Cad Metti, The Female Detective Strategist Part 28

"I am acting for your good."

To Oscar the woman explained after they had entered the house that she had her brother deceived on a false "steer," but she added: "You know it is to save him."

"Oh, certainly."

Oscar was led down the stairs, led to the bas.e.m.e.nt and then to the cellar. A lantern was produced and a door was disclosed, showing that an excavation had been made and a room built under the yard of the house.

All the arrangements were very cunningly made. When the door was opened our hero hesitated and the woman asked:

"What is the matter?"

In a tone of fearfulness Oscar said:

"I have been betrayed."

"Betrayed?" repeated the woman.

"Yes."

"By whom?"

"_You_."

The woman laughed and said:

"But I thought you were a man of courage. Go on; I will go with you."

Oscar delayed a moment, making some remark, until he heard a signal--a very tiny signal, but it was big and loud in its suggestions to him. He stepped into the pa.s.sage and a moment later a second door opened. The secret room was disclosed and at least a dozen masked men who had been seated at a long table arose. At the instant, as our hero recoiled, the cold muzzles of two revolvers were placed on either cheek and a voice said:

"Go ahead; you can't back out now."

It was a supreme moment of peril. Our hero had friends at hand, but alas! ere his friends could announce themselves the deed of horror might have been perpetrated. It was indeed a critical moment, but Oscar was cool. He stepped forward and was pushed toward a seat, and the men gathered at the table. All sat down also.

There followed a moment's silence. Oscar looked around. Near him stood the siren who had allured him into the den, and her whole expression of countenance had changed. She looked like a beautiful fiend as her eyes gleamed with delight and the red glow of triumph flushed her features.

She was proud. She had promised to deliver the detective into the hands of his intending a.s.sa.s.sins, and she had made good her word.

"So you have betrayed me," said Oscar.

"Yes," answered the woman, "I have betrayed you."

"The story about your brother was a lie."

"All these gentlemen are my brothers."

"And what now, woman?"

"You have just five minutes to live. You were set to destroy us; we will destroy you."

"Poor creature," said Oscar in a tone of deep commiseration.

The woman glared, for there was a terrible significance in his tones, and she shouted:

"Down him and make sure."

Alas! the arrangements fortunately were run on seconds, not minutes, or our hero would have been a dead man. As the woman shouted "Down him!"

there came a second, voice, stern and commanding:

"Hold! don't let a man move or every soul of you dies."

There was a tableau at that moment such as never has been equaled on the stage under all the complexity of colored lights. It was a scene never to be forgotten by any of the witnesses, a scene awful in its intensity of dramatic effect. The woman suddenly appeared to become frozen with horror. The men removed their masks in their excitement and their pale visages shone like so many corpses as all leaned forward and listened and looked.

In the doorway stood two men, armed with repeating rifles. Behind them crowded others, and at that instant every one of those wretches know that defeat and capture stared them in the face. All their labor, all their cunning and their skill had come to naught. All realized that the greatest detective feat on record had been accomplished. All knew that there was no escape, unless quickly with their own hands they freed themselves through the grave.

The detectives filed into the room, but the siren had recovered her nerve. She saw and realized that she had not played but had been played.

Quickly she drew a revolver, aimed at Oscar and fired, but our hero's quick eye detected her movement. It was not the first time he had dodged a bullet. The woman fired but the one shot. The next instant the darbies were on her tender wrists, and we will add that no resistance was offered. The men, as intimated, were well up in their trade. From the first instant they knew that in plain, vulgar language, their "jig was up." Every man quietly submitted. Life was dear to them. Every man had been behind prison walls. A surrender meant a return to jail; resistance meant death. They, as stated, all accepted the situation and quietly surrendered.

Immediately the detectives set to work to gather up their spoils and learn the full value of their wondrous victory. It proved to be a complete victory indeed. All the manufactured stock was secured, the flood of counterfeits was averted, for the well-being of the business community. The plates even that had cost thousands and thousands of dollars were captured. They were never buried in the cellar to be found by some future archaeologist. To conclude it was the greatest capture of counterfeiters' outfit ever made, and to Cad Metti and Oscar belonged all the credit; and from the profession and the government they received it. Dudie Dunne went up to the top as a great officer, and in a future narrative we will relate where these two wonderful people once more entered the field and accomplished great results. We will also tell the romance of the life of the bright, beautiful Italian girl who from choice became a female detective strategist.

THE END.

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