The Wire Devils

Harry Maul, also known as The Hawk, is a safe-breaker, forger, jewel thief, and one of the cleverest 'gentleman' crooks, wanted by the police and also by criminal gangs. He follows another band of criminals, cracks their communication code, keeps outsmarting them and getting to their target before they do. Frank Packard (1877-1942) was a Canadian novelist best known for his Jimmie Dale mystery series. As a young man he worked as a civil engineer for the Canadian Pacific Railway. His experiences working on the railroad led to his writing a series of railroad stories and novels. Packard also wrote number of mystery novels, the most famous of which featured a character called Jimmie Dale, a wealthy playboy by day and a fearless crime fighter by night. Jimmie Dale novels brought the idea of a costume and mask for hero's secret identity, and also established the concept of a hero's secret hideout or lair.

"The Wire Devils" follows a criminal gang of the same name who hijack a railroadOCOs telegraph lines to glean information about profitable shipments. Combining elements from dime-store novels and Frank L. PackardOCOs own experience on the rails, this is at once a hybrid western and a thriller still worth reading nearly a century after it was written. "

" Two switch lights twinkled; one at the east, and one at the west end of the siding. For the rest all was blackness. Half way between the switch lights, snuggled close against the single-tracked main line, the station, little more than a shanty and too insignificant to boast a night operator, loomed up shadowy and indistinct. Away to the westward, like jagged points sticking up into the night and standing out in relief against the skyline, the Rockies reared their peaks. And the spell of the brooding mountains seemed to lie over all the desolate, butte-broken surrounding country—for all was utter silence. And then there came a sound, low at first, like a strange muttering from somewhere to the westward. It died away, grew louder, was hushed again—and broke into a sustained roar. Came then the quick, short gasps of the exhaust—it was a freight, and a heavy one. And suddenly, from up the track, circling an intervening butte, an electric headlight cut streaming through the black. It touched the little station in a queerly inquisitive way in the sweep of its arc, lingered an instant over the platform, then swung to the right of way, and held there, the metals glistening like polished silver ribbons under the flood of light..."

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1918 edition. Excerpt: ... --Ill-- THE PAYMASTER'S SAFE FROM the roundhouse it was only a few yards to the rear of the long, low-lying freight sheds and, unobserved, the Hawk gained this new shelter. He stole quickly along to the further end of the sheds; and there, crouched down again in the shadows, halted to make a critical survey of his surroundings. Just in front of him, divided only by a sort of driveway for the convenience of the teamsters, was the end wall of the station, and, in the end wall-- the window of the divisional paymaster's office. The Hawk glanced to his left. The street upon which the station fronted, an ill-savoured section of the city, was dark, dimly lighted, and deserted; the only sign of life being the lighted windows of a saloon Ok Jie corner of a narrow lane that bisected the block of somewhat disreputable, tumble-down wooden structures that faced the station. To his right, on the other side of the freight shed, the railroad yard had narrowed down to the station tracks and a single spur alongside the shed. There was no one in sight in either direction. The Hawk's eyes strayed back to the paymaster's 2ft window. The station, like its surrounding neighbours, was an old wooden building; and, being low and only two-storied, the second-story window offered inviting possibilities. From the sill of the lower window, a man who was at all agile had the upper window at his mercy. Against this mode of attack, however, was the risk of being seen by any one who might pass along the street, or by any one who might chance upon the end of the station platform. "What's the use!" decided the Hawk, with an abrupt shrug of his shoulders. "Play safe. There's a better way." The Hawk crept across the driveway, reached the street side of the station, peered...

Featuring the anti-hero "the Hawk," a gentleman jewel thief who outsmarts both the railway police and a nation-spanning conglomerate...

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TWO switch lights twinkled; one at the east, and one at the west end of the siding. For the rest all was blackness. Half way between the switch lights, snuggled close against the single-tracked main line, the station, little more than a shanty and too insignificant to boast a night operator, loomed up shadowy and indistinct. Away to the westward, like jagged points sticking up into the night and standing out in relief against the skyline, the Rockies reared their peaks. And the spell of the brooding mountains seemed to lie over all the desolate, butte-broken surrounding country-for all was utter silence. And then there came a sound, low at first, like a strange muttering from somewhere to the westward.