The "Dock Rats" of New York Part 62

"You might make a large sum of money."

"By bringing the girl to you?"

"Yes."

"I will not do it."

"You will lead me to the fisherman's cabin!"

"Yes."

"All right."

The two men started across the sands, and, after half an hour's walking, came in sight of the cabin of the old fisherman.

"That is the cabin."

"Over there?",

"Yes."

"There are no lights in the cabin."

"They have all retired, probably."

"I promised you five dollars."

"For what?"

"For leading me to the cabin."

"Never mind the money."

"Yes, you must take it."

"I will not."

"I go to the cabin alone."

"I go with you."

"Not one step."

"Who will stop me?"

"I will."

"Not to-night."

"Go and bring the girl to me."

"You have changed your mind?"

"Yes."

"Can I be present during your interview with the girl?"

"Yes."

"All right, I will go and see if I can arouse her without disturbing her father."

"I will wait here?"

"Yes."

"You will return at once?"

"Yes."

"Go."

The detective walked toward the cabin, and as he approached a chill pa.s.sed over his frame. He recognized certain indices that aroused the gravest apprehensions, and a moment later when he entered the cabin a most terrible and ghastly spectacle met his gaze.

As stated in a preceding chapter, no lights gleamed from the low cabin windows when Vance and the stranger arrived in sight of the home of Tom Pearce.

At the moment it struck the detective as rather strange, as he knew it was the fashion of the old boatman to set a light for the night, as sailors do on board their vessels as the sun goes down at sea, and it was not without some misgivings that he advanced alone toward the cottage.

The detective had determined to arouse old Pearce, and in collusion with the old boatman send Renie out to interview the man in the rubber coat.

As also intimated our hero had reached certain conclusions regarding the stranger, and in his own mind he felt a.s.sured that the man was urged by some ulterior motive,

It was in a cautious manner that Vance pushed open the cabin door; all was darkness within; no light had been set, and the detective stood but a second, when a cold chill struck to his very vitals that caused him to recoil.

An e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of amazement fell from his lips as he quickly drew his ever-ready, masked lantern; one moment he stood irresolute, and then advanced again to the cabin door. He thrust forward his lantern; the sharp ray of light penetrated and dispersed the pervading darkness, and, as stated, a sight met his gaze that for the moment froze the blood in his veins.

No light had been set, but a light had been extinguished, put out forever--the light of life in the body of Tom Pearce.

We say a light had been put out; it had not burned out, as the first object that met the gaze of the detective was the body of Tom Pearce.

There was not a question as to the fact that crime had been done. The method of the deep d.a.m.nation of the old boatman's taking off was plainly apparent.

"Can they both have been murdered" were words which fell in a hoa.r.s.e whisper from the pallid lips of the detective.

Vance at the first glance concluded that Pearce was the victim of the vengeance of the smugglers, and if they would kill the old man they would not spare the girl.

It was the latter thought that caused the detective's heart to stand still, and when he did partially recover his nerve, his starting eyes moved round in search of the body of the girl.

He stepped into the room, and with tottering steps moved over to the door of the adjoining room, the chamber of Renie.