"Try it," said Garrison, grinning in his face. "A charge of abduction, plus a charge even larger, may cause you more than mere annoyance.

You've been looking for trouble with me, and you're bound to have it.

Let me warn you that you are up against a number of facts that you may have overlooked--and you may hear something drop!"

"You think you've been clever, here and in Woodsite, I suppose," said Theodore, concealing both wrath and alarm. "I could drop a couple of facts on you that would fade you a little, I reckon. And this house isn't yours yet!"

"I wonder how many lessons you are going to need," answered Garrison coldly. "If you put so much as your hand inside this building, I'll have you arrested for burglary. Now, mind what I say--and get out!"

"I'll see you later, all right," said Robinson, glaring for a moment in impotent rage, and he turned and retreated from the place.

Garrison, with his mind made up to a _coup_ of distinct importance, was presently headed for his room in Forty-fourth Street. Before he left the Subway he went to a waiting-room, replaced the long mustache upon his face--the one with which he had started away in the morning--and walked the few short blocks from the station to his house.

The street was nearly deserted, but the "shadow" he had duped in the morning was on watch, still undismissed from duty by young Robinson.

Garrison went up to him quietly--and suddenly showing his gun, pulled away the false mustache.

"I'm the man you've been waiting to follow," he said. "Now, don't say a word, but come on."

"h.e.l.l!" said the man.

He shrugged his shoulders and was soon up in Garrison's room.

CHAPTER XXI

REVELATIONS

The fellow whom Garrison had taken into camp had once attempted detective work himself and failed. He was not at all a clever being, but rather a crafty, fairly reliable employee of a somewhat shady "bureau" with which young Robinson was on quite familiar terms.

He was far from being a coward. It was he who had followed Garrison to Branchville, rifled his suit-case, and been captured by the trap.

Despite the fact that his hand still bore the evidence of having tampered with Garrison's possessions, he had dared remain on the job because he felt convinced that Garrison had never really seen him and could not, therefore, pick him up.

Sullen in his helplessness, aware that his captor must at last have a very great advantage, he complied with Garrison's command to take a seat in the room, and glanced about him inquiringly.

"What do you want with me anyhow?" he said. "What's your game?"

"Mine is a surer game than yours," said Garrison, seating himself with his back to the window, and the light therefore all on his visitor's face. "I'm going to tell you first what you are up against."

The man shifted uneasily.

"You haven't got anything to hold me on," he said. "I've got my regular license to follow my trade."

"I was not aware the State was issuing licenses to burglars," said Garrison. "Come, now, with that hand of yours, what's the use of beating around the bush. If my suit-case had nipped you by the wrist instead of the fingers, I'd have captured you red-handed in the act."

The fellow thrust his hand in his pocket. His face, with two days'

growth of beard upon it, turned a trifle pale.

"I'd rather work on your side than against you," he ventured. "A man has to make a living."

"You've come around to the point rather more promptly than I expected,"

said Garrison. "For fear that you may not keep your word, when it comes to a pinch, I'll inform you I can send you up on two separate charges, and I'll do so in a wink, if you try to double-cross me in the slightest particular."

"I haven't done anything but that one job at Branchville," said the man in alarm.

"What are you givin' me now?"

"What's your name?" demanded Garrison.

"Tuttle," said the fellow, after a moment of hesitation. "Frank Tuttle."

"All right, Tuttle. You furnished Theodore Robinson with information concerning my movements and, in addition to your burglary at Branchville, you have made yourself accessory to a plot to commit a willful murder."

"I didn't! By Heaven, I didn't!" Tuttle answered. "I didn't have anything to do with that."

"With what?" asked Garrison. "You see you plunge into every trap I lay, almost before it is set."

He rose, went to his closet, never without his eye on his man, searched on the floor and brought forth the cold iron bomb. This he abruptly placed on Tuttle's knee.

Tuttle shrank in terror.

"Oh, Lord! I didn't! I didn't know they went in to do a thing like that!" he said. "I've been pretty desperate, I admit, Mr. Garrison, but I had no hand in this!"

The sweat on his forehead advertised his fear. He looked at Garrison in a stricken, ghastly manner that almost excited pity.

"But you knew that two of Robinson's a.s.sa.s.sins were to meet me in the park," said Garrison. "You procured their services--and expected to read of an accident to me in the papers the following morning."

He was risking a mere conjecture, but it went very near to the truth.

"So help me, I didn't go as far as that!" said Tuttle. "I admit I stole the letter up at Branchville, and sent it to Robinson at once. I admit I followed you back to New York and told him all I could. But I only gave him the names and addresses of the dagos, and I never knew what they had to do!"

Garrison took the bomb and placed it on his bureau.

"Very good," he said. "That makes you, as I said before, an accomplice to the crime attempted--in addition to the burglary, for which I could send you up. To square this off you'll go to work for me, and begin by supplying the names and addresses of your friends."

Tuttle was a picture of abject fear and defeat. His jaw hung down; his eyes were bulging in their sockets.

"You--you mean you'll give me a chance?" he said. "I'll do anything--anything you ask, if only you will!"

"Look here, Tuttle, your willingness to do anything has put you where you are. But I'll give you a chance, with the thorough understanding that the minute you attempt the slightest treachery you'll go up in spite of all you can do. First, we'll have the names of the dagos."

Tuttle all but broke down. He was not a hardened criminal. He had merely learned a few of the tricks by which crime may be committed, and, having failed in detective employment, had no substantial calling and was willing to attempt even questionable jobs, if the pay were found sufficient.

He supplied the names and addresses of the men who had done young Robinson's bidding in Central Park. Garrison jotted them down.

"I suppose you know that I am in the detective business myself," he added, as he finished the writing.

"I thought so, but I wasn't sure," said Tuttle.