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Full Title
The Bradys and Jockey Joe; or, Crooked Work at the Race Track and other stories / by a New York Detective.
Author
New York Detective.
Contributor
Doughty, Francis W. (Francis Worcester), d. 1917. St. John, Percy B. (Percy Bolingbroke), 1821-1889. Fox, Tom.
Date Added
9 January 2014
Format
Journal
Language
English
Publish Date
1918-01-04
Publisher
New York : Frank Tousey
Series
Secret Service Old and Young King Brady, Detectives > no. 989
Source
Dime Novels and Popular Literature
Alternate Title
Secret Service Old and Young King Brady Detectives, no. 989, January 4, 1918. Crooked Work at the Race Track. Down and out; or, The boy who worked his nerve / by Percy B. St. John. Boy who worked his nerve Leader of the school; or, Jack Judson--hero / by Tom Fox. Jack Judson--hero The three letters.
Topic
Dime novels > Specimens. Detective and mystery stories, American > Periodicals.
About
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Disclaimers
Disclaimer of Liability Disclaimer of Endorsement
OCR
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. THE BRADYS AND JOCKEY JOE. ‘
‘
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38>
“T think it would.” - So
With this decision the detectives proceeded’ to carry out
the plan. : yo :
They were so desirous that Memphis Jake should not see
' them that they arose and took seats in a rear car.
The Bradyswere always equipped for .emergencies like
the present, and never failed to carry several disguises.
No opportunity was allowed them -at once to don these.
But in due time the train drew up at the entrance to the
\ racetrack.
~ When the detectives alighted they took.care to keep well
out of sight of the birds. , .
. Memphis Jake parted from Chardon and Blew at the track
gate. : : :
The detectives looked about them. Just across the way
was a patch of swampy growth.
In the verge of this was-a shanty.
a detectives crossed the tracks and dodged behind this
shanty. : ;
They were now out of sight of anybody.’ It did not take
them long to effect their change of guise. .
An imperial, a bit of stain to darken. the complexion and
eyebrows. A clever, tight fitting wig, and Old King Brady
‘ was Monsieur Harve, a Parisian racing enthusiast. ‘
Harry made up for Algernon Sutton, a sporting English
lord, with a drawling speech and monocle.
“Aw, my deah ‘boy, fine prospect for the sport, doncher-
know! I have my money on The Bells for the handicap, and
I’m a right sure winner.”
“Monsieur is wrong. It ees no affaire of mine; but I re-
gret he should lose.. Mon Dieu! In La Belle France we do
not tell the winner, even to our best friends.”
The two detectives laughed approvingly.
They now emerged from their retreat behind the shanty.
Quite a long line of people were making their way through
the covered walk from the depot to the gates.
It was early for the races. .
_. But these were of the class who like to spend much time
in the paddock and lounging about the stables.
“The detectives bought badges and then entered. the en-
closure. f i
Their first move was to proceed at once to the stables.
It was there that they were more apt to find clues, they
believed. .
They had been employed to find andbring to justice the
murderer of Amos Belden. .
Both detectives knew that this was no light task.
The murder was enshrouded in the most intense mystery. |:
To sdlve this was no easy matter.
But they were determined to succeed, and when they set
outwith such a purpose they would not admit the possibil-
ity of failure. .
As they approached the stables they saw a man emerge
from a stall and stand for a moment looking about him.
. He glanced at the detectives, and then made a gesture with
. his hand which the Bradys took to be a signal to somebody
in ‘the stall.
The result was that the stall door closed quickly. The
Bradys were interested, for over the door was the name of
the famous racehorse, the Hermit. ' <
. They knew at once that this was the stable of the Beldens.
The fellow who had signalled for the Hermit’s stall to be
.closed stood sullenly regarding the Bradys.
He was a low-browed, brutish fellow, of the hostler type.
He stepped aside rather ungraciously as the detectives
approached. : 8
“Yer can’t see no hosses in this here string to-day,” he
said, grufily. “It’s ther orders-of ther boss. Ther stable is
closed.
“Aw, weally,” drawled Harry, studying the name over
the door through his monocle, “that’s too bad, doncherknow.
Ain’t these Mr. Belden’s horses?”
“Naw they ain’t. They belong to Miss Belden now. Ther
old cove is dead.” .
‘“Mon Dieu!” exclaimed Old King Brady. “I would like
to mect that same Mademoiselle Belden. She ees a smart
* woman!”
“Waal, you kin bet. She’s goin’ ter keep up her end.” .
“Aw, my deah fellow, are you the twainer?” asked Harry.
“No, I ain’t,” replied the fellow, puffing up. “I’m head
groom. . Hain’t ye never heerd of Mose Clark?”
“Mo’sieur Clark,” said Old King Brady. »“I.am from ze
Paree. I’m owner of racehorses in la belle France. I
‘would bet ze dollars, you see, an’ you shall give me ze tip.| >
I will gifs you money!’
‘
\ . i
A erafty light burned in them.
' Mose Clark fixed his keen gray eyes upon Old. King Brady:
It was possible that he saw, in the two foreigners before
him a couple of easy birds. |
“One is a frogseater, an’ the other
is a flannel-mouth,”
he reflected. “I oughter git a stake outer ’em fer sure. It’s
easy graft.”
With which his manner changed.
\
He unbent from his former uncivil attitude, and assuming
a confidential air, said: .
, “Are ye looking fer a good thing?”
“We want ze easy tip,” said Old; King Brady, with a
gesture. “You tell us ze winner, we pay you. Sce 2
Clark nodded comprehensively.
“T kin do that,” he said. “I kin do better. I kin place
ther money fer yer ter rope in a big fortune. Dat’s straight
goods.”
. i :
“Aw, that’s weally what we want,” said Harry. | “You
shall tell us the horse to play.”
Clark assumed a know-it-all manner, and replied, softly:
“Come around here in half an hour. Say nuthin’ to no
one. See?”
.
“Ah, mon Dieu! I grasp ze point,” said Old King Brady.
“You are ze discreet mo’sicur. We vill come back in one half
hour.”
“All right,” growled Clark. “But keep: your mouth shut.
That’s all.”
Just then Memphis Jake dodged out
of a stall. \
He glared at Clark’ and the detectives. . :
“Git on ter yer job there, Mose!” he exclaimed, angrily.
“This is no time for gossiping with strangers. Give Butter-
fly some water.”
“Ye come around agin’ atter a while,” said Clark, in an
undertone. “Ye understand?”
“All| right,” agreed Harry. “We will be here, doncher-
know.”
Then Clark slipped into the stall and
facing Memphis Jake.
the two Bradys stood
The ‘manager glared at them, and might have said some-
thing, but just then a fine carriage drove quickly up.
From it sprung a tall, handsome young man. 7
He held the door open for a beautiful, young woman,
richly gowned, to alight.
Harry touched Old King Brady’s arm.
“Miss Julia Belden!” he whispered.
“Is it?”
“T think so!” .
The detectives moved slightly to one
side. Julia Belden it
vas, the fair owner of the famous string of racers.
‘ ‘The youne man with her was no other than Manly Strong,
her lover. .
In an instant Memphis Jake’s manner had changed.
He was all servility and deference.
He_bowed.low.
“Ah, glad to see you, Miss Belden. . And you, Mr. Strong,
Fine day for the sport.”
“Yes,” said young Strong,-in 2 deep, full’ voice, ignoring
the other’s hand. “I think it is!
“We want to see Butterfly, Mr. Smith,” said Mrs. Belden,
with a charming smile.
“Must you see her?”
“Well, why not?”
“Sho is bandaged and ready for the
Jake. “I don’t like to disturb her.”
.
race,” said Memphis ~
“Very well,” agreed Miss Belden, in a gracious way. “We
don’t want to interfere with the training. Do you think she
has a chance to win to-day?”
“Hands down!”
“T am glad to hear you say that. We
a large commission on her.” _
“We?” interrogated the trainer.
Miss Belden blushed deeply.
have decided to place
“J mean Mr. Strong and I,” she said, with some asperity.
Strong frowned, and his hands clenched
He shot a glance at the trainer, which was met in the ©
same cold way. |
They were enemies. ~
This could not be denied.
’
The Bradys were interested in this little drama. They
understood every line of it. .
“Well, Manly,”. said Miss- Belden, in
a careless way, “we
will have to wait-till Butterfly is stripped for the race be-
fore we can get a look at her glossy coat.” |.
the young woman, “that need not be.
“No,” said Memphis Jake, bending a servile glance upon
She is your horse
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