Bats in the Wall; or, The Mystery of Trinity Church-yardRaymond, P. T.
General
Bats in the Wall; or, The Mystery of Trinity Church-yard
Raymond, P. T.
Detective and mystery stories; Detectives -- Juvenile fiction; Dime novels
"I don't dispute that. By the way, how did you manage to get into the
vault that night? Through the iron door on the New Church street side?"
"Yes, that was the way."
"I thought as much. I took a good look at the place and its
surroundings before I entered. I thought I had sized it up pretty well."
"But how did you come to guess the entrance lay beneath that particular
tombstone?" asked Frank, stooping to tie his shoes. "I didn't know
myself where it was, although I knew there was some way of getting in
from above."
The detective smiled.
"If I told you all I knew," he replied, pleasantly, "why, then you'd
know as much as I do myself, and would have no further use for my
services. No, no, young man, I am working for money. Under the will
of your grandfather you are justly entitled to a large fortune, which
through your own folly and the machinations of that man Callister has
come mighty near slipping through your hands, if it has not already
done so. My work now is to help you to the recovery of this fortune.
Once you are in possession of it, I shall expect to be paid. Then ask
me for my secrets, and I may tell you; meanwhile, we will see what kind
of a breakfast my landlady has sent us up this morning, talk matters
over together, and decide what is the first step to take."
He led the way into the room immediately behind the sleeping chamber,
where a comfortable breakfast for two was already spread.
"I prefer to take my meals in private," said the detective, proceeding
to help Frank to beefsteak, rolls, coffee and eggs. "It avoids all
gossip among the boarders as to my movements and enables me to come and
go as I please without exciting comment from any one, which is just the
sort of an arrangement I need. Make yourself at home; if you don't see
what you want, ask for it. There are the morning papers for you if you
want to read."
Frank appropriated one paper, the detective taking another.
The first thing that struck the boy's eye was a full account of
the robbery of the Webster Bank and the reward offered by the bank
officials for his own arrest.
And over his mind there crept a feeling of renewed shame for the
wretched position into which he had been led by his own folly.
He inwardly resolved that once out of this scrape--once clear before
the world--that never, so long as he lived, should a drop of liquor
pass his lips again.
"The papers seem to be making quite a stir about you, don't they?" said
the detective, laying down the one he had been reading, and plying his
knife and fork. "Wouldn't there be a fine kick-up if they knew I had
you concealed here?"
"I suppose there would. I am entirely in your power, Mr. Hook. You can
handle me as you please."
"Don't say power, Frank. I don't like the word. I know you to be
innocent of any intention to rob the bank. Were it not so, I should
give you up at once."
"And claim the reward?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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