The Bradys' Race for Life
Secret Service No. 84
9781465636348
201 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
“Help! Help!” This thrilling cry rang out upon the night air in one of the side streets of New York City. The few pedestrians in the bleak, storm-swept vicinity paused and instinctively looked for the cause of this blood-curdling appeal. Someone was in trouble. That was certain. But who was it and what was the nature of the trouble? As usual, no officer chanced to be within call. Two men who were on their way home from business, however crossed the street with long strides and plunged into a dingy area. It was illy lighted by a gaslight over the door of a wretched tenement. No person could be seen in the area, but one of the men, whose name was Mortimer Smith, bent over and cried: “My soul! This looks as if murder had been done!” His companion, a merchant named Benjamin Hanks, echoed: “Murder beyond a doubt!” The snow in the area was trodden and saturated with blood. All the ghostly evidences of a crime save the body of the victim were there. The trail of blood led to the door of the wretched dwelling. The two men noted this, and for a moment seemed about to enter the dwelling. But Smith said: “We had better call the police.” “Yes.” “Undoubtedly they have taken the body of the victim into that house.” “That is true.” “Let us give the alarm.” These two well-meaning and worthy citizens started for an officer. They reached the nearest corner and found a patrolman just pulling in an electric call. Upon their statement of the case the officer made it a hurry call, and then hastily returned to the area with them. He tried the door of the tenement. It was locked. He pressed his weight upon the door and forced it in. A dark hallway was seen. All was silence of the tomb. Naturally the guardian of the peace hesitated ere entering the place alone and in the dark. It was a rough quarter where crimes were of common occurrence. But just at this moment the hurry wagon arrived with more officers. A quick consultation was held. The police captain at once surrounded the house. That is, men went to the alley in its rear while the place was entered from the front. The two citizens, Smith and Hanks, were held as witnesses. But just as the officers with dark-lanterns entered the tenement they were met by a sudden wall of smoke. The crackling of flames was heard. “Fire!” cried the police captain. The word was echoed by the others. The inference was easy. The criminals had sought to conceal the evidences of their crime by means of the flames. The fire alarm was given and into the street now there dashed the fire companies. Lines of hose were quickly run into the building and preparations made to subdue the fire. Not one of the inmates of the place had thus far put in an appearance. Indeed, it seemed deserted. But while the police had been hesitating about entering the smoke-filled dwelling, two men had joined them. “Hello! What is wrong here?” said one of them, a tall, strong-framed man, dressed in a tightly-buttoned blue coat, old-fashioned stock collar and wide-brimmed slouch hat. “Ah, Old King Brady!” cried the police captain. “Here is a case for you. It looks like murder and attempt to conceal it by means of arson.”
