JOHN LYON, DETECTIVE.

King Country Chronicle, Volume V, Issue 383, 2 August 1911, Page 2

JOHN LYON, DETECTIVE.

i'Copyright.^

Being a Strange Chronicle from the Note-hook of John Lyon, Elucidator, Known as the " Lion of the Law."

By the Author of " The Castle Mystery," etc, etc.

PART 3. CHAPTER IV,

A GLEAM OF FIRE IN THE NIGHT.

It was late that afternoon that three people sat in a small room in a lodging house on the outskirts oi Tipton. The house was a small one. but neatly kept, and the district in which it stood somewhat less doleful and grimy that any other part

of that dreary town. It was Lesage's lodging and he was acting host to John Lyon and Sambo.

The negro boy wore a distinctly ragged appearance. His clothes were old and torn, and his trousers hopelessly frayed at the bottoms. He looked brimming over with information, as if he had been holding back s"ome great secret for a lone time, and that the time had come either for him to speak or explode. " Now, Sambo," said Lyon, "we are quite ready, You followed the man ?"

" Yes, sah !" " And you found out where he lived ?"

" No, sah. Him set off right away to an eating-house an' hab tea, den he walkee about, den he go to de railway station, an' me tink dat him go off by train. Him go on to de platform, an' dis chile foller him." " Quite right."

"So dis chile thought. Anyhows. on de platform him meet another man, big man, voice like a trirntrombonee. Dey talkee low, live no want no one to heah, but me heah eberyting. Big man speak first." " ' Any good ?' him say. " 'No good," says de oder. Him look at de bottles oil an' say ' Poor very poor,' takes de price, an den ses somefink about buys in Lunnon. " Den de big man says, ' You tink I'se tight ?' ' Yes,' says de oder man, ' you'm right, he am John Lyon, de detective.' "Den the big man say 'Dat settle him. We finish de job to-night. You come 8 o'clock to de office entrance, an' we go settle de hash ob prisoner one way or de oder. He mus' tell us de way to read de notes or die.' " Lyon became interested. " When did he say ?" " Eight o'clock, massah," replied the negro. Lyon looked at his watch. "We have an hour," he said. " Lesage, we must get into the foundry before an hour is over." Lesage laughed. " That's easy talking," he said. " I daresay as you walked boldly in this morning that you regard that as an easy task. I've been inspecting the place from outside. Why, it has a wall like a prison." " The gates and doors," said Lyon.

" Have you seen them ? Why there will be positively no chance that way." " You forget," said Lyon. " I did have a second talk with Mr. Quarles. He had the foresight to see that 1 might want to enter by night, and he gave me these keys. The small one opens a little door in the wall near his residence. It was his- private way of entering." " And the large one ?" " That is the key of ' The Rotunda,' as he calls it—the circular shed where his secret experiments were made ; the places from which the plans were stolen. But we have no time to waste. By eight o'clock we must be inside that factory."

It took a good half-hour for Lyon ind his assistant Lesage to get across the town to the private entrance of which the detective had the key.

In his second conversation with the iron founder—for Lyon had returned for a later visit to the Hotel Cecil—he had been furnished with a simple but excellent plan of the ironworks, and the iron-founder had given him the key of a private entrance, and full directions where the entrance could be found.

It was in a quiet lane—a little doorway out of the huge wall that skirted the great works. Lyon had the key in the locki in a trice, and turned it ; the bolt of the lock shot back, the handle was turned, and the door was pushed forward. It yielded an inch or two and then jammed against some heavy obstruction. In a minute or two the twe men discovered the truth—the pathway had been closed up with tons of waste iron.

There was no hope of gaining an entrance that way. So much was clear. It needed but a moment oi two for them to arrive at this conclusion. What was to be done ?

Probably their action was as wise as any. They set off there and then to perambulate the walls.

Messrs. Mark Quarles and Co's works covered an enormous area. It is' true that only a small portion was fenced in by that gigantic wall, that here and there on every side of them lay sheds and workshops now closed for the night, or huge piles of coal and metal under the care of a night watchman.

But the main part of the works was closed —the path they wanted tc get into, the part in which they knew or rather feared, a tragedy was taking place. They must get in ! But though, they trudged along

wearily, everywhere, tlie wall was impossible, and where it was pierced by a gate it' was bolted and padlocked.

On. on they trudged, filled with the hope that somewhere they would find an entrance for which they had been seeking. Suddenly a clock near at hand began to strike.

" Eight o'clock," said Lyon. At the same moment Lesagc gave vent to an exclamation. " Look there !" he cried.

And John Lyon looked. In. 'e the wall there appeared to be a huge rubbish heap, as if the refuse from the furnaces and the useless clinkers had been thrown carelessly upon a piece of waste ground. This had apparently grown in height till it overtopped the wall, and, whether by carelessness or design, a large part of the rubbish had been allowed to slip down and outward over the wall and form a little hill upon the outer wall.

To mount this and climb a fewfeet to the top of the wall, and thence upward to the crown of the heap w r as only the work of a fewminutes, and only a few more were occupied in clambering down the slippery and shifting slope to the ground level. It was trying work, however. Some of the clinkers had evidently only recently been placed upon the heap, and they retained their heat. Lesage slipped in descending, and burnt his hand rather badly in saving himself. " Now !" ■ said Lyon, " which way ?" " Hallo !" broke in Lesage : "look at that glow."

" A fire somewhere," returned Lyon. " A foundry fire," returned Lesage. " They are getting ready for a lasting. At this hour, too, I know there is no overtime, because I've been well posted. I wonder what it means."

" We'll go and see," said Lyon

Guided by the blaze that shot up to the heavens from one of the huge chimneys near at hand the two set off. There was a row of sheds to be avoided. A turning or two in the larkness, and, then, suddenly, they stood in the great square where Lyon had seen the casting operations in the morning. But with one exception all the furnaces in the square were cold and black.

" It's there," cried Lesage, pointing to a doorway through which a light was streaming. " Bother my hand, how it does burn !" Cautiously they made their way tc the door of the shed. They reached it.

Thej looked in. And they saw a sight which would have filled the stoutest heart with aorror !

CHAPTER V. THE STEAM HAMMER

They were standing at the doorway of a large workshop around the side? of which were machines of apparent strength and complexity. At one side was a huge furnace with a great crane in front of it. used probably for lifting great bars of metal and holding them in position in the fire to be made hot enough for working. Right in the centre of the shed oi workshop arose a huge contrivance, not unlike the figure A in appearance—a machine that both Lyon and Lesage recognised as a steam hammer. And it was upon this that the attention of the onlookers became centred.

In front of the hammer, with theii backs to the detectives, were foui men, one of whom was standing neai to one of the uprights of the hammer, his hand upon a lever. But the tragedy of the whole cir3umstance, the vital fact that, struck the eyes of the two men at the door, and made even their stout hearts stand still for a moment, was this—that between the great hammer head, and the ponderous steel hammering slab was lying the head of a man. They could not easily see his body, but they knew- it must be bound upon some temporary erection, sc placed that his head came right under that awful weight. Very dimly in the artificial light of the electric lamps and the glow of the furnace could the onlookers make out the lines of the man's face.

They saw that he was young and Handsome, and they recognised the fact that he had that strange conformation in his features that unites an iron will to a lofty purpose. For a moment they stood there, breathless, and fearful of making any sound that might precipitate a disaster, knowing well that the man with his hand upon the lever had but tc move a finger and the grim tragedy would be complete. To have stirred would only have been danger tc themselves and almost certain death to the captive. But the tense silence was quickly broken. One of the men with his back towards them spoke. " Arthur, Bookmonger," he began.

The opening words revealed two facts to John Lyon—one that the prisoner was none other than the missing private secretary and the other that the speaker was the guide of his morning journey of inspection Walter Bantry, sub-manager of the firm.

But L} on wasted no time on his discovery, which, after all, was only the confirmation of a carefully con sidered opinion, for he wanted ft j hear all the words that were spo'xen | hoping that he might catch in then- ] some suggestion that would help liin: | to make one bold, decisive attempi j to save the young,man's life. j " Arthur Bookmonger," said Ban try, " we have tried everything witl ; you, but have failed. I am a merci J ful-hearted man, but there is an em ; of mercy, and we have reached thai i end. I have offered you a fifth-par 1

of our plunder ana yon have refuser it. T have reluctantly allowed then to torture, you, and you have held out against it. Now I am giving you a last chance. Will yon. or wil' you not, translate the cryptogram?"' " Never," said the young man mildly. It was spoken with unmistakable firmness, but. the voice showed physical weakness and exhaustion, as r Che speaker had undergone privation and suffering. "Arthur Bookmonger," went or Bantry relentlessly, " listen to me. When I last spoke to you on this subject. I thought we had time tc wait till you should be willing t< meet our wishes. But time is inlonger with ns. The whole questior must be settled at once. I\ir. Quarles has deceived us and is alive and weli though his doom is sealed ; and, .vorse than that. John Lyon, ihe detective lias taken up the case."

He paused apnin and Lyon svuv (lint lPon the face of the prisoner—held in .ts strained ami trying position : though it was—there came a gleam Df hope. Bantry saw it too for he continued: ' " Hence yon will understand why ive have no time t.n waste. We have ivasted days now we can deal onh I n minutes." i Lyon saw a sudden look of inielli- | shoot across the captor's face, i Bound as he was in some uncomfort- j able position that kept the side of his head close to the hammering slab \ he yet had the boldness to look at lis foes. But he had done more than that : He had looked beyond them, and i seen the two dim figures in the door- i

,vay. As their eyes met, Lyon projected j his face slightly forward into the ; better light to signal to his captive. " Now," cried Bantry. " you know ; ivhere you are. You know that, one !;ouch upon that lever and it is all \ jp with Arthur Bookmonger. Here ! is the paper that, we found." I " Stole !" interrupted the young ; man, boldly. "Stole!" admitted Bantry. "li stand corrected. Anyhow, here is the paper. We cannot read it. but we ; snow it contains your secret. Give j us the key and you are a free man." \ "I do not purchase freedom on j pour terms," replied Bookmonger. ! Bantry shrugged his shoulders im- | patiently. ! " Don't be a fool," he cried angri j ly. " I tell you we are not going to i 3C played with. I know thai there is some way of reading anything that mortal man lias written, and in London there are specialists who for a | fee would give me a translation of i this paper. But I don't want to j bring all creation, into it. Now, wil' ; you read it ?" " Never ! " j " Very well. I will ask you once again. If you refuse down curies the hammer. You will be finished with, i Mr. Quarles is practically a dead man. We can take oar time. Now 1 ; shall ask you the finest ion again and count six. On the moment 1 reach ' six Olanch will touch the lever." i There. w - as a deadly silence. " Arthur Bookmonger, will you i translate this paper? One I" j " Never !" j Lyon leaned forward and signalled j the young man. j " Two !" ; Their eyes met. Lyon lifted Hi? I hands and spelt out in dumb alphabet ■ LYO N. and touched his breast. j " Three !" came the relentless i counting. e Lyon spelt on —A G II E E. j " Four ! Your sands are runnim: j

:>ut. M ! There was no reply. Lyon nodded j tiis head violently. Chinch had liftI ed his hand to the lever. I " Five. ! Oriiy a second more," ! :ried Bantry. At that moment the eyes of Bookmonger and Lyon met again." " Stop !" cried the young man. " Unbinel me. 1 am at your service." ft was a tremendous relief. Not one of all the onlookers but seemed to feel it." " You accept our terms ?" asked Bantry. " No," replied Bookmonger. " T shall want a third of the profit." It was unexpected. Bantry stepped forward. " So it's money you were after all the time, you sneak." he cried. " Every man must do the best for himself." " Even at the risk you ran ?" "That's my business," replied Bookmonger. " Let me get up out of this, and then we'll talk. 1 want a third." "I shan't give it," said Bantry, " And I won't take less." And then began a remarkable dispute, an argument which formally i resulted in the conspirators agreeing j to give Bookmonger a quarter of the profits.

But he would have it in writing. There was nothing for it. He wa:< unbound, and the whole party waited in patience while Bantry began to scribble some writing in his pocketbook.

It was the chance for which Lyon had been waiting. Bookmonger need ed bat a glance from the detective. and with, a sudden movement, he seised a bar of iron and struck the man nearest him a blow that; felled him to the earth. At the same instant Lyon and Lesage sprang forward, revolvers in hand.

" Surrender," cried Lyon. " Come on, men ; the wrinTe gang is in here. Ha ! my fine fellows, you are captured. Surrender, or I fire !" He was covering Banf.n and Chinch with his revolvers, while Lesage was taking a good aim at. the third man--

the man he recognised as having acted eavesdropper at his hotel. " Surrender !" cried Lyon. " Tt's all right, meir ; .we've got the whole gang." (To be Continued..)