CHAPTER III.
SHADOW--WHO WAS HE?
Mat Morris was grimly in earnest in his determination to find themissing Helen.
He had no clew to follow, no starting-point from which to begin hissearch, but he would not permit himself to think about it in thislight, for fear he would become discouraged.
Helen was alive--was somewhere--could be found--and must be found!
First of all, he paid a visit to police head-quarters, and describedthe man who had been seen with Helen, as the boy had described him.
From one detective to another he went, giving the description, andinquiring if any could say who tallied in appearance with it.
Among the others he came to me, but, like the others, I could not evenguess who the person might be, so meager was the description.
I asked him if he intended turning detective himself.
"I do," he firmly said; "and I shall never give up until I have foundher, and unearthed the rascal who has done this."
"Who is this 'her' you speak of?"
"A girl whom I love dearer than my life itself!" was the earnestreply--not given in a mawkish and sentimental tone, but in a manly waythat won for the speaker my good opinion.
"Perhaps I can help you," I said. "Tell me your story."
He did so, but so little did it contain that I could see no advice togive him, and told him so frankly.
"I like you for your frankness," said Mat; "but say no more or you maydiscourage me."
I asked him his name, and when he had told me what it was, I found thatI had known his father.
"I hope you may be successful--I sincerely hope so," I told him, as weshook hands at parting.
Mat Morris went his road and I went mine, and in the busy details of mylife soon forgot him.
One afternoon, a lot of us detectives were grouped together, discussingan offer of a reward of one thousand dollars for the discovery of somestolen bonds and the person who had made free with them.
The known facts of the case were in our possession, and when I sat inmy room that evening, recalling them one by one, it struck me that acertain criminal might have had a hand in the affair, for the method ofmaking the robbery was in his style.
Singular as it may seem, nearly every professional thief has amethod of working up his "jobs," and a detective very frequently canpositively say: "Such and such a person had a hand in that affair,"merely because they know the style and method of the work.
I put on my coat and hat and went out, my footsteps turned in thedirection of this person's haunts.
As I drew near to a saloon which he was accustomed to frequent, Icaught sight of the very individual, and followed him.
He passed the saloon, and going on, turned the next corner.
I hastened forward, was about to turn the corner, when a slight thingbrought me suddenly to a halt.
It was nothing more nor less than a simple shadow, cast on the walkby a gaslight. It was the shadow of a slender figure, in male attire,a cap on the head, one hand raised, while the index finger was beingshaken after somebody in the distance.
Simple as the circumstance was it impressed me, and I stood still andwaited.
My eyes wandered from the shadow for an instant, and when my eyessought the spot where it had been, it was gone.
I sprang to the corner.
The criminal whom I had been following was out of sight, and the personwho had cast that shadow was nowhere visible.
And yet I had heard no footsteps, and the time anyhow was too brief forthe person to have gone more than a dozen feet.
I was deeply puzzled.
Soon after I turned my steps toward home, for I was balked for thepresent, whatever else might be the case. I remember just beforeleaving the spot that I muttered, rather loud, perhaps:
"Where did that shadow disappear to so suddenly?"
The next day these words were recalled to my mind when a note washanded to me, and I had opened it.
"The bonds are hidden under the dock at the foot of ---- street. The person who stole them will recover them to-night. Capture him. Claim the reward; keep half, and be ready to give the other half at an instant's demand to SHADOW."
"Let the word answer as a countersign."
This note puzzled me not a little, and I hardly knew what to do inregard to it; for I did not wish to be made a fool of, as well as thelaughing-stock of the other detectives.
I finally determined to tack my faith to this unknown person who signed"Shadow," and that night took a couple of men to the spot designated,and captured the bond thief after he had taken the bonds from theirhiding-place.
I got the reward, and kept five hundred myself, reserving the otherfive hundred until it should be demanded of me, when, where, or how, Ihad not the slightest idea.
Several weeks later, after the midnight hour, I was suddenly broughtto a halt as I drew near my house, for across the walk was cast thatshadow.
I knew it must be the same one, and belonging to the same person, forthe hand was raised, and the index finger shaking.
Determined that this shadow should not disappear so suddenly andmysteriously again, I kept my eyes on it as I hastily sprang forward.
The shadow moved, and its owner suddenly stood before me--a lithefigure, in male attire, with a large-peaked cap.
I glanced keenly at the face.
It was a boyish-looking face, with eyes very deep-set, it seemed to me,and a face, besides, that lacked expression.
"Shadow!" was uttered by a low voice, evidently disguised, and then ahand was extended--for the money, as I well knew.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
"Shadow!" was the single word of reply.
"What do you want?"
"You know perfectly well. If you are villainous enough to keep it all,why, do so!" and he would have glided away.
"Hold on! Here is your share. And now, who are you?" and I bent closerto the mysterious being, and then discovered that I did not see a realface, but a closely-fitting mask, which defied all but the closestscrutiny.
"I am Shadow."
"A detective?"
"Yes. Now go--leave me alone--cease your questioning. And, as youvalue my friendship (which may be worth much to you) never speak to meagain, but act simply as I shall write. You have compelled me to breakan oath--be satisfied and go; and never cause me to break a new oath,which I now again make, or I swear solemnly that you shall regret it."
Thus spoke Shadow, and then he went swiftly away, with the mostnoiseless steps of any human being I ever saw.
I took a few steps in the same direction, but I paused when he turnedand shook that index finger at me in that peculiar way.
He was a deep mystery to me.
"Who was he?"
Disguised as a sailor just arrived in port, I shadowed a man into a lowdive some nights later.
Two professional burglars, well known to me, passed near me as Icrossed the room.
"Could that little chap have overheard anything we said?" one ratheranxiously asked of the other.
"No," was the careless reply. "I've seen him before, and know that he'sdeaf and dumb. If it hadn't been for that, I'd a told you of his beingnear us."
Thus much I heard, and then distance swallowed up the sound of theirvoices.
I glanced around in quest of the little chap alluded to, and my eyeslighted on--Shadow!
Was he playing deaf and dumb?
I got near him after a while, and managed to whisper into his ear:
"I know you now. I detected you from the way you carry your head--youare Mat Morris."
Shadow's hand was resting on the table. Without even glancing up tosee if I was looking, his index finger began forming letters on thetable--letters, of course, that were invisible.
My eyes followed the finger carefully, and I read the words:
"Fool! Your folly may cost us both our lives. I am Shadow--nothingelse. Do not seek to penetrate my disguise. G
o."
I turned away rebuked.
If he wished to conceal his identity, it certainly was none of mybusiness.
As I was turning about, a genuine tar--a regular son ofNeptune--staggered against me. He was half seas over, and I tried toavoid him.
But he grasped me by the shoulder, gave me a shake, and--
"Come along and have some grog, you son of a sea-cook!"
I tried to get away from him, and to keep up my assumed character wasfoolish enough to attempt using a sailor-like phrase.
No sooner had the tar heard my words than he bellowed out:
"Hurroo--hurroo! Shiver my timbers if ye ever smelt salt water! You'reno tar--smash my headlights if ye are! Can't play that game on me,"following his speech with a hearty guffaw.
He raised his hand to slap me on the shoulder, and his fingers caughtin and dragged off the bushy whiskers I had put on for a disguise.
All eyes had been drawn to us by the drunken sailor's words, and whenmy face was seen there was a start of alarm on all sides.
Some one recognized me.
"A detective--a detective!"
And then a hoarse and angry murmur was heard on every side, and I wasslowly hemmed in by a crowd of scowling-faced villains.