CHAPTER XIX.
ABOUT THE ROBBERY.
If Ralph had been astonished before, he was doubly so now. He looked from one to another of the men in amazement.
"Do you really think I am one of the thieves?" he gasped.
"It's mighty suspicious," responded Jack Rodman. "You were seen in the neighborhood of the post office to-night, and then this knife business is a clew."
"I don't think Ralph will run away," said Bart Haycock. "I myself think he is innocent."
"Thank you for those words," said the boy. "I am innocent."
"Then you have no objections to our making a search about here," said the constable.
"Not any objection whatever," said Ralph, promptly. "Search where you please."
"I'll help you," said Uriah to the constable.
"Hadn't you better hold me tight?" suggested Ralph, with a sarcasm which was entirely lost on the miserly storekeeper.
"Well, I dunno," hesitated Uriah.
"I will see to it that he doesn't run away," said the blacksmith. "This makes me sick, Ralph," he added, in a low tone. "I know you are as innocent as a babe. That post office was robbed by professionals."
The constable and Uriah knocked on the cottage door and Mrs. Nelson let them in. She was greatly surprised when Jack Rodman declared his errand.
"Ralph is indeed innocent!" she exclaimed. "You may search the premises all you please."
The constable and Uriah took a lamp, and the search began. Every nook and corner of the cottage was gone over, but nothing that looked like what had been taken—money and registered letters—came to light.
"I hope you are satisfied now," said Mrs. Nelson, in a tone of half-triumph. "Ralph hasn't a grain of dishonesty in him."
"Let's take a look outside," suggested Uriah. "Maybe he knew better than to bring it in the house."
So outside he and the constable went. They looked around under the stoops and around the woodshed.
"Not a thing," murmured Jack Rodman.
Uriah did not reply to this. His sharp eyes had caught sight of a leather bag, half-concealed under a clump of raspberry bushes. He ran forward and dragged the bag out.
"Look here!" he cried. "What did I tell you?"
"A leather valise, true enough!" exclaimed the constable. "But it may be one belonging to the family."
"Would they leave a good valise out under them bushes?" growled Uriah. "Not much!"
"I shouldn't think they would."
"And, besides, this looks like the one Benjamin Hooker kept in the post office for his trips to the Chambersburgh Bank."
The constable began to examine the bag. Soon he ran across a tag inside, upon which was printed in ink:
Property of Benjamin Hooker,
Postmaster, Westville.
"That settles it," he said, in a harder tone than he had before employed.
"I guess it looks black enough against Ralph Nelson now," said Uriah.
"So it does."
"I positively know nothing of that bag," cried Ralph, when confronted with it. "I never saw it before."
"You will have to go with me," returned Jack Rodman.
"Do you place me under arrest?" ejaculated Ralph.
"Hardly that. But you must go with me to the post office. There we will see what Mr. Hooker has to say. It is his affair—and the Government's."
"Oh, Ralph!" cried Mrs. Nelson, in alarm. "They think you are really one of the robbers!"
"I know it, mother. But I am not, and I do not see how they can hold me."
"You won't go along?" asked Uriah, quickly.
"Oh, yes, I will. I am not afraid of the consequences."
It was now drawing toward daylight, and after completing his hastily-made toilet, Ralph accompanied the constable and the others to the Westville post office.
"Here they found all in confusion." See [page 122.]
Here they found all in confusion. The safe doors had been blown open with gunpowder, and the explosion had damaged the entire office. The plaster from the ceiling had come down, and this lay over a mass of letters, papers and wrecked furniture.
In the midst of the mass was the postmaster and his clerk, Henry Bott, doing what they could to straighten matters out and ascertain the exact loss sustained.
Squire Paget was also present. He seemed particularly anxious about the registered letters which had been ready for the morning mail, and groaned aloud when he heard that all of them had disappeared.
"Not one of them left?" he asked, of Henry Bott. "You don't see anything of the one I addressed to New York?"
"No, squire; all have disappeared together," replied the clerk.
"Too bad! That letter was worth a small fortune to me."
"What did it contain?" asked the clerk.
The squire did not answer, but walked away in deep perplexity.
There was an additional excitement when Ralph was brought in by Jack Rodman. Soon it became whispered about that the boy was one of the robbers.
"Who is it?" questioned several.
"Easy to see that. It's Ralph Nelson."
"Say, is he really guilty, do you think?"
"That's what Uriah Dicks says."
"Rather guess Uriah is mistaken."
"And that's what I think. Uriah is down on the boy."
"That's so. Ralph is honest enough."
"Eddy Harmes saw Ralph around the post office."
"Maybe he is mistaken."
"Eddy is willing to swear to it."
"Yes, I saw him," said Eddy Harmes, a teamster.
"Eddy was driving over to the Eastport market for garden truck."
"Randolph Newell saw him, too," put in another in the crowd. "Saw him not over five minutes after the explosion."
And so the talk ran on, while Ralph was taken inside of the building, there to be examined by Postmaster Hooker and Squire Paget.
The squire grew pale when he heard what Jack Rodman had to say.
"Didn't you find any—any registered letters?" he asked of the constable.
"Only found the valise, sir."
"But that's enough," put in Uriah Dicks. "That and the knife clew."
"Seems to me you are mighty anxious to have the boy found guilty," cried Bart Haycock, angrily. "What makes you so down on the boy?"
"He is down on me because we have stopped trading with him, and because I won't work for him for starvation wages," retorted Ralph. "He is a mean skinflint, and half the village knows it."
"Wha—what!" spluttered Uriah. "This—to me?"
"Yes, to you," cried Ralph, boldly. "Now, don't say any more or it may be the worse for you. I don't see why folks shouldn't believe you were one of the men who robbed the post office."
"Well, I never!" gasped Uriah. "Ain't he thoroughly bad, though? Next thing he'll be settin' my barn on fire."
"Unless you do it yourself for the insurance," put in a voice in the rear of the crowd, and then there was a laugh that made Uriah furious.
But he knew that many could tell things to his disadvantage should they choose to speak, so he sneaked out of sight without making any reply to his tormentors.
No time was lost by the postmaster and Squire Paget in listening to what Jack Rodman had to say. Then Mr. Hooker turned to Ralph.
"Nelson, what have you to say in answer to this?"
"Simply that I am innocent, Mr. Hooker. I believe that there was a boy mixed up in this affair, but that boy was not myself."
Then Ralph was called on to tell his story, which he did in a straightforward manner. After this he was severely cross-questioned.
"I can't understand about that valise and knife," mused Benjamin Hooker. "If you left the knife in the outer office, how did it get inside?"
"That I cannot answer, sir. Perhaps somebody saw it outside and carried it in."
"There was nobody in the office yesterday except Henry Bott and myself."
"Well, I cannot explain it. But, as I said before, I am innocent."