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Dublin Dan
(Solax)
A Tale of the Underworld
By COURTNEY RYLEY COOPER
Just why Daniel Delaney, of the Secret Service, should be leaning contentedly against the brick wall of a railroad station, was particularly his own business. Certainly he seemed at peace with the world; now and then his big, Irish voice boomed in his throat as he hummed an old melody. The fact that the train was two hours late did not appear to worry him in the slightest. But it was a habit with Dan Delaney — those who knew his big-hearted nature best called him Dublin Dan — not to show on the surface everything that went on within. Mr. Delaney, of the Secret Service, was following a clue.
It had all come that morning in a short newspaper dispatch from a distant city — simply the fact that John Forsythe, alias "Duke" McCoy, a counterfeiter, had escaped from the State penitentiary. The name had stuck in Dan's mind. Time after time he had pounded his desk with his heavy fist, as if the physical exercise would bring forth that which he knew was in his brain. Then, suddenly, his blue eyes had twinkled. He remembered the story of the trial, the tale of a black sheep who had gone wrong, killing his father and mother
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thru grief over his actions, and leaving behind a brother who had sought to shield him as long as he could, and then had thrust him forth into the world. The fact that James Forsythe, the brother, had money was what had brought Dan Delaney to the station. The detective was laying a few genial little bets with himself that the escaped convict would attempt a flying trip home, that he might procure cash with which to leave the country.
But, as the train, at last, came chortling into the station, the searching, blue eyes of Dan Delaney grew more and more serious. One by one he scanned the faces. Not in a single detail did one of the hurrying passengers coincide with the man he sought. A moment longer, and he turned slowly toward the city.
It was then that he noticed a girl, who stood undecidedly at the end of the station platform. Now and then she would take a card from her handbag, and, looking at it, would gaze toward the houses of the city. She seemed nervous, ill at ease. The big heart of Dublin Dan thumped within him.
"It's lost, you are," he said geni