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The Dock Rats of New York; or, The Smuggler Band’s Last Stand
Chapter 28
Harlan Page Halsey
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       _ CHAPTER XXVIII
       "I will be silent," the man answered.
       "I reckon you will, my friend."
       As our readers will remember, the detective had arranged to carry out a certain plan before he pounced upon the doctor. Our hero had the knack of making little necessary articles, and he had prepared a gag, which he inserted in the man's mouth after having first bound the fellow's hands under him. After inserting the gag, the detective released the man's hands temporarily, until he had removed the prisoner's outer and upper clothing, when a second time he bound him.
       Indeed, our readers have already detected the officer's plan. He had determined to assume the man's clothes, personate him, and risk the chances of an escape. It was a perilous undertaking, but the officer had been taking perilous chances all along.
       The change was made, and our detective fancied he had succeeded in making a most excellent "make up" in his "transform," and when all ready he moved toward the door.
       He had reached a part where the real peril commenced; but, with his hand on the butt of a cocked revolver, he ascended to the upper room. The apartment was deserted.
       "So far, so good," muttered the bold man, and he peeped out of the door.
       Again fortune favored him.
       Two men were stretched out under the bluff asleep, and two more were down close to the shore.
       "Now or never!" muttered Vance, and he stepped forth.
       Had the men on the shore been close enough they might have discovered that something was wrong; but, at the distance, as they glanced at the detective, they evidently mistook him for Arbella.
       The detective did not attempt to slink away--he was too cool and ready-witted. He calmly lit a pipe and wandered around, seemingly in a listless manner; but, at the proper moment, he moved away from the beach and soon disappeared behind some bushes.
       "Well done!" was the glad exclamation that fell from his lips.
       Once beyond sight he moved along rapidly, and made for the point where he and Taylor had landed the previous night.
       Vance reached the spot in safety and stood a moment on the bluff looking for the boat, when he saw a man rowing directly across the bay.
       "I hope that fellow lands here," was the detective's muttered exclamation.
       The boat Taylor had left for him was gone, and he had made up his mind to appropriate the boat of the rower, in case a chance offered.
       He sat intently watching the boat as it came nearer and nearer, and at length a thrill shot through his heart. The danger was passed. He recognized the oarsman--Taylor was in the boat.
       The latter rowed straight to the beach and glanced around in a cautious manner, when the detective moved down and hailed him, in a low tone.
       Taylor did not recognize the detective at the first glance, and settled down to his oars as though intending to pull off, when our hero called him by name, and an instant later a full recognition had taken place.
       "Well;" exclaimed Taylor, "you are safe!"
       "Yes, I am safe."
       "What have you discovered?"
       "The whole business."
       "And you have not been detected?"
       "Oh, yes, I was fallen on several times, but I managed to creep out of a hot spot each time; but come, we have no time to spare."
       "You are a fortunate man."
       "I shall count in myself a fortunate man if I reach the other side of the bay without accident."
       "We will go across easy enough; but do you know the 'Nancy' is at her old anchorage?"
       "Where she lay last night?"
       "Yes."
       Taylor was a good oarsman, and in less than an hour the detective was on the mainland.
       "Have you any friends around here?" he asked.
       "Yes."
       "Honest people?"
       "Yes."
       "Take me to their house."
       "Do you wish to find a hiding place?"
       "No; I've other plans than seeking to hide just now."
       Taylor led the detective to a friend's house; on the way our hero had partially explained his plans, and had related all the wonderful adventures that had befallen him during the past night.
       "You have taken long chances."
       "I am used to taking long chances, and I've often done so and gained nothing, but last night's work pays me for all the risk, and, my good friend, you will come in for a nice bit of money."
       The two men reached the home of Taylor's friend, and the detective set to work and went through the operation of a deliberate transform. With the assistance of Taylor's friend he secured a complete outfit, and wrought such a marvelous change in his appearance that Taylor and his friend could hardly convince themselves that the man who came forth from the best bedroom was the same man who had entered it a few moments previously.
       "You are an extraordinary man," exclaimed Taylor.
       "It's all a matter of business, my friend."
       "I can well see now why it is you are so willing to take long chances as you call them."
       "Well, yes, I've had some experience; but now, friend Taylor, it is not necessary to request you to keep silent concerning my movements, but I want you to watch the movements of the 'Nancy.'"
       "She will probably sail away to-day."
       "Does she usually go away the day following her night-visit to the coast?"
       "Usually, yes."
       "She will not sail away to-day, and I want you to watch her and watch any of her crew that may come ashore."
       "I am afraid you will get me in trouble before this affair is ended."
       "This affair will be ended to-night."
       The detective gave Taylor a few instructions and then proceeded to the depot.
       Spencer Vance, as he appeared at the little frame station, was as perfect a specimen of a countryman as ever took train from the rural districts for New York.
       Ike Denman was at the station. The master of the "Nancy" had also wrought a great change in his personal appearance. He looked little like the man who had stood on the beach across the bay a few hours previously.
       It was half an hour previous to the starting of the train when the detective reached the depot, and as he stood around with his hands in his pockets, the master of the "Nancy" several times passed within a few feet of him.
       Little did the smuggler captain dream, as he ran his eyes over the rustic-looking passenger, that under that clownish hat was the busy brain that had trailed him and his crew down to such a fine point.
       The detective, meantime, was happy, and at the moment little dreamed of the terrible tragedy that had occurred, and which, strangely enough, but awaited his unraveling.
       The half hour glided by, and at length the smuggler captain and the detective boarded the train. _