Cad Metti, The Female Detective Strategist Part 12

"I do."

"On what ground?"

"He is a spy and a sneak. He will report you for keeping a gambling house. He is a sort of detective pimp, does all their dirty work. That is the man you are entertaining. Let him deny it if he will."

This was a bold accusation, and all the men glared at our hero, and finally Girard said:

"Dunne, what have you got to say for yourself? If this is false call that man a liar. It is your right, for he makes very grave charges against you."

"With your permission," said Oscar, "I will withdraw. That man's charges are not ent.i.tled to a reply from me."

"But see here, mister, that won't do."

"What won't do?"

"If his charges are true you have been playing me."

"I have been playing you?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Well, you understand your purpose. I don't. But one thing is certain: you must make a full confession, or I will hold you responsible for any interpretation I may put upon his charges."

Oscar apparently began to sober up, and he said:

"I do not choose to make any explanations."

"What do you know about this man?" demanded Girard, addressing the accuser.

"He is a reward seeker--a man who will ingratiate himself into the company of gentlemen. If he gets into a private game of cards he reports a gambling game and has gentlemen arrested. He is a general spy and sneak--a man who will go into court and perjure himself for a bribe, and he has made trouble for many a good fellow. He has hired witnesses, perjurers, at his beck and call. He is always up to some game. He is, in short, a lying, miserable rascal; that is what he is, and I know him."

"These are very grave charges," repeated Girard.

"Yes, and I will not remain to listen to them."

"But you will remain."

"I will?"

"Yes."

"Who says so?"

"I do. You shall not steal into my house to spy and sneak on me, and get away."

"What will you do about it?" asked Oscar coolly.

"What will I do about it?"

"That is my question."

"Do you admit the charges?"

"I am too much of a gentleman to deny them: they are so gross."

"Oh, you intend to get out of it that way, eh? Now who are you?"

As Girard spoke he rose from the table and presented a pistol directly at our hero's forehead. Oscar did not flinch, but asked:

"Do you intend to murder me?"

The detective was in the worst dilemma of his whole career. He knew the men were playing a game, that the chances were all against him, and that the possibilities were that under one pretext or another they intended to kill him.

"No, I don't intend to murder you. I am no murderer, but I do not intend to let you get away with any sneaking purpose you may have had in working your way into this house. Are you a gentleman?"

"Yes, I am a gentleman."

"Then you shall have a chance. I challenge you; yes, sir, you must fight me."

"This is murder," said Oscar.

Our hero believed his last moment had arrived. He had braved fate too far in his enthusiasm. He had walked into a trap from which there was no escape. The duel which had been proposed he knew would only be a pretense in order to murder him. He knew he had walked right into a trap, but he determined to die game. Yes, even at that moment he did not wholly despair. These men did not know his mettle, and could he once get a weapon in his hands he would make a desperate fight. He was armed, but thought that possibly the men might go through the farce of a duel. This would give him a chance. He had his club and he knew he must take them by a grand dash, a magnificent surprise. He had encountered as many men on several occasions in desperate conflict, but these men had the "bulge" on him. They were prepared and on the alert. The chances were that every man was well armed and ready to "pull." He must get a vantage ground from where he could take them by surprise--throw them off their guard; but even then the chances were against him, for these were no ordinary men. They were a lot of cool, nervy criminals, well prepared, as stated--men who had their plans well arranged, their signals also.

Possibly each man had his appointed work. They were men who could and would carry out their orders. It was a desperate moment, and all the chances were against him.

It was at this most critical moment that an extraordinary incident occurred. Oscar saw but little chance; still, as intimated, he was determined to make a desperate fight even in face of the odds against him, and there he sat revolving the matter in his mind when suddenly there sounded a little tick-tick like the tick-tick of a telegraph machine. The men did not notice the tick-tick, it was so low and sounded like the involuntary cracking that is sometimes heard from dried furniture when a fire is first ignited in a room. To our hero, though, this very singular tick-tick came with a wonderful significance; indeed, to him it was a language. It was a telegraphic message, and he knew that he was all right. Indeed, he received full instructions as to what he might expect; he learned when and how he was to give a signal at the extreme moment when he needed help. We will not at present attempt to describe his surprise and his admiration of the faithful one who like his shadow must have followed on his track to do the succor act when succor was needed. Oscar did not change his demeanor. He acted as though he still feared the terrible ordeal which confronted him.

"You must fight me," said Girard, "and I show you great mercy in giving you a chance for your life."

"Why must I fight you?"

"You are a sneak. You have imposed upon my confidence. You have forced your way into my rooms, having in mind a treacherous purpose."

"I did not seek you. No, sir, you sought me; you invited me here. I declined to come. You forced yourself upon me. I did not force myself in here."

"I thought you were a gentleman."

"I am a gentleman."

"You must fight me all the same."

"I can see," said Oscar, "you men are a gang of confidence men--robbers.

You have inveigled me here to rob me. I will not be robbed. I will yell for the police."

One of the men aimed a revolver at our hero and said:

"Open your mouth to utter one cry and you are a dead man."