At six o’clock the captain came in, and he seemed more gentlemanly and considerate than any of the officers I had seen. He took off his cap, and leaning against the bars of my cage, said,
“Now, you woman, I am awful sorry for you and am going to help you out of this scrape. I know all about you just as well or better than you know yourself. In fact, your partner, the old man, has given the whole thing away—made a clear confess, don’t you know—and he will have to go down. Now if you will make a clean breast of it all, we can let you off. We already know all about it, but want you to confess just for a formality so as to lay the case before the judge, who is an awful tender-hearted man and does just as I tell him. Now, lady, what do you say? Come, now, shall I unlock that cage and take you in the office where we can write it all out? Come, now, why don’t you speak, haven’t you any tongue? Well, you are the queerest woman! Can’t talk—eh? Oh! well, it’s no difference to me of course. I just wanted to do you a favor, but you have about as much gratitude as most of the rest of the soiled doves. All right, you needn’t say a word if you don’t want to. Hey, you there, Murphy, don’t let anybody see this gal. Bread and water will do, too. She ain’t any appetite. Do you hear?—I’m going now, miss. If you have anything to say now is your time; but if you prefer to have the cage locked for a week or so, why I ’spose you must have your own way. We’re allus willing to oblige our guests, you know. Can’t even say thank you, can you?” (Hesitates at the door—looks back and goes).
Bang went the outside door and I was alone for the night—my only company four electric lights, which made a dazzling glare. I lay down on the bench and tried to sleep. Then I tried the floor. At last I propped the bench against the bars, and half-seated, half-reclining, the long hours passed as a fitful nightmare.
I have since learned that when Martha Heath saw me in the patrol-wagon she hastened straight to the station-house, but they told her I was not there, and showed her the blotter showing the name of “Mary Roe”—Bilkson having explained that my right name was unknown, and further by keeping a prisoner very close they are more apt to confess.
Martha insisted on seeing Mary Roe, who they said was asleep and must not be disturbed. “Call to-morrow,” they said. Martha still insisted, until the captain bawled out to the doorman, “Hey, you, have you got a vacant cell for this crazy woman?” Martha was not to be frightened by such a threat so she said, “All right, put me in a cell! I dare you to! I’m no better than Aspasia Hobbs, and you have locked her up.” The captain took the persistent Martha by the arm, and led her to the door and showed her down the steps.
The good girl saw she was powerless, and as my mother knew nothing about the matter she concluded to wait until Monday morning and then stir heaven and earth if needs be to get me out.
Monday morning, bright and early, Mr. Bilkson and Mr. Woodbur walked arm in arm down South Division street, to the cottage of Mrs. Hobbs, and Grimes showed them into the little parlor. Mrs. Hobbs entered, delighted to think two such eminent gentlemen should call on her; and in her joy she forgot the time of day, and believed it was only a social call, for on Delaware Avenue callers were constant. What is the matter with South Division street?
Both gentlemen shook hands with the widow. Then they whispered together. Then Woodbur said,
“Mr. Bilkson, will you please oblige the lady and also myself by assuming a standing position?”