Dangerous Ground; or, The Rival DetectivesLynch, Lawrence L.
General
Dangerous Ground; or, The Rival Detectives
Lynch, Lawrence L.
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
"He's got your cunnin' an' mine together, and he's got all the grit you
lack."
"Well," impatiently.
"But he'll want to run us. An' when he knows all _we_ know, he'd put his
foot on us if we git in his way."
"Yes," assented the old man, with a cunning wink, "he's like his
ma--considerable."
"On account o' this here cop business," went on Mamma, ignoring the
thrust, "he'll have to be told a little about that Siebel affair. But
about the rest--not a word. We kin run the other business without his
assistance. Franzy's a fine boy, an' I'm proud of him, but 'twon't do,
as I told you afore, to give him too much power. I know the lad."
"Yes," insinuated Papa, with a dry cough, "I reckon you do."
"Ye kin see by the way he took the lead to-night, that he won't play no
second part. We'll have to tell him about Siebel--"
"An' about Nance."
"It's the same thing; an' ye'll see what he does when we give him an
idea about it."
"I know what he'll do;" with a crafty wink. "I'll tell him _all_ about
Nance."
"Yes," muttered the old woman, "ye're good at lyin', and all the
sneakin' dodges."
And she turned upon her heel, and went over to the pallet where Nance,
undisturbed by the events transpiring around her, still lay as she had
fallen in her drunken stupor.
"There's another thing," said Mamma, apparently satisfied with her
survey of the unconscious girl, and returning to Papa as she spoke.
"We've got to git out of here, of course, as soon as we've settled that
spy in there."
"We'd a-had to git out anyhow," muttered Papa, "on account of that
charity minx. Yes, we will; an' we hain't heard from _her_. You'll have
to visit her agin."
"I s'pose so. An' when I do--that cop's comin' has given me an
idea--I'll bring her to time."
"How?"
Mamma leaned toward him, and touched his shoulder with her bony
forefinger.
"Just as that cop 'ud have brought _you_ to time, if it hadn't been for
Franzy's comin'."
Over Papa's wizened face a look of startled intelligence slowly spread
itself.
"Old woman," he ejaculated, "Satan himself wouldn't a-thought of _that_!
The devil will be proud of ye, someday. But Franzy mustn't see the
gal."
"I'll manage that," said Mamma. "It's risky, but it's the only way; I'll
manage it."
They had heard no sound, although as they talked they also listened, but
while the last words yet lingered on the old woman's lips, the door
suddenly opened and Franz entered.
"There's no danger," he said, closing the door and securing it
carefully. "Ye kin breathe easy, old top; we're a good deal safer jest
now than our 'dark lantern' in there," and he nodded toward the inner
room.
"Then," put in Mamma, "while we're safe, we'd better make _him_ safe."
"Don't git in a hurry, old un; we want a better understandin' afore we
tackle his case. Come, old rook, git up here, an' let's take our
bearings."
He perched himself upon the rickety table, and Papa and Mamma drew the
stools up close and seated themselves thereon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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