Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Fifty
When we reached the river road, we abandoned the automobiles and
took to the woods. Drawing close to the river, Clarence Emerson assumed command
of the situation, instructing the men to move quietly and to be careful in any
use of firearms.
There was no sign of a houseboat when we reached the banks of the
Mulberry, so the party broke into two groups. Dad led some of the men upstream
while the others walked toward the mouth of the river.
Flo and I remained with Mud Cat Joe and Dad. When we had gone only
a short distance, Dad called for silence. From far upstream, we heard the
muffled beat of an engine.
“That may be the houseboat coming,” Dad said. “Spread out, men,
along the banks where the stream is narrow. If I fire a shot, leap aboard her.”
Scarcely had the men hidden in the bushes when the boat chugged
slowly into view.
“Doggone, if that ain’t my missin’ houseboat!” Mud Cat Joe
muttered.
A shot rang out. As the houseboat grated softly against the river
bank, a dozen men sprang aboard. Those who did not have revolvers had armed
themselves with big sticks. Mud Cat Joe wielded his club with deadly intent,
determined to avenge himself upon the persons who had robbed him of his
houseboat. He felled two men neatly and was sadly disappointed when the others
took refuge and pleaded for mercy.
Ralph alone attempted to escape by trying to shoot his way out of
the cabin. He was quickly overpowered.
The sound of firing brought Clarence Emerson, who provided
handcuffs for all of Ralph’s gang. A key taken from Violet opened the padlocked
inner door of the houseboat, and there, crudely trussed up, lay the two
prisoners, Mr. Merriweather and his friend, Frank Harwood.
They were rushed at once to a hospital, although their condition
did not appear to be critical. Clarence Emerson took charge of Ralph and his
henchmen and assumed responsibility for the loot found on the boat. In addition
to the jewels stolen from Merriweather, Mrs. Fairchild’s paintings were
recovered undamaged, and there likewise was a box of gold coins which, when
counted, totaled nearly three thousand dollars.
“Them no ’count ruffians sure banged up The Empress a-plenty,” Mud
Cat Joe said as he inspected his recovered property. “But I kin fix her up
again as good as new. I sure am much obliged to you, Ma’am, fer leadin’ me to
her.”
“And I’m grateful to you for saving Jack’s life,” I said.
“Didn’t do much, ma’am.”
“You did,” I said. “Without you, Jack would certainly have
drowned.”
Dad echoed my words, adding: “You’ll certainly hear from me within
a few days, Joe. Right now, I must get back to Greenville. This is a big story,
and I want to freeze it in type before The
Times learns what is up.”
“I’m depending upon you to write
an account of everything you found in Ralph’s laundry,” Dad said, turning to
me. “Make it thorough.”
“Even the dirty shirts?”
When we reached the newspaper office, the members of the editorial
staff were enjoying a brief rest between editions.
“We’re putting out an extra,” Dad barked. “Harwood and
Merriweather have been found. The whole case is cleaned up. A banner for the
front page, DeWitt! And make it a triple-decker across all the columns. I’ll
handle the main story myself, right-hand column with a break on page two.
Jane’s story will take the left column.
I’d never agreed to write any story, and I didn’t intend to. I’d
just jot down the facts of the case and hand it off to one of Dad’s reporters.
“Dig up that flash lamp photograph of the portraits in room
seven!” my father continued. “We’ll run it on page one. We’ll also need
pictures of Mud Cat Joe’s houseboat, Old Mansion, and Sing Lee’s Laundry, but
they can catch the second edition. The thing now is to get those presses
rolling!”
I vanished into Dad’s office and sat down at the typewriter. I’d
only intended to write down some detailed notes, but instead, the story seemed
to write itself. Words, sentences, paragraphs flowed and transferred themselves
to paper.
I was only vaguely aware as the city editor, after showing my
father the dummy for the front page, peered over my shoulder to read what I had
written.
“Great stuff,” said Mr. Dewitt. “Keep it up.”
I filled five sheets of copy paper and then sat back in my chair.
“The presses are all ready to roll,” Dad said. “Once they start, nothing can stop them!”
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