"Come, come!" and he was given a cuff alongside of his head. "Come, give us an answer, or I'll 'liven you up with something heavier than my hand."
While looking wonderingly and inquiringly at them Shadow pointed first to his mouth and then to his ear.
One of them held a revolver close to the back of his head, unseen by him, and then cocked the weapon, thinking that at the click Shadow would certainly give a start if he was not really deaf.
Not a muscle of face or body could be seen to even twitch.
"It's straight, I guess," said this fellow, as he let down the hammer of the weapon and returned it to his pocket.
They now repeated the question by writing it on a sheet of paper.
Shadow looked at it, his face brightened, and seizing the pencil, he scribbled the reply:
"I knew him for a detective! I thought you'd rush in on him in the dark and slug him!"
The villains looked at each other. There was reason in it. Darkness might easily have proved an aid to them, although, as it chanced, it had really opened the way for the detective's escape.
Then they scrutinized Shadow closely, and tried to intimidate him by saying they did not believe it. But when they wrote this on paper, Shadow only shrugged his shoulders on reading it.
Then they discussed the advisability of letting him go or putting him out of the way.
"There's no good in killing him, as I can see," one said finally. "It might easily be a bad thing, for there's no tellin' who may show up here afore the body could be got rid of," and in this view all at last concurred.
Shadow was led to the door and pointed out. He hastily gained the street—and disappeared.
CHAPTER V. HELEN DILT.
There are thousands of people in New York, to whom some portions of the metropolis are as much of a mystery as Paris, or Bagdad, or Calcutta, or Cairo in Egypt.
This may seem like a singular statement, yet it is a perfectly true one.
Along the East River front of the city many sights are to be seen, which could not but be as surprising as interesting to those to whom this section of the city is a sealed book.
Here junk-shops flourish in all their glory, side by side with old iron and old chain shops.
Groggeries of the lowest kind abound, and here is the lair of the river-pirate.
Sometimes blocks occur on which not a single building is to be found, save small offices in connection with iron or lumber yards.
At night no section of New York is more lonesome, or more inviting to the performance of deeds of darkness.
Just opposite a tumble-down pier, not far from Grand street ferry, stood, and still stands, a little shanty, built in the rudest manner, only one story in height.
Into this shanty we wish to convey the reader, at least in imagination.
There are but three rooms in the shanty, the front one being about half of the entire floor, and two smaller rooms, answering as bedrooms, took up the other half.
In the outer or larger room an old acquaintance—McGinnis—may be seen, seated at a deal table, before him a half-emptied soda-bottle and a glass. The bottle, however, did not contain soda, but what may well be termed "liquid fire."
"Well, that was a good job," McGinnis was saying to his wife, who was bustling around to get him something to eat. "A bully good job, and no mistake. I don't know as I ever had one before that paid so well for so little trouble."
"That Brown is a foine, liberal gintleman, I'm a-thinkin'," remarked Mrs. McGinnis, as she turned the slice of ham in the frying-pan.
"He doesn't throw any money away, ye can depind on that," McGinnis abruptly rejoined. "Whin he pays me that sum of money jist to capture the girl, yez can jist bet your life he's a-goin' to make more money by the operation than he gives me."
"Ah, McGinnis, you're a sharp one, that's what ye are," said his wife, admiringly. "Now, shure, I'd never a-thought of the likes of that. It's an alderman ye'd ought to be, instead of what ye are."
"Whist!" interrupted McGinnis, bringing her to a halt. "Niver mind mentioning me occupation. Walls sometimes have ears, so they do. But, I say, be lively, old woman, for the boss is a-comin' to-night to have a look at the gal."
The ham had been discussed, and McGinnis had just lighted his pipe, when a low knock came at the door.
"That's him!" exclaimed McGinnis, as he started for the door. "He's on time, jist."
Surely enough, it was the highly respectable-looking lawyer, who had asked Helen if he had not seen her somewhere before, and also what her name was.
As the door was opened, he glided in swiftly, and himself hastily closed the door, and stood by until it was secured.
"Well," said he, as he advanced into the center of the apartment, rubbing his hands, "well, you were successful?"
"That I was!" with a hoarse laugh.
"This is your wife?"
"It is, sor."
"She can be depended on?"
"Every bit as much as meself, sor. No fear of her—not a bit."
"And the girl?"
"Is below," was the reply, as McGinnis pointed downward, to signify that Helen was somewhere beneath the floor.
"Good! Excellent!" and the rascally lawyer laughed quietly.
"Would ye be after wantin' to see her?" McGinnis now inquired.
"Yes."
At a sign from her lord and master, Mrs. McGinnis lighted a candle, then took a look at the two small windows to see that the curtains were closely drawn, and then handing the lighted candle to McGinnis, she bent and raised a trap-door.
This disclosed a dark-looking hole, up from which came a rush of damp, cold air, which almost chilled the marrow in the lawyer's bones.
But he must descend, if he wished to see the girl, for it would hardly be safe to bring her up.
An idea that flashed across his brain just as he was about to descend caused him to suddenly pause and bend a keen gaze on the rascally pair.
The life of McGinnis was in his hands.
Suppose the villain should take this opportunity of putting it forever out of his power to again threaten him?
It was a startling reflection.
Brown had come there secretly; nobody knew of where he was going, nobody had seen him enter this shanty—facts concerning which McGinnis was as well posted as himself.
But in the faces of man and wife no sign of treachery was to be seen.
He could trust them.
"There is no danger," Brown mentally said. "They will not kill the goose that lays the golden eggs—they are too avaricious for that."
He judged them rightly.
Brown descended into the sort of half-cellar beneath the house, of so little depth that it was necessary to bend the head to move about.
"Careful, sor," said McGinnis, who was ahead. "Bad cess to it——"
Splash!
"There ye go!" McGinnis went on; "I forgot that the tide is up, and that the hole was filled with water."
"Deuce take it!" growled Brown. "I'm wet up to my knees. Does the water rise in here with the tide?"