THE STORY OF A BOY WITH A PURPOSE.
BY JOHN RUSSELL CORYELL,
AUTHOR OF "CAST ADRIFT; OR, NED CARROLL'S
PROMISE," ETC.
CHAPTER IX.
POLICE HEADQUARTERS.
"Who are you? What are you talking about?" demanded one of the detectives of Andy, after the latter had stepped forward with his exclamation that it was not the little boy.
A curiously malevolent expression crossed the face of the man with the child as he bent his eyes on Andy; but he did not speak to him then, but rather to the crowd that had quickly gathered,
"What does all this mean? Why am I stopped in this way? Is there a policeman here? Call a policeman, somebody, please. Upon my word—a pretty pass this, that a man may be molested in a public place in such a fashion!"
Mr. Roberts was well dressed and his manner was composed and even dignified, so that the sympathy of the spectators was with him at once, until one of the detectives threw back his coat and showed his badge, when there was a murmur of wonder, and one of them asked:
"What's he done?"
Just at this point the policeman came hurrying up.
The detective in charge saw him and showed him his badge, and then said to him:
"Collar the kid," pointing to Andy, "and fetch him along to the office up here. Are you a passenger on the steamer?" he asked of his prisoner.
"No; but I warn you that you will find yourself in trouble if you do not release me at once. I can easily see that there is a conspiracy among you to give me trouble. That boy there, whose father is a convict, as I happen to know, is at the bottom of it, I suppose. As for this child here, he is the son of a friend, and I have brought him here to see the departure of the steamer. If, after this explanation, you still persist in detaining me, it shall be at your peril."
"If I've made a mistake, I'm sorry," said the detective; "but I'm doing no more than my duty in holding you. I never saw that boy before. I don't know what he knows of the matter."
"You're looking for Regy Thorne, aren't you?" said Andy, who had confined himself to listening and thinking until now.
"What if we are?" replied the non-committal detective.
"So am I, that's all," answered Andy, giving his enemy a bold glance of defiance in return for the black looks cast upon him.
They had reached the wharf office by this time, and were readily admitted by the wharfinger and given a place at the back end.
"Oho!" said the detective, "so you are after him, too, are you? How do you come to know anything about it?"
"I live in Lakeville, and I left there last night on purpose to come here and look for Regy. I was after the reward."
"Do you know this gentleman?"
And he pointed to the man Andy had such good cause to know.
"He knows me," struck in Mr. Roberts, with a sneer, "and bears me no good will for having exposed him in the village where he lives. I protest against being held on his evidence. If I am to undergo this humiliation, send for a carriage immediately and have me taken to headquarters, so that I may send for this child's parents and for some of my friends. The charge against me I do not understand yet, excepting that it has something absurd to do with this little boy."
If Andy had been allowed to speak at once in answer to the question of the detective, he would have betrayed a great deal of the knowledge he had of the man, and would have given out a sudden light that had come to him as he stood there looking at him and listening. But with consideration came wisdom, or, at the least, caution, and he replied, briefly:
"I saw him in Lakeville yesterday. He did what he could to injure me, but I did not know that he had anything to do with this matter."
"You know the boy we are looking for?" asked the detective.
"Yes, sir."
"And you are sure this is not the one?"
Andy looked carefully at the child, who had stood in a sort of wonder at the attention he was receiving.
"I am sure," said Andy, finally, "that this is not Regy Thorne; but he is dressed exactly as Regy was yesterday, or the day before. I did not see him yesterday."
"Dressed the same!" said the detective, exchanging meaning glances with his fellow-officer. "How do you explain that?" he inquired of Andy's enemy.
"I don't explain it," was the cool answer. "I suppose, however, that a great many children dress alike in these days when clothing is bought ready-made."
The detective looked at him shrewdly and turned to his companion.
"Get a carriage, Dan—that is, if this gentleman is prepared to pay for it."
"Certainly," was the reply. "And may I ask what the charge against me is?"
"I should suppose you might have guessed it by this time," answered the detective, with so much less respect in his manner that it was quite evident that he did not believe his prisoner as innocent as he would have it appear. "The charge against you isn't made yet, but I arrested you on suspicion of being implicated in the kidnapping of a little boy named Reginald Thorpe Thorne, and I shall take you to headquarters on that suspicion."
Andy was sure he saw a slight change in the man's features at the tone in which the words were uttered, and it was plain to him that the coincidence of the little boy in his company being dressed exactly as Regy had been dressed, had made an impression on the detective.
The latter turned to him.
"You will have to go with us too. What is your name?"
"Andrew Fletcher."
"You will find his father's name on the register at Sing Sing," said the man who had, as Andy believed, done so much to put it there.
Andy flashed an indignant glance at him, but paid no other attention to him.
"Must I go with you?" he asked of the detective.
"Yes."
"Will you leave somebody here to watch the steamer, just the same?" questioned Andy, anxiously.
"Don't worry about that, my lad. The steamer shall be watched."
"Will I be kept long?"
"I can't tell. Depends on what the inspector says."
It seemed to Andy that all his chances of earning the reward were gone; but there was just a glimmering of hope left, and he was determined not to part with a certain secret he had until he was certain that Regy was found.
The secret was a small thing, and yet it might be the key to success. It was this: Andy had made no effort to connect the two speakers he had overheard while he was working in the onions with any one he knew, until as he stood there in the wharf office confronted with the man who had tried so hard to injure him, and who seemed in some singular way connected with the kidnapping of Regy Thorne.
Then it came to him like a flash, that his was the voice he had heard saying to the other man the words about being at the Arizona at five in the morning.
It was certain to him then that Henry Roberts was connected with the kidnapping, and while it was impossible for him to comprehend the meaning of the episode in which he was an enforced actor, he had settled it in his mind, that if Regy was to be found, it would be through this man.
He should have told all this—his knowledge and his suspicions—to the police when he was taken to the inspector's office and examined; but he did not realize the importance of doing so, and his eagerness to gain the money for his father's sake was so great that he merely answered the questions put to him.
As for the man, whom he had come to look upon as his enemy, and who, indeed, seemed to have transferred to the son the hatred and ill-will he had once borne the father, it was found impossible to fix any sort of complicity on him.
The child was easily proven to be the son of respectable parents, who had been promised long ago by Mr. Roberts that he should go some morning to see an ocean steamer off. The clothes had been purchased some time before at a clothing store.
So Mr. Roberts was dismissed; but no apology was made to him, and he demanded none. Of course, no one thought of apologizing to Andy for a detention of four hours at police headquarters, for Mr. Roberts had not failed to inform the inspector that Andy's father was in Sing Sing, and it is natural for police to judge a child by his parents.
So Andy was dismissed, with a warning not to mix himself up in matters that did not concern him. And Andy went out of the gloomy building, feeling that there was not much justice to be had from the law.
There was his father, innocent and in prison; and here was he, dismissed, as if he was not much better than a criminal himself. And to be told not to mix himself up in the matter! As for that, he would not give up his search for Regy because they told him to.
CHAPTER X.
A MYSTERIOUS LETTER.
Andy walked out into the street, feeling very ill-used and indignant, and was for hurrying away as quickly as possible, forgetting for the moment that he had determined on a certain course to pursue.
"I thought fer sure yer was in fer a trip to the island," said a voice behind him.
Andy turned and there was Pete following after him.
"Oh, is that you, Pete? I had forgotten all about you. Where did you come from?"
"Yer didn't think I'd give yer the go-by now, did yer?" asked Pete, in an injured tone. "I was waitin' fer yer all the time. I don't go back on a pardner like that. Why, if they'd shipped yer up to the island, I'd a' been there to say good-by to yer, an' don't yer ferget it. Yer give me a breakfast this morning, didn't yer? Yer licked them fellers, didn't yer? Well, Pete, if he's got only one name, don't go back on yer. See? An' that settles it."
It was not an elegant speech, and Pete was an uncommonly disreputable-looking lad, with his grimy face and hands and his tattered garments, but there was a ring of gratitude and earnestness in his tone that went straight to Andy's heart, and he held out his hand with:
"You're the right sort, Pete."
"Anyhow, I don't go back on a pardner," said Pete, shaking the proffered hand awkwardly.
Andy was in need of sympathy at just that moment, and he was really very glad of the friendship of the little waif, who was so old in experience if so young in years.
He would not have selected Pete for a friend and confidant; but there he was, at hand, with his sympathy ready, and Andy was moved to take him into his confidence.
"I say, Pete," he began, and stopped.
"Say it," said Pete.
But at that moment Andy had caught sight of his man with the child, and he exclaimed: "Do you see that man, Pete?"
"The feller that was on the wharf? I see him."
"I want to follow him."
"Nobody's hinderin' yer."
"But he knows me, and if he sees me following him, he will know what I am after. Don't you see?"
"I'm fly. Yer want me ter do the trick. Good! Yer know me? I'm Lynx-eyed Bill, the terror of the force. Git onter my lynx eye."
Whether he had a lynx eye or not, he certainly was a very shrewd little scamp, for he left Andy's side and hurried nearer to the man and child; and so, followed by Andy at a considerable distance, he kept after them.
The mother of the child and some sympathizing friends were with them, and there was no difficulty in keeping them in sight as long as they remained together.
Mr. Roberts went with them, however, only to the cars, where he left them, evidently with many apologies for the trouble he had been the cause of putting them all to, for Pete, and even Andy, from his distance, could see him bowing many times over.
As soon as the car took them away, he looked all around with seeming carelessness, though it was plain to the boys that he was scrutinizing everybody anxiously.
Andy jumped out of sight at once, and when he peered around his corner again the advantage of having Pete help him was evident.
Mr. Roberts had disappeared, but Pete was visible just as he was hurrying around a corner, and so Andy was enabled to follow again.
If he had been asked just what he expected to gain by following the man he could not have told. It was merely that it had entered his head that if Mr. Roberts was concerned, as he believed, in the kidnapping of Regy, and if Regy had not yet been taken out of the country, then Mr. Roberts would be likely to do something or go somewhere that would betray Regy's hiding place to him.
Mr. Roberts walked over to Broadway and down it a few blocks to a liquor saloon, which he entered. Pete was turning it over in his sharp brains how he could contrive to follow him in there without attracting his attention, when he suddenly came out again and walked briskly up Broadway.
Pete reasoned that he had not been in there long enough to get a drink, and he was just reproaching himself for not having followed him into the saloon, when Mr. Roberts drew a letter out of the side pocket of his sack coat, and with a preliminary glance around, read it, and then thrust it back into his pocket and showed relief in every movement.
He was no longer in a hurry, but sauntered along in leisurely fashion, and was no further concerned, apparently, as to whether or not he was followed.
Pete turned this over in his mind and came to a conclusion. The letter was the thing that had had the sudden soothing effect on the man; then the letter was probably about the child Andy was hunting for. If so, it was only necessary to get the letter and give it to Andy and the matter would be ended.
Andy would have despaired of getting the letter, if he had been near enough to observe all that had taken place, and so would most other persons; but Pete had had a training which, fortunately, most persons have not had, and it was a comparatively small matter to him to obtain the letter.
He turned his sleeve up, so that his hand and wrist were clear and free, and then quickened his pace and drew nearer to where Mr. Roberts was sauntering along. He kept close behind him for a block or more, walking as if he had not a thing on his mind.
Presently there was one of those sudden gatherings of people on the sidewalk, such as are of common occurrence in every large city.
Then Pete pressed close to the side of Mr. Roberts, taking care to be on the side where the pocket containing the letter was. Mr. Roberts did not know it—you would not have seen it had you been there—but the grimy hand of Pete went in and out of that side pocket like a flash of lightning, and it held the letter when it came out.
What would Andy say to that way of obtaining the letter? That was the very question Pete put to himself after the missive was safe in his pocket.
He had had an example of Andy's notions of honesty, and it spoke volumes for Andy's influence on him that he did not propose to let his "pardner" know how he had obtained the letter.
"I'll bet a quarter," said Pete to himself, as he fell back to where he knew Andy would be, "that he'd be jest fool ernough ter give the chump the letter back ag'in."
When he was where he could beckon Andy he did so, and the latter hastened up to him.
"Here's a letter," explained Pete. "He dropped it. Mebbe it has somethin' in ter tell yer what yer want ter know."
"Dropped it?" said Andy, taking the letter doubtfully, but not suspecting the way in which it had been obtained.
"Ya-as, an' I picked it up," replied Pete, unblushingly. "Go on an' read it, why don't yer?"
It seemed to Andy that it would be no more than fair to read it under the circumstances, and he opened it and did so. It was without signature, and read as follows:
"Gone with Uncle Mike! Watch the Mirror."
Andy's disappointment at the contents of the letter was plainly shown on his face.
"What's the matter?" asked Pete, curiously.
"I can't understand it," answered Andy.
"Can't yer read writin'?" was Pete's surprised inquiry.
"Of course I can," replied Andy; "but I can't make anything out of this."
"What does it say?" asked Pete.
They were walking along as they talked, and Pete constantly kept his eye on Mr. Roberts.
Andy read the letter to him.
"Lay low!" exclaimed Pete, suddenly, pulling Andy around a corner. "He's missed the letter. He'll be back ter hunt fer it."
"I'll stay here," said Andy. "You keep your eye on him."
Pete went out to Broadway again, and Andy saw him disappear hastily around the corner.
He knew by that that his man could not be approaching, so he peered around the corner and saw Pete on the edge of the sidewalk looking every way. Mr. Roberts was nowhere in sight.
Pete hunted and Andy hunted, but neither could obtain a glimpse of him, and Andy was in the depths of despair.
"It's no use," said Andy, at last; "he's gone, and my chance has gone with him."
Pete looked sympathetic and downcast.
"I s'pose it's my fault," he said, dismally.
"No, it's my fault," said Andy. "I should have kept my eye on him all the time."
"Yer've got the letter," reminded Pete, by way of consolation.
"What's the use of the letter when I can't understand it?" replied Andy.
"What don't yer understand?" asked Pete.
"Any of it 'What does 'Gone with Uncle Mike' mean? What does 'Watch the Mirror' mean?"
"Huh!" said Pete. "I can tell yer that much."
"You can."
"Yer bet I can. Come on, an' I'll show yer."
Andy looked suspicious and doubtful. How could Pete be so knowing as that? If he could not understand the letter, how could Pete?
Pete, however, led him without a word, but with a wonderfully knowing air, along several blocks, and finally stopped at a news stand and looked it over.
"That the last Mirror, boss?" he asked, of the man in charge.
"Yep."
"Give it ter me?"
And Pete handed over his quarter, received his change and a paper and then led Andy up a side street and gave the paper to him.
Andy saw that its name was the Mirror, and that it was devoted to theatrical news. That was enough to give him confidence in Pete's intelligence, but he was in the dark yet.
"I see so much," he said; "but I don't understand about Uncle Mike."
"Andy," said Pete, with a compassionate air, "yer a dandy with yer dukes, an' yer square as a brick; but yer ain't cut yer eye-teeth yet. Gimme the paper an' let me show yer."
Andy gave him the paper and the knowing Pete took it and turned to the back pages.
"There!" said he, pointing to a column beaded "Dates Ahead." "Look at that an' see if Uncle Mike ain't mentioned."
Andy, with a glimmering of Pete's idea, looked along the column until he came to "U," and there he saw, at the head of the list, "Uncle Mike Co.; Philadelphia, July 8—week."
He read it aloud to Pete, and Pete nodded his head, as if to say, "Of course, I knew you'd find it."
"Does it mean that Uncle Mike is a theatrical company?" asked Andy, eagerly.
"That's what it means, sonny, an' it means that Uncle Mike is goin' ter play Philadelf fer the week wot begins on the eighth. So all yer've got ter do is ter add that up an' there yer air. What! ain't we on ter his nibs? Oh, no, I guess not!"
And Pete dashed his old hat down over his eyes and strutted around.
"You think my man is going on there to join the company?" asked Andy.
"Naw. The man with the kid is in Philadelf. That's the way I lay it out."
"That's it," cried Andy. "I see! He wanted to get away on the steamer, and Mr. Roberts was afraid there would be detectives on the watch; so he dressed the little boy up just like Regy to make the trial first. Then, when he found that the steamer would be watched, the man with Regy went to Philadelphia."
"That sounds like it," said Pete, approvingly.
"Yes," continued Andy; "but I don't understand what Uncle Mike has to do with it."
"No more do I," answered Pete. "But I tell yer what yer can do. Yer can go on an' find out."
"Go to Philadelphia?" exclaimed Andy.
"Why not?"
"It'll take too much money."
"Huh! won't take a cent."
"Why not?"
"How fur is it?"
"I don't know. About a hundred miles, I think."
"Well, yer can walk, can't yer? Terday's the fifth, ain't it? That gives yer till the eighth, an' a week more. It won't take us that long;"
"Us?"
"Yes. I'll go along ter take care o' yer."
Andy considered a moment.
"See here, Pete," he said, presently, "how do you come to know so much about what the letter meant?"
"Been there," answered Pete.
"Been where?"
"In the show business. Greatest knock-about juvee-nile all-around dance artist in the world! That's me. Too much knock-about fer me, an' I skipped. Tra-la-la!"
And Pete made a comical show of skipping away.
It seemed to account for Pete's extreme shrewdness, and Andy had no difficulty in believing him. He weighed the reasons for and against going to Philadelphia after Regy on the strength of the letter.
It was only a chance that Regy would be found there; but it was a chance, and he could not bear to throw it away. And why should he? There was only the thought of his mother to deter him, and he was certain that she would be easy about him if he wrote to her.
"Let's go, Pete. I'll write to mother and then we'll start."
"Have yer got a mother?" asked Pete, with a sort of eagerness.
"Yes," said Andy, "and a father, too. I'll tell you about them and what I'm after soon as I get a chance. Come on while I buy a sheet of paper."