the savage baying of a dog broke the stillness of the winter night.

the hoarse barking was succeeded by others until the air became heavy with the uproar.

then the distant clang of a door was heard.

the bradys had come to a halt undecided what to do.

they had little fear that the dogs could reach them in that deep snow. but suddenly as they stood there in the moonlight a distant sharp crack was heard and the hiss of a bullet by harry’s ear was a note of danger.

“down, my lad!” cried old king brady, warningly.

they crouched behind the rails of a fence.

bullets now began to sing about their heads.

it was evident that they had been seen in the moonlight.

why the asylum people should receive possible visitors in this warlike if not murderous fashion was a problem which needed solution.

“it is might queer,” said old king brady. “the place cannot be very straight to be sure. can it be that they suspect our identity?”

“let us find out.”

17

“how?”

“i’ll show you!”

harry disguised his voice, imitating the vernacular of a yankee farmer.

“i say, what in darnation be yu afirin’ at us fer?” he shouted in a nasal twang. “gosh hang it! we ain’t doin’ of anything to yu!”

the firing ceased.

there was a distant murmur of voices as if a consultation was being held.

then a gruff voice came over the expanse of snow:

“who are ye?”

“wall, i’m jim simpson an’ this ere is my uncle hank small. we live up tew concord an’ we’ve got tuckered out an’ thought mebbe we cud git yu to keep us until mornin’. we’re willin’ tu pay fer a nite’s lodgin’.”

“that don’t count,” came back the same gruff voice. “we ain’t got no use fer strangers around hyar, i kin tell ye. better move on!”

“wall, i must say ye’re mighty civil people tu try tu shoot us. i reckon i’ll send the constable down to see yu!”

a savage curse came back.

“ye wouldn’t want to spend the night hyar if ye knew what sort of a house this is,” said the gruff speaker.

“eh?” retorted harry. “what kind of a house is it? dang me, but it looks big enuff for a hotel.”

“wall, it’s a hotel fast enuff. but it’s a hotel fer mad people!”

harry whistled shrilly.

“yu don’t say! say, now, i’d like to see a mad pusson. won’t ye let us take a look at one?”

fierce oaths greeted this request.

“go on yer way an’ leave this place as far behind ye as ye can, or it’ll be the wuss for ye.”

“durn it! but we’re all tuckered out. take us in an’ give us a cup of suthin’ warm, anyway. then we’ll go along.”

“ye’ll git somethin’ hotter nor ye want if ye fool around hyar too long. now git out!”

“all right!” replied harry, in a disappointed voice.

“i say!” came back the call.

“wall?”

“did ye cum up from lexington?”

“yas!”

“by ther highway?”

“we did.”

“ah, did ye see anything of two men in a sleigh on the way?”

“oh, they turned back fer ther snow was too deep!”

this reply seemed to have a peculiar effect upon the asylum people. a distant murmur was heard and then there came another hail.

meanwhile, harry and old king brady had been holding a hurried consultation.

on the way from paine’s farm house they had effected a very clever disguise. they had borrowed some old coats, mufflers and hats of farmer paine.

with the use of false beards and wigs they had easily made themselves up for countrymen of the most verdant kind.

“what do you think?” whispered harry. “is our disguise good enough to risk a trip to the asylum if they finally decide to take us in?”

old king brady hesitated.

he knew that it would be like walking literally into a lion’s den.

discovery was of course possible and could mean nothing but death.

but the daring old detective was ready to take any risk, however great, to gain a valuable end.

so he replied:

“we will take the chances.”

at this moment the hail came again.

“hello, you rubes!”

“hello!” replied harry.

“did ye give us a straight story about the two men in the sleigh?”

“dead straight!”

“do ye know who they were?”

“naw! somebody down in lexington said they wuz new york people, but they didn’t look tu me tu be stylish enuff.”

at this a laugh came back.

“well, simpson, you an’ your friend can come over an’ we’ll take a look at ye. mebbe we can put ye up fer the night.”

“whoopla!” cried harry. “we’re glad enuff of that an’ we’ll pay ye fur it.”

“don’t want no pay, see?”

“all right!”

“come along sharp now. it’s mighty cold.”

the detectives climbed over the fence and came along on their snowshoes. it required nerve to do this.

for aught they knew this might be only a subterfuge on the part of the villains to get them within range.

they could be easily shot dead. indeed, their nerves were sorely tried.

but it was all honest enough on the villains’ part.

the detectives came suddenly to a high wicket gate in an iron fence.

three huge mastiffs were held in leash by a bull-faced keeper. in the gateway stood three men.

two of these the detectives recognized at once as burke and collins of the trio. this was a revelation.

it proved that dr. scraggs’ asylum was really a rendezvous for the thugs.

the third man was tall and lean with rounded shoulders and a hatchet face.

he was the asylum proprietor. no other than doctor scraggs himself.

the three miscreants and the rascally gatekeeper keenly scrutinized the two detectives.

it was a critical moment.

collins held the lantern close up to their faces and studied them hard. then he grinned.

18

“it’s all right,” he said. “they’re a couple of rubes all right. come in an’ we’ll keep ye till morning.”

“isaac,” said scraggs to the gatekeeper, “put the dogs back in the kennel. show these two men to a room in the south wing. give ’em a swig of whiskey.”

“much obleeged to yu, mister,” said harry, profusely. “i kin see yu are a gentleman. an’ yu kin bet jim simpson won’t fergit to make it up with yu.”

“that’s all right,” growled the asylum keeper. “maybe you won’t like your room when you find out it’s next to a madman’s cell.”

“i kin stand it if yu can,” replied harry.

“what’s that?”

“i say that anything is a durned sight better than freezing to death out in this tarnal snow.”

“oh, i see! well, come on, gentlemen, there’s business for us to do. look here, you jays, you’re not lying to me about those two detec—i mean men in the sleigh? they really went back to lexington?”

“dead sure, boss! they couldn’t git through.”

“thet is about right,” said yan’s voice from an open door in the building. “i know i had the start an’ a half hour afterwards i couldn’t have got through myself.”

this ended the confab.

isaac, the bull-faced keeper, led the detectives across the snow-covered yard to a wing of the asylum which was dark and looked cheerless and grim enough with its iron-barred windows.

in a few moments, however, the bradys were in the kitchen of the asylum and the keeper had prepared some hot whisky for them.

the detectives never made a practice of drinking, but the exposure and the chill made the potation welcome.

then they fell into easy conversation with isaac.

the fellow had the appearance of a sharp, ferret-like rascal, but in the hands of the wily detectives he was like wax.

in a few moments they had wormed some interesting facts out of him.

“betcher life scraggy knows his biz,” said isaac, in a tough way. “he’ll make anything pay. this ere asylum is a dead open cinch fer a fortune. see!”

“gosh!” exclaimed harry, rolling his eyes up. “yu don’t say so? what kind of mad people is there here?”

“oh, thar’s all kinds,” replied the keeper. “them that’s fat an’ them that’s lean. men an’ women, an’ anybody whose friends don’t want ’em around. do ye see?”

“what’s that ye say?” interrogated harry. “what’s that about people’s friends?”

“if ye don’t ax me too many questions i’ll tell ye no lies!” said isaac with a shrewd wink.

“i say,” said harry, in a dull way, “s’posin’ ye knew a man yu didn’t like! couldn’t ye put him in this ’ere ’sylum an’ swear he wuz crazy?”

isaac looked sharply at harry.

“have you any friends you want to git rid of?” he asked.

“wall, i dunno! that depends.”

the keeper chuckled.

“you kin bet your dimes that this is a straight joint,” he said. “if anybody gits in hyar they stays hyar.”

“p’r’aps ye won’t let us out,” said harry, suspiciously.

isaac laughed loudly.

“p’r’aps we won’t, you jay!” he declared. “this is a hot place for jays, you can bet!”

“do women ever go crazy?” asked harry, credulously.

“eh?” exclaimed the keeper in surprise. “do women go crazy? wall, i should say so!”

“are there any here?”

“any crazy women here? well, there’s one on the very floor above this.”

the detectives had the deepest of interest. they questioned isaac closely and skillfully, but they could learn no more.

they wondered who the lady inmate of the asylum was.

but they felt sure that before morning the chance would be given them to ascertain.