Cad Metti, The Female Detective Strategist Part 7

"Change," said Oscar.

Immediately there followed a most wonderful transformation. Cad Metti dropped her fine feathers as though by magic, and in her stead appeared a plain-looking country girl, while the dude vanished, and in his stead appeared a regular sporting appearing young fellow. No one would have recognized in either the two who had sat on the piazza of the hotel eating their dinner and cooing like two turtle-doves.

"Well done," said Oscar as he gazed at the wonderful girl, Cad Metti, and an instant later he said:

"Now I will leave you. I must get on the track of those scoundrels."

Cad and Oscar did not stop to exchange farewells. The latter moved away rapidly toward the point where he had had the encounter with the three ruffians whom he and his female comrade had served out so well. Oscar desired to follow the leader and he arrived behind a rift of sand in time to watch them, and he was able to discern the fellow he desired to shadow. His man made a roundabout tour toward the depot and then started afoot down the track, not daring to take the train at the Manhattan station. Our hero, however, proceeded to the station, knowing his man would board the train at Sheepshead Bay, and his conclusion was verified, for all three men had arrived at the Sheepshead Bay station and boarded the train as individuals, not exchanging one word. Indeed, all had worked a sort of half-and-half transform.

Oscar maintained his seat; he did not go to the car boarded by the men.

He remained one car behind, but he was on the alert lest at any moment the rascals might desert the train, and so he arrived at Long Island City. The men went to the Twenty-third street boat, the detective followed them, and still they kept apart.

"Those fellows are scared," he muttered. "The surprise they got has taken all the life out of them."

Once in New York the special chap whom he was following walked up Twenty-third street to First avenue, then he turned down and finally entered a low tenement house. Oscar was at his heels and noted the house he entered, and took up a position directly opposite. There were lights in some of the front rooms, but the windows of the top floor front reflected no brilliance until a few moments after our hero had taken his position, when there shot forth from the small windows a sickly gleam of light.

"Top floor front," was our hero's comment. He had located the room where the man had entered.

Oscar stood a little time revolving his next move in his mind, and finally he determined upon the old trick played so often and still played daily by officers on a quiet "lay."

He entered the tenement house and ascended the creaking stairs, and not a muscle in his st.u.r.dy form quivered, although it was a dangerous undertaking to enter that sort of a house on such an errand. There was a possibility that there were a dozen villains scattered around in the several apartments, for as the old saying has it, "Thieves flock together."

Oscar, however, was well-armed, cool, strong and agile, and he arrived in front of the door of the room and heard voices. He peeped in, as the keyhole was large and there was no key in the door. He saw the man to whom he had given the sore head, and a woman. The latter was a remarkable-looking person. She was about forty, as it appeared; her complexion was sallow, her features pointed, her eyes large and sunken, and the latter were very expressive, proving that the eagle-nosed woman was bright, alert and cunning. She wore a discontented look upon her face as she eyed the man who had entered her presence, and while Oscar peeped and listened he heard her say:

"I am tired of this."

"Tired of what?"

"Do you want to know?"

"Yes, I do."

"I'll tell you. I am tired of living in these rooms; tired of going hungry; tired of wearing old clothes; tired of slaving for you--a miserable fake."

"Hold on, Sarah, don't talk to me that way."

"Yes, I will talk to you that way. When I met you, I had plenty of money. You pretended to love me and I was fool enough to accept your love. I let you have money. I had a good, comfortable home, and now where am I? You have squandered every penny on the races. You don't know how to gamble, and yet you gamble away every cent you get. You do not come home when you have a stake and say, 'Here, my dear, is a hundred or two for you.' No, no, you come in and dole me out a few stamps and say, 'Make yourself comfortable.' In fact, when you have a good stake you do not come home at all, if this miserable place can be called a home. Tom, I'll stand it no longer; you and I will separate."

"Hold on, Sarah, do not talk that way."

"Yes, I will talk that way, and I will act. I can make plenty of money.

No need for me to stay here and play wife to a man who only cares for himself and who hasn't the courage to start in and make a good haul and give me the comforts I've been accustomed to enjoy; and as you can't do it I'll start out and win them for myself, and I will not furnish you money to gamble while I starve here in these rooms without food, fire or clothing. I tell you I am through."

The man Tom was thoughtful a moment and then said:

"Sarah, all you say is true, but I've had no money."

"And you never will have."

"Yes, I will."

"Never."

"Why do you say so?"

"You haven't the courage; you are a coward."

"Hold, Sarah, I took a big chance this very afternoon to make a big stake. I showed all the courage, but got the worst of it. I ran up against a cyclone disguised as a gentle sea breeze, but I am going to have a big stake, and all you need is just a little patience and you shall have an elegant home, horses and carriages, and diamonds and servants."

"Oh, come off, Tom; no more fairy stories for me."

"It's no fairy story, Sarah. I tell you there is no one on earth that I love as I do you. I've felt bad seeing you living this way and I've done the best I could; but I am to be let into the greatest gang on earth. I will make money from the start, and you will be let in and we can in a few weeks make a big stake and skip. What I tell you is no fairy story."

"Bah! Tom, I've heard your wild tales before."

"This is no wild tale. I tell you in a few weeks we will be flush."

The woman's eyes glittered as she said:

"I wish I could believe you, Tom."

"You can believe me."

"Why are you so secret about it? Why don't you open up?"

"I have not been initiated yet. It is the greatest gang that ever got together."

"Do you know any of the parties in it?"

"Certainly I do. All countries are represented. We have the talent of the world in it. The leaders are the smartest men on earth. They have branches in every large city in the United States. They are in with big politicians, judges and millionaires. They have defied the police for eighteen months, and they are all ready to flood the land and get away, and I am to be let in."

"Counterfeiters, Tom?"

"Well, yes, that is a part of their business. They counterfeit currency, metal and bonds, government and bank. They will make a big general sweep. Every man in it will get his share, and a share is a fortune.

It's the most perfect organization ever effected, and I tell you I am to be in it among the big bugs too, and all through you."

"All through me?"

"Yes."

"How is that?"

"They need you."

"They do?"

"Yes."