CHAPTER XXXVII.
MARTIN IS TRAPPED.
Mickety at once went off to do as Ralph had requested. He was rather doubtful about a policeman listening to his tale, but he resolved to do his best.
In the meantime Ralph inspected the house, and wondered what sort of place it was, and what had brought Martin there. His inspection ended in disappointment, for nothing came to light.
Presently, however, a young girl came out of the basement of the house with a pitcher in her hand. She was evidently a servant girl. A milkman drove up, and from him she purchased a quart of milk.
Before she could return to the house, Ralph touched her on the arm.
"Excuse me, but I believe you live in that house," he said, pleasantly.
"I works there, sur," said the girl, in a strong Irish accent.
"Will you kindly tell me who lives there?"
"Mr. Martin Thomas, sur."
Ralph stared at this bit of information. Martin Thomas and the man he was after were most likely the same individual.
"Yis, sur."
"He lives there alone, does he?"
"Oh, no, sur. There's another family occupying the house, but they are away for the summer, sur."
"Oh. I see. Thank you."
"Did you wish to see Mr. Thomas, sur?"
"Is he busy?"
"He said he was going away, sur. He's at work packing up some things, I believe."
"Then I won't bother him. It isn't likely that he would want to buy a new History of the United States, is it?"
"Indeed not!" cried the girl, in deep disgust.
She at once took Ralph for a book agent, a set of men she thoroughly despised.
"I won't bother him," said Ralph, and walked away, while the girl hurried back into the basement.
"So he is going away," thought Ralph. "I must see to it that he does not get very far."
He took up his position behind the stone steps of a house nearby, so that looking from the windows of his own residence, Martin might not see him.
While he was waiting, Ralph looked up and down the street for the bootblack, but Mickety had disappeared.
"He won't leave me in the lurch, I feel certain of that," said Ralph to himself. "Yet I would feel easier if there was a policeman in sight."
Five minutes more went by, and then the front door of the house opened and Martin came out.
He was elegantly dressed and wore a silk hat. In one hand he carried a large leather valise.
He looked up and down anxiously, and then ran down the steps to the pavement.
He started to walk down the block, and Ralph allowed him to get a hundred feet or more from the house.
Then he stepped out and confronted the man.
"Well, Mr. Martin Thomas, we meet again," he said, coolly.
Martin Thomas, for that was really the man's name, was thunderstruck.
"What—er——" he stammered.
"I say we meet again," repeated Ralph. "I guess you did not expect to see me quite so soon."
"Confound the luck!" muttered the man, biting his lips nervously.
"You did not expect me to obtain my freedom as quickly as I did."
"How did you get out?" muttered the man, savagely.
"A friend came to my assistance."
"A friend!" repeated Martin Thomas, with a start.
"Yes, a friend."
"Who?"
"Perhaps you can guess," went on Ralph, who wished to prolong the conversation as much as possible.
"I cannot."
"Make a guess."
"Somebody from Glen Arbor?"
"No."
"A city friend, perhaps?"
"Exactly."
"Well, what are you going to do now?"
"Rather, let me ask you what you are going to do?" returned Ralph, warmly.
He was much relieved just then to see Mickety across the way, with a policeman beside him.
"I?"
"Exactly. You tried your best to get me out of the way," went on Ralph, in rather a loud voice. "And now you have failed, I want to know what your next move is going to be."
"Hush, not so loud!" cried Martin Thomas in alarm. "Never mind what I am going to do."
"Will you tell me why you tried to take my life?"
"Hang it, boy, don't talk so loud!"
"Then tell me your object."
"I won't."
"You will have to."
"What's that, boy?"
"I say you will have to."
"Nonsense. Get out of my way. I am in a hurry."
Martin Thomas tried to brush past Ralph, but the boy caught him by the arm.
"Let go of me, boy, unless you want me to do something desperate. You escaped me three times, but——"
Martin Thomas broke off short, and his face turned a sickly green. He had just caught sight of the policeman and Mickety, who were dodging behind him.
"Why—er——" he began.
"Dat's der feller, officer!" cried out Mickety. "Didn't yer hear wot he said?"
"I did," replied the policeman.
"Arrest this man, officer," put in Ralph. "And be careful, for he is a desperate criminal."
"This is an outrage!" cried Martin Thomas, but he was too overcome to put any courage in his words.
"I will make a complaint against the man," said Ralph, calmly. "This boy will be a witness for me, and I can get other witnesses against him if it be necessary."
"That's all I want," said the policeman. "You just come with me," he went on, to Martin Thomas.
The rascal begged, pleaded and threatened, but all to no purpose. The policeman held him on one side, while Ralph ranged up on the other, and Mickety marched behind. In this order they soon reached the station-house.
Here Ralph told his whole story, and Mickety related what he knew of the affair. Then the country boy sent a special messenger to Horace Kelsey.
The arrival of the rich insurance agent helped Ralph's case considerably. Martin Thomas was locked up in default of a thousand dollars' bail, pending trial for atrocious assault.