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Merrick told Thursday Smith, in an apologetic way, how he had hired Fogerty to unravel the mystery of his former life, and how the great detective had gone to work so intelligently and skillfully that, with the aid of a sketch Hetty had once made of the pressman, and which Mr. Merrick sent on, he had been able to identify the man and unearth the disagreeable details of his history.
He never appeared to be watching his man closely, yet never for an instant did Mershone feel that he had shaken the fellow off. On this especial morning the detective was nearly a block in the rear, with the snow driving furiously into his face, when an automobile suddenly rolled up to the curb beside him and two men leaped out and pinioned Fogerty in their arms.
"Do you think you can arrange it alone, Mr. Fogerty?" asked Arthur, doubtfully. The boy seemed so very young. "Better than if I had a hundred to assist me. Why, this is an easy job, Mr. Weldon. It 'll give me a fine chance to rest up." "And you won't lose Mershone?" "Never. He's mine." "This is very important to me, sir," continued Arthur, nervously. "Yes; and to others.
Would it er be impossible for me to employ you to er look after my interests?" Fogerty was very serious. "You see, sir," he responded, "if I quit this job they may not give me another. In order to be a successful detective one must keep in the good graces of the agencies." "That's easy enough," asserted Mershone. "You may pretend to keep this job, but go home and take life easy.
So Arthur found her, and one look into his eyes assured her that all her troubles were over. They did not prosecute Charlie Mershone, after all. Fogerty pleaded for him earnestly, and Uncle John pointed out that to arrest the young man would mean to give the whole affair to the newspapers, which until now had not gleaned the slightest inkling of what had happened.
Better be cautious and wait until he had thrown the sleuths off his track. Having considered this matter thoroughly, Mershone decided to remain quiet. By eight o'clock he was breakfasting in the grill room, and Fogerty occupied a table just behind him.
I'll take a nap on that bench. Got to keep the fellow in sight, Billy." "Go into my room. There's a cot there." "Thanks, old man; I will. I'm dead tired." Then Fogerty took Arthur aside. "Go home and try to sleep," he advised. "Don't worry. The young lady's safe enough till Mershone goes to her hiding place. When he does, I'll be there, too, and I'll try to have you with me."
One afternoon, while on a stroll, he chanced to meet the bruiser who had attacked Arthur Weldon at the Waldorf, and been liberally paid by Mershone for his excellent work. He stopped the man, and glancing hastily around found that Fogerty was a block in the rear. "Listen," he said; "I want your assistance, and if you're quick and sure there is a pot of money, waiting for you." "I need it, Mr.
"No litter, no stale pipes lying about, no cursing and quarreling, no excitement whatever. The editorial room is the index to the workshop; I'll see if the mechanical department is kept as neatly." He opened the door to the back room, passed through and closed it softly behind him. Mr. Merrick made a dive for the door and followed Fogerty. "What's the verdict, Arthur?" asked Louise curiously.
The detective jumped in and gave hurried directions. "Never mind the speed limit," he said. "No one will interfere with us. I'm Fogerty." Perhaps no one not even Mrs. Merrick was so unhappy in consequence of the lamentable crime that had been committed as Diana Von Taer.
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