Traffic In Souls Part 23

But her prayers seemed to avail her naught, and she finally sank, swooning, with her head against the cruel barrier. Back in the railroad station, Percy and his kind-faced a.s.sistant, Pop, were prospecting for another recruit.

CHAPTER XI

THE POISONED NEEDLE

That afternoon Burke improved his time, during a two-hour respite, to hunt for a birthday present for Mary.

Manlike, he was shy of shops, so he sought one of the big department stores on Sixth Avenue, where he instinctively felt that everything under the sun could be bought.

As Bobbie paused before one of the big display windows on the sidewalk he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. It was that instinct which one only half realizes in a brief instant, yet which leaves a strong reaction of memory.

"Who was that?" he thought, and then remembered: Baxter.

Burke followed the figure which had pa.s.sed him so quickly, and found the same dapper young man deeply engrossed in the window display of women's walking suits.

"What can he find so interesting in that window?" mused Burke. "I'll just watch his tactics. I don't believe that fellow is ever any place for any good!"

He stood far out on the sidewalk, close to the curb. The pa.s.sing throng swept in two eddying, opposite currents between him and Baxter, whose attention seemed strictly upon the window.

"Well, there's his refined companion," was Burke's next impression, as he espied the effeminate figure of Craig, strolling along the sidewalk close to the same window.

"Can they be pickpockets? I would guess that was too risky for them to take a chance on."

Neither youth spoke to the other, although they walked very close to each other. As Burke scrutinized their actions he saw a young girl, tastefully dressed in a black velvet suit, with a black hat, turn about excitedly. She looked about her, as though in alarm, and her face was distorted with pain. Baxter gave her a shifty look and followed her.

Craig had been close at her side.

Burke drew nearer to the girl. She seemed to falter, as she walked, and it was apparently with great effort that she neared the door of the big department store. Baxter was watching her stealthily now.

"Oh!" she exclaimed desperately and keeled backward. Baxter's calculations were close, for he caught her in his arms.

"Quick! Quick!" he cried to the big uniformed carriage attendant at the door. "Get me a taxicab. My sister has fainted."

The man whistled for a machine, as Burke watched them. The officer was calculating his own chances on what baseball players call a "double play." Craig was close behind Baxter, in the curious crowd. Burke guessed that it would take at least a minute or two for Baxter to get the girl into a machine. So he rushed for Craig and surprised that young gentleman with a vicious grasp of the throat.

"Help! Police!" cried Craig, as some women screamed. His wish was doubly answered, for Burke's police whistle was in his mouth and he blew it shrilly. A traffic squad man rushed across from the middle of the street.

"Hurry, I want to get my sister away!" ordered Baxter excitedly to the door man. "You big b.o.o.b, what's the matter with you?"

The crowd of people about him shut off the view of Burke's activities fifteen feet away. Baxter was nervous and was doing his best to make a quick exit with his victim.

"What's this?" gruffly exclaimed the big traffic policeman, as he caught Craig's arm.

"The needle!" grunted Burke. "Here, I've got it from his pocket."

He drew forth a small hypodermic needle syringe from Craig's coat pocket, and held it up.

"It's a frame-up!" squealed Craig.

"Take him quick. I want to save the girl!" exclaimed Burke, as he rushed toward Baxter.

That young man was just pushing the girl into the taxicab when a middle-aged woman rushed out from the store entrance.

"That's my daughter Helen! Helen, my child!"

At this there was terrific confusion in the crowd, and Burke saw Baxter give the girl a rough shove away from the taxicab door. He slipped a bill into the chauffeur's willing hand and muttered an order. The car sprang forward on the instant.

"I'll get that fellow this time!" muttered Burke. "He hasn't seen me, and I'll trail him."

He turned about and espied a big gray racing car drawn up at the curb.

A young man weighted down under a heavy load of goggles, fur and other racing appurtenances sat in the car. Its engines were humming merrily.

"Say, you, follow that car for me," sung out Officer 4434, delighted at his discovery. "The taxicab with the black body."

The driver of the racer snorted contemptuously.

"Do you know who _I_ am?"

Burke wasted no time, but jumped into the seat, for it was as opportune as though placed there by Providence. Perhaps Providence has more to do with some coincidences than the worldly wise are p.r.o.ne to confess.

"_I'm_ Officer 4434 of the Police Department, and you mind my orders."

"Well, I'm Reggie Van Nostrand," answered the young man, "and I take orders from no man."

Burke knew this young millionaire by reputation. But he was nowise daunted. He kept his eye on the distant taxicab, which had luckily been halted at the second cross street by the delayed traffic.

"I'm going to put this pretty car of yours in the sc.r.a.p heap, and I'm going to land you in jail, with all your money," calmly replied Burke, drawing his revolver. "The man in that taxi is a white slaver who just tried the poison needle on a girl, and you and I are going to capture him."

The undeniable sporting blood surged in the veins of Reggie Van Nostrand, be it said to his credit. It was not the threat.

"I'm with you, Officer!" He pressed a little lever with his foot and the big racing machine sprang forward like a thing possessed by a demon of speed.

The traffic officer on the other street tried to stop the car, until he saw the uniform of the policeman in the seat.

Bob waved his hand, and the fixed post man held back several machines, in order to give him the right of way.

They were now within a block of the other car.

"Say, haven't you another robe or coat that I can put on to cover my uniform, for that fellow will suspect a chase, anyway?"

"Yes, there at your feet," replied Van Nostrand shortly. "It's my father's. He'll be wondering who stole me and the car. Let him wonder."

Burke pulled up the big fur coat and drew it around his shoulders as the car rumbled forward. He found a pair of goggles in a pocket of the coat.

"I don't need a hat with these to mask me," he exclaimed. "Now, watch out on your side of the car, and I'll do it on mine, for he's a sly one, and will turn down a side street."