CHAPTER XXVIII.
A FRUSTRATED CRIME--THE END.
Since the startling events at the Three Oaks, terminating with thecomplete destruction of that gloomy old mansion by fire, another dayhas passed, and night has settled down upon the city of New York oncemore.
It has been an eventful day for many, no doubt; of its events for ourhero, Frank Mansfield, his mother restored to reason and the world, andhis faithful friends, the "Bats in the Wall," we have no time to speak.
Meanwhile, the virtuous Mr. Callister appeared at his office as usual,and figured prominently in several large transactions on the floor ofthe Stock Exchange.
The new clerk, Mr. Maxwell, however, did not appear at the office, norhad Detective Hook been seen by any one.
The police authorities, now thoroughly alarmed by his continuedabsence, caused a general alarm to be sent out, and during the entireday his brother detectives searched for him in all directions, but invain.
Now, upon the night of the day in question, had any one chanced tostand upon the bulkhead of the East river front at a point somewherebetween Catherine street and the Market slip, they might have observeda man of most singular appearance creep apparently out of the solidwall of the bulkhead itself, and, with evident effort, leap to the deckof a little sloop lying within arm's-length of the street line.
Once upon the deck of the sloop, he did not pause, but seizing thestring-piece of the bulkhead, drew himself to the ground above, andstanding erect, gave vent to a sigh of relief.
And no wonder.
From head to foot he was a mass of dripping mud.
"Safe--safe at last!" he muttered; "safe and free to act once more. Itstill lacks something of twelve--if my strength holds out I may make ityet. I will make it. Let Elijah Callister beware, for the day of hisreckoning at last has come."
Turning abruptly he crossed South street and disappeared in the darkshadows of the great warehouses which cluster around the East rivershore.
Who is this man who swears vengeance upon so worthy, so pious a memberof society as Mr. Elijah Callister of the Tenth Baptist Church?
His name is Caleb Hook.
His business is that of a police detective.
Reuben Tisdale was right.
Out of the whale's belly the avenger has come.
Fate had indeed willed that he should prove the Jonah of the band.
* * * * *
"Now, then, Billy, you slip up the steps and try the door. If thewatchman has not gone back on us, it ought to open at the first touch."
Before the Lispenard Bank stood three men, well disguised in greatcoats and low slouch hats, one carrying a small grip-sack in his hand.
They are Elijah Callister and the two Cutts--father and son.
It is the stock broker who speaks, and Billy Cutts, the renegadedetective, is the one who creeps up the steps of the Lispenard Bank inobedience to his command.
"Is it all right, Billy?" whispered Cutts, the elder. "We want to getoff the street as soon as we possibly can."
"All right, dad, come on."
The two men moved stealthily toward the steps of the bank.
"Squeak! squeak! squeak!"
Behind them a low, bat-like cry went up for one instant only, and thenall was still.
"What the deuce was that?" whispered Callister, drawing back in alarm.
For the space of a minute all three stood motionless, Billy Cutts atthe top of the steps, Callister and Cutts the elder at the foot.
The street was utterly deserted.
Nor was this strange.
Lower New York is always deserted at night, and the hour of twelve hadalready passed.
Before them rose the grim stone walls of the Custom House on Williamstreet--that upon which the Lispenard bank is situated--from Wall toBeaver, as far as the eye could reach, not a living thing could be seen.
"Come on; it's only a blasted bat!" whispered Billy Cutts, from the topof the steps. "We have no time to fool away, I tell you. First thing weknow a cop will be along. The goose is ready for the plucking, and wewant to be about it. It's blame strange Rube didn't show up!"
"Oh, never mind him!" answered Callister, hastily. "Probably he's offon some other lay. Open the door, Billy, and we are with you. We mustand shall put this job through successfully. There's enough in thatvault to make us all independent for life!"
"Go on--go on, you make too much talk," whispered Sam Cutts, leadingthe way up the steps. "Lead on there, Billy, if the door is open. We'venothing to fear."
Billy Cutts opened the door softly without reply.
Followed by his companions, he entered the bank.
"Hey, Mike!" he whispered, hoarsely.
It was the bank watchman he called who, faithless to his trust, hadbeen bribed to assist them in their work.
There was no reply.
Within the bank all was dark; by the feeble rays of the street lampwithout the outlines of the desks could be just discerned.
"Hey, Mike! Mike!" whispered Billy Cutts again, stealthily advancing.
The words had scarcely left his lips, than through the interior of theLispenard Bank there shot out a blaze of light.
"Throw up your hands, there!" cried a stern voice before them. "Up withthem, or you are dead men!"
With a low cry, Elijah Callister sprang toward the door.
Before them, in the full blaze of the lighted gas, stood FrankMansfield and five policemen at his side, with glittering revolvers intheir outstretched hands, aimed directly at the burglars' heads.
"Halt, there!"
Behind them, entering by the door through which Callister had turned toflee, a second posse of police was seen, headed by the pale determinedfigure of Detective Hook, while following close behind were threeragged street boys, easily recognized as our old friends Barney, thebootblack, Sandy and Garibaldi the Bats in the Wall.
"Those are your men, officers!" cried Frank, in clear, ringing tones."That's Callister--the tall one by the door--that's the head of thegang who robbed the Webster bank, and sought to throw the crime on me!"
* * * * *
Morning dawned upon the city of New York with clearer skies so far asFrank Mansfield was concerned, than he had known for months.
The end had come.
The mystery of the robbery of the Webster bank was a mystery no more.
The rising sun found the virtuous Mr. Callister and the two Cuttssnugly ensconced in the Tombs.
Before a force so overwhelming they had not even tried to resist.
And then the whole thing came out, and the newspapers rang with it nextday.
It appeared that the first information of the intended robbery of theLispenard bank had been given by Frank Mansfield, who walked boldlyinto the office of the Chief of Police, told his whole story and placedthe plans found in the coat of Callister in his hands.
It was upon information thus received that the police secretedthemselves in the bank after nightfall, stationing the "Bats" to watchoutside and sound the alarm of the approach of the burglars by theirusual cry.
The arrival of Detective Hook had been an entirely independent affair.
Reviving at last from his swoon, this brave officer had escaped by thesecret passage--an old sewer beneath the Donegal Shades, used doubtlessby the scoundrels who frequented that den for the conveyance of stolengoods--as we have seen, and hurrying to the Oak street station hadmade his story known, and started with a number of policemen for theLispenard bank.
Of their timely arrival we are already informed.
That the arrest of Callister made a tremendous stir in financialcircles need not be told.
But Frank Mansfield stands to-day rich, happy and prosperous, his namejustified before the world.
The officers of the Webster bank now understand his innocence, andwould be only too glad to receive him again into their employ.
But Frank has no need for further toil.
From
beneath the ruins of the Three Oaks there came forth a goldentreasure which has placed him beyond all fear of want.
For a round half million will do that and leave some to spare, even inthese expensive days, and such proved to be the value of the gold andgems buried by that strange old man, Jeremiah Mansfield, in the cellarof the great house where for so many years he dwelt alone.
During the search which took place at the ruins, both Detective Hookand Frank's new-found cousin, Jerry Buck, whose true name proved to beDupont Tisdale, assisted.
By Jerry the presence of Mrs. Mansfield at the Three Oaks was madeperfectly plain.
Familiar with the house and its secret passages for years, she had,assisted by the boy, played the ghost most successfully, gliding inand out of the chamber of its former owner by means of a secret panelset in the wall, while the light--nothing more than the usual stagefire--was used to add effect to the scene at the suggestion of Jerryhimself.
They found the iron chest without difficulty, and the will having beenplaced in the hands of the Surrogate of New York County, its contentswere turned over to that official to be dealt with according to the law.
By the confession of Tisdale, all stain being removed from the name ofour hero, in due time he came into his own.
And these two important points being settled, nothing remains but todispose of the principal actors in this strange but true narrative ofevents growing out of the robbery of the Webster bank.
The body of Reuben Tisdale was recovered from the sub-cellar beneaththe Donegal Shades upon the morning of the burglars' arrest.
In some unexplained manner, P. Slattery had got wind of the affair, anddeserting his saloon, has never since been seen.
In due time, Elijah Callister, exposed in his true colors before theworld, paid the penalty of his many crimes upon the scaffold in theyard of the Tombs, which event occurring as it did only a few monthssince, after a long and much talked of trial, must still be fresh inthe minds of all who read this tale.
The Cutts, father and son, were sentenced to Sing Sing on the testimonyof Caleb Hook, for a term of years.
Between the detective and Mr. Billy Cutts this most effectually squaredaccounts.
For his services, so kindly and faithfully rendered, as may be wellbelieved, Frank Mansfield saw this brave member of the New Yorkdetective force fully repaid.
Indeed, it is rumored that so liberal was this compensation, that thereis no actual need for Caleb Hook to continue on the force.
The papers given by Mrs. Mansfield to the detective in the room inCherry street proved to be simply a desultory description of thehistory of that unfortunate woman's past life.
Before his final resignation of the case he turned them over toFrank, who having revised them in the light of later disclosures,gave them to the press, thereby clearing the name of his dead fatherfrom all stain, Tisdale's confession rendering it absolutely certainthat the funds placed in the hands of that unfortunate gentleman forsafe-keeping had been stolen by Callister and himself.
The watchman of the Lispenard Bank, and Flaherty, the "crooked"policeman on the beat covering the Webster Bank, were tried togetherfor aiding and abetting the gang of burglars.
Against Mike, the watchman, the evidence was conclusive, and he wassent to Sing Sing to keep company with his friend Detective Cutts, butFlaherty escaped for want of evidence, although he was dismissed fromthe police force in disgrace.
Jim Morrow and Ed Wilson, Frank's fast companions, who assisted BillyCutts to betray him, we presume remain still in California--at allevents we have heard nothing of them since.
Nor is this to be regretted.
Frank plays poker no more, and has no use for any of their sort.
In an elegant mansion on one of the avenues, Frank Mansfield lives withhis mother, whose reason is now fully restored.
With them dwells a young lady who seldom appears in public, and dressesin the deepest black.
It is Miss Edna Callister, who, while admitting the justice of herfather's punishment, still deplores his fate.
Time, which cures all things, has, however, already done its workfor her, and it is commonly rumored that at the expiration of theprescribed year of mourning, her marriage with our hero will be dulyannounced.
With them also dwells Jerry Buck, who is now attending school, andendeavoring to make up by hard study for the time lost during the yearsspent as a waif in New York's streets.
The old vault beneath the grave-yard of Trinity Church is desertednow--restored to its original use, a burial place of the dead.
After the newspaper disclosures the boys could not return there, ofcourse, and Frank, mindful of his promise, not only rewarded Barney,the bootblack, Sandy and Garibaldi by a substantial gift from his newlyacquired wealth, but provided for all the boys a comfortable home.
"For the result of these strange events," as he remarked to us theother day, when we visited him at his elegant home for additionalparticulars to be incorporated in this tale, "might have proved tobe a very different affair had it not been for the timely assistanceafforded my mother and myself by those kind-hearted street boys, the'BATS IN THE WALL.'"
[THE END.]