CHAPTER XVII.
BOB GOES FOR AN OFFICER.
Old Gunwagner saw quite clearly that any further effort to play upon the boys’ sympathy was useless.
The first shock of his surprise was over, and now the subtle cunning of his nature began to reassert itself.
“Boys, you have the advantage of me at present,” said he, softly. “But I can’t see how it will pay you to act foolish.”
“What do you mean?” asked Herbert.
“I mean that it will pay you a good deal better to make terms with me.”
“How so?”
“Would you like to be rich?” was the reply.
“I suppose every American wants to be rich, and I guess we are no exception, are we, Bob?”
“I should think we ain’t,” replied the latter.
“So I thought,” said the old fence, “and it’s in my power to make you rich.”
The boys were listening to subtle, dangerous words.
“How can you do that?” said Bob, growing interested.
“There are a number of ways that I might do it. In the first place, I could give both of you all the money you will ever need, and still be rich myself.”
“But a man isn’t likely to give away so much,” said Herbert.
“You must have a payin’ business,” observed the young detective.
“Of course I must, and that is the point I am coming at. You boys have shown yourselves keen lads, and I always like to help such boys along, for I was poor once myself. Now my proposition is this: I’ll give you both a show in the business here with me.”
“No, sir, thank you, we do not care to go into a dishonest business like this,” said Herbert, emphatically, speaking for both Bob and himself.
“Not if you could each make ten thousand a year, clean money?”
“No; not if we could make ten times that,” replied our hero.
“You could have a good time on ten thousand a year—boys of your age.”
“Not on stolen money.”
“It wouldn’t be on stolen money.”
“It looks very much like it, when you buy stolen goods.”
“Yes, and fix up a job for bank robbin’,” added Bob.
“Well, suppose it does look so, why couldn’t you enjoy the money just as much?”
“Because it wouldn’t be right for us to have it,” returned our hero.
“Boys, you are not so old as I am. I’ve seen a good deal of life. Money is money, and it don’t matter where it comes from, it will buy just as much.”
“It will not always buy one his liberty,” replied young Randolph, coolly.
This remark came close home to the old fence, and disconcerted him for a minute. Presently, however, he rallied, and said:
“Do you think one has his liberty, as you call it, when he is poor—so poor that he can have no luxuries?”
“To be sure he does. Why not?”
“You will change your mind some day, and perhaps it will be too late.”
“I hope I shall never change my mind in favor of dishonesty and crime.”
“Do you know that a boy’s chance to get rich hardly ever comes to him but once in his life?” continued old Gunwagner, undaunted.
“No, and I don’t believe it is so, either.”
“Another evidence of your inexperience. When you get older, you will look back and see what I tell you is true; and if you miss this chance you will never get another one like it.”
“We don’t want another one like it, so it’s no use to talk about it any more.”
“That’s so,” said Bob; “he hain’t got no interest in us; I can see through his trick.”
“You are mistaken, young man. If you don’t want to go into the business here yourselves, I’ll give you an interest in it, if you will do nothing to injure it. You see, you know about the business here now, and if you should give it away to the police, why it would hurt it, don’t you understand?”
“Yes, we understand it too well, but do not want an interest in it,” said Herbert.
“It would pay you well,” persisted the old fence; “say about seven to ten thousand dollars each every year, and you needn’t come anear it—just take your dividends every week, and that’s all.”
“Well, we don’t want no such dividends,” said Bob; “nor we couldn’t get ’em if we did want ’em, that’s all.”
“You are mistaken again, for if you think the business don’t pay as well as I say, why I can show you the money.”
“Got it with you?” said Bob.
This question pleased the old fence, and gave him renewed courage. He thought now that perhaps there was yet hope for him.
“I have it in the house,” said he.
“In cash?”
“Yes, and I can get it if you want to see it.”
“Don’t see how you’re goin’ to get it, the way you are fixed now,” continued Bob.
“Well, if you will not let me go for it, I can tell you where to find it.”
“Can you? Well, where is it?”
“It is in my bedroom, in the further end of the house. You will find it in the thick wallet, under my pillow.”
“Well, we will take your word for it, seein’ we don’t need the money for anything, and wouldn’t take it nohow,” said the young detective, who divined the purpose of the old fence.
“But if you don’t get it, how can I make you boys a present? You will not allow me to go for it,” said the fence, fearing his scheme had failed him.
“We don’t want no present, so don’t worry yourself about that.”
“We prefer taking you with us, rather than the present,” said Herbert.
“Old man,” continued Bob, “your game didn’t work. All you wanted was to get me out of the way so you could er layed Vermont out. But it warn’t no go. You was too anxious to give away money. I could see all the time what you was aimin’ at.”
The old fence protested against this interpretation of his motives, but the boys were too keen for him. Young Bob Hunter had been knocking about the streets of New York too long to be very easily taken in by this old Gunwagner. His wits had been sharpened to a high degree in his long struggle for bread, and his knowledge of human nature was as superior to that of Herbert Randolph as the latter’s general education was superior to Bob’s.
gunwagner in the hands
of the police.
Finding it impossible to work upon the sympathy of the boys, that buying them off was out of the question, and that the scheme to outwit them had proved a flat failure, Gunwagner now turned to the last weapon which he could hope to use with any possible effect.
“So you have made up your mind to take me with you?” said he, looking hard at Herbert.
“Yes,” replied the latter, firmly.
“You will make the biggest mistake of your life, if you attempt such an outrage.”
“An outrage! Is that what you call it, when a detective takes a bird like you in?” said Bob Hunter, in his characteristic manner.
The old fence looked fiercely at him.
“My friends are all around here, and I can raise a dozen of them before you could get me half a block away.”
“We do not feel uneasy about your so called friends,” said young Randolph. “But if you prefer it, we will send for an officer, and let him take you.”
“If your friends go back on you the way Mortimer done tonight, when he told you he would look out for himself, and let you fight it out alone, why, then I guess me and Vermont needn’t bother much about your gang.”
Further intimidation was tried by Gunwagner, but all to no purpose, for now the boys were in the act of fastening together the wrists of the old fence, and binding them securely to a chair. When this had been done, so that they no longer felt any insecurity, they took from his pocket the keys to both doors leading to the street, and Bob Hunter started for an officer. Young Randolph remained with the prisoner, because he was stronger than Bob, and therefore would be the better able to handle him, should he by any means get his hands loose.
Now every hope had failed the old man. He saw nothing but Sing Sing before him. His evil purpose had at last recoiled upon him, and he was a prisoner in the hands of one who but a few hours before had begged of him for mercy.
While waiting for the return of Bob with the officer, Herbert asked Gunwagner if the money he had made in crooked and unlawful ways had brought him happiness. He made no audible reply, but sat with his head bent low. An answer, however, was conveyed to our young hero by a silent tear that made its way slowly down the wrinkled and aged face of the old man, whose life had been worse than wasted, for it had been an evil one.