“That you lie to me!” exclaimed Zulima, rising from her chair and drawing herself up to her full height.

“Yes; I can no longer bear friendship for one who has so deeply injured my people.”

“Yes; but your tongue spoke that which is false. Would that I could forget I ever knew you. If you would live, return that which you stole.”

“Zulima,” said Stolburst tenderly. “I love you as I might a daughter; do not let this foolish matter break our friendship.”

Stolburst saw that Ajeeb had, by working on the girl’s fear of the heathen god, completely won her.

“Ajeeb seems to forget,” he said, “that he is in a civilized country. Here there are hundreds and hundreds of men to protect me. What is he and that demon Ashah against so many?”

Stolburst thought of leaving the country. He dismissed the idea immediately after it was conceived. No matter where he went, he believed the Abyssinians would discover him. He was too well known a character both in Europe and America to long conceal his movements from being chronicled in the newspapers.

Ajeeb, he knew, was highly educated both in English and French. Moreover, the fellow had passed some years in Europe, and had even paid a long visit to New York, previous to the opening of this story.

This last fact was unknown to Stolburst. More than anything else, almost, the explorer regretted the stand taken by the princess.

Zulima left the hotel with a very heavy heart. She had hoped if Stolburst had the diamond he would give it up. The girl felt sure he had stolen the Eye of Jobu. Why did he not return the gem?

Stolburst had lived long enough among her people to know that no effort would be spared to secure a return of the diamond. Surely he could not value the stone more than life.

Despite her present attitude, the princess had great affection for the man. He had aided her escape from the semibondage in which she was born, and had acted as a father to her. She would willingly sacrifice all to her affection, except her idolatrous belief.

Zulima had not proceeded far when a heavy hand was [24] laid upon her shoulder. She was about to scream, when she heard a familiar voice say in her own language:

“Are you sufficiently acquainted with the streets to travel the city alone?”

“I have followed men over the trackless desert. Why should I get lost in the city? I know enough English to make myself understood.”

“Instead of obeying the command you went to the man and told him he was in danger,” answered Ashah.

“Your heart is true to your people,” he said, “even if your fancies led you away from them. This man shall be tortured into giving up the sacred emblem.”

After his new client departed, Burt entered an inner office, where was seated a rosy-cheeked young fellow of about one-and-twenty. This was Frank Hare, who was Burt’s assistant.

“I don’t see anything strikingly queer about the matter,” said Hare, when the other finished. “It’s a clear case of simple theft.”

“You idiot,” smiled Burt, “do you think this Stolburst told me the whole truth?”

“Stolburst has agreed to put up a liberal sum, and we are to have a bonus in the event of our being successful.”

“I don’t think there will be much difficulty in finding Enoch if he is in New York.”

“I’ve seen him a couple of times; he used to hang out with the gang that made Mike Quick’s place their headquarters.”

“I may, but I don’t know him by that name,” replied Frank. “If the diamond is as valuable as described, Kidd will have some difficulty in disposing of it.”

“Well, I won’t move in the affair until I see Stolburst’s references and satisfy myself that he is straight up and down.”

On the morning following Burt visited the bankers whom the lecturer had given as references. They joined in pronouncing Stolburst as a perfectly reliable man. Afterward Burt wrote his new client that he would undertake the case at the terms agreed upon.

In a small saloon near the East River and between the Fulton and Catharine ferries Mike Quick resided. Mr. Quick had several disfiguring marks. Both his cheeks had been slashed some time by a knife, part of one ear was gone, and his great rubicund nose was broken.

He was big in build, and probably fifty years of age. Quite a number of those years had been passed by Quick behind prison-bars. Taken all in all, he was not the sort of chap a man would care to meet in a lonely place after dark.

Quick was behind his dirty and antiquated bar when Burt entered, early in the evening of the day he had interviewed Stolburst’s banker friends.

Quick indulged in a hoarse laugh so loud that it seemed to set the bottles behind the bar dancing.

“Young fellow,” he said, “it wasn’t simply to get a drink you stepped in.”

“Then you are a long time about asking for it. This hotel may not have any oil-paintings or statuary scattered about, but you’ll find brandy here as good as can be got in town.”

The order was quickly filled. Burt found Quick’s statement fulfilled. The liquor was of the best.

Burt smiled. Cook and Sam Henry were identical. Any doubts he might have had on the subject were laid at rest by the dive-keeper’s words.

“Yes,” said Burt, “I know all about his going away, but he has returned.”

“I’ve seen Enoch since he came home. I’ve always [29] put him down for a mighty liar, but now I find he is the most magnificent one I ever ran across.”

“He’s been telling me he spent over a year killing tigers, lions, and elephants.”

“Hello, Burt! It does my eyes good to see you,” said the detective’s former schoolmate.

Burt took the hand that was extended to him. He could not forget the old days, even if the man had sunk to the level of a thief.

“Left me in Gondar, Abyssinia, with just enough money to get to New York with.”

Cook moved uneasily in his chair. It was clear to him that his companion and Stolburst were not strangers to each other.

“I left Dick in Paris; he wanted me to remain with him, saying that the graft for two sharp chaps was immense over there.”

As we know, Burt had no knowledge of the arrival of either. He simply made the statement as a feeler.

“That may be a sin, but it is not reckoned a crime to lie, except under oath.”

“We were sort of chummy, but I never trusted him much. He thinks too much of himself to suit my taste.”

“I swear to you that if Dick Kidd stole that diamond, I never knew anything about it until now.”

“No; I don’t mind telling you that if I had the opportunity I should have stolen it. Why, the price I could have got for the stone would have made me rich for life.”

“Well,” said Burt, “you were Kidd’s accomplice in the theft, and I propose to arrest you.”

Mike Quick stood near him and the saloon-keeper had a revolver leveled at his head.

The moment Quick appeared upon the scene Cook made a successful dash for liberty, Burt did not make a move to intercept him.

Mike had the drop on him, and Burt believed the rascal would shoot if he grappled with Cook.

“You just hold your horses; I want to give Enoch a good start,” said Mike. “You gave me your word of honor you would not attempt to arrest the man.”

Burt was mad enough to eat Quick, but he felt compelled to laugh at the fellow’s conceit. In all New York there was not a more disreputable dive than Quick’s, and it had enjoyed that reputation for years.

Mike put the revolver in his pocket. That was what Burt was waiting for. With a catlike spring he landed directly in front of Quick, and planted his fist between [34] that gentleman’s eyes. The attack was wholly unexpected by the dive-keeper. Mike fell like a log.

Burt turned the prostrate man over, and took possession of his revolver. Then he allowed Quick to rise. The latter was mad as a wild bull. He made a rush at the detective. Again Burt’s fist shot out.

The result was the same as before. The bartender and several others who were in the front room now appeared.

Then, drawing his own revolver, he made his way from the room, and none sought to bar his progress.

It may readily be assumed that Enoch Cook lost no time in getting out of that neighborhood. He went directly across the city, and brought up at a small hotel on West Street.

Without asking questions of the clerk, he went up-stairs and entered a room on the second floor. A small, wiry, and hatchet-faced man arose from a lounge upon which he had been stretched. This was the Honorable Richard Kidd.

“What do you suppose?” asked Cook; “this fellow Stolburst has put a detective on your track. Ain’t that pleasant news?”

“He and I used to be schoolmates, but I don’t understand how he knew that Sam Henry and Enoch Cook were one.”

“Suppose he knows of you pushing Aimee Jacquet overboard when our ship was in mid-ocean?” remarked Enoch.

“The captain of the vessel reported that my wife, Aimee, committed suicide by leaping overboard while suffering from an attack of temporary insanity.”

“Of course not; but didn’t I bribe the ship’s surgeon to say he had noticed the woman’s mind giving way for several days before she was lost?”

“Dick,” said Cook, “I never could understand why you wanted pretty Aimee out of the way after the hard work you had in succeeding to have her desert her husband.”

“One night when drunk—it was the night before we sailed for New York—I told her all about the diamond. The first day out my wife and I had a little tiff. The quarrel grew in dimensions, and she several times taunted me with being a thief.

“I was afraid that if she arrived over here she might [36] give me away to the police. That’s why I pushed her overboard that stormy night.”

“No; the ruffian believed she was entirely devoted to him. Poor little Aimee, if she had not such a nimble tongue she would be alive. The silly creature believed we could have been legally married in this country.”

“I think possession of that green diamond is unlucky,” remarked Enoch seriously.

“I’ll bet,” said Kidd, “that if I asked you to take charge of it you would not refuse.”

“Now,” said Kidd, and he appeared very anxious, “you have me in your power.”

“You alone know how Aimee Jacquet came to her death. Come what may, never inform on me. I will treat you square. As I intended all along, half the money received for the green diamond will be yours, Enoch.”

Cook smiled. He was extremely avaricious, and the prospect of becoming possessor of a large sum of money was peculiarly pleasing to him.

“I have had many pals,” he said, “and not one of them can say I ever played him false.”

Enoch chuckled to himself. Had he possession of the Eye of Jobu, Kidd would soon discover how square his pal was. Cook would most certainly have appropriated the gem for himself.

“Now,” remarked Dick, “you have not told me about that detective friend of yours.”

“I met him down at Mike Quick’s, and he told me he had been engaged by our old master, Henry Stolburst. I told him Stolburst gave me the shake, but that wouldn’t go down.

“When he spoke of the diamond, I pretended I knew nothing about it, and when he said you took it, I claimed I was ignorant of the fact. Then the detective wanted me to sell out to him.”

“If the fellow becomes too troublesome,” said Kidd, “I’ll give him a taste of cold steel.”

“Ajeeb, the head ‘cocalorum’ of the temple of Jobu, and you can bet he is onto Henry Stolburst. Next he’ll get onto us, and then there will be music.”

“Zulima,” said the giant Ashah, “it is well for you that you remain true to your faith.”

“Sooner than have you become a heretic, Ajeeb would have me spoil that beautiful voice of yours. That would have been very hard on me, princess, for I always liked you; still, I should have obeyed my master, even unto sacrificing my own child.”

“He told me if you visited the American’s hotel, I was to conduct you into his presence.”

“I would give up this worthless life of mine sooner. How could I ever look Ajeeb in the face again if I told him a lie?”

Ashah had only been a short period in New York, but he seemed to know the streets in that section of the city. Their journey ended at a handsome house on Forty-third Street.

In answer to Ashah’s ring, the door was opened by Ajeeb in person. The latter’s face was clouded, and he bestowed a fierce glance upon the princess.

Ashah ascended to the second story, and the others entered a very elegantly appointed parlor.

Ajeeb looked at her in surprise. He had expected she would have endeavored to exculpate the explorer.

“He persisted in his denial; I offered him pay for the services he had rendered me, and he refused the money.”

The beautiful-featured princess spoke as calmly as if she was discussing some every-day topic. Away down in her heart, however, there raged a war of conflicting feelings. Try as she might to disabuse her mind of the fact, she had grown to love Stolburst.

“Zulima,” said Ajeeb, “you now talk so sensibly that it seems incredible to me this man should so have blinded you that you deserted your people without regret.”

Zulima had kept her feelings from betraying themselves up to this time. Now she burst into a flood of tears.

“My child,” said Ajeeb, in kinder tones than he had yet used, “you have some secret sorrow; let me share it with you.”

Ajeeb frowned. It was plain to him that she had conceived more than a passing affection for the explorer. This was exceedingly displeasing to him, but he judged it better not to speak of it.

“The man is a vandal,” said Ajeeb; “he knows what to expect, and has a chance to save himself. Now, let his punishment be upon his own head. I will not go home without the Eye of Jobu.”

“No; with the grasping avarice of his race, he thinks he can retain the diamond. The fool! Were he to throw it in the ocean, one day or another it would be found by a priest of Jobu.”

“Neither should I,” remarked Ajeeb. “Now, Zulima, you know where to find me?”

“Well, before you go, I want you to promise not to again visit this vandal.”

“Now, my child, you can go; and, before many sunsets, I will have recovered that for which I traveled so many miles.”

Ajeeb kissed her lightly on the forehead. It was with a head weighed down with sorrow that Zulima returned to her home.

Soon after her departure from the house in Forty-third Street Ajeeb had another visitor. The latter’s appearance and general make-up pronounced him an Englishman.

“Well, old man!” he cried, upon meeting the Abyssinian priest; “how does the world wag for you, and what are you doing in New York?”

Ajeeb was another man in this person’s presence. Before Zulima and Ashah, he carried a very stern front. Now he unbent his rigid dignity.

“You wear European clothes much better now than when I first made your acquaintance in London.”

“Don’t speak of those days,” said Ajeeb. “I guess I must then have broken about every commandment of my religion.”

“Well, you did get in with a pretty stiff crowd after becoming acquainted with me; but I was to blame for all that.”

“No,” he said; “you misjudge me; I but joked when I spoke of breaking commandments of my faith. We take a different view of sin to the outer world, my friend.”

“Don’t tell me anything about religion,” said Barry. “What did you come to this country for?”

“In running him down, yes,” replied Ajeeb; “but he refuses to return that which he stole from our temple.”

“Barry,” said Ajeeb, “I would rather part with ten thousand pounds than you were in that man’s position.”

“Neither is he. The man has great learning, and bears a high name among the people here and in Europe.”

“Ajeeb, my friend,” said Barry, “I think you have undertaken to crack a very hard nut.”

“What harm? His body will never be found, and who can prove murder against me, or my chosen instruments?”

Barry threw himself back in his chair, and laughed heartily. Ajeeb knew he was the object of the other’s mirth, and was naturally displeased.

“My dear fellow,” said Billy, “you seem to forget you are in a civilized community.”

“I will have this man in my power before thirty-six hours have passed, mark my words for it!”

“I wish you all sorts of good luck, old fellow; but, in my humble opinion, you are completely off.”

Henry Stolburst was thoroughly frightened at the dangers which seemed to environ him. He had put great faith in Zulima’s affection for himself.

Now he found himself with but one friend in New York. The latter was a girl named Lizzie Nightingale, and a distant relation. She was an orphan, and in good circumstances.

On the evening of Zulima’s visit, the explorer was about to start out to call on this young lady, when a visitor was announced.

“William Barry,” he said; “why, I never heard that name before. I suppose you might as well show him up.”

This speech was addressed to the bell-boy. In due time Barry put in an appearance. Billy had discarded his striking raiment, and was then dressed in very ordinary clothing.

Stolburst looked hard at the man. Barry’s features were immovable. To look at him, a stranger would not credit him with possessing even an average amount of brains.

Billy smiled from ear to ear. It struck Stolburst the janitor took more than a passing interest in Zulima’s maid.

“Well, Marie said to me: Billy, tell the gentleman that my mistress is sorry she parted from him in anger. She would ask him to come here, but it would be dangerous, as persons whom he will know are watching the house. The lady would come to you, only these same persons might follow her. Marie will meet you to-night, and deliver a message from her mistress, who begs you not to attempt to see her. Marie will tell you how to get rid of these people whom you don’t like.”

“All—except Marie will meet you in the Battery Park, near the Barge Office, at nine o’clock to-night.”

This reply confirmed Stolburst in the belief that the messenger did come indirectly from the princess.

So Zulima had relented! She found, on mature thought, that she had more affection for the explorer than for the teachings of the devotees of Jobu.

Stolburst was glad of that. Indeed, he had often thought that his intimate friendship with the girl would end with him falling in love with her. She was not a negro, or even a black.

“I haven’t any mistress, or master, either, for that matter; the flat is owned by an insurance company.”

Billy deftly caught the coin, and, with a low bow, took his departure. It might have surprised the explorer to [50] see the janitor of the St. Joseph flat invest that dollar in a Manhattan cocktail and a Reina cigar at the Hoffman House café.

Stolburst deferred his visit to Miss Lizzie Nightingale. He tried to think as to the manner Zulima had devised by which he could escape the wrath of her uncle.

Could it be that she had discovered a weak spot in subtle Ajeeb’s armor? But it took a master mind in cunning to overreach Ajeeb.

“I wish I could see the princess in person,” thought Stolburst; “but I suppose I must be satisfied to take things as I can get them.”

Come what might, Stolburst determined to see the maid. He knew the girl was very faithful, and that Zulima regarded her more as a friend than as a servant.

The hour of nine struck by Trinity when Henry Stolburst entered Battery Park. The night was windy, and there was a steady downpour of rain.

Despite this latter annoyance, he carried no umbrella. What was a sound ducking to a man of his experience?

Stolburst wore a heavy cloak, and underneath its folds his right hand grasped the handle of a revolver. He was directed by a policeman to the Barge Office. The building was closed, and no Marie awaited him.

A heavy blow was struck him with a piece of iron pipe from behind. He fell inanimate to the pavement.

It was hours afterward when Stolburst regained consciousness. Then he found himself in a room without windows that was hung on all four sides with very brilliant [51] red curtains. In the middle of the room, and underneath a chandelier, stood an Abyssinian, dressed in the garb of his country.

Stolburst rubbed his eyes. For a moment he believed himself back in Africa. Then, with a rush, everything came to him.

Stolburst put his hand to his head. He found a lump there, and he suffered great pain. Upon placing his fingers upon the spot where he had been struck, he discovered the Abyssinian had been doctoring him. Everything about him, even to the lounge upon which he found himself stretched, and the sweet, aromatic odor that pervaded the atmosphere, suggested the Orient.

“Deth, why the devil don’t you speak?” he cried, assuming a sitting position.

A cruel smile played across the Abyssinian’s dark features, and he clapped his hands three times in rapid succession. The curtains at one side of the room parted. Ajeeb appeared.

Deth obeyed his master’s command. A fiercely triumphant expression appeared in Ajeeb’s eyes as he steadily regarded his prisoner.

“You spoke about police protection,” he said. “The police were not able to protect you. Base vandal, I, Ajeeb, never make idle threats.

“You are in my power, and beyond the reach of help. In a few hours Ajeeb will rack your body. Give up the green diamond, and be saved from torture.”

Ajeeb bore a terrible reputation for cruelty among those who knew him best. It even struck Stolburst as odd that right in the great city of New York this fellow could carry out his practises.

The prisoner believed himself doomed. Ajeeb’s cold, cruel, and crafty features seemed to enchant him. Try as Stolburst might, he could not keep his gaze off the man.

The Abyssinian wore a rich silken cloak wound around the upper portion of the body, leaving his arms and legs naked. In his hand he held a simitar, studded with jewels.

Stolburst was a brave man, but he certainly felt a fluttering at the heart. His prospects of leaving that place alive were dim. He did not suspect Barry of being the knowing tool of Ajeeb. Instead, he condemned Zulima for his being in his then position.

The Abyssinian started. After the admission made by his prisoner, he considered the jewel within reach.

The expression on Ajeeb’s features increased in ferocity. He half raised his simitar. Every moment the helpless prisoner expected to be his last. He gave up all hope when Ajeeb moved a few steps nearer.

“Why did you not tell me all this when I visited you at the hotel? Then I might have believed you. Ashah!”

The giant could not have been far away, for he almost instantly appeared. Ajeeb made a sign.

Dick went across town to Quick’s. The latter gentleman was fuming with rage. Both his eyes were blackened and his nose was cut.

“Well, I swear!” said Kidd, upon entering. “But you have got a pretty pair of bungers, and no mistake!”

“That’s just exactly who it was, and it all come of me standing as a friend by Enoch,” replied Mike.

“Here’s a whole lot of duffers,” Quick waved his arm around, “and every one of them claims to be my dear friend. Did any of them go to the front for me? Not one.”

He threw a look of withering scorn upon the habitues of the dive that were gathered at the bar.

“I’m a pretty good friend,” he added, “when they are broke and want a drink.”

“Boss,” said the bartender, “when we got to the back room, Burt Cromwell had out his gun.”

“You shut up!” exclaimed Quick angrily; “or you will find yourself out of a job mighty soon!”

Kidd threw some oil upon the troubled waters by inviting every one in the place to have a drink. Soon afterward he and the dive-keeper adjourned to the rear room, where they seated themselves.

“What is there in the wind?” asked Mike, looking knowingly at his companion.

“Detectives ain’t going around arresting people unless they have some good reason for it,” said Quick.

“Perhaps,” added the dive-keeper, “you don’t care to trust me. Is that it?”

“Well,” said Dick, “the matter is simple enough. I lifted a diamond, and, when it is sold, why, Enoch and I will divide the proceeds.”

Dick was wise in his generation, but he was not a match for his pal. As the saying goes, Cook knew more in a minute than the other knew in a year.

“Enoch is attending to that end of the business just about at the present moment.”

Just then Cook was closeted with one of the most famous fences in New York—Monte Murphy . In appearance and manner, Murphy seemed an uncouth and ignorant man. A more shrewd rascal at driving a bargain did not exist.

Murphy lived in a tumble-down sort of house on Elizabeth Street, and, when Cook called, he found the fence at home. Monte had not seen his visitor in years, but [58] he knew him at first glance. This the fence did not allow to appear, and he pretended not to recognize Cook for some time.

“Well, my boy,” said Murphy, after admitting he remembered his caller, “what can I do for you now?”

“I have retired from the business. The police made things too uncomfortable for me.”

Cook seemed nonplused. He knew the old rascal in front of him was still engaged in business as a “fence.”

Enoch could not understand Murphy’s disinclination to deal with him. Monte was playing his fish. If he appeared too eager to do business, the other might seek to take advantage of that fact.

“Sure I couldn’t tell how much the jewel is worth without seeing it; and, by the way, I haven’t seen anything in the newspapers about any one losing such a great diamond. I think, young man, you are slightly off your base.”

“It formed,” he continued, “the eye of an Abyssinian idol for many centuries. I am positive it is a genuine diamond.”

“Sure, the law couldn’t reach you for a theft committed on the heathen of Africa.”

“Why, if the diamond was worth even one-tenth of the sum you name, and I was ever so much disposed to deal with you, I could not find the money. Besides, I never heard of a green diamond before; it is probably an emerald.”

“You could obtain double what we ask for the stone,” said Enoch. “If you haven’t the money, you know how to raise it.”

“Enoch,” said the “fence,” when the other finished, “I’d like to see that stone.”

“I can better answer that question when I have seen the green diamond,” replied Murphy; “but I will not pay any such sum as one hundred thousand dollars.”

“You may change your mind about that; my pal and I will call here not later than to-morrow night.”

Then Enoch took his leave. If the old fence paid half what he demanded for the wondrous jewel, Cook would be highly satisfied.

He headed directly for Mike Quick’s. When Enoch was within a few blocks of his destination, a man sprang at him and clutched his throat.

Cook found himself looking into the eyes of Pierre Jacquet, whose wife Dick Kidd had stolen and then murdered.

“Yes,” he finally said; “that is my name: but I have no recollection of ever having seen you before.”

No greater rascal than Pierre Jacquet called Paris home, and that is a very broad statement. Yet Monsieur Jacquet was devotedly fond of his wife, and he could have forgiven her for her escapade, even then, if she appealed to him. Not so the man who had stolen the woman’s affections.

Pierre had crossed the ocean with the avowed intention of recovering his wife, and avenging his honor. He [63] owned a prosperous cabaret in Paris, and the two Americans had been his guests during a stay they made in that city.

“I tracked you three to Havre, and learned you had sailed together for America.”

“Will you swear you know nothing of my wife running off with Monsieur Kidd?”

The Frenchman’s breath came hard and fast. His eyes were directed full at his companion. That did not annoy Enoch in the least.

“ Peste! ” exclaimed Monsieur Jacquet; “where could have been your eyes?”

“Did you not notice the intimacy that sprang up between my wife and Monsieur Kidd?”

“Well,” said Cook, “I never thought Dick Kidd would run off with another’s wife. He certainly isn’t very beautiful.”

“Monsieur Cook,” exclaimed Pierre, and his voice became harsh and loud, “you are trying to shield this man from my just vengeance!”

A bright knife-blade flashed under the electric light, the Frenchman groaned, his hold on Enoch’s throat was released, he staggered and fell upon the sidewalk in a heap. The man’s blood had spurted over his assailant’s face and hand.

“What’s up?” cried the latter and Kidd, in a single breath, as Enoch entered the back room, where they were seated.

Enoch tried to appear cool. He found that undertaking a vast one. The rascal had never before shed human blood, and he stood in great dread of the consequences of his act.

“Why!” exclaimed Dick; “your face and neck are bloody! Are you wounded?”

Enoch held out his blood-stained hand. Mike Quick very politely arose and left the friends together.

“You are sure,” said Kidd, “you said nothing about Aimee falling overboard?”

Dick procured a basin of tepid water for his pal, and helped him cleanse himself. Then Enoch told him of his interview with Monte Murphy.

“Do you think,” he said, “I would trust it out of my possession? It is not every day a man runs up against a fortune.”

“But, according to your own statement, he did not say he would buy the stone.”

Cook drank at least half a bottle of brandy before his nerves became steady. The pair hurried to the “fence,” and, after some difficulty, aroused Murphy.

Monte excused himself for a moment. When he returned, he carried a tray, upon which was a bottle of whisky and some glasses. This display of hospitality quite surprised Enoch.

Murphy bore the reputation of being very close-fisted. The three men drank together, and then Kidd produced the diamond.

The old “fence” took the gem in his hand, and held it near the light. His well-trained facial muscles betrayed no astonishment. His hand trembled as he gazed upon the wondrous stone.

Kidd’s jaw fell. The latter knew an emerald, even of that size, was vastly inferior to a diamond in value.

“My friends,” said Monte, “I believe I can honestly claim to correctly tell one jewel from another. I say this is an emerald.”

Murphy knew the stone was what Enoch claimed it [68] to be. Never had he seen a jewel so beautiful. It was worth the ransom of a king.

“But,” continued Monte, after a pause, “emerald though it is, the stone is quite valuable.”

“I might be able to get eight or ten thousand dollars for it, but I am not going to pay you that price.”

Kidd and Enoch exchanged looks. Both felt rather crestfallen. Dick believed Murphy’s statement. Cook did not.

“Well,” said the latter, “I guess we will have to take the jewel to another mart.”

“You must be well supplied with funds, when you can throw away five thousand dollars,” remarked Monte.

“I rather think I shall keep it!” said Murphy, and he coolly pocketed the gem. Both the others sprang to their feet.

The door was thrown open, and two men rushed into the room. Each of the newcomers had a revolver in hand, and they covered Cook and his pal.

“It means,” said Joe Snell, one of the intruders, “that, if you or your friend raise a hand, we will send the pair of you to visit the devil!”

“I shall keep the diamond,” said Murphy, “until an owner for it turns up.”

Covered by the revolvers of his friends, Murphy backed out of the room. Both Kidd and Enoch were beside themselves with rage. A fortune had slipped out of their hands.

On the morning following the capture of Henry Stolburst, Burt visited the latter’s hotel. The explorer’s valet told him his master had left the hotel the evening before, promising to return in a few hours.

“Yes, sir; she is almost as black as a negro, but she is very handsome, for all that.”

“I’m afraid,” said the valet, “that Mr. Stolburst has met with some misfortune.”

“Master has not been himself these last few days. There was a horrible-looking little man here the other day, and ever since Mr. Stolburst has seemed depressed. Who are you? I had almost forgotten to ask.”

Stolburst had not as yet put in an appearance. Now the matter assumed a serious aspect. Could it be that Ajeeb had made away with the explorer?

Burt feared the worst. Bude was quite positive something terrible had happened to his master. Why he entertained that belief he could not tell. The fellow was attached to his employer.

Burt determined to visit Zulima. From Bude’s description, he believed her to be an Abyssinian. He thought it strange Stolburst had not spoken to him about the princess.

Burt went directly to the St. Joseph flat. After looking the visitor over quite curiously, Marie admitted him to the presence of her mistress. The conversation between Zulima and the detective was carried on in French.

“Monsieur,” said the princess, rising upon his entry, “I cannot imagine what you can want with me.”

“Madame,” said Burt, “you are acquainted with a gentleman named Henry Stolburst?”

“Has Mr. Stolburst been here since yesterday afternoon?” he wound up by asking.

Burt made up his mind the girl knew something about the explorer’s disappearance.

“That is part of my trade, to find people. Now, you know the man called Ajeeb?”

“Do you know that Ajeeb came to this country especially to kill Henry Stolburst?”

“You had better answer my question,” said the detective, with a pleasant smile.

“This Ajeeb is a high priest, and does not shed human blood,” she said finally.

“He came to this country to recover a diamond that had once formed the eye of an idol,” remarked Burt.

“You are not so deep in the gentleman’s confidence, I see, as I had at first supposed,” remarked Zulima.

The girl felt a keen pain at the heart. Up to within a few days she had also believed Henry Stolburst was all that was good and noble. Had his crime been that of killing her Uncle Ajeeb, high priest though the latter was, she could have forgiven him. But the insult to the god of her people, that could not be overlooked.

“Now,” continued the detective, “I know positively [75] that this famous green diamond is not in the possession of Mr. Stolburst.”

Could it be, after all, that her protector and friend had told her the truth in declaring he did not possess the stone?

He had not parted with it for a money consideration, she felt quite sure. Zulima knew the explorer was very wealthy.

“The possessor of so great a gem,” she said, “would guard it so carefully that its theft would be almost impossible.”

“Your judgment is at fault. The one you knew as Henry is noted in this city as a thief. It was to recover the green diamond that Mr. Stolburst engaged me.”

“I have his promise that the gem shall be returned to its proper custodians.”

“Madame,” he said, “I am unaccustomed to having my veracity doubted, more especially by a lady.”

“It is given to me the power to read men’s minds. Again I declare you speak false. My false friend would never give up the diamond.”

“Then why do you sacrifice the friendship of this gentleman because he may have had something to do with the desecration of a heathen shrine?”

Burt wondered that, with all the opportunities Stolburst had, he did not succeed in converting the princess to Christianity.

“My dear madame,” said Burt, “I feel satisfied I shall recover this diamond, and I promise it will be returned, unless harm has come to Henry Stolburst.”

That was the question the girl asked herself. The thought caused her to shudder.

If Stolburst was in Ajeeb’s power, and was, as the detective stated, unable to return the Eye of Jobu, what might not have happened? She knew her uncle’s heart could not be moved by pity, and she also felt sure he would not credit the story that the explorer had been robbed.

Zulima felt herself in great measure responsible for Stolburst’s safety. But, then, she dare not tell the detective where her uncle could be found.

“I am sure,” she said, “that, beyond giving him a fright, Ajeeb would not injure Mr. Stolburst.”

“Is he not my uncle? What could be more natural than that he should visit me?” returned Zulima.

“Monsieur forgets I am a stranger here. I only know that his house is of stone, and is one of a row.”

“He was very angry that the gentleman should have assisted me to leave my country.”

“I don’t remember whether he made any threats. I should not be surprised if he did. Uncle is quite given to making threats.”

Burt looked steadfastly into the girl’s eyes. She did not betray emotion, if she felt any.

“I have no means of knowing,” she said. “In our country, the men never take women into their council.”

The princess was very beautiful, but Burt believed her a trained prevaricator, for all that. Nothing was to be gained from her, as was evident, at that stage of the proceedings. If he had known the treatment to which Stolburst had been subjected, Burt would have arrested the princess as an accomplice of Ajeeb.

“Madame,” he said, taking his leave, “we shall meet again; and, if anything befalls Mr. Stolburst, I shall hold you responsible.”

Zulima smiled in his face. When the door closed behind her visitor, the smile departed, and she became sad.

Again the door opened. She looked toward it, expecting [78] to see her maid. Instead of Marie, it was Ajeeb who entered.

“I have eyes,” replied the high priest. “His visit seems to have made you sad. Who is he, may I ask?”

The high priest scowled. Nothing could drive it from his mind but that Stolburst possessed the Eye of Jobu.

“Uncle,” she said, “I am quite as anxious you should succeed in this matter as you can possibly be.”

“I will tell you this much,” he said, “the man has already begun to feel the punishment I designed for him.”

Zulima shuddered. All the kind acts Stolburst had [79] performed for her passed in rapid succession before the girl’s mind.

She knew he was not dead. Might not the unfortunate man be dying by painful and slow degrees?

Ajeeb had sworn to torture him to death, and Ajeeb always carried out his purpose, at least, so she had been taught. The high priest sneered at the emotion his niece took no pains to conceal.

“The outcome proves you are no judge of character. There is a memento of your friend.”

The brute had tossed her an ear that had been severed from the explorer’s head.

“Well,” said Dick Kidd, after he and his pal had been ejected from Monte Murphy’s, “ain’t you a nice citizen?”

Kidd was boiling over with anger. Small wonder. The equivalent of a fortune had just passed from his possession. The great green diamond was his no longer.

Kidd’s eyes gleamed murderously as he glanced at his pal. Cook caught the other’s glance, but could not understand it.

“If you try it on, you will find that two can play at that game! But what have I done to incur your anger?”

“Well,” said Cook, drawing a long breath, “this is the first time I was ever accused of betraying a pal.”

“Didn’t you tell me, when I questioned you, that this Monte Murphy was a square man, and that I could find a dozen high-rollers who would say the same thing?”

“Still, you can’t blame me. I thought I was doing everything for the best.”

Enoch talked in a smooth, easy tone, free of excitement. His manner more than his words impressed Kidd.

“Why,” added Cook, after a pause, “if you sold the diamond, I was to have half the proceeds.”

“Do you suppose, even if I were inclined to give you the ‘razzle-dazzle,’ I could make better terms with Murphy?”

“Now,” said Enoch, “the question confronts us—how are we going to get back the diamond?”

“Well,” said Kidd, “I’ll leave the whole business in your hands. Monte Murphy would not have the diamond in the first place but for you.”

“Now Murphy knows the gem was stolen by us, and how can Quick force him to give it up?”

“I’ll tell you this much, if I don’t recover the diamond, Monte Murphy will never sell it!”

The pair of precious rascals parted on Broadway, near Chambers Street. Enoch went directly to Quick’s. It was long after midnight, but the place was in full blast. Petty gamblers and thieves formed the bulk of the body of customers.

Mike called one of his cronies to take his place behind [83] the bar. Then he conducted his visitor to a room on the floor above the store.

“Kidd and I have talked the matter over, and we have concluded to give you a third share in it,” replied Enoch.

“Very kind of you and Mister Kidd, I am sure,” remarked Quick. “Of course, I am expected to give up value in return?”

Quick threw himself back in his chair, and laughed until tears ran down his cheeks.

“Far more than that, if anything,” answered Enoch. “It was stolen from a temple in Africa, where for centuries it was venerated by a rich and idolatrous people.”

Quick was not altogether illiterate. He had read of great diamonds being found in temples, and at other shrines, by travelers.

“No; Murphy will give Snell and Brady the ‘razzle-dazzle,’ just the same as he gave it to you and Kidd.”

“Dick Kidd will be here by that time. Won’t you wait until he comes before you make a move?”

Quick smiled. The sodden expression had disappeared from his eyes. Now they sparkled with intelligence.

His features, marked with dissipation though they were, had also brightened up. For the nonce, he was the Mike Quick who years before had led the detectives many a merry chase by his shrewdness in eluding pursuit, and had almost paralyzed them by the boldness of his operations.

“I have already mapped out my course,” said the dive-keeper. “How shall I know the diamond?”

“I shall bring the diamond back in two hours, or—well, we shall see what we shall see.”

Bidding Cook good night, Quick left his saloon. His objective point was Monte Murphy’s, in Elizabeth Street.

Mike had proceeded on his journey as far as Broadway, when he encountered Joe Snell. The meeting was accidental.

Snell seemed to be considerably under the influence of liquor, and his first act was to invite Quick to go and have a drink with him.

Late as the hour was, the pair found a saloon open. Snell seemed to be in the highest spirits.

“Made a cool five hundred to-night, Mike,” he said, “just as easy as wink.”

“I don’t care to know anything about it,” said Quick, believing that, pretending indifference, he would draw the drunken thief out. Mike’s surmise was correct.

“But,” said Joe, “perhaps I shall tell you. I always knew you were a man in whom a friend could trust.”

“Well,” said Snell, “Pat Brady and I pulled off a thousand between us for doing Cook and a friend of his.”

“We just held the two coves up, while Monte Murphy gathered in some of their swag.”

“A big brilliant that Monte calls an emerald. Murphy was expecting the pair, and had me and Pat on deck.”

“How can I tell? That old thief don’t take any one very deep into his confidence.”

“Nothing of the kind; I wouldn’t stand in place of you or Brady for a good deal, and you know I’m counted pretty tough?”

Something nearly akin to a pained expression appeared on Snell’s countenance. He was not afraid of Cook, but he did not like the hint Quick threw out regarding Kidd.

“He swears to kill you and Brady on sight, and Dick Kidd generally carries out such little programs after making them.”

“If I had known I was risking my life,” said Snell, “you can bet I would not let Monte off so light. I’d have made him give us a thousand apiece at the very least.”

“Well,” muttered Joe, “to be forewarned is to be forearmed. Have another drink, then I’ll go around and see Brady.”

When Monte Murphy found himself, after the departure of Brady and Snell, alone with the “Eye of Jobu,” he could hardly contain himself from very joy. Time and time again he gazed fondly upon the wondrous gem.

Monte tested the stone over and over again. There could be no doubt of its being genuine. He had in his possession the most wonderful diamond in existence.

A thought struck him; he would take it to Europe and there look for a purchaser. Monte ascended to his bedroom, which was under the eaves.

The room was lighted by a single lamp. In a corner stood a small safe, which the “fence” opened. Wrapping a piece of newspaper about the Eye of Jobu, he placed it within the safe, and locked the iron door behind it.

Monte neither knew nor cared anything about the history of the stone. Would it bring bad luck to him?

He would have laughed in the face of any one who might have told him it would. Monte placed a revolver under his pillow and went to bed. It may be taken for granted that the “fence” dreamed of his new possession.

He did not fear reprisal from Cook or Kidd. In fact the matter of their seeking revenge had hardly occurred to him.

Murphy was awakened from a pleasant dream by a hand being placed upon his breast. He awoke with a start and sat bolt upright in the bed, at the side of which stood a human figure.

Monte reached under the pillow for his revolver. It [90] was not there. The intruder had removed the weapon. He had also turned up the lamp which Murphy had turned down low upon retiring.

Murphy felt his whole body covered with cold perspiration. It was plain Quick’s visit augured him no good. Monte made no move toward leaving his bed.

“This is a queer hour and a queerer manner of paying me a visit. Have you gone back to the old business?”

“Can’t you guess the object of my visit, now that I have mentioned his name?”

“You not only saw him, but, with the help of Joe Snell and Pat Brady, you managed to rob the poor devil.”

Monte shuddered. The dive-keeper knew all. Still the old “fence” determined to stand by his colors.

“Some one,” he said, with a hollow laugh, “has been imposing a cock-and-bull story upon you, Mike.”

“You are an old friend, and I might stretch a point and lend you a few hundred.”

Mike smiled grimly. He knew the “fence” actually adored money with the passion of a shylock.

Murphy sprang out of bed. Quick grasped the “fence” by the throat and forced the upper portion of his body back upon the bed.

Monte struggled hard to break away from his assailant. His strength was almost as nothing compared to that of Quick. The latter drew a knife from inside his coat.

Mike’s knife was driven into the struggling man’s breast. Then the dive-keeper hurried from the scene.

After being stabbed by Enoch Cook, poor Pierre Jacquet lay motionless upon the pavement. He was found there by the policeman on that beat, who had him conveyed to the Oak Street station. From there Pierre was taken to one of the public hospitals.

There he related the circumstances attending the stabbing. Burt saw an account of the affair in the newspapers, and visited the hospital.

Monsieur Jacquet welcomed his visitor upon learning the latter was a detective. The Frenchman’s wound was deep and ugly, but not fatal. Burt found him propped up with pillows, and he seated himself at the sufferer’s bedside.

“You know Monsieur Cook?” asked Pierre, after the detective had been introduced.

“He is a devil—a snake in the grass. They tell me I shall recover and be able to go out in a few days. Then—ah! Kidd will feel my wrath.”

“Monsieur, I keep a cabaret in Paris. The police do not speak well of me or my customers. I had a wife—pretty [94] Aimee. She was far above me in station when we married.

“Aimee did not like my business, and I had promised her to give it up at the close of the present year. Three months ago—only three short months ago—Cook and Kidd came to board with me.

“They were recommended to my cabaret by a friend of mine. Two months ago they left. Aimee went with Kidd.”

A look, such as a tiger might wear when at bay, appeared in Jacquet’s eyes, and he gritted his teeth hard.

“Then, as I understand it, you came to America in search of your wife,” said Burt.

“My man,” said the detective kindly, “don’t you know that murder is punished with death?”

“Of course I do; but what care I whether I live or die, now that Aimee is forever lost to me?” replied Jacquet.

“No; but she left behind a cruel letter, saying that Kidd was the partner of their flight, and that they were to be married upon arriving in this country.”

“Monsieur, I tore it into a thousand pieces,” replied Pierre. “You know of the existence of this scoundrel, Kidd?”

“The villain, he must have so dazzled Aimee by making a display of wealth that the foolish creature forgot her obligations to me.”

“His wealth consists of a great diamond. Did you ever hear him refer to it?”

“Now,” said the detective, “recover your wife if you can, but do no injury to this man.”

“I would not take my wife back if she were to beg me to do so. I am a man of honor.”

The keeper of the Parisian den of thieves actually believed himself a man of honor.

“Well,” he said, “I will promise not to harm him unless in self-defense.”

Burt smiled at the Frenchman’s fear of prison. By [96] stabbing Jacquet, Enoch had placed himself within the pale of the law.

Burt determined to effect his capture. Cook might be willing to put him on the track of the green diamond when he found himself a prisoner in the Tombs.

Burt knew his former schoolmate to be a selfish coward. Enoch would sacrifice anything or anybody to gain his own ends. But where to find his man?

Mike Quick could tell him. Quick must. So the detective decided. After leaving the hospital, Burt went to Quick’s.

Mike was alone in the back room, and there Burt found him. The ruffian sprang to his feet with an oath on his lips. Burt produced his revolver.

It was the day following Quick’s visit to Monte Murphy. The dive-keeper feared his crime had been found out, and that Burt had come to arrest him.

The ruffian drew a long breath of relief, and something resembling a smile radiated his features.

“You are more than even with me. I never wore such a pair of ‘bungers’ before in my life.”

“I guess you know. By the way, where did that blood-spot on your shirt-front come from?”

Quick gave a great start. Then he looked down at the telltale spot. He had not noticed it before.

The affair at the “fence” on Elizabeth Street had not as yet reached the police.

The words but escaped the detective when he was felled by the blow of a sand-bag delivered from behind.

Billy Barry called upon his friend Ajeeb the afternoon Burt was laid out at Quick’s, and it was on the detective the conversation of the two former hinged. Barry and the high priest took possession of the latter’s library. It was Billy’s first visit since he had aided in entrapping Stolburst.

Barry looked at his companion in astonishment. Although Ajeeb had so threatened, Billy did not believe he would torture Stolburst.

An ear gone! Barry repeated the phrase to himself. What a queer-looking object a person with one ear must be!

“Yes, if he persists in his denials that he has not that [101] which I seek,” said Ajeeb. “Were I to kill him at once, I should never, perhaps, recover the Eye of Jobu.”

“How can you talk like that?” he asked. “I would give my life a thousand times over if it were possible to recover that sacred relic, which for untold ages has been the property of my god.”

Ajeeb spoke with the greatest depth of religious fervor. His eyes stared, the muscles of his neck stood out like whipcords, and his form trembled. Barry had never before seen him so manifest himself.

“Do you know this one?” And the high priest gave a description of Burt Cromwell.

Until now Ajeeb had never heard the detective’s name. He had seen Burt leave the St. Joseph flat, and leaped at the conclusion that he was an officer and had been [102] visiting Zulima. Of the interview between the princess and her uncle we know.

Had Burt delayed his departure from Zulima’s apartments he would have met Ajeeb face to face.

“He is employed by Stolburst, he told my niece, and is now searching for the latter.”

Barry’s countenance took on a serious aspect. He had never had dealings with Burt Cromwell, but New York friends of his had.

Billy knew that the detective was a man who would never desert a trail once he had taken it up. He now saw his own safety imperiled, because of the part he had in the kidnaping of Stolburst.

“Ajeeb, I’ll give you credit for being shrewd; but you [103] will not be able to overreach Burt Cromwell, mark my words for it.”

“This man is a human sleuth-hound, I might say. Nothing but death will arrest his progress, once he starts to unravel a case.”

“As a matter of fact, I have nothing to fear in any case. The detective does not know me, nor has he any clue to work upon.”

“Burt Cromwell will not be long in discovering a clue, take my word for it.”

“In a personal encounter I have never yet met a man able to best me, but I will confess I am afraid of this man. Why, I do not know.”

The high priest believed his friend to be a very brave fellow. That made the fear Barry expressed all the more impressive.

In the cellar of that same house was one in whom we are interested—Henry Stolburst. His wounded head had been poulticed by Ashah, but the poor fellow continued to suffer the most exquisite pain.

Henry Stolburst did not know he was in a cellar. The floor was carpeted, and red curtains were so hung as to form a room.

Both his feet and hands were unbound, but either Deth or Ashah constantly guarded him. The latter never exchanged a word with the hapless prisoner.

After the first day Deth was more communicative. While Ajeeb and Barry talked above stairs, Henry Stolburst and Deth talked below. The explorer had had a slight acquaintance with the man in Africa.

“Deth,” said Henry Stolburst, for at least the twentieth time since he was imprisoned, “why can you not listen to reason? Release me and I will make you rich.”

“So it would be with me. Were I to thwart the high priest, he would follow me to the end of the world, but he would have revenge.”

“In your own country he might claim you as such, but here all men are free.”

Deth could not understand there should be a country where slavery was not practised.

“In America you are free to go and come as you choose. Besides paying you a large sum of money, I will make you my companion. I am rich, and anything you may desire, which money can purchase, will be yours.

“I shall exact no services from you. Choose! Which is the better—a life of perpetual ease with me, or as Ajeeb’s slave?”

“I understand,” said the Abyssinian. “Ashah says he is soon to cut off the other.”

The explorer gave a great start. He was a brave man, but tears came to his eyes despite his efforts to keep them back. If his life was spared, how could he go out in the world maimed as he was?

Only one ear—perhaps none! What would people say who met him? His mental agony was far more keen than his physical sufferings.

“No; if Ajeeb has not the Eye of Jobu in his possession four days hence, you will lose the other ear.”

It is strange, but true, that this man was actually tortured [106] as described in the heart of New York City. Thousands daily passed the house in which he was a prisoner, but no cry of his could reach them. He might as well be in the depth of Africa as in that cellar, as far as making himself heard outside was concerned.

“Deth,” said the explorer, after a pause, “do you like to see me suffer?”

With the fury of a madman Henry Stolburst sprang at the Abyssinian. His fingers clutched the man’s throat.

Deth was taken unawares. With great strength, born of desperation, Henry Stolburst bore the man to the floor.

It was Ashah who spoke. Henry Stolburst looked up. Just then the newcomer caught hold of him and dragged him away from Deth.

And then he hastily left. Andy had slipped behind the detective, unperceived by the latter.

He threw the sand-bag carelessly on the floor, and got a pitcher of ice-water. Then he set about reviving the unconscious officer. After a little while, Burt Cromwell opened his eyes.

“He’s a friend of Quick’s from Philadelphia. Here’s what he laid you out with.”

Andy exhibited the sand-club. Burt looked hard at the fellow. The bartender’s features were all but expressionless.

“If I had got onto the fellow,” continued Andy, “you wouldn’t have a sore ‘conk’ now.”

“If that was the case,” he said, “I should not have helped to bring you around.”

“This place is too hot for my blood, that’s all. If I stay here, first thing I know I’ll find myself wearing stripes.”

“Nothing. But if you have this crib pulled at any time, I’m likely to be scooped in with the rest,” remarked innocent Andy.

At this juncture a third party appeared upon the scene. It was Enoch Cook. He turned to flee.

Burt was too quick for him. Covering Enoch with a revolver, he ordered him to be seated. Then Burt requested the bartender to leave the room.

Cook had not seen Quick since the latter’s visit to Monte Murphy. After his crime in Elizabeth Street Mike did not return to his saloon until the next day. Consequently Enoch knew nothing about the tragedy.

“Now, my fellow,” said the detective, “you won’t slip through my fingers so easily this time as you did before. Perhaps it will interest you to know that Pierre Jacquet is dying.”

Cook became deathly pale, and he felt his spine grow weak. The Frenchman’s death would make him a murderer.

It was hard enough to be compelled to serve a long term in prison, but the gallows—— The thought of that grim instrument of death almost froze the blood in his veins.

“Why will you be so silly? I mean the man you stabbed in Frankfort Street—the man whose wife your friend Kidd ran off with.”

“Yes,” he said finally, “but I know nothing of Kidd running off with the fellow’s wife.”

Enoch knew that if he made a dash for liberty, Burt would shoot him down. He very meekly allowed Burt to slip handcuffs on his wrists.

“I hope for your sake,” said the detective, “that this man may recover. Bad as you are, I should not like to have you die on the gallows.”

“Yes, that was long ago. Do not recall the past; it will not help your case any.”

“Suppose I was to put you in the way of this famous green diamond, of which you are in search?” remarked Enoch.

The villain was willing to pay any price for his liberty. [111] At any rate, he argued, it was better for Burt to recover the great diamond than Monte Murphy should have it. He felt confident Mike Quick had not recovered the stone from the old “fence.”

“I was with Stolburst when the eye of the idol was stolen, and that may be known to Ajeeb.”

“Ajeeb might feel bound to kill me. See? He and his crew think nothing of taking human life. Often have they offered up one hundred persons as sacrifice in their temple.”

“I am sure of it,” replied Enoch. “If Stolburst could return the green diamond, he might escape with his life. [112] Even then his chances would be doubtful; the heathen never forgives one who desecrates his temples of idols.”

“Stolburst could not return the Eye of Jobu. Your friend Kidd has it, I suppose.”

Enoch told how Monte had captured the Eye of Jobu. He took particular care not to mention anything concerning his last interview with Mike Quick.

Enoch held out his manacled wrists. After a moment’s hesitation, Burt removed the handcuffs.

“Enoch,” he said, “if you do the square thing, I may befriend you; try to escape, and I will shoot you down.”

The rascal meant to keep his word. Upon arriving [113] at Murphy’s, Burt rang the bell. A young man’s head appeared at one of the upper windows.

“My friend,” said the young man, leveling a revolver at the detective, “try that again, and I’ll come pretty near sending a bullet through your brain!”

A crowd gathered around the “fence,” one member of which—a laborer returning from work—had a crowbar.

Two policemen came running up, and, at sight of them, the strange young man withdrew from the window.

Burt explained to the police who he was, and stated it was necessary he should gain entrance to the “fence.” The officers beat a lively tattoo on the door with their clubs. The young man then condescended to open it.

“I guess I can paddle my own boat now,” he said to the policemen, and they withdrew.

Burt closed and locked the door. Then he turned upon the young man who had threatened him. The latter now looked rather sheepish.

Burt raised his fist threateningly. Tony reached for his revolver. The detective sprang upon the fellow, and bore him to the floor. Then Burt disarmed Riley.

“Now,” he said, allowing the man to rise, “I want you to be more civil.”

Burt handcuffed Cook and Riley together. The latter protested vigorously, but Enoch said never a word.

Burt then started to explore the house. He found the “fence’s” bedroom in confusion, and the carpet and bedclothing covered with blood. The safe-door stood open. Had Monte been murdered?

That was the question the detective asked himself. A few deeds and a couple of insurance policies were all that remained in the safe.

Burt searched the house from garret to cellar without finding any person. At the conclusion of this search, he returned to the hall where he had left his two prisoners.

Burt had once visited that room before, in searching for stolen goods, and he knew the “fence” slept there.

“That’s a lie. The man is too miserly to have a servant. Cook, did you ever see this fellow before?”

The man was one of the most hardened ruffians in New York. Riley looked daggers at Enoch.

“I wasn’t here. When I came back this morning, I found Murphy’s room as you found it. Some one must have been cut, that’s certain, but I don’t know who the party is.”

Burt looked at his prisoner long and earnestly. He believed the blood that had been shed was that of the “fence.” What had the murderer or murderers done with the body?

“Tony,” said the detective, “you had better make a clean breast of the whole business.”

“Then he is dead,” said Burt. “Perhaps Bull Blair can give me some information on the subject.”

Burt smiled. He released Cook, and placed both handcuffs on the other’s wrists. Then he took Enoch aside.

Enoch spoke from the bottom of his heart. It was something unusual for any one, outside of a pal, to trust him.

“Now, I may as well tell you, there is no likelihood of Jacquet dying from the wound you inflicted.”

“Now,” added the detective, “I suppose you will admit that you stabbed him?”

“Remember,” said Burt, “that, if you are false to me, the loss will be on your side.”

Both men started at the sound of an agonizing groan. It seemed to come from under their feet.

The stairs were enclosed on all four sides. At the bottom of the shaft Cook found Monte Murphy. The old fence was all but unconscious.

Enoch picked him up in his arms and began the ascent, which he found laborious, the stairway being very steep.

When Cook arrived in the hall with his ghastly burden, Tony Riley turned deathly pale. Murphy’s clothing was saturated with blood.

Burt sent Enoch after a doctor. The wounded man continued to moan piteously. When the doctor came, he expressed surprise that the old man could have bled so much and lived. He made Monte as comfortable as possible, and had Cook help him carry the man to bed.

The doctor said that, at most, his patient could not survive beyond a few hours.

“Now, my man,” said Burt, addressing Riley, when the “fence” was removed, “what have you got to say for yourself?”

Cook now returned, and, leaving him in charge of Tony, Burt visited the “fence’s” bedside. Burt felt that he could safely trust Enoch to guard his prisoner, and his confidence was not misplaced.

As Burt entered the sick-chamber, he was met by the doctor, who gently forced him outside.

“The man is now conscious,” said the physician; “but, as I have already declared, his death is only a matter of a few hours.”

“Oh, yes,” replied the doctor; “I wanted to say to you that I told him there was a slight chance of him recovering.”

The doctor named his fee, and Burt paid it. Then Burt went in to see the “fence.”

Monte Murphy was bolstered up in bed with pillows. He immediately recognized his visitor.

For more than fifty years Murphy had led a most wicked life. He had once been married, and it was said of him that he had starved his wife to death.

Monte was a firm believer in eternal punishment. It was not the physical torture of death he feared; it was the hereafter.

Burt believed it was his bounden duty to tell the sufferer the truth. Murphy used to tell himself that one day or another he would begin a life of repentance. The day never came, and now he stood on the threshold of an after-life.

“Oh!” he said, in the most bitter anguish; “I must surely have some little chance!”

Monte pointed to a flask upon the mantel. Burt smelled of the flask, and found it contained whisky. He handed it to the wounded man.

“I won’t die; I feel better already,” he said. “Now, what brings you here?”

“Curse the gem! But it is accursed. Had I never seen it, this misfortune would not have come to me!” groaned Murphy.

“I don’t deny that; but, in turn, the diamond, and all my other valuables that were in yonder safe, were stolen from me.”

“They certainly sent him after the diamond; he could not have known I possessed it unless they told him.”

Burt emitted a low whistle. Now he knew why Quick had turned pale when he last confronted him.

“No; he came here to gut my safe, and he took that with the rest. I am ruined.”

Tears coursed down the wretched miser’s furrowed cheeks. It was for the loss of money he could never enjoy he wept.

“I’ve fed and clothed that rascal, and it was he who put Bull Blair up to rob me.”

“I must be personally revenged upon him. He found me dying, and he threw me in the shaft, to die like a dog!”

A fit of coughing prevented the miser from proceeding farther just then. Burt raised the man higher in the bed, that he might breathe more freely. Monte did not even thank him.

“In a day or two I shall find him myself, and I shall also settle my little account with Mike Quick.”

The old “fence” seemed to be seized with a sudden chill. He tried to speak, but was unable. Then he clutched his own throat wildly. The whisky flask had fallen on the bed, and its contents ran from it.

Monte Murphy was a corpse! Burt caught hold of the man’s wrist. He found that the pulse had ceased to beat. Mike Quick was a murderer.

Burt only had Murphy’s word for the dive-keeper’s guilt, and now Murphy was dead. He straightened the [125] corpse upon the bed, and placed a handkerchief over the features of the dead. Then he went down-stairs.

“I wanted to pack up some of my things that are here. I happened to stretch myself on a lounge up-stairs, and fell asleep, or I would have left here hours ago.”

“It is the truth; the man might have lived had he not been thrown down the shaft into the cellar,” said Burt.

“I had nothing to do with it. I begged Bull to allow him to remain in his bed.”

Now Enoch Cook gave a great start. Burt noticed his agitation, but did not comment upon it then.

“I guess he won’t have a chance to reach you for [127] some time to come. Did you see him take a large diamond from the safe?”

Leaving Cook in charge of the house, Burt took his prisoner to the nearest police station, and reported the death of Monte Murphy. A policeman was sent around to take charge of the “fence.” Enoch joined the detective outside of Murphy’s.

“Mike said he would make the old man give it up; but I had no idea he would go so far as to stab Murphy.”

Burt believed Enoch. Murphy had not implicated the latter, as he certainly would have done had Cook returned to the house with Quick.

“I am more anxious to rescue Henry Stolburst, if he lives, than I am to find the diamond.”

“Burt,” said Cook, “do you suppose Stolburst would tell Ajeeb that Kidd and I had the diamond?”

“I do not want to have those devilish Abyssinians gunning [128] for me. In their temples, they torture men in the most infamous manner.”

“If he has harmed Stolburst,” said the detective, “I will see to it that the law will reach him.”

“You will have to deal with a fox. If you show your hand so Ajeeb can see it, beware of secret assassins.”

“You locate him, and I will attend to his case. Now, I want you to promise not to tell Mike Quick what I have learned.”

“Remember,” said Burt, “that, if I find you are unfaithful, I will ‘railroad’ you to Sing Sing.”

They then parted, after Cook had promised to hunt for Ajeeb. Enoch lied when he claimed not to know Kidd’s address. After leaving the detective, he visited his pal.

“Then Murphy shall never enjoy it! I have here a dynamite cartridge, with which I intend to blow him and his crib up.”

Kidd staggered as if he had received a heavy blow. He had lost a fortune. It was some slight satisfaction for him to know who had the Eye of Jobu, even if he did not have it himself. Now it was in the possession of some one unknown.

“We are a pair of unfortunate devils. Think what a glorious time we should have had had we been paid for the diamond.”

“I wish you never took it. The stone seems to bring misfortune to every one who has possessed it.”

“Enoch!” exclaimed Kidd excitedly; “the Abyssinian has recovered the stone!”

“He is a professor of witchcraft,” replied Dick. “Did we not see him make fire come out of the ground at our very feet?”

“At any rate, whether by supernatural means or not, Ajeeb has captured our old boss.”

“What!” exclaimed Dick, in surprise; “have you and the detective become friends?”

“Well, if Stolburst told the Abyssinian of me having stolen the stone, I may find myself in a pretty pickle.”

“Don’t you think that, instead of leaving New York, you could occupy yourself better in hunting for the green diamond?”

“But, according to your statement, there is no possible chance of recovering it,” said Dick. “How much money have you?”

“I have even less than that, and we must bestir ourselves and make a raise. Suppose we take a trip to Philadelphia?”

“The police here are too fly for my taste. If we go into business here, we’ll soon find ourselves wearing stripes.”

“By the way,” said Kidd, “have you heard anything about your friend Pierre Jacquet?”

“Your friend, you mean,” laughed Cook. “I believe he is not expected to live.”

“You are exceedingly kind. Consider that, if the Frenchman dies, I shall be guilty of murder.”

“That’s so. I killed the wife, and now you have attended to the husband’s case.”

Instead of going to Quick’s, Cook went up-town. For hours he loitered about Union Square. It was there he had met Ajeeb. He hoped to meet him again. Nor was he disappointed.

At about ten o’clock, the Abyssinian passed him in Fourteenth Street. Ajeeb did not seem to recognize him. Then Enoch started in to do some shadowing. He followed the high priest to the latter’s house, and saw him ascend the stoop.

At that moment a heavy hand was laid upon Enoch’s shoulder. He turned, and found himself face to face with Ashah. The executioner’s features wore a grim smile.

Ashah’s hand had closed on Cook’s coat collar. The latter tried to break away, but did not succeed.

Ashah released his hold on Cook’s collar. The latter turned to go away. As he did so, the Abyssinian struck him on the back of the neck with all his strength.

Enoch fell insensible to the pavement. When he recovered consciousness, he found himself in a handsomely furnished parlor, and in the presence of Ajeeb and a man he did not know. The latter was Billy Barry. Ajeeb commanded Cook to be seated, and the latter obeyed.

“I believe, Henry, or Cook, as you now call yourself, that we have met before.”

“I guess,” he said, “I could discover a way to make you talk. Now, what became of that diamond? If you can help me find it, I will make you rich for life.”

“Ajeeb,” said Barry, “now, you see, that poor devil Stolburst told you truth.”

“Now,” said the Abyssinian, turning to Enoch, “what did Kidd do with his treasure?”

Ajeeb gave a great start. He was as far from recovering the Eye of Jobu as ever. But did this fellow speak the truth?

Cook then told all he knew about the robbery and murder, with the exception that he did not mention Mike Quick.

“I did not then know that Burt Cromwell was interested in recovering the stone.”

“Stolburst has disappeared, and the detective believes you have either murdered the man, or that he is a prisoner in your keeping.”

“I suppose,” said the Abyssinian, “this detective has vowed to find Stolburst, or learn what has become of him?”

“Then you are just so sure to die on the scaffold as the sun is to rise to-morrow morning!”

The Abyssinian clapped his hands. Ashah appeared. [140] Ajeeb pointed at Cook, and then made a peculiar sign. Enoch’s heart stood still. Was he to be butchered?

Ashah caught the man up in his arms and carried him from the room. Enoch was placed in the cellar apartment with Stolburst.

The latter slept, and Deth stood on guard. Ashah tossed Cook into the chamber, and then withdrew. The other prisoner awoke, with a start. When his glance rested upon Enoch, he rubbed his eyes like one in a dream.

Enoch saw, when the explorer arose, that one of the latter’s ears was missing. The sight caused a shudder to pass through him. Might not his fate be a like one—or worse?

“Burt Cromwell is making every effort to relieve you from your present condition.”

“Yes; when I heard you had fallen into the power of these wretches, I volunteered to help him find you,” answered Enoch.

Stolburst regarded his companion with suspicion. Deth stood at the farther end of the apartment, seemingly as [141] immovable as a statue. Like Ashah, he was well acquainted with English, and comprehended the other’s conversation.

“I shadowed Ajeeb to the house, and was made prisoner by Ashah, who, in turn, seems to have been shadowing me.”

“But for you I should not have had to endure the tortures I went through,” said Stolburst bitterly.

Then, for the second time that night, Cook told of Monte Murphy stealing the Eye of Jobu, and the fate that had overtaken the “fence.”

Enoch brought his narrative to a close by whispering to Stolburst that Burt knew who had the stone.

“If the diamond is not produced before the day after to-morrow,” said Stolburst bitterly, “I am to lose my remaining ear.”

“Don’t flatter yourself with that idea,” remarked Stolburst. “You will never escape from this place unharmed. You’ll be lucky if you escape with your life.”

“I know the men we have to deal with better than you. I wish it had been Dick Kidd they captured. But for that thief, I could have made things square with the high priest.”

“Then,” said Stolburst, with a grim smile, “the high priest will punish him with death.”

After leaving Cook, the detective went to his office. There he met his assistant, Frank Hare, whom he had not seen in several days.

“Well, old man,” said the latter, “did you find Enoch Cook at Mike Quick’s?”

“I am quite sure he fell into the hands of this Ajeeb; I know nothing more.”

“Say, old man,” remarked Hare, “the murder of Monte Murphy is none of your funeral.”

“They could not possibly succeed unless Tony Riley, Enoch Cook, or myself give them a pointer,” said Burt.

“No; and I’ll bet you’ll find that I’ve made no mistake in my estimate of him.”

“If a stranger heard you talk, he would put me down for being a blooming innocent.”

“It seems to me, Frank, that you know where every criminal in New York hangs out.”

“If the gentleman was ever converted,” he said, “he has again fallen from grace. His pal, Tony Riley, says Blair was into the job.”

At ten o’clock that night, Frank Hare, attired as a “tough,” entered a basement saloon on Cherry Street. There was a platform at the rear upon which was seated a long-haired young man, who banged away at a decrepit piano. At the tables, scattered around the room, were many men and women.

As Frank’s luck would have it, Blair was there, and alone. Bull was a great brute, standing all of six feet high, and being built in proportion. There was no beard on his face, and he had one eye missing. In front of the [146] rascal stood a bottle of liquor, a small pitcher of water, and a glass.

Mr. Blair seemed in very good humor. Frank seated himself opposite the brute, and called for a drink. He was promptly waited upon.

“Say, young fellow,” remarked Blair, “who told you that you might sit down at this ’ere table?”

“Well, I won’t. Have a drink with me, and we’ll be friends. I’m waiting for a pal of mine, and he is a deuced long time in getting here.”

“I’ve met him a couple of times, and he told me if ever I came to New York to drop in and see him.”

“You do look like a good fellow, even if I do say it to your face. By the way, you haven’t told me your name.”

“I’ll have the friend for whom I’m waiting put you onto something good.”

Blair smiled complacently. The other’s flattery touched him. Like many men in higher walks of life, the rascal was filled with self-conceit.

“What!” cried Bull, in surprise; “do you mean to say you know Stonewall?”

“I’d be a nice gilly if I didn’t know the best crook outside of New York! So you know Stonewall Bob, eh?”

“Are there any jewelers in Philadelphia that have big capital, and would be willing to handle any stuff that might be brought to them?”

“I know one who has paid out as much as fifty thousand dollars for a single lot of diamonds,” said Hare.

Hare turned and looked toward the door. He gave a little start. Mike Quick had entered the place.

“Barry,” said Ajeeb, after Enoch Cook was carried from the parlor, “do you believe that fellow?”

“It seems to me,” remarked Billy, “that you are suspicious of every one with whom you come in contact.”

“It does not seem probable Kidd and Cook would allow themselves to be robbed.”

“Even so, they would not give up such a precious treasure without a struggle.”

“Have you not heard me affirm, over and over again, that I would punish with death those who, with sacrilegious hand, handled the Eye of Jobu?” asked the heathen priest.

“And they were probably afraid to make an effort to revenge themselves upon you.”

“You can’t make me believe that you, or any one living, can penetrate the mystery of that which is to come.”

Ajeeb’s brow darkened. His steely eyes glittered dangerously [153] as he glanced at his English friend. He felt that he could but ill afford to lose Billy’s help. The latter was more or less acquainted among the thieving fraternity of New York, and might be able to help him recover the Eye of Jobu.

It was particularly galling to Ajeeb to have Barry speak of deserting him. The heathen priest had been so long accustomed to command that he expected deference to his wishes from all.

“My friend,” said the Abyssinian, “have I not always treated you right?”

“It amounts to the same thing. I duped Stolburst so that his capture became easy.”

“That makes me an accomplice, in the eyes of the law, to anything that may befall the man while he is in your power.”

“Neither does any outsider know you had one of the poor devil’s ears cut off; but it will come to light some day.”

“Do you mean to imply that I might, under any circumstances, become an informer?”

“No,” smiled Ajeeb. “I would trust you just as I trust Ashah; and he, you know, is a model of fidelity.”

“The great Jobu has been desecrated. I would be his unworthy priest were I not to mete out dire punishment to the offenders.”

“I would willingly sacrifice my life if by doing so the green diamond would be returned to the head of Jobu.”

Just the same, Ajeeb determined that death should be meted out to Cook and Stolburst. For the present, he would allow them to live. As soon as he had no further use for Barry, the blow would fall.

It was now evident to the Abyssinian that Stolburst knew nothing as to the whereabouts of the diamond. Still, he did not regret having punished Stolburst as he did.

“Remember,” said Barry, “that, if I discover you break your word, I shall leave you to find this diamond without my aid.”

A shriek, loud and long drawn out, echoed and reechoed throughout the house. Both men started.

There, on the floor of the red-curtained apartment, lay Deth, with his own poniard driven into his breast.

Enoch Cook had disappeared. Barry and Ajeeb had passed him in the darkness as they came down the cellar stairs. Cook had flattened himself out as much as possible against the wall. When they passed, Enoch ran lightly up-stairs and passed out of doors.

His attack on Deth had been so sudden, and his execution so swift, that for a moment Stolburst was paralyzed. Before he regained complete possession of his faculties, Ajeeb and Barry appeared. Then flight was out of question.

Ajeeb’s face was black with passion when he comprehended what had occurred. He raised Deth’s head.

A sound similar to the howl of a dog escaped the heathen priest. The man was dead.

Ajeeb allowed Deth’s head to slip from his grasp. Billy saw that his friend’s face was distorted with anger.

Ajeeb sprang at Stolburst, and, clutching him by the throat, dragged him in to the middle of the apartment.

“Ajeeb!” cried Barry, catching hold of the other’s arm; “you already forget the promise you made me!”

Stolburst sank to the floor, gasping for breath. It was several minutes before he found himself able to articulate. Ajeeb stood over him, like an avenging angel.

“He suddenly snatched it, and drove it into the man’s [157] breast. I closed my eyes when Deth fell, and when I opened them Cook was gone.”

Ajeeb uttered a fearful malediction, and ran up-stairs. He found the hall door open. It was plain that Enoch had escaped.

Ashah was absent. Had he been in the house, Cook might not have escaped so easily.

Ajeeb picked it up and bound his prisoner’s wrists together. Then he followed his friend from the cellar, leaving Stolburst alone with the dead.

“Pursuit of me,” said the Abyssinian savagely, “will mean death for him!”

When Burt visited his office the morning after the occurrence at Ajeeb’s, he found Enoch Cook awaiting his coming. Burt had spent nearly the whole of the night previous in looking for Mike Quick without succeeding in finding him.

“Mister Ajeeb would have cooked my little goose if I did not leave his neighborhood when I did,” replied Enoch.

“Yes; I met him at Union Square, and followed him to his house. Ashah shadowed me, but I didn’t know it at the time. To make a long story short, the giant knocked me out, and carried me a prisoner into the house.”

“I stabbed the Abyssinian who stood guard over me and Stolburst with his own knife. I guess I killed him; but that won’t count as murder, will it?”

“That’s something I cannot understand,” replied Enoch. “I called to him to follow. I guess Ajeeb and his friend intercepted poor Stolburst’s flight.”

“I know him,” said Burt; “and I can’t understand how he came to know this heathen priest.”

Enoch related the story as he heard it from Stolburst. The latter still believed that the beautiful Zulima was a party to the plot. As he had once almost loved the girl, the poor captive now loathed her.

“How many people are there in this house,” asked Burt, “besides Ajeeb and Barry?”

“That arch-devil Ajeeb,” said Burt, “has chosen an aristocratic neighborhood for his residence.”

“That gentleman is apt to exaggerate things in which the Abyssinians are concerned.”

“I heard it said in Gondar that the priest Ajeeb had control of the moneys of the temple, which amounted to millions.”

“You are quite sure you did not send him word that I had discovered his crime?”

“Quick has been a good friend of mine, and I can’t give him the ‘razzle-dazzle.’”

“Well, that’s my case,” said Enoch. “I promised you I would not tell Mike you were looking for him, and I will live up to that promise, but do not ask me to do more.”

Burt looked at his companion in some surprise. He had believed that Enoch had no feeling for any one but himself.

“He may thank you for it. Quick would never have visited the ‘fence’ only you put him onto Monte Murphy.”

“I certainly did not believe,” he said, “that Mike would murder the man.”

Burt went to the house occupied by Ajeeb, accompanied by two policemen in citizen dress. In answer to Burt’s ring, the door was opened by a middle-aged colored woman.

Burt and one of the policemen pushed past the negress, while the other officer remained on guard outside.

“You know that a man has been confined as a prisoner in the cellar of this house for many days.”

It was pointed out. Burt found the red-curtained apartment in which Stolburst had been kept prisoner. The latter was not there. On the floor lay the body of Deth.

Burt searched the cellar thoroughly. Stolburst had been removed—that was plain.

Burt bitterly cursed his luck. He was as far from finding Stolburst as when he began to search for him. Next he and the police officer went through the house.

On the mantel of a room that the negress said had been occupied by the heathen priest, Burt found a small miniature, painted on porcelain. The colored woman declared it to be a likeness of Ajeeb. Burt studied the features carefully, and then placed the painting in his pocket. He again questioned the negress.

“I worked for the people who owns this house, and who lived here before he came.”

“I’d have told the police if I did,” replied the woman. “You are not a friend of Mister Ajeeb, I guess?”

There came a sharp pull at the bell. The negress opened the door and ushered Zulima into the house. The princess started when her glance rested upon Burt.

Her first instinct was to withdraw, but she conquered it. The girl walked majestically into the front parlor. Burt followed.

“You made no effort to effect his release by reporting the matter to the police.”

“And you were willing he should be sacrificed without moving a hand to save him?” asked the detective.

“You must have held his friendship pretty cheap when you were willing to throw it aside at the behest of your uncle.”

“You know very well,” he said, “that Ajeeb would not grant that request.”

“Perhaps, sir,” returned Zulima icily, “you know my uncle better than I.”

“With all respect for you, allow me to say that if he were a priest a hundred times over he shall be made to suffer at the hands of the law,” said Burt.

“My lady,” he remarked, “I never allow myself to be frightened at threats.”

Hare would have given anything if Burt was present when Mike Quick entered Shaw’s. He was wise enough to recognize the fact that he would have no chance to take the murderer unaided from the den. There were at least twenty desperadoes in the place and every man of them would, if called upon, help Quick resist the detective.

“That’s strange,” remarked the detective nonchalantly; “the Mike Quick I know is a young fellow like myself. Perhaps it is that chap’s son.”

“Well,” said Bull, “he’s the only Mike Quick in this town that I ever heard of.”

“Perhaps the fellow I knew was only giving me a ‘barney’ as to his name.”

“If you doubt my word,” he said, rising from his chair, “I guess we will cut our acquaintanceship right here where it began.”

“I treat every one square,” remarked Frank, “and look for the same treatment in return.”

“Yes, and I know no other of the name in the same line of biz; that’s the reason I took you up.”

“That’s just about the size of it. The chap was some one who makes Quick’s his headquarters.”

Hare chuckled softly to himself. He had cleverly got out of what threatened to be a serious dilemma. Bull called for more drinks. After finishing his own, he excused himself for a few minutes.

The two men adjourned to a small room that was partitioned off one corner of the dive. There they seated themselves.

“I’ve always heard you spoken of as a square man, and I so consider you myself. What are you trying to get at?”

“Mike,” said Bull, and he looked the other straight in the eyes, “was Monte Murphy well the last time you saw him?”

Quick gave a great start. His face became pale and he sank his nails deep in his palms.

Mike glared fiercely across the table at his companion. This man knew of the crime he had committed at the fence? Was Monte dead?

That thought came to him, but he dismissed it. Had they been alone in some unfrequented spot he would have attempted the other’s life. Perhaps more than Bull knew of it?

That thought was anguishing. Blair noted the changing emotions of the man as they appeared on his features.

Quick’s joy showed itself upon his face. He reached his hand across the table.

“I merely placed him in the cellar, where any cry he might make for help would not be heard,” replied Bull.

“It is all the same who stabbed the old man,” he said. “I would never give you away.”

Bull did not think it advisable to let his companion know that Tony Riley was with him.

Then he said aloud: “I’m much obliged to you, Bull, for what you did in placing the old fellow in the cellar.”

“Now, as it happens, the fellow who did the cutting is an old friend of yours.”

Blair smiled. He knew quite well that there had been no one concerned in the crime beside the man who now sat opposite to him.

“Well,” remarked Bull nonchalantly, “of course I can’t expect you to go back on your oath.”

“I know it would be safe to tell you the chap’s name, but you see how I am placed.”

“I wish I could be sure of that,” he said. “Do you want to do me a favor?”

“I’d like to have you go up to the fence and see if Monte is still alive.”

“No,” he said; “strange as it may appear, I have a superstitious dread of going near that house,” he replied.

“Remember,” said Quick, “you have given me your word never to speak of the murder, if murder it is.”

They went out to the bar. After drinking with Mike, Bull rejoined Hare. At about the same moment Quick left the dive.

Frank’s first impulse was to follow the murderer. By doing so he would lose the grip he had obtained on Blair. He had been assigned to capture the latter, and Frank decided to live up to his instructions.

It was not his purpose to make an early arrest, however. He believed that if he played his cards sharp he stood a good chance of locating the great diamond of which Burt was in search. There was an old head on Frank Hare’s young shoulders.

“You were saying you would introduce me to a chap who would put me in the way of making some ducats.”

“Curse that Tony Riley!” exclaimed Bull; “he should have been here an hour ago.”

Mr. Blair would have been perturbed if he had known his friend languished in a station-house cell.

“You’d be in better luck if you had got acquainted with me about twenty-four hours earlier.”

“As I told you before, I can introduce you to a man who will pay you more than you can get here in New York.”

They drank their liquor and left the dive together. Bull conducted his new-found friend to a small lodginghouse, a few blocks distant from Shaw’s.

Frank found the rascal’s room neatly furnished, and it contained two cots. He was glad of this latter, as he would not be obliged to rest at the side of Blair.

Bull closed and locked the door. Then he seemed to instantly sober up, although he must have drunk more than a quart of whisky. Springing upon the detective, he bore him to the floor.

Burt Cromwell looked upon the beautiful Abyssinian in disgust when she spoke of her uncle intending to murder Henry Stolburst.

“You are quite humorous,” remarked the detective. “Ajeeb has a worthy relative in you.”

“I suppose by this time uncle has at least removed his prisoner’s other ear.”

Burt Cromwell received this with loathing. How could so beautiful a being have so black a heart?

Zulima did not mean what she said just then. She really felt sorry for Stolburst’s hapless condition. More than once she had implored her uncle to set him free. She might as well have appealed to a stone. Ajeeb knew no pity.

Zulima now took a keen delight in appearing as a monster in feeling to the detective.

“I’ve no doubt,” said the latter, “but you would not mind joining in the torture of your former friend?”

“I should have remained in Abyssinia,” replied Zulima, giving utterance to a lie.

The beauty broke down. Flinging herself upon a sofa, face downward, she gave way to a fit of weeping.

Burt remained silent until the girl’s tears were expended. Then she arose from the sofa.

“I don’t know. I believe I have not been myself since I first saw my terrible uncle in New York,” she replied.

“Yes; uncle said he was satisfied Henry Stolburst could not return the Eye of Jobu.”

“Then the only way he could rid himself of the man would be by murdering him.”

“My uncle knows of the usages of most nations. He has traveled extensively in Europe.”

“Do you know whether this man was concerned in the kidnaping of Henry Stolburst?”

“No; I did hear my uncle say Henry Stolburst would regret having removed the eye of our god, or words to that effect.”

“Yes. Now I do not think the gentleman’s offense is so great as Ajeeb makes it out.”

“None there would dare attempt injury to the high priest, even by order of the king.”

“I should have to consider the matter for a long time before I could properly answer that question.”

“If it comes out that you had anything to do with the kidnaping you will have to suffer with the other guilty parties.”

“I hardly think you will succeed in your mission; and now, with your permission, I will return home.”

Burt and the two policemen returned to the station-house. Burt reported the finding of Deth’s corpse, and a coroner was notified.

Burt did not allow it to appear that he knew under what circumstances the Abyssinian met his death. Leaving the police station, the detective sauntered down Sixth Avenue to Tenth Street. On the corner he saw Billy Barry smoking a cigar and having his boots polished.

When the latter operation was completed, Barry started down Sixth Avenue. Burt followed, and saw his man enter a liquor saloon.

Billy had but finished a cocktail when the detective touched him on the shoulder. The drinker turned quickly around. He gave a perceptible start upon finding himself confronted by Burt.

Barry led the way into one of many small, curtained compartments, fitted up around the sides of a large rear room. Both men sat down. Billy did know who his companion was, and he felt rather uneasy.

“I did not know you were on this side of the ocean,” remarked the detective, “until this morning.”

Again the English crook started. How had the detective learned of the connection?

That puzzled the rascal. First he thought that perhaps Burt Cromwell had captured Ajeeb and the latter had informed against him. Billy dismissed that thought almost at its birth. Ajeeb would never squeal, he told himself.

“Don’t try to play the role of a highly indignant gentleman—it won’t fit you.”

“The unfortunate man who is in this demon’s power, and who has been tortured by him,” replied the detective hotly.

This was only a chance shot, but it went straight to the mark. Barry became very pale, and he fidgeted nervously in his chair.

“Burt,” he said, with a forced smile, “you are talking through your hat.”

Bull Blair’s attack was so sudden and unexpected that Frank Hare found himself stretched on the floor before he well knew what had happened.

The brute fell on one knee. At that moment he found himself covered by the detective’s revolver.

Blair was cowed. He knew the detective would shoot if he hesitated. With a muttered oath he flung the weapon upon the bed.

Frank had had a narrow escape. He wondered why the desperado had not allowed him to retire before attacking him. That was what Bull had intended to do; but, acting upon a sudden impulse, he did not wait for what would have been a more favorable opportunity.

“Now,” said Hare, when the other discarded his knife, “you are my prisoner.”

Bull’s eyes seemed to grow as large as saucers as he [185] looked wonderingly at the detective. How had the latter gained his knowledge?

That query puzzled the villain. Blair determined to present a bold front. That was not easy. Like every other bully, he was at heart a great coward.

Bull was an old offender. He had twice been convicted of burglary. At best he would get a long term, and that would practically mean imprisonment for life, as he was past fifty years of age.

The rascal’s mental torture was something difficult to describe. He had no hope of mercy if arraigned in court. How he bitterly cursed himself for having made a premature attack on the detective.

The hand was put forward. Hare snapped a steel cuff on it, and soon after the connecting one enclasped Blair’s other wrist.

“Yes, that would have been the better way; but then I would not have gone to sleep.”

Blair gave a sudden start. It was plain to him that Murphy lived, or had lived long enough to tell what happened him to whoever found him.

“No; but you might have saved his life if you had got a doctor, or sent Tony Riley after one,” replied Hare.

Now he believed that, instead of Murphy, it was his pal who had given the detective the information the latter possessed.

“You told me in Shaw’s that he was; I guess at that time you had not tumbled to whom you were talking.”

Bull glanced at his manacled wrists, and something like a groan escaped him. Would he ever be free again?

“Now,” said Hare, after a pause, “where are those diamonds you wish to dispose of to my Philadelphia friend?”

“Well, Bull,” said Hare, “you are, without any exception, the best single-handed liar I ever encountered.”

Hare locked the door and put the key in his pocket. Then he began a search for the burglar’s plunder. Almost [188] all Bull’s earthly possessions were contained in a cedar box.

Frank ransacked this without finding that of which he was in search. He turned everything in the room upside down. It began to appear that Blair had for once been truthful.

“Were you also joking a moment ago when you said the jewels were in the keeping of a friend?”

“Of course. Do you suppose I’d trust any of my acquaintances with articles of value?” remarked Bull.

“Come,” said Hare sternly, “I have put up with quite enough of your nonsense.”

“Again I tell you I have no diamonds,” said Blair, “but if you give me freedom, I can tell you something that will interest you, or I am mistaken.”

“I can tell you,” said Bull, with a sneaking smile, “who inflicted Monte Murphy’s death-wound.”

The villain’s promise to Quick did not weigh as a feather with him. Blair would willingly sacrifice Mike, or any one else, for that matter, to achieve his own ends. [189] Better, he argued, that the dive-keeper should be hanged than he should end his days within prison walls. The brute was thoroughly selfish to the last degree.

Frank darted for the utensil named. He had hardly turned his back, as he was obliged to do, when he was startled by a crash of wood and glass. Bull Blair had leaped through the window to the street below.

Before Barry could draw his revolver he was downed by a blow from the detective’s fist. Before the man could rise Burt was upon him. Burt disarmed the fellow, and then allowed him to get up.

“My friend,” said the detective, “you see you are not so smart as you think.”

A bump arose on Barry’s forehead where he had been struck. The English crook fairly boiled over with wrath.

“Then you better not feel so disposed, unless you want more of the same treatment,” said the detective.

Barry glared at his companion, who had leisurely seated himself. Billy also dropped into a chair, but he did not know why he did so. Flight was out of the question. Had it been night it would have been very different.

Now Sixth Avenue was crowded with shoppers, and he could not go very far without being stopped with a short turn.

“I can’t see,” remarked Billy, “why you should choose to make me a prisoner. It is possible that this Abyssinian [192] may have some nefarious scheme afloat, but I am not a party to it.”

“I certainly do not want to be arrested. I am told that the chief of police here has all crooks, who appear in public places, gathered in and sent to prison.”

“Now, Barry,” said the detective, “I know you were concerned in kidnaping Henry Stolburst.”

“Yes; I’ve heard Ajeeb say Henry Stolburst stole a great diamond from a temple near Gondar,” said Barry.

“They are rather too hot for my blood, that’s all,” replied Barry. “A man’s life is not worth much with them chaps.”

“Do you mean to say the Abyssinian never told you he held Henry Stolburst prisoner?”

“Ajeeb did say something a few days ago about making Henry Stolburst give up the diamond he had stolen.”

“Well,” said Barry, drawing in a long breath, “I do not think Ajeeb would murder the man.”

“You remarked that these Abyssinians placed little or no value on human life,” remarked the detective.

“Then, knowing that Ajeeb hates this man, you say it is not likely he has been murdered.”

“This is America, and there are laws to be feared. At home Ajeeb’s acts would not be questioned. In Gondar he is looked upon as a prophet.”

“I never knew a more thoroughgoing one. When I first knew him I used to believe that the devotion in which he spoke of his idols was not sincere, but I afterward learned he was in dead earnest.”

“I am not attempting to advise you; but I do say that I would not incur this man’s enmity for anything.”

Burt could not prove that the English crook had had anything to do with the disappearance of Henry Stolburst, without the evidence of the latter. He could have arrested the fellow for attempting to assault him, but Barry would get off with a fine.

Burt deemed it best to allow the man to go free. He determined, however, to keep a watchful eye on him.

“I assure you,” said Barry, “that I have had no hand nor part in any of Ajeeb’s schemes.”

“Would you prevent him from killing this man Henry Stolburst if opportunity offered?”

“I’ve decided not to arrest you,” remarked Burt, “as I had at first proposed.”

“I’ll have Hare shadow him,” thought Burt, “and in that way we will locate this infernal Abyssinian.”

The first part of the young detective’s narrative is already known to the reader. Frank, of course, did not find the Eye of Jobu in the water-pitcher.

When Bull went crashing through the window, which was on the third floor, Hare ran down-stairs and into the street. He expected to find his man dead, or at least badly wounded. He did not find him at all.

Blair had lighted on a canvas awning, and, by a sudden wrench, snapped the chain connecting the handcuffs. Then he slipped down one of the poles that supported the awning to the street. Beyond a severe shaking up the desperado was unhurt .

“Yes—at Shaw’s,” replied Frank; “and I was sorry you were not with me.”

“I don’t think so. Since seeing Quick I told Blair I knew all about the killing of Murphy,” replied Frank.

Frank Hare was wrong in the opinion that Blair would not seek an interview with Quick. The morning after his escape from the young detective, Bull went around to Mike’s dive. The bartender was quite well acquainted with his visitor.

“Young fellow, you are entirely too fresh—see?” remarked Bull. “You have not been employed in this place a week.”

In fact, it was the fellow’s first day in Quick’s employ, he having been engaged the night before to take the place of the bartender who had on one occasion knocked Burt out.

“Sonny,” remarked Jim, who was many years younger than the man he addressed, “you can’t get any information from me.”

Quick was up-stairs. He had left instructions with the bartender to deny that he was at home. Jim seemed bent upon carrying out his employer’s instructions to the very letter.

“What I have to say is meant for Quick’s especial ear,” said Bull, “and as I can’t see him I suppose I had better sneak.”

“Stop here a moment,” said the bartender, “and see that no one runs off with the place.”

Blair found the dive-keeper in the room indicated by [200] Elford. Quick seemed in the best possible humor, and a smile wreathed his dissipated-looking features. He had been reading an account of the finding of Murphy’s body in a morning paper.

No mention was made of the fact that the “fence” was alive when found. Mike now felt sure that his victim was found dead. The case would, he believed, go down in the annals of New York history as a mystery. But no. The man who now called to see him knew who the murderer was.

“Mike,” said Blair, “my reason in coming here was to prove I am your friend.”

“Come, now, Bull,” said Mike, with a forced smile, “I ain’t going to believe that.”

“This fellow played me for a sucker, and came mighty near ramming me into jail.”

Now Quick trembled like an aspen. Never in his wicked life had his position been so fraught with danger to himself.

Bull did not wish his companion to know the real reason of his visit to the “fence.”

It may be stated, in passing, that Enoch had shadowed Blair to the dive, and then hurried to Burt’s office to tell what he had done.

“No; you haven’t got the brains of Enoch,” remarked Quick. “I’d like to have him advise me what to do.”

“No,” replied Mike. “Now, Bull, suppose you are arrested for stealing this watch?”

“I guess,” replied Blair, laughing nervously, “I will have to go up the river.”

“That ain’t what I’m getting at. I’m afraid you may be tempted to ‘peach’ on me.”

The idea was ridiculous. At least he told his companion that it was preposterous.

“Well,” remarked Quick, evidently distrustful of Blair, “I’d like to feel sure you would be true to me.”

Bull raised a hand and his eyes to the ceiling. Before his visitor had entered the room, Quick believed that Monte Murphy had not seen any one but Blair before dying. Well it was for the latter that he told of the old “fence” being found alive by the detective.

When Bull was announced, Mike thought that if he put his victim out of the way it would never be known who killed Murphy. He had about made up his mind to kill Blair. Now he could gain nothing by doing so, as he quite readily recognized.

“Bull,” said Quick, “I am going to leave the city. Suppose you come with me.”

“I’ll meet you at the Pennsylvania Depot, in Jersey City, at eight to-night.”

After the departure of his visitor, Quick paced the room nervously. His conscience did not trouble him. His mind was perturbed simply because his crime had been discovered. And what had he gained by killing the old “fence”?

Nothing. The man who had just left gained that of which Quick had gone in search. Could Mike have known that Blair had the green diamond, he would not have allowed him to depart so readily.

Bull had not the remotest idea of keeping his appointment with the dive-keeper. But he did intend to leave New York on his own hook.

Blair believed that, to save himself, Tony Riley would tell the police all he knew about the robbery. Bull made up his mind not to visit any of his usual haunts.

“Jimmy don’t seem to be able to keep them roosters from fighting,” he remarked. “It would be different if I was behind the bar.”

Suddenly everything became quiet and Mike dropped into an armchair. At that very moment the door of the room was thrown open.

At sight of the detective Quick sprang to his feet. Not until then did he see that Burt Cromwell had a cocked revolver in his hand.

Mike obeyed mechanically. When Enoch Cook told the detective he had located Bull Blair at the dive, Frank Hare wanted to go there.

Burt Cromwell insisted upon taking the matter in his own hands. Of course he prevailed.

Burt Cromwell had not expected to find Quick at the dive. The row heard by the latter occurred between Elford and the detective. Burt Cromwell had left the fellow insensible on the barroom floor. Then he locked up the place, before beginning a search of the premises for Bull Blair.

“I did not expect to find you here, my man,” said Burt Cromwell, after a pause.

“I suppose he called around to tell you he had secured that wonderful green diamond?” remarked Burt quietly.

Quick started. His nervous excitement was mirrored upon his face. Blair had secured the prize. The thought was galling.

It now broke upon the wretch that Enoch, in whom he had so deeply trusted, had turned informer. On all sides he seemed surrounded by enemies.

Mike groaned in very anguish of spirit. He cursed himself for having returned to his den.

“Now, my friend, will you please tell me what led you to kill Monte Murphy?”

“Then you will be given a chance to prove your innocence. Bull Blair knows that you stabbed the old man.”

“No; but he will tell all he knows readily enough when he is placed on the stand.”

Now Quick believed his late companion had been arrested. He did not dare ask Burt if such was the case.

The dive-keeper obeyed. All his brutal courage seemed to have oozed out at his finger ends. In a jiffy Burt snapped handcuffs on the fellow’s wrists.

“I don’t know as you can properly designate him as an informer. Just now, however, Enoch is in my employ.”

An oath escaped the prisoner. If Cook was in the detective’s employ, he certainly could not be anything else but an informer. That’s the way Quick argued the matter.

“Oh, no; he is an old hand and cannot lead a straight life, no matter how hard he may try,” declared Quick.

“Just now he is endeavoring to do reparation for a wrong to which he was a party.”

“When Dick comes to find out that Cook has gone back on him there will be some hair pulling, or I lose my guess.”

“Some time ago you denied knowing Dick Kidd; now you speak of him as a firm acquaintance,” remarked Burt.

“Don’t; I haven’t time to listen to explanations,” said Burt. “Come.”

“So do I, for your sake. I do not like to help forward a man to the gallows.”

At mention of that Quick felt his blood run cold. He had always considered himself courageous in a marked degree. It was that his brutal instincts blinded his reason. At bottom he was not as brave as the ordinary man.

Now he felt limp. There was no ray of hope in his mind. Why had he allowed the detective to make him a prisoner so easily?

He regretted being so docile. Better to have been shot and killed by Burt than to die on the scaffold.

The man worked himself into such a nervous condition that finally he became terror-stricken.

“Burt,” he said, “I will give you everything I possess in the world for one hour of freedom.”

If Burt had had the slightest doubt of the man’s guilt it vanished now. He never saw a more guilty-looking being.

Quick trembled in every limb and his knees became weak. Burt feared the fellow was going to collapse.

Then he inserted his arm within that of his prisoner and led him from the place. That was Mike Quick’s last farewell to the dive over which he so long presided. At the same time that Mike was being led to prison another affair in which we are interested was taking place.

The scene was a café on Bleecker Street and the parties Pierre Jacquet and Mr. Richard Kidd.

The latter had moved his place of residence to that quarter. Only the day before Pierre had been discharged from the hospital as cured. The meeting of the pair was purely accidental.

Kidd was engaged eating breakfast when the man he had wronged entered. At sight of Dick the Frenchman gave a great start. Then he conjured up a pleasant smile.

Kidd grew ghastly pale as Jacquet approached him. [209] He had no weapon and he cursed himself for leaving his room without arming himself, as was his custom. Pierre seated himself at the same table and opposite Dick.

“I’m glad to see you,” remarked Dick, for the want of something better to say.

“You seemed so wrapped up in Paris I did not suppose you would ever leave it.”

“Quite well; and they will be delighted when I go back to learn that I have met you.”

Every moment Kidd thought that the Frenchman was about to spring at him. Jacquet continued to wear that imperturbable smile.

The latter felt that a crisis was coming. He looked toward the door longingly. Had he sprung toward it Pierre could easily intercept him.

“Villain!” hissed Jacquet, and now the smile disappeared; “you stole my wife from me!”

“I have never seen your wife since I left your cabaret; some one has been imposing upon you, my dear Jacquet.”

“Aimee left a letter behind saying she had gone away with you, and friends of mine saw you together at Havre.”

“But,” continued Kidd, “I swear to you it was not a case of elopement. I did not even know your wife contemplated coming to this country until I met her on shipboard.”

Jacquet’s speech contained more truth than he thought. Aimee Jacquet’s remains had become food for the fishes long before.

“Yes; I have forgotten the number, but I have it written down in a book, which is in my room. I know the name of the street is Callow Hill.”

“She declared she could no longer mix with the class of people who visited your cabaret,” answered Kidd.

“Aimee did not tell you,” remarked Pierre, “that one of her brothers is undergoing life imprisonment for murder and robbery?”

“I did not seek to win the lady’s confidence; as a matter of fact, I desired her to return home.”

Pierre whipped out a revolver and fired pointblank at the destroyer of his home. With a groan, Dick Kidd tumbled out of his chair to the floor.

The day after her interview with the detective Zulima had a caller in the person of Ashah. The giant came in a coach and told the princess her uncle wanted to see her. As he knew, the beautiful girl regarded Ajeeb’s commands as imperative.

She entered the coach with Ashah and they were driven very far up-town. Ajeeb had taken possession of a somber-looking building that stood alone by itself. During the journey the ill-assorted couple never exchanged a word.

Upon arriving at their destination they found Ajeeb was not at home. He had left a note behind saying he would not return for an hour.

“Ashah,” said the princess, in her most gentle terms, “is the prisoner under this roof?”

“Why should he? Am I not of the same faith? There can be none who grieves more for Jobu’s loss than I.”

The giant conducted Zulima to a room on the top floor and there left her. Zulima saw her old friend stretched upon a lounge, and bound hand and foot.

Stolburst’s cheeks were sunken, and his eyes looked dull. At sight of his visitor color suffused the prisoner’s thin cheeks.

Tears sprang into the beauty’s eyes. Not until now did she fully realize how much the man had suffered. She felt that she was responsible for much of Stolburst’s suffering.

Now a tear stole down the girl’s cheek. Stolburst saw it. He thought she was shamming grief.

“To-morrow,” said the prisoner, and he laughed hysterically, [214] “your uncle is going to even up matters for me.”

“What!” cried the prisoner; “you would not dare run counter to your uncle’s wishes?”

Stolburst looked at his visitor in wild amazement. He still believed that it was she who had planned his capture. Was she only torturing him by holding out hopes which would never be fulfilled?

He believed so. Experience had taught him that the Abyssinians were cruel to a most remarkable degree.

“Yes, once I did,” he said; “but since then my eyes have been opened to your true character.”

“Excuse my cruel words,” said Stolburst; “you are not the wicked creature I thought.”

Zulima smiled and left him. When Ajeeb appeared he told his niece he wished her to take possession of his former abode. She acquiesced.

Zulima did not tell her uncle of having met the detective. Neither did she speak of her visit to the explorer. Her interview with Ajeeb was very short.

At its conclusion she departed. Zulima noted well the number of her uncle’s residence. She lost no time in going to Burt’s office.

There she met Frank Hare, who was, of course, unknown to her. He told her that Burt was absent and he did not know when he would return.

Zulima declared she would wait. Hare asked her to confide her business to him. This Zulima refused to do.

Frank did not press her. The young detective, as he drank in her beauty, surmised who the visitor was. Burt had spoken to him more than once about her. After having Quick committed to the Tombs Burt returned to his office.

“What do you care whether Ajeeb is punished so long as you secure the freedom of your employer?”

“Because I would be false to my duty if I were to allow so great a rascal as Ajeeb to escape punishment.”

The fact that she had promised Stolburst to secure his freedom was ever present.

“I cannot promise what you ask, so I suppose I shall have to find my man without your aid?”

Zulima was surprised at the detective’s coolness. She thought he would jump at her offer when she made it. She felt much chagrined over his failure to do so.

Burt believed she would tell him what he desired to know without him entering into conditions. There was a great struggle going on in the beauty’s mind. It was pity contending with duty.

The law would not take her uncle’s life. Her uncle might take Stolburst’s life. The battle was over.

Zulima told the detective where her uncle was domiciled. Then, womanlike, she burst into a flood of tears. Bitterly did she regret ever having become acquainted with the explorer.

“Then you look after the Abyssinians and I’ll have another try at cooking his mutton.”

“Then I will look Bull up if I can. He won’t give me the shake this time if I succeed in getting the nippers on him.”

Rising to leave she said: “The information I have given you may cost me my life.”

Bowing to the detective, she departed. An hour later the house occupied by the heathen priest was surrounded, front and rear, by a score of policemen. Accompanied by two sergeants of police Burt forced his way into the house by way of the basement door.

As the door gave away Ashah sprang for the detective [219] with uplifted sword. Burt dodged the blow aimed at him and fired at the giant.

Ashah tumbled to the floor with a bullet in his brain. The faithful slave had died in defense of his rascally master.

The two sergeants followed with drawn revolvers. When they reached the parlor floor they heard two pistol reports up-stairs.

Burt readily found Stolburst’s new quarters. Upon the floor lay Ajeeb, with a smoking revolver in his hand. Blood flowed in a continuous stream from a little hole in his forehead, the edges of which were blackened with powder. He had bragged to Billy Barry that he should never die by violence, yet he had in the end inflicted death with his own hand.

Before shooting himself Ajeeb had shot Stolburst. The bullet aimed at the latter’s heart had struck a rib and glanced off. Seeing escape impossible, Ajeeb determined to kill both his prisoner and himself.

Burt cut the bonds that encircled the prisoner’s ankles and wrists. Stolburst was insensible, but he soon came around. When he saw the detective bending over him the unfortunate man’s features became illuminated with joy.

A doctor was sent for, and when he came he dressed Stolburst’s wound. The physician was greatly surprised to see the man had but one ear. Burt took him aside and told him how Stolburst had lost the ear.

The doctor gave Burt the party’s name and Burt wrote it down. Then he had Stolburst conveyed to a hospital in an ambulance.

The princess did not cry. For a moment she regarded the detective with a stony stare.

It now becomes necessary for us to follow Frank [221] Hare. That cheerful and ambitious young man got himself up like a beggar. Then he sauntered out to find Bull Blair.

For hours he went from saloon to saloon in the Fourth and Sixth Wards, begging. His receipts were lamentably small. At about nightfall he flushed his quarry. He came on Blair in a beer saloon on Baxter Street.

“Haven’t got anything. I’m thinking about going into your line of business myself.”

The rascal started at mention of his name, but he did not discover Frank’s identity.

“Lord bless you,” said Hare, “I haven’t been traveling about this district for years without knowing some of the people who live in it!”

“That’s a mighty comfortable thing for me; I won’t have to roost in City Hall Park to-night.”

When in the vicinity of the Oak Street Police Station Frank suddenly presented a revolver at his companion’s head.

“It means,” replied Hare, speaking in his natural voice, “that you won’t get away from me this time!”

“If you try to escape,” said Frank sternly, “I’ll put a bullet through your head! Now march!”

The young detective landed his fish in the police station. Then he reported the capture to his chief.

“No,” replied Hare nonchalantly; “but he’ll weaken, see if he don’t.”

Frank’s prophecy was fulfilled. The next day Blair sent for him and told him where he had buried the booty he had secured at Murphy’s. The spot indicated was beyond the Harlem, but Hare had little difficulty in finding it.

That afternoon he very triumphantly turned over the treasure to his chief. Both detectives took considerable interest in examining the great green diamond.

Mike Quick was convicted of the murder of Monte Murphy. He was never hanged, having been carried off by an attack of pneumonia.

Bull Blair was sent up the river for twenty years, while his pal, Tony Riley, got off with ten. After the death of the heathen priest Burt lost sight of both Billy Barry and the beautiful Zulima.

Dick Kidd died of the wound inflicted by Pierre Jacquet, who fled the country and was never captured afterward. When Kidd felt that death was near he confessed to the murder of Aimee Jacquet.

Henry Stolburst sent the Eye of Jobu to King John of Abyssinia. He went to Paris and visited the physician already referred to. The latter did much to relieve the explorer of his horrible appearance.

But he has never forgotten that he owes his rescue to Burt’s fidelity, and whenever, in the course of his travels, anything comes up that he can turn over to Burt he does so.

“Burt Cromwell,” he is fond of saying, “is the best detective I have ever met in the entire world.”

MAGNET LIBRARY A weekly publication devoted to Detective literature. No. 435
March 4, 1905

“Get Acquainted With Smith’s”

The Big Three

MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON MRS. MARY J. HOLMES CHARLES GARVICE

You are now looking at the three most popular authors in America. Ten million copies of their novels have been sold and they are now exclusively engaged to supply Smith’s Magazine with all their new work.

Get a copy of the current number and look it over. It’s the best published at

TEN CENTS

SMITH PUBLISHING HOUSE , NEW YORK

Transcriber’s Notes

The Table of Contents at the beginning of the book was created by the transcriber.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation such as “every-day”/“every day” have been maintained.

Minor punctuation and spelling errors have been silently corrected and, except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, especially in dialogue, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.

Page 15 : “as great as his devoteees” changed to “as great as his devotees”.
Page 56 : “dive-keeper adjourned to the rear room, where they seatd” changed to “dive-keeper adjourned to the rear room, where they seated”.
Page 57 : “famous fences in New York—Monte Murhpy” changed to “famous fences in New York—Monte Murphy”.
Page 196 : “the desperado was uphurt” changed to “the desperado was unhurt”.

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To be Published During April
441—The Ring of Iron	By Inspector Stark
440—The Lure of Gold	By Nicholas Carter
439—The “L” Mystery	By Dick Stewart
438—Behind a Throne	By Nicholas Carter
To be Published During March
437—A King Among Crooks	By J. K. Stafford
436—Under the Tiger’s Claws	By Nicholas Carter
435—The Great Green Diamond	By Inspector Stark
434—Through the Cellar Wall	By Nicholas Carter
To be Published During February
433—The Human Cat	By Dick Stewart
432—The “Limited” Hold-Up	By Nicholas Carter
431—Shot From Above	By J. K. Stafford
430—Marked for Death	By Nicholas Carter
To be Published During January
429—On the Trail of “Big Finger”	By Scott Campbell
428—Below the Dead Line	By Scott Campbell
427—The Sign of the Dagger	By Nicholas Carter
426—The Western Ferret	By Inspector Stark
425—The Crime of the Camera	By Nicholas Carter

424—The Belrox Mystery	By Dick Stewart
423—The Terrible Thirteen	By Nicholas Carter
422—The Crimson Blind	By Fred M. White
421—A Triple Identity	By Nicholas Carter
420—The Nitroglycerin League	By Inspector Stark
419—The Bloodstone Terror	By Nicholas Carter
418—The Man Who Hid	By Dick Stewart
417—A Victim of Deceit	By Nicholas Carter
416—The Broken Pen	By J. K. Stafford
415—The Key Ring Clew	By Nicholas Carter
414—A Modern Sorceress	By Inspector Stark
413—The Four-Fingered Glove	By Nicholas Carter
412—Checkmating a Countess	By Dick Stewart
411—The Boulevard Mutes	By Nicholas Carter
410—Shadowed ’Round the World	By J. K. Stafford
409—Nick Carter’s Double Catch	By Nicholas Carter
408—Only a Headless Nail	By Dick Stewart
407—The Pretty Stenographer Mystery	By Nicholas Carter
406—The Eye of Gold	By Inspector Stark
405—The Plot That Failed	By Nicholas Carter
404—The Red Stain	By Scott Campbell
403—The Marked Hand	By Nicholas Carter
402—The Albert Gate Affair	By Louis Tracy
401—The Fatal Legacy	By Louis Tracy
400—The Living Mask	By Nicholas Carter
399—An Oath of Vengeance	By John K. Stafford
398—Under a Black Veil	By Nicholas Carter
397—A Crime Without a Name	By Dick Stewart
396—A Baffled Oath	By Nicholas Carter
395—A Kentucky Moonshiner	By Inspector Stark
394—Playing for a Fortune	By Nicholas Carter
393—The Convent Mystery	By John K. Stafford
392—With Links of Steel	By Nicholas Carter

		PAGE
I.	HENRY STOLBURST’S FEARS.	5
II.	PRINCESS ZULIMA.	12
III.	STOLBURST’S VISITOR.	19
IV.	MIKE QUICK’S DIVE.	26
V.	ENOCH COOK AND HIS PAL.	33
VI.	AJEEB’S NEW ALLY.	39
VII.	TRAPPED.	47
VIII.	AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.	54
IX.	A TERRIBLE SURPRISE.	62
X.	ZULIMA AND THE DETECTIVE.	70
XI.	AJEEB SEES BURT.	74
XII.	COOK AND KIDD.	80
XIII.	MIKE QUICK’S MISSION.	86
XIV.	BURT KNOCKED OUT.	93
XV.	AJEEB’S GRIM HUMOR.	100
XVI.	A WISE BARTENDER.	107
XVII.	AT MONTE MURPHY’S.	114
XVIII.	MURPHY’S DEATH.	120
XIX.	BURT’S NEW ALLY.	126
XX.	IN AJEEB’S CLUTCHES.	134
XXI.	FRANK HARE’S MISSION.	143
XXII.	DETH KILLED BY ENOCH.	151
XXIII.	THE BIRD FLOWN.	158
XXIV.	HARE’S DISGUISE PENETRATED.	167
XXV.	ZULIMA BREAKS DOWN.	176
XXVI.	BULL BLAIR’S ESCAPE	184
XXVII.	BILLY BARRY, OF LONDON.	191
XXVIII.	MIKE QUICK GIVEN A SHOCK.	198
XXIX.	PIERRE JACQUET’S REVENGE.	204
XXX.	THE PRINCESS VISITS STOLBURST.	212
XXXI.	CONCLUSION.	218

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Great Green Diamond; Or, Thief Against Thief

THE GREAT GREEN DIAMOND;
OR,
THIEF AGAINST THIEF

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I.
HENRY STOLBURST’S FEARS.

CHAPTER II.
PRINCESS ZULIMA.

CHAPTER III.
STOLBURST’S VISITOR.

CHAPTER IV.
MIKE QUICK’S DIVE.

CHAPTER V.
ENOCH COOK AND HIS PAL.

CHAPTER VI.
AJEEB’S NEW ALLY.

CHAPTER VII.
TRAPPED.

CHAPTER VIII.
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

CHAPTER IX.
A TERRIBLE SURPRISE.

CHAPTER X.
ZULIMA AND THE DETECTIVE.

CHAPTER XI.
AJEEB SEES BURT.

CHAPTER XII.
COOK AND KIDD.

CHAPTER XIII.
MIKE QUICK’S MISSION.

CHAPTER XIV.
BURT KNOCKED OUT.

CHAPTER XV.
AJEEB’S GRIM HUMOR.

CHAPTER XVI.
A WISE BARTENDER.

CHAPTER XVII.
AT MONTE MURPHY’S.

CHAPTER XVIII.
MURPHY’S DEATH.

CHAPTER XIX.
BURT’S NEW ALLY.

CHAPTER XX.
IN AJEEB’S CLUTCHES.

CHAPTER XXI.
FRANK HARE’S MISSION.

CHAPTER XXII.
DETH KILLED BY ENOCH.

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE BIRD FLOWN.

CHAPTER XXIV.
HARE’S DISGUISE PENETRATED.

CHAPTER XXV.
ZULIMA BREAKS DOWN.

CHAPTER XXVI.
BULL BLAIR’S ESCAPE.

CHAPTER XXVII.
BILLY BARRY, OF LONDON.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
MIKE QUICK GIVEN A SHOCK.

CHAPTER XXIX.
PIERRE JACQUET’S REVENGE.

CHAPTER XXX.
THE PRINCESS VISITS STOLBURST.

CHAPTER XXXI.
CONCLUSION.

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Great Green Diamond; Or, Thief Against Thief

THE GREAT GREEN DIAMOND; OR, THIEF AGAINST THIEF

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. HENRY STOLBURST’S FEARS.

CHAPTER II. PRINCESS ZULIMA.

CHAPTER III. STOLBURST’S VISITOR.

CHAPTER IV. MIKE QUICK’S DIVE.

CHAPTER V. ENOCH COOK AND HIS PAL.

CHAPTER VI. AJEEB’S NEW ALLY.

CHAPTER VII. TRAPPED.

CHAPTER VIII. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

CHAPTER IX. A TERRIBLE SURPRISE.

CHAPTER X. ZULIMA AND THE DETECTIVE.

CHAPTER XI. AJEEB SEES BURT.

CHAPTER XII. COOK AND KIDD.

CHAPTER XIII. MIKE QUICK’S MISSION.

CHAPTER XIV. BURT KNOCKED OUT.

CHAPTER XV. AJEEB’S GRIM HUMOR.

CHAPTER XVI. A WISE BARTENDER.

CHAPTER XVII. AT MONTE MURPHY’S.

CHAPTER XVIII. MURPHY’S DEATH.

CHAPTER XIX. BURT’S NEW ALLY.

CHAPTER XX. IN AJEEB’S CLUTCHES.

CHAPTER XXI. FRANK HARE’S MISSION.

CHAPTER XXII. DETH KILLED BY ENOCH.

CHAPTER XXIII. THE BIRD FLOWN.

CHAPTER XXIV. HARE’S DISGUISE PENETRATED.

CHAPTER XXV. ZULIMA BREAKS DOWN.

CHAPTER XXVI. BULL BLAIR’S ESCAPE.

CHAPTER XXVII. BILLY BARRY, OF LONDON.

CHAPTER XXVIII. MIKE QUICK GIVEN A SHOCK.

CHAPTER XXIX. PIERRE JACQUET’S REVENGE.

CHAPTER XXX. THE PRINCESS VISITS STOLBURST.

CHAPTER XXXI. CONCLUSION.

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

THE GREAT GREEN DIAMOND;
OR,
THIEF AGAINST THIEF

CHAPTER I.
HENRY STOLBURST’S FEARS.

CHAPTER II.
PRINCESS ZULIMA.

CHAPTER III.
STOLBURST’S VISITOR.

CHAPTER IV.
MIKE QUICK’S DIVE.

CHAPTER V.
ENOCH COOK AND HIS PAL.

CHAPTER VI.
AJEEB’S NEW ALLY.

CHAPTER VII.
TRAPPED.

CHAPTER VIII.
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

CHAPTER IX.
A TERRIBLE SURPRISE.

CHAPTER X.
ZULIMA AND THE DETECTIVE.

CHAPTER XI.
AJEEB SEES BURT.

CHAPTER XII.
COOK AND KIDD.

CHAPTER XIII.
MIKE QUICK’S MISSION.

CHAPTER XIV.
BURT KNOCKED OUT.

CHAPTER XV.
AJEEB’S GRIM HUMOR.

CHAPTER XVI.
A WISE BARTENDER.

CHAPTER XVII.
AT MONTE MURPHY’S.

CHAPTER XVIII.
MURPHY’S DEATH.

CHAPTER XIX.
BURT’S NEW ALLY.

CHAPTER XX.
IN AJEEB’S CLUTCHES.

CHAPTER XXI.
FRANK HARE’S MISSION.

CHAPTER XXII.
DETH KILLED BY ENOCH.

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE BIRD FLOWN.

CHAPTER XXIV.
HARE’S DISGUISE PENETRATED.

CHAPTER XXV.
ZULIMA BREAKS DOWN.

CHAPTER XXVI.
BULL BLAIR’S ESCAPE.

CHAPTER XXVII.
BILLY BARRY, OF LONDON.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
MIKE QUICK GIVEN A SHOCK.

CHAPTER XXIX.
PIERRE JACQUET’S REVENGE.

CHAPTER XXX.
THE PRINCESS VISITS STOLBURST.

CHAPTER XXXI.
CONCLUSION.