Lock and Key Library, Magic Real Detectives | Page 4

not only disbar him
from the legal profession, but would put him in jail.
Dodge had run away and disappeared as the storm seemed about to
burst. Where was he? Who could find and bring him back--against Abe
Hummel's wish?--EDITOR.)
Who could accomplish that in which the law was powerless?--Hummel.

Who could drive to the uttermost ends of the earth persons against
whom not a shadow of suspicion had previously rested?--Hummel.
Who dictated to the chiefs of police of foreign cities what they should
or should not do in certain cases; and who could, at the beckoning of
his little finger, summon to his dungeon-like offices in the New York
Life Building, whither his firm had removed from Centre Street, the
most prominent of lawyers, the most eminent of citizens?--Surely none
but Hummel. And now Hummel was fighting for his own life. The only
man that stood between him and the iron bars of Blackwell's Island was
Charles F. Dodge--the man whom he had patted on the knee in his
office and called a "Mascot," when quite in the nature of business he
needed a little perjury to assist a wealthy client.
Hummel in terror called into play every resource upon which, during
forty years of practice, his tiny tentacles had fastened. Who shall say
that while he made a show of enjoying himself nightly with his
accustomed lightheartedness in the Tenderloin, he did not feel
confident that in the end this peril would disappear like the others
which had from time to time threatened him during his criminal career?
But Hummel was fully aware of the tenacity of the man who had
resolved to rid New York of his malign influence. His Nemesis was
following him. In his dreams, if he ever dreamed, it probably took the
shape of the square-shouldered District Attorney in the shadow of
whose office building the little shyster practiced his profession. Had he
been told that this Nemesis was in reality a jovial little man with a
round, ruddy face and twinkling blue eyes he would have laughed as
heartily as it was in his power to laugh. Yet such was the fact. A little
man who looked less like a detective than a commercial traveler selling
St. Peter's Oil or some other cheerful concoction, with manners as
gentle and a voice as soft as a spring zephyr, who always took off his
hat when he came into a business office, seemingly bashful to the point
of self-effacement, was the one who snatched Charles F. Dodge from
the borders of Mexico and held him in an iron grip when every
influence upon which Hummel could call for aid, from crooked police
officials, corrupt judges, and a gang of cutthroats under the guise of a
sheriff's posse, were fighting for his release.

Jesse Blocher is not employed in New York County, and for business
reasons he does not wish his present address known. When he comes to
New York he occasionally drops into the writer's office for a cigar and
a friendly chat about old times. And as he sits there and talks so
modestly and with such quiet humor about his adventures with the
Texas Rangers among the cactus-studded plains of the Lone Star State,
it is hard, even for one who knows the truth, to realize that this man is
one of the greatest of detectives, or rather one of the most capable,
resourceful, adroit, and quick-witted knights of adventure who ever set
forth upon a seemingly impossible errand.
It is unnecessary to state just how the District Attorney discovered the
existence of "Jesse," as we knew him. It is enough to say that on
Saturday morning, July 23, 1904, he was furnished with the proper
credentials and given instructions to proceed at once to New Orleans,
Louisiana, and "locate," if it were humanly possible to do so, Charles F.
Dodge, under indictment for perjury, and potentially the chief witness
against Abraham H. Hummel, on a charge of conspiracy. He was told
briefly and to the point that, in spite of the official reports from the
police headquarters of both New York City and New Orleans to the
contrary, there was reason to believe that Dodge was living, although
not registered, as a guest at the St. Charles Hotel in the latter city. A
partial and inaccurate description of Dodge was given him and he was
warned to use extreme caution to prevent any knowledge of his mission
from being made known. Once Dodge had been discovered, he was to
keep him under surveillance and wire New York immediately.
Accordingly, Jesse left the city upon the same day at 4.45 P. M. and
arrived two days later, at 9.15 on Monday morning, at New Orleans,
where he went directly to the St. Charles Hotel, registered,