Mr. Potter, of Texas; OR, THE OLD LAG.

Auckland Star, Volume XIX, Issue 112, 12 May 1888, Page 6

Mr. Potter, of Texas; OR, THE OLD LAG.

BOOK IV. .

CHAPTER XXII. THE FLIGHT OK THE DETECTIVE. When Sampson Potter leaves his son at Chantilly and transfers himself from a firstclaes compartment to a third-class in order t o enjoy his cigar, he is nearer to despair than lie has ever been in his eventful life. The whole awful affair has come upon him so suddenly and unexpectedly that he is partially in a dazed condition. As long aa he had bis enemy, the detective, in sight, he was hopeful and alert; now, Ins opponent) having disappeared, he smokes Ins cigar in a dreary, despairing sorb ot manner, and thinks it a cursed bad one, though io isn't. From this, however, he is awakened by Snapper. The train has hardly left Chantilly before the dog makes him angry by suddenly, without any apparent cause/trying to tear the lining out of his overcoat. Ho Kays savagely : ' Hi, Snapper ! Quiet!" But Snapper won't quiet. He now makes a frantic attempt to walk off bodily with both Potter and his overcoat alono- the seat of the carriage in the direction of the other side of the compartment. To move afc all ho has to do this, for, there being a large overhanging lapel to the Texan's great warm pocket, Snapper has been buttoned in, partly for his security and partly for his comfort, as the night has been crowing chilly, and is now, cold. These silent but desperate efforts are repeated so often that Potter looks round to discover the cause, and thinks : ' Wo must have rats aboard :' But- discovering no rodents, he gives a sudden stare : for Snapper is trying to bite his way out of the pocket in a frantic and determined manner, and all the time straining his little strength to crawl toward the other side of the compartment; and an idea has suddenly flashed through Potter's brain : 'If it ain't rats, it'n his master.' The Texan is now awake and peering with his ferret eyes into the gloom of the conipartment, which is partially illuminated by an oil lamp.' " ' ■ The seat Mr Potter is on is the one next to the locomotive ;'and, as is common in all third-class carriages, runs entirely across the compartment. There is only another bench to examine, and that is the one opposite him. Upon it sit a French peasant woman of about fifty and three men'; two of them small shopkeepeis and apparently friends, as they arc talking together ; the other, a sailor by his dress, who is trying to decipher a French newspaper that-he holds quite close to his face. After looking them all over, Potter give 3 a disappointed sigh and relapses into gloomy meditation. Sergeant Brackett is not in bhe carriage. * . _' ..:■. But he has hardly time to settle himself back in his seat, when Snapper makes a more vigorous attempt, if possible," than 3ve'r to escape from the overcoat and ge.b boward .the other side of the car. ' Curse it! I wonder if he'll be quiet if I take the little cuss where he wants to go,'thinks Potter,- and transfers himself to the other snd of his bench, where he says : ' Now I reckon you'll' give us a rest, Snapper. If you don't I'll 'cuff you!' for "the dog's unaasiness annoys the Texatv in his present irritable state. But the demon of unrest seems to have entered the little beast's body: he makes a charge to cross the car. This would put him right in the lapof tho sailor., Potter instinctively looks over,-and his gaze, becomes petrified. He can't.see tho whole Df the tar's, face for the newspaper, but upon the weather-beaten forehead, though the night is cold and. chilly, he observes a great drop of perspiration slowly gather. Then Snapper gives, a frantic whine, and the perspiration falls with a'little splash up^ntlie newspaper the sailor reads. ~., And as the perspiration drops, so does Potter:; as he'sinks back in his chair, in amazed astonishment and mutters : ' Wall, I'm darned !'",'.," ' .Potter's' •■' sensations overcome him ; ; Brackett's are even more horrible. For the, sailor is the redoubtable, sergeant, who has decided to use the consummate!-arts he has read of in.great French detective stories to baffle his pursuer. _ | ... This idea came into his head while flying from the cafe chantant, and as soon as he obtained the packet from Lieutenant Potter'lie drove to a theatrical coatume.r, and there, donned the disguise of a sailor, the woman in charge kindly making his face up for the character, supposing him going to-some fancy dress ball; Retaining only "his overcoat, and leaving orders, for. his "other every-day 'garments to ; be forwarded to his address at Boulogne, the sergeant ' had: found that. he had sufficient time, and had driven bub' £6 Saint Denis to ; board thettraitn t there, considering that course safer than1' going to the main station of the railway" in" Paris. ..' Seated: in his third-class compartment, with his packet secure in his inner pocket, he had felt safe in person and in purse, for he had' 'considered Lady Annerley's 'five hundred pounds as good'as earned until he saw the remorseless Potter enter the carnage to enjoy his cigar. After that, for a few blessed moments he has been comparatively sure he would not be recognised; but from the instant Snapper has begun his extraordinary performances he has regarded himself as lost, knowing and even cursing the devoted love of his peb that'is betraying him. His nervous agony has become so acute that when Snapper actually brings Potter opposite to him, the tell-tale perspiration will show, to his undoing. ' : , • ' 'Good Lord!' thinks Bracketb, as the Texan utters his suppressed exclamation ; • I'ni gone now !' " AridWhewould.be if Potter were really sure; .Then the detective -would never pass put of that car alive with that packet in his. possession.''. . ,~: ■•' . ■ ,-," . ; .'.'.., ]'■ ■ • Bub the'arts of civilisation are not/those of barbarism, and the ojd frontiersman does riot know that' many'!'costnmer3; in 'Paris keepopen to a late hour, for the convenience of masked balls. Hemiglib even suspect the dress, but the .sailor s face seems genuine, Mr Potter nob knowing the wonderful art of facial make-up, and the extraordinary power of grease: pa.int properly applied. And he mutters to-himself; 'If I was real certain '—reasoning .that he cannot shoot a man .just: because a dog: wants to smell him, and he: determines to test the identity of'the sailor by every means in his. power. •'-' ■'<'■ '-■..' , ■■■ ■■■■■■ \ :':> '_• . First he1 tries, conversation, addressing him in JEneHsh'; but the man only;smiles at him a .blank smile. Then 'he releases Snapper from his pocket, and when that little beast, with, a cry of joy, juhips into the sailor's lap, with tail and'ears and body all' wriggling ih,ecstasy > the sailor pets the pretty'creature, fondlesit, lets it remaiivin his lap, chirps to it. and smiles ' blandly «pbn it; which amazes Potter, who had expected him,', if Brackeb'b, to' repulse it. For the"detective has'just now done, as men with small brains sometimes do, a very Smart thing. '; ' ' ; • ; Inspired by success, for he. sees that now Potter begins to' be in doubb as to his identity, the sergeant proceeds to a masterstroke. With, a forced smile, which his painted wrinkles ' make .hideous, -he suddenly places Snapper in the pocket of his overcqat that he knows the dog doesn't, like, the one with the cold handcuffs vaJ* From their chill and hard encounter Snapper recoils, whines, jumps out pecket, and looking reproach""* ai

his master, goes back to Potter >how pockets he knows are warm and cowloitr able, and have no chilling iron or steel inside thorn. .•. , * This seems to settle the matter, and the Texanmutteringtohimself: 'Greatsnakes ! fooled hagain !' relapses into his seat as the train' runs into Creil, the time from Chantilly to this place being only about fifteen minutes. ... i Creil is a great railway junction, no less than five lines coming into the station and here Brackett determines to leave the tram and try to take some roundabout route to Boulogne, anything being preferable to Potter's close proximity. This he does with considerable coolness ; for he waits till the train lias but a minute or two longer to remain before he gets up and steps out of the compartment. Now the very act of the sailors going arouses Potter's suspicion again ; besides, Snapper, missing his master's presence, is apparently anxious to be after him. All this, coupled with the fact that the iexan has noticed that the man's ticket is for Boulogne, sets the frontiersman to thinking. He gets out of the carriage also and stands waiting ;if the sailor returns to Che train he has°probably mistaken his man ; if not, he will follow him. Thirty seconds after this the train steams off into tho darkness, and Potter now hurries into tho railway refreshment xulon where he saw the sailor disappear. But half a minute is a long start, and the Texan cannot discover the sailor in the bnfet. We rushes out of the exit from the station to tho town ; no sailor. But here lie beirius suddenly to run, for Snapper, who lias somehow got out of his pocket, sees a carriage, and is Hying up one of tho deserted streets of this little French town in pursuit of it. .Ho runs silently after the dog, taking care not to overtake him, and finding no difficulty in keoping up to him ; for this old man of tho prairies is as wiry as many a college athlete. Ho is soon rewarded. Snapper, bounding along two or three minutes, overtakes a cab that is ahead of them, and jumps up and barks. Then a head is put cautiously out of the window and apparently does not see tho Texan, for a voice that makes Potter's heart bound with joy says: ' Hi, old doggy ! we'vo both run away from the beggar !' The cab door is opened, and Snapper springs into the arms of his beloved master. On this tho Texan, increasing his speed, also overtakes the hack and swings himself up alongside of the driver, to that individual's anger and fright; for he begins to cry out French oaths and to attempt to knock the Texan from the box. 'Shut up!' mutters Potter with sententious sternness, ' or you're cold clay !' But the man only screams the louder. ' You don't sabe me, Frenchy !' returns the Texan in terrible earnest. 'Perhaps ■you sabe thin ' And he claps his pistol to the forehead of the fighting Jehu. The eilcct of thorevolvor is instantaneous and tremendous. The hackman gives a shriek that would raise the Seven Sleepers, and springs over backward, fulling oil- the carriage box, while, apprdaching noises warning Mr Potter of pursuit, he whips up the horses, and goes at a terrible gait fora minute or so. Then ho suddenly pulls in tho animals panting on their haunches, springs oil'tho box, opens the cab door, and jabbing his revolver against Sergeant Braeketb's heart Says : ' That packet you got from my son—or you're dead !' All this has curdled the blood of the detective. He has heard the struggle on the box and what he supposes is the hackman's death-cry, and would'have sprung out of the carringe himself, but the fearful speed has deterred him ; thorefore he has used the time in another way. He now mutters faintly : ' You can kill' me, but I haven't got it.' 'Not got it?' screams tho Texan. 'Great Scott! my darter !' and for a moment feels sick ; for at every mishap in this whole affair Mr Potter thinks of his daughter, and it causes a weakness that no disaster to himself conlcl bring him. Just hero Sergeant Brackett astounds Mr Potter; for ho mistakes tenderness for nervousness, and says in a stronger voice : ' Samuel Potts, I arrest you in the Queen's name ! I've a warrant for you and requisition on the French Government. You'd better notresist, I hear gdndamm coming !' " 'Aye you ?' mutters the Texan, grimly. 'Show me the documents !'■ 'Here they are!' And ' Brackett hands Potter two official papers, which tho Honourable Sampson nattily examines by the light of the carriage lamp, while the sergeant proudly produces a pair of • bright handcuffs,' and arranges them for Potter's wrist 3. .'' Yes, these are O.K.!' returns the Texan, pocketing the documents.1 ' Then, Samuel Potts, you're wanted ! Hold up your hands !' ■ ' Hold up yours!' 'MyLord!' ' Hold up your hands! Now handcuff yourself, or I'll riddle ye ! Quick !' (3fy God!' ' Noback talk ! You'll be dead before you hear the click of the lock ! This gun's a'self-.cocker ! That's comfortable !' concludes Mr Potter, as Sergeant Brackett, with a smothered moan sinks back in the hack handcuffed by himself with his own handcuffs, the most thoroughly astonished and dismayed detective that ever shadowed a criminal. ' ''Now the key to these bracelets !' demands Potter. ' 'f_l' V e dropped it. I haven't got it.' ''The key, or you won't have timo'to say your prayers !' ' It's- it's in my trousers pocket.' '' ' All right, I have got it!' nuiiters Potter, living the handcuffs ari extra snap to make sure they' are well on Bi'ackett's wrists. ' And now that packet you got from my son!' . But before either of them can say more the hack is surrounded by gendarme*, beaded by the driver of the cab that Potter had so summarily dismissed from his box. 'Mr Potter remembering his son's advice, doesn't try to whip France; but' havin^'made, up his mind how to act, stands unmoved till thesergeant of the gendarmes ' comes up to him. Then he silently hands that officer the two warrants; and whilethe1 French policeman examines tliem by thelight of the coach lamp, points to the name of Sergeant Brackett in the French'extradition document, and pats his own breast. ' ' '■"} A—ali I Monsieur le Sergeant Gendarme Brackett '.'says the Frenchman, giving him a polite bow ; for he reads and understands the requisition on his Government,which is in his'language, and guesses what the warrant for' Samuel Potts, which is in English, must mean; '■■■•-■■ ; ' Old '' returns; Potter, ■ effusively, and then points' with; his .'finger' to the name "of the criminal in-the French document, indicating the handcuffed Brackett as the man." . 'A-sxhl' Le'voleur ! Samuel Pot- tes ! says the French police officer, and his men drag from the .carriage- the detective, who is trying, in very'bad French, to explain to them his identity.' ■'' ;\ .' 'Heis handcuffed—disguised,' says the. sergeant of gendevnnes, in French, after a moment's examination of. the; paint, on j Brackett's face, .that now is being made , into streaks by the perspiration of surprise, agitation, and misery. ... 1 And now,; sotriewhat to 'Potter's relief,' the hackmar, who has .bee" looking at him fsearchingl/, suddenly turns round and recognisepSrackettas the man who threatened ■toshc^t him in the dark with" his pistol, and .goesj into a frenzy at the uufortunate detecy/e calling hini ' Assassin ! Merrier! Le tiiex larron!' and other French, expletives indicative of Brackett's"supposed crimes. _So they all come along to'the -police station carrying with them their prisoner, whom they have shoved into the hack

again and who occupies his tima by sHaking his handcuffs at rotter and screanune an unintelligible mixture of *mich and English out of the window. £ne..;<»bdriver's story has made them all think the detective dangerous, and they pay no attention to his ravings. . At the police station,- despite his struggles and imprecations, they run Sergeant Brackett into a dark cell, lock him in and leove him. , , . Then Potter proceeds to grease the wheels of justice, giving the hackman a twentyfranc piece, and indicating by signs that ho is to remain with his carriage outside. Next ho sends out for lots of wine to a neighbouring caje, .and . immediately becomes popular with the French police. A man who speaks a little English is found to act as interpreter, and Potter, rewarding, him for his trouble in advance, his,story, as the man relates it to the sergeant of yehdannex, is perfectly satisfactory. Then he leads that officer away, and silently holds out a hundred-franc i.ote. 'Ah, monsieur, iCimportc !' says the sergeant of gendarmes^ with a shrug of his shoulders, but takes the money.

And now Potter eixya through tho interpreter that he's going in to search his prisoner; for all this time, though compelled to postpone action, he has had but one thought on his mind—the packet. The cell door is unlocked, and without niucb ceremony or gentleness ho examines Bruokctt from head to heel, and to his horror finds nothing. Then ho falls to begging the detective to tell him for his daughter's sake what he has done with the packet. And getting no .answer, for his manner is almost that of a crazy man, and now JlrackeU dare not tell him, he wastes no more time in throats, and goes hurriedly out to examine tho hack, having an idea that perhaps the detective may have concealed tho packet there. Malting this examination by the aid of a carriage lamp, he finds somo scraps of paper that frighten him. He hurriedly takes them into tho police office and inspects them. They are in a feminine hand, and ho turns pale- and white, and drops of agony come out upon this strong man's brow, as he mutters faintly: ' My God ! My darter !' For he knows the' lad proof of Iris innocenci in the world is destroyed ; but still thinks only of what it will birng her. Then he suddenly springs up and through the interpreter oilers great rewards for piecos of this document the criminalhas destroyed ; and they all take lanterns and go out upon the road over which the hack has passed, Potter showing them where search should be inado.

After a littlo time the French gendarmes, tho interpreter, and also the hackman who all take a hand in this business, begin to bring him scraps of paper similar to those he lias found in the carriage ; ho paying for them according to size, (ive, ton, fifteen, and even twenty francs.

These stimulating rewards make the men very eager, and they find a good many pieces, some of them quite large, for Brackett has done his work in a hurry and there has been bub littlo wind this night. So they work on for hours,-going over the same ground many times, till at last a (jendarnie briugs him a large pieco ot paper, and Potter looking at it gives a yell of joy, and hands tho man a live-pound note. For ib is tho onfc'ro ; wrapper of the packet, addressed in Lady Annerlcy's own handwriting, and has only been unfastened, having tho ribbon with which it was secured .attached to the paper; and a cunning idea has sprung up into the old Texan's mind.

After a little more searching they make up their minds they can find no more, and return to tho police station, all tho rest very happy, but Potter in an awful mood. He instantly arranges by the interpreter to transfer his prisoner to Boulogne by the oxpress train that passes through Croil early in tho morning, arriving ab its destination between nine and ten o'clock.

Then ho goes in with a white- faco to Brackett and whispers to him : ' You don't know what you've done, bub I do! You pray God all night that tin's matter turns out right, for if ib don't I'll kill you ; and I never told a man that yeb without lie was dead when I said the last word. I'll do it any way if you open your lips to a living human—till I've settled her '

With this he gag.s Brackott to make sure of his silence, and goes out and puts on his revolver again; for on visiting the detective Potter had left his pistol outside, for fear that lie would kill his enemy, which would have destroyed tho plan he had in his. mind. Then he telegraphs the lieutenant.

So, aided by the sergeant of r/endarmct, Mr Potter follows out the despatch lie had sent to his son, and arriving at Boulogne, meets the young man at the depot. Where, having got Air Brackett into a cab, they drive him to a room tho lieutenant has engaged in a little out-of-tho-way hotel on the quay, and Potter and his son have along conversation.

■ Which the father ends by saying: 'It's a desperate dodge, but I think I'll break the dale !'

(To be continued.)