their husbands, and it was amusing to imagine how many Pittsburgh bigwigs were sleeping at their clubs until the strike was settled. But despite strong defenses and capable administration and charity, the coal miners’ tent city had a precariousness, which was expressed by one stern matron whom Bell overheard:
“This is all well and good until it snows.”
He found a harried Jim Higgins directing the operation from under a tent’s open canvas fly. Mary’s brother said he had not seen her since the night they took her barges. He had no idea where she was. He admitted that he was worried, and he asked Bell to pass on the message, if he found her, that he could use her help desperately.
As Bell was leaving to head back downtown, he looked up and suddenly had to smile. A painter with a sense of humor was changing one word of the Amalgamated Coal Terminal sign on top of the tipple to read
AMALGAMATED COAL MINERS
The downtown union hall was deserted but for an elderly functionary left in charge. He had not seen Mary Higgins nor had he heard anything about her.
Bell found Mike and Terry in the back, sitting around a cookstove, drinking coffee.
“I’ll give you a choice, boys. Now that Jim Higgins is holed up in Amalgamated, you can go back to Chicago as Protective Services, agents or you can work for my squad.”
“Is it O.K. with Mr. Hancock and Mr. Van Dorn?”
“I’ll clear it with them,” said Bell. He would pay them out of his own pocket if he had to. He could use the manpower.
“What do you want us to do?”
“Find out where that big black boat went. I have a feeling you should start looking at McKeesport. But wherever it went, I want to know who they are and where they are going next because I do not believe that thing arrived here by coincidence.”
Bell waited for them to put down their coffee cups and stand up. But they just sat there. “Is something the matter, gents?”
“Not really, Isaac.”
“Then get going.”
“Sure.” They exchanged heavy looks and portentous headshakes. “There’s just one thing.”
“What?”
“We heard you asking about Miss Mary.”
“Have you seen her?”
“Yes. That is, well…”
“When? Where?”
“Saloons. By the river.”
“Who was she with?”
“Talking with a whole bunch of fellows.”
“If you see her again, follow her. Meantime, find that black boat. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Where you headed?”
“Cincinnati. If you need me for any emergency, wire me care of R. Kenneth Bloom, Jr., Reading Railroad. His train has a grasshopper key.”
“How do you happen to know a fellow with his own train, Isaac?”
“We ran away to the circus together.”
Henry Clay unlocked the door of his apartment. The drapes were drawn, and it was dark. He was halfway in and reaching for the wall switch beside the door when he sensed a presence. Wrong-footed, too late to back out, he hurled himself sideways along the wall, pushing the light switch with his left hand and drawing his Bisley with his right. When the light flared on, he had the gun pointed at the figure sitting in the armchair.
“I am not armed,” said Mary Higgins, raising her hands to show they were empty.
“How did you find me?”
“When I learned that you were a detective,” she said calmly, “I wondered how I would ever track you down on my own, much less shadow you, without you seeing me. I thought of hiring another professional to find you.”
“Bell!”
“Not Bell. Don’t be ridiculous. Although I did consider my brother’s bodyguards. The Van Dorn Protective Services pride themselves in being more than bodyguards.”
“Stumblebums. They couldn’t find me.”
“That’s what I thought. Besides, they might run straight home to tell Bell.”
“Then how did you find me?”
“I remembered that the old fellows in Bell’s squad told me that those flash men you put in charge of the barges had fled the city. But that didn’t seem likely. Why would they let a couple of Van Dorns chase them out of their hometown? So I went looking for familiar faces.”
“Where?”
“Casinos and concert saloons by the river.”
“My God, Mary, you could have been killed, or worse.”
“Not killed,” she said. “Not even compromised.”
“You were lucky. People in those places would not hesitate to slip chloral powder into an innocent girl’s drink.”
“I would recognize the odor of knockout drops in my tea,” she said drily.
“It is not as easily detected as people think. There are ways of compounding it that mask taste and smell.”
“You would know more about that than I,” she replied pointedly. “But, in actual fact, I met more gentlemanly sorts — including one of your flash men. He directed me to the man I suspected had not fled Pittsburgh.
“But I am not known to the landlord as Claggart.”
“Oh, I didn’t give them your name. I wouldn’t betray you that way. I only described you.”
“How did you unlock my door?”
“I didn’t. I climbed the fire escape.”
Clay holstered the Bisley, greatly relieved. It was one thing for an intelligent girl to make inquiries — particularly with a winsome smile. But the extremely rare ability to pick locks would make her far less innocent than he thought she was. He was still troubled, however, that she had been alone in his apartment. He was vigilant about not leaving evidence behind, but even the most careful man could give himself away with a small mistake.
“How long were you waiting for me?”
“Long enough to look around. You live well. It’s an expensive apartment.”
“Who told you I was a detective? Bell?”
She nodded.
Clay said, “Bell bent the truth. I was a detective once. I’m not any longer.”
“What are you now?”
“I am John Claggart.”
“Isaac called you Clay. Henry Clay.”
“Henry Clay no longer exists.”
“And what are you, John Claggart?”
“I am a revolutionary.”
“I found that easier to swallow when you wore workman’s duds. A smart frock coat and homburg hat make you look like a Morgan or Vanderbilt.”
“If you find it hard to swallow, then hopefully the enemy will, too.”
“Who paid for the barges?”
