It was an unusual request made by Burke.  
It was a strange thing for the detectives to sit at the same table in a friendly way with three men whom they meant to hang, if possible.
 
But life is full of anomalies.
 
And detectives certainly meet with queer experiences. This was one of them beyond a doubt.
 
The Bradys quietly seated themselves at the table.
 
Burke called for beer.
 
But Old King Brady said:
 
“Don’t order any for us.”
 
“You won’t drink?”
 
“No.”
 
“Ah, that’s odd!” said Burke, with bad grace. “Mebbe it would be to yer interest to.”
 
“We do not drink anyway,” replied the old detective. “Not with anybody except when absolutely necessary.”
 
“Well, all right. Now let’s get to the point. What be ye shadowing us fer?”
 
“I have told you once,” replied Old King Brady, quietly.
 
“Humph!” exclaimed Collins. “Do ye think we had anything to do with killing that gal?”
 
“Yes, I am sure you did.”
 
The trio exchanged glances.
 
Martin Van contorted his ugly face frightfully and said:
 
“So ye mean to haul us in, do ye? That’s your game?”
 
“That is just it,” replied Old King Brady. “I know that you are the hired tools of Napoleon Blood!”
 
“Ugh!” said Collins, in a gritty voice. “Whoever runs up ag’in’ the trio has a hard time.”
 
“Lots of ’em have tried it.”
 
“And they’ve paid fer it,” said Burke.
 
“It’s a fair warnin’.”
 
Old King Brady laughed.
 
“You are talking to the wrong man,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do or say will scare me. I mean to put you fellows in the electric chair.”
 
“Well,” said Burke, darkly, “that’s a declaration of war.”
 
“That is my duty!”
 
For a few moments there was silence. Then Burke said:
 
“Yes, it is!”
 
“An’ you make war on us?”
 
“Ye don’t know what ye’re doin’. No man ever run up ag’in’ us that didn’t get the worst of it. Nuthin’ kin save ye if we git after ye. Don’t fergit that. Ye’ll have a hot race fer life!”
 
“All right,” said the old detective, rising, “you understand me, and I understand you.”
 
“You are satisfied to let it go at that?” asked Collins.
 
“Yes.”
 
“Very well. You will know what it is to fight the Tough Trio!”
 
“And you will soon find yourselves in the meshes of the law,” retorted Harry. “Remember that escape is impossible. You are not for a moment lost sight of and whatever comes you are always within our reach!”
 
The villains laughed scornfully.
 
“Save your threats,” said Van.
 
“Make your peace with God!” advised Burke, coolly.
 
“You say you will hound us,” said Collins. “Why don’t you arrest us now?”
 
“Yes,” echoed Van. “You are so sure of our guilt, take us right in!”
 
Old King Brady smiled.
 
“Have your fun now,” he said, “you may not have the stomach for it later.”
 
“Well, why don’t you arrest us?”
 
“I am not ready.”
 
“Is that your only excuse?”
 
“Just at present.”
 
Old King Brady bowed very politely. Then he said to Harry:
 
“Come! Let us get away from here.”
 
The detectives left the saloon.
 
They had no idea of leaving the vicinity, though. Their purpose was to remain as long as possible in close touch with the villains.
 
If the truth was told, the Bradys were not at all sure of their case.
 
They had not the slightest bit of legal evidence against the trio.
 
What they were satisfied of in their own minds could never be proved in a court of law.
 
So they were baffled.
 
But the bull-dog tenacity of Old King Brady’s nature was never more evident than now.
 
Leaving the saloon they dodged into a dark doorway near and waited.
 
8
“Harry,” said Old King Brady in a low tone of voice, “that old Blood is a fiend in human shape.”
 
“Indeed he is!”
 
“We must convict him!”
 
“We certainly will do so.”
 
Just then Harry gave a start and nudged Old King Brady.
 
At first, unseen to both, a man with muffled features had been standing in the shadows of the doorway.
 
He now emerged.
 
As he came into the light he turned sharply and said:
 
“Gentlemen, I wish you luck, but you’re on the wrong tack!”
 
“Eh?” exclaimed Old King Brady. “What do you mean, sir?”
 
“You are tracking the trio with a belief that they are involved in that affair at the Fifteenth street house.”
 
“We are!”
 
“Well, you’re wrong. They are not the men.”
 
“Eh?” exclaimed Old King Brady. “What do you know about it?”
 
“I know it all.”
 
“Who are you?”
 
“I am Ralph Scott, detective, the same as you. I have the right clew!”
 
The two Bradys stared at the fellow.
 
“You have?” exclaimed Harry. “I would like to know what it is?”
 
“I can prove it, too!”
 
“That is best.”
 
“Well, I can tell you that the young cashier is the guilty man.”
 
“Do you mean Allerton Banks?”
 
“Yes.”
 
The fellow spoke positively.
 
The detectives exchanged glances.
 
“Look here, Scott,” said Old King Brady, “you’re not a Secret Service man.”
 
The fellow looked defiant.
 
“It isn’t necessary to be in the Secret Service to be a detective,” he snapped.
 
“Perhaps not. But what service are you in?”
 
“I have no ties. I am in the business on my own hook!”
 
“Private detective?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Umph! What is your clew?”
 
“I got it through a man who is in a position to know all about the case.”
 
“Who is he?”
 
“That is my affair.”
 
“I can tell you who you mean.”
 
Scott looked incredulous.
 
“Well,” he said, “who?”
 
“Napoleon Blood, the uncle and guardian of the dead girl.”
 
The private detective started. His face flushed angrily.
 
“Eh? You’d better guess again,” he said. “Who told you that?”
 
“Is it not so?”
 
“I refuse to say.”
 
“Well, how much has Blood promised to pay you to convict the cashier?”
 
Scott looked angry and baffled. He glared at the detectives savagely. Then muttering he began to move away.
 
“Hold on!” said Harry. “Take a bit of advice before you go.”
 
“What do you mean?” demanded Scott, in a surly way.
 
“Better let this matter alone entirely. It makes no difference what you do, you’re going to get the worst of it. Old Blood will surely be found out.”
 
“You talk like fools!” growled Scott. “But just keep on and we’ll see who comes out best. I work for money, I do!”
 
“That is right,” agreed Old King Brady. “Nobody will dispute that.”
 
Scott went away in high dudgeon. The Bradys were much edified.
 
“It is easy to understand him,” said the old detective. “He is only a tool for Blood.”
 
“It is evident the old usurer means to put the young cashier out of the way,” said Harry.
 
“Very true.”
 
“I think it would be a good idea to see Allerton and warn him.”
 
“So do I. Ah!”
 
Old King Brady gave a great start. A man had crossed the street and now passed very close to the detectives.
 
It was Blood.
 
The detectives were, of course, greatly interested.
 
They watched the old usurer carefully. He entered Sly Jimmie’s dive.
 
“He has gone in to see the trio,” said Old King Brady in a breath.
 
“Yes.”
 
“They will tell him of our position in the case.”
 
“The old fellow will be put on his guard.”
 
“Just so.”
 
“By Jupiter!” exclaimed Harry. “I’d like mighty well to know just what their conversation will be.”
 
“Would it be safe to venture into the place again in another guise?”
 
“They would know us.”
 
“Well,” said the old detective, with sudden inspiration, “I think I have a plan.”
 
“What is it?”
 
“Do you see the alley on this side of the building?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Well, I think there is a small window on a level with the ground. It is directly over the table where those fellows sit.”
 
“Indeed!”
 
“It is true. I remember seeing it. Now, if we can only creep in there and either open the window or remove a pane of glass, we ought to hear every word.”
 
“Good! Let us try it.”
 
The Bradys were not slow in undertaking this feat.
 
9
They crept into the alley and soon had located the window.
 
Here they made an agreeable discovery. It was not necessary to open the window or remove the glass.
 
Every word spoken by the villains below came up to their ears.
 
They were still seated at the table and Blood was with them.
 
The old usurer seemed greatly excited that the Bradys were possessed of a knowledge of his complicity in the crime.
 
“Curse them!” cried Blood, savagely. “I hope they do not know too much. Did you admit anything?”
 
“You bet we didn’t!” said Collins, angrily. “What do you take us for?”
 
“Well, it looks as if they might be an obstacle in our path.”
 
“Wall, you bet!”
 
“There’s only one thing to be done!”
 
“We’re waitin’ fer the word!”
 
“If the trio gets after them it’s all up with them.”
 
“You bet!” cried Van, with a fierce grin. “Say the word, boss. We’ll give ’em a race fer life. What’s the job worth to ye in solid money?”
 
“Ten thousand dollars!” replied the usurer.