The Bradys and the Girl Smuggler Part 8

"Farewell, Clara--be very careful of yourself, my child!" replied the woman, as she waved her handkerchief back at the girl.

Harry nudged Old King Brady.

"There's her mother," he muttered, "but La Croix has not shown up. He fears arrest now, as he knows we are after him."

"So much the better," replied the old detective, drily. "This woman won't know us. It will therefore be all the easier to follow her undetected."

The steams.h.i.+p soon went down the river and the friends and relatives of the departing pa.s.sengers began to leave the pier.

Mrs. La Croix was one of the last to go. She did not know that the Bradys were close behind her.

CHAPTER V.

AT A VILLAIN'S MERCY.

The smuggler's wife leisurely left the pier, crossed the street and went in the direction of Sixth avenue, on foot.

It did not seem to occur to her that she might be followed, for she never once glanced back in the direction she came from.

Old King Brady and his partner did not know much about the woman.

Whether she was actually concerned in La Croix's smuggling games or not, they had not the faintest idea.

She was a fine-looking woman, tall and stately, with brown hair, blue eyes and handsome features. But she seldom laughed.

Hers was one of those set, inscrutable faces, hard to read, for she seldom showed the emotions preying upon her mind.

"She don't seem to fear detection," commented Harry, as they walked along.

"She hasn't made the slightest effort to conceal her actions."

"Well," replied the old detective, as he thoughtfully took a fresh quid of tobacco, "you must not forget that the woman isn't aware of the fact that we are on her trail."

"She certainly must be interested in her husband's crooked work or she would not see her daughter off to Europe in this manner. In fact, if she were not so greatly interested, I doubt if she would allow her child to make such a long, dangerous trip alone."

"Your reasoning is very sensible," commented Old King Brady, "but you must recollect that the girl smuggler is very smart. She is used to danger. This may not be her first voyage abroad alone. In fact, she has probably been making many trips to the other side, bringing back jewels to be smuggled ash.o.r.e."

"Judging by what that letter said," remarked Harry, "the man and his wife are likely to go to Canada now and wait there for the girl's return with that large consignment of precious stones. We shall be obliged to follow them there. We can't arrest them now on suspicion, nor can we pull La Croix in for trying to murder us in the Fifth Avenue Hotel elevator. If we do, it will interfere with our capturing the girl when she returns with those jewels."

"I'm sorry to say your view of the matter is correct, Harry."

"There goes the woman up Sixth avenue. She's a good walker. It looks to me as if she were heading for the French district in the neighborhood of Third street. Queer she didn't ride."

They tracked her to West Broadway.

Here she suddenly turned into the hall of a very old house across the front of which hung the sign of an artificial flower maker.

Old King Brady pa.s.sed into the hall after her and Harry remained on guard at the door.

Going up a flight of stairs, the woman knocked at a door and when it was opened, she pa.s.sed into a room, closing the door after her.

The detective glided over to the door and listened.

Voices were heard inside, a man crying out eagerly:

"Well, Lena, ees ze child gone?"

"Yes, Paul," Mrs. La Croix replied, in sad tones. "The Champagne just departed with our daughter. We shall not see her for a month."

"Ah, but when she return we make ze largest stake of our lives."

"I wish this risky business was ended, Paul. I'm getting sick of it. We do not lead the peaceful lives of other people. It is a constant excitement and fear of police interference."

"Do not complain, Lena. Zees ees ze last treep ze child make. Eef eet ees wong success, we make so much dollaires zat we can retiaire an' leeve ze life of ease for ze rest of our days, by gar!"

He laughed and the woman replied, resignedly:

"Well, I hope your dream will come true, Paul."

"Take zees seat an' 'ave your suppair, my dear. You need ze rest, for to-night we leave New York by rail for Canada, for I have sold all ze stones I had, an' mail my draft to Paris."

Old King Brady smiled and muttered:

"I'm glad you've told me your business, old fellow."

The shadows of twilight had fallen by this time and the hall was getting dark.

Hearing some one coming downstairs from an upper floor, the old detective retreated along the hall and crouched back in a doorway.

He pressed himself back flat against the door hoping the person who was coming would pa.s.s him in the gloom without observing his presence.

Unfortunately the door behind him was not shut tight.

As he pressed his back against it, it flew inward all of a sudden and pitching over backward, the detective fell sprawling upon the floor of a small room adjoining the one occupied by La Croix and his wife.

He heard the Frenchman utter a startled cry.

Like a tiger he sprang into the room and saw the detective.

"_Parbleu!_" he hissed, a look of rage and hate upon his dark face. "Ze secret police. Watching me, eh? I show you, Monsieur."

He seized an iron bar standing in the corner and as the old detective was upon the point of scrambling to his feet, he dealt the officer a fearful blow that knocked him senseless.

He just had time to bang the door shut to prevent the person who was coming from upstairs from seeing what was going on.