The Frame Up | Page 3

and whip up to Delmonico's. Talk to the
taxi-starter till a messenger-boy brings a letter for the D. A. Let the boy
deliver the note, and then trail him till he reports to the man he got it
from. Bring the man here. If it's a district messenger and he doesn't
report, but goes straight back to the office, find out who gave him the
note; get his description. Then meet me at Delmonico's."
Rumson called up that restaurant and had Wharton come to the phone.
He asked his chief to wait until a letter he believed to be of great
importance was delivered to him. He explained, but, of necessity,
somewhat sketchily. "It sounds to me," commented his chief, "like a
plot of yours to get a lunch up- town."
"Invitation!" cried Rumson. "I'll be with you in ten minutes."
After Rumson had joined Wharton and Bissell the note arrived. It was
brought to the restaurant by a messenger-boy, who said that in answer
to a call from a saloon on Sixth Avenue he had received it from a
young man in ready-to-wear clothes and a green hat. When Hewitt, the
detective, asked what the young man looked like, the boy said he

looked like a young man in ready-to-wear clothes and a green hat. But
when the note was read the identity of the man who delivered it ceased
to be of importance. The paper on which it was written was without
stamped address or monogram, and carried with it the mixed odors of
the drug-store at which it had been purchased. The handwriting was
that of a woman, and what she had written was: "If the district attorney
will come at once, and alone, to Kessler's Cafe, on the Boston Post
Road, near the city line, he will be told who killed Hermann Banf. If he
don't come in an hour, it will be too late. If he brings anybody with him,
he won't be told anything. Leave your car in the road and walk up the
drive. Ida Earle."
Hewitt, who had sent away the messenger-boy and had been called in
to give expert advice, was enthusiastic.
"Mr. District Attorney," he cried, "that's no crank letter. This Earle
woman is wise. You got to take her as a serious proposition. She
wouldn't make that play if she couldn't get away with it."
"Who is she?" asked Wharton.
To the police, the detective assured them, Ida Earle had been known for
years. When she was young she had been under the protection of a man
high in the ranks of Tammany, and, in consequence, with her different
ventures the Police had never interfered. She now was proprietress of
the road-house in the note described as Kessler's Cafe. It was a place
for joy- riders. There was a cabaret, a hall for public dancing, and
rooms for very private suppers.
In so far as it welcomed only those who could spend money it was
exclusive, but in all other respects its reputation was of the worst. In
situation it was lonely, and from other houses separated by a quarter of
a mile of dying trees and vacant lots.
The Boston Post Road upon which it faced was the old post road, but
lately, through this back yard and dumping-ground of the city, had been
relaid. It was patrolled only and infrequently by bicycle policemen.
"But this," continued the detective eagerly, "is where we win out. The

road-house is an old farmhouse built over, with the barns changed into
garages. They stand on the edge of a wood. It's about as big as a city
block. If we come in through the woods from the rear, the garages will
hide us. Nobody in the house can see us, but we won't be a hundred
yards away. You've only to blow a police whistle and we'll be with
you."
"You mean I ought to go?" said Wharton.
Rumson exclaimed incredulously: "You got to go!"
"It looks to me," objected Bissell, "like a plot to get you there alone and
rap you on the head." "Not with that note inviting him there," protested
Hewitt, "and signed by Earle herself."
"You don't know she signed it?" objected the senator.
"I know her," returned the detective. "I know she's no fool. It's her
place, and she wouldn't let them pull off any rough stuff there--not
against the D. A. anyway"
The D. A. was rereading the note. "Might this be it?" he asked.
"Suppose it's a trick to mix me up in a scandal? You say the place is
disreputable. Suppose they're planning to compromise me just before
election. They've tried it already several times."
"You've still got the note, If persisted Hewitt. "It proves why you went
there. And the senator, too. He can