Frank Merriwell's Pursuit Part 32

"I swear I knew nothing of this raid," said Bronson. "I have my game here. I never lied to any man yet."

Frank and Arthur were close at hand, and Merry appealed to Bronson.

"How are we going to get clear of this trap?" he asked. "I don't fancy going to jail with a lot of gamblers."

"I'll take care of you," promised Bronson.

"And my friend here, too?"

"Your friend, too."

He turned Jalisco over to another policeman, and told Frank and Art to follow him. There was a back door that was guarded. When this door was reached, Bronson held a short, low-spoken conversation with the officer in charge there, after which he motioned to his companions, and the three descended the stairs and finally came out upon a street that ran from Sixth Avenue to Broadway.

"Here you are, Mr. Merriwell," said Bronson. "Sorry that raid happened just then, but I reckon there's no harm done. I suppose you'll be on hand to appear against Jalisco in the morning?"

"Without fail," said Merry. "Good night, Bronson. This has been a fortunate night for me."

"And for me!" exclaimed Arthur Hatch, as Bronson departed. "Good Lord!

but I was frightened when those officers came! I saw myself scorned by my father! I saw my mother broken-hearted! In one moment I realized what my bad habits had brought me to. I broke my first pledge to you, Frank Merriwell; but, with the help of G.o.d, I'll keep my second one!"

Frank Merriwell had just taken his cold plunge the next morning, when the telephone in his apartments rang.

Immediately Merry answered the summons.

"h.e.l.lo!" he called into the phone.

"h.e.l.lo!" was the answer. "Is this Frank Merriwell?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm Sam Bronson."

"Oh, good morning, Mr. Bronson."

"I'm afraid you'll not be so good-natured, Mr. Merriwell, when I tell you what has happened."

"Eh? What's the matter? Anything gone wrong?"

"I should say so! You know that Mexican that I arrested on the warrant you gave me?"

"Of course."

"Well, I turned him over to the rest of the boys who had the whole crowd rounded up, while I helped you get your friend, Hatch, out of the place, you know."

"Yes. I am to appear against Jalisco in court this morning."

"You don't have to appear."

"Why not?"

"He wasn't with the bunch locked up last night."

"Impossible!"

"It's true, unfortunately."

"How could that be? I don't understand it."

"Nor I. I'm doing my best to get at the bottom of it. Neither he nor Bantry Hagan were locked up. Both got away somehow."

Frank was more than vexed over this information.

"There's something crooked about this, Bronson!" he exclaimed. "Why, you put the irons on Jalisco."

"I know I did, and I'm shy a good pair of bracelets."

"He could not have escaped from the handcuffs unless they were removed by an officer. I should say this thing needs investigating, Bronson! And Hagan was not locked up either?"

"No. Neither Jalisco nor Hagan was with the bunch when it was rounded up at the station house last night. Both got away somewhere between Worden's and the station house. You know this man, Hagan, is pretty well known to the police, and he has influence. I'm going to make a roar over the business, and somebody's head will come off if I can fix the blame anywhere. It's the best I can do. I'm sorry, but I know you can't blame me."

"I'm sure you were not to blame, Bronson. This is bad business. I wanted to teach Jalisco a lesson. He's a dangerous young thug, and he's taken an oath to kill me unless I cough up a lot of cash to him. Do your best to get at the bottom of the matter and to get track of Jalisco at the same time. If you set eyes on him again, pinch him at once."

"Leave that to me," said Bronson. "I'm pretty sore over it. I'll call round to see you in an hour or so. Thought I'd phone you and let you know what had happened."

"Thank you, Bronson. Good-by."

"Good-by."

Frank hung up the receiver.

CHAPTER XIX.

ALVAREZ LAZARO.

That morning Watson Scott had a visitor who gave his name as Alvarez Lazaro.

Lazaro was a slender man of medium height, with snow-white hair and face that seemed to indicate he had pa.s.sed through great suffering of some sort, for it was strangely drawn and deeply lined. His age seemed uncertain, but Scott, who was an excellent judge, would have placed him well along in the fifties, although his step and carriage was like that of a much younger man.

He was expensively dressed, wore a big sable overcoat, and had on his fingers a number of rings set with precious stones.

Old Gripper surveyed the visitor with unusual interest. There was something about the man that fascinated him--something that attracted, yet repelled.