In a room on the third floor of a miserable tenement house in Centre street two men were sitting. Each had a forbidding exterior, and neither was in any danger of being mistaken for a peaceful, law-abiding citizen. One, attired in a red shirt and pants, was leaning back in his chair, smoking a clay pipe. His hair was dark and his beard nearly a week old. Over his left eye was a scar, the reminder of a wound received in one of the numerous affrays in which he had been engaged.
This was Jack Morgan, already referred to as the guardian of the boy Julius. He was certainly a disreputable-looking ruffian, and his character did not belie his looks.
The other man was taller, better dressed, and somewhat more respectable in appearance. But, like Jack, he, too, was a social outlaw, and the more dangerous that he could more easily assume an air of respectability, and pass muster, if he chose, as an honest man.
"Well, Marlowe," said Jack Morgan to the latter, who had just entered, "how's business?"
"Not very good," said Marlowe, shaking his head. "I haven't been so hard up for a long time. You haven't lost much by being shut up."
"I've had my board and lodging free," said Morgan; "but I'd rather look out for myself. I don't like free hotels." Marlowe smiled.
"That's where you're right, Jack. I never tried it but once, and then I didn't like it any better than you."
"You're a sharp one. You always cover your tracks."
"The cops don't often get hold of me," said Marlowe, with pride. "You remember that big bond robbery a year ago?"
"Yes. You wasn't in that?"
"Yes, I was."
"The rest of the fellows got trapped."
"That's so; but I heard in time and got off."
"Did you make anything out of it?"
"I made sure of a thousand-dollar bond."
"Did you put it off?"
"Yes; I sold it for half price."
"Where is the money?"
"It lasted me a month," said Marlowe, coolly. "I lived then, you can bet. But I haven't done much since. Do you see that?"
He took from his vest pocket a dollar greenback.
"What of it?"
"It's my last dollar."
"Then you've got to do something."
"Yes."
"Haven't you thought of anything?"
"I've got a plan that may work."
Here Julius entered, and his entrance produced a brief interruption. "What luck, Julius?" asked Morgan.
"Nothing much. I got a bundle to carry for a quarter."
"Have you got the money?"
"There's ten cents. I bought my supper with the rest."
"Give it to me."
Jack Morgan took the ten cents and thrust it into his pocket.
"You ain't smart, Julius," he said. "You ought to have brought more than that."
"Buy me a blacking-box and I will," said Julius.
"I'll see about it. But, Marlowe, you were just goin' to tell me of your plan."
"Shall I tell before him?" asked Marlowe, indicating the boy.
"Drive ahead. He's one of us."
"There's a house on Madison avenue that I've heard about. It belongs to a man that's gone to Europe."
"Then there isn't much left in it worth taking."
"That's where you're wrong. I've found out that he has left all his plate locked up in a safe on the second floor and some bonds, too, it's most likely."
"Has he got much?"
"So I hear."
"Who told you?"
"A man that was in his service. He was discharged for drunkenness, and he owes this Mr. Talbot a grudge."
"Is he a thief himself?"
"No, but he is willing to help us, out of revenge."
"Then you can depend on his information."
"Yes; there is no doubt of it."
"Is the house empty?"
"No; there's a family in charge."
"That's bad."
"Not so bad; it's a widow, with two children—one a little boy of eight or thereabouts, the other sixteen."
"Do you know anything about them?"
"The oldest boy is a street peddler. He keeps a necktie stand below the Astor House."
Hitherto Julius had not taken much interest in the conversation. That his disreputable guardian should be planning a burglary did not strike him with surprise. It seemed only a matter of course. But the last remark of Marlowe put a different face upon the matter. The description was so exact that he felt almost certain the boy spoken of must be his new friend, to whom he had been indebted for the best dinner he had eaten for many a day. He began to listen now, but not too obtrusively, as that might awaken suspicion.
"A boy of sixteen may give trouble," said Jack Morgan.
"He is easily disposed of," said Marlowe, indifferently.
"I wish it were only the woman and little boy we had to deal with."
"We can easily secure the boy's absence for that night."
"How?"
"I can't tell yet, but there's plenty of ways. He might be arrested on a false charge and kept over night in the station-house. Or there's other ways. But I can't tell till I know more about him. A letter might be sent him, asking him to go over to Brooklyn."
"Wouldn't do. His mother would get somebody else in his place."
"We must find out all about him. How's that boy of yours? Is he sharp?"
"He ought to be. He's knocked about for himself long enough."
"We can try him. Come here, my son."
Julius rose from his seat and walked up to the pair.
"Hark you, my lad, can you do as you're told?"
Julius nodded.
"We've got something for you to do. It'll lead to money—do you hear?"
"I hear," said Julius.
"Have you heard what we were talking about?"
"I heard, but I didn't mind."
"Then I want you to hear, and mind, too, now. Have you ever seen a necktie stand between Dey and Cortlandt streets?"
"Yes."
"There's a boy keeps it."
"I've seed him."
"So far so good, then. Do you know anything about him?"
Julius shook his head.
"Then I want you to find out all you can about him. Find out if he's got any friends in Brooklyn, or just outside of the city. I'll tell you what I know about him, and then you must learn as much more as possible. Do you know his name?"
"No."
"It is Paul Hoffman. He and his mother live in a house that they take care of on Madison avenue. We want to break into that house some night next week and carry off some plate and bonds that are in the safe. If we make the haul we'll do well by you."
"I understand," said Julius, nodding intelligently.
"What we want," pursued Marlowe, "is to have the boy sleep out of the house the night we make the attempt. That will leave the coast clear. If the woman wakes up and discovers us, we'll threaten to kill her if she makes any fuss. Do you hear?"
Julius nodded again.
"Do you think you can do what we want?"
"Yes."
"That's well. We'll wait for the boy's report before we lay our plans, Jack. Now that's settled, we'll send out for some whisky and drink success to the job."
"Then you must find the money, Marlowe, for I'm dead broke."
"Here, boy, take this," said Marlowe, handing Julius the bill he had recently displayed, "and bring back a pint of whisky."
"All right," said Julius.
"And mind you bring back the change, or I must go without breakfast to-morrow morning."
"I'll remember," said Julius.
When he had gone out, Marlowe said: "Where did you pick up that boy, Jack? He isn't your son, is he?"
"No; I have no son. I picked him up one day when he was a little chap. He didn't seem to belong to nobody; so I took him home, and he's been with me ever since."
"Where does he go when you are shut up, Jack? That's a good part of the time, you know."
"Into the streets. He picks up a living there somehow. I don't ask how."
"And he always comes back to you when you get out again?"
"Yes."
"Loves you like a father, eh?" said Marlowe, laughing.
"He's used to me," said Jack, indifferently.
Not being sentimental, he never troubled himself to expect affection from his young ward, and would not have felt very deeply afflicted if he had deserted him. Still, he, too, had got used to the society of Julius, who was the only living thing that clung to him, and probably would have felt a degree of regret at his loss. There are few, however callous, who do not feel some satisfaction in companionship.
Marlowe laughed.
"What are you laughing at?" said Jack.
"I was thinking, Jack, that you wasn't exactly the right sort to train up a boy in the way he should go, and all that. If he takes pattern by you, it's easy to tell where he'll fetch up."
"He ain't a bad sort," said Jack.
"Has he ever been over to the island?"
"No."
"Then he hasn't followed your teaching, that's all I can say."
"Never mind about the boy," said Jack, who had grown weary of the subject. "He can take care of himself."
Here Julius reappeared with the whisky. Both men brightened up at the sight of their favorite beverage.
"Have you got a pack of cards?" asked Marlowe.
"Are there any cards?" asked Jack, appealing to Julius.
The boy found some hidden away in the cupboard, and the men taking them were soon intent upon a game of poker. Julius looked on for a time, for he, too, knew something of the game; but after a time he became drowsy, and threw himself upon a pallet in the corner, which he shared with his guardian. He didn't sleep immediately, however, for now that his attention was drawn away from the game, he began to consider how he should act in the matter which had been confided to him. Should he prove true to his guardian and treacherous to Paul, or should he repay the latter for the kindness he had received at his hands? It was a difficult question. While he was pondering it his eyes closed and he fell asleep.
The men continued to play for about two hours, for penny stakes. The game had no interest for them unless something was staked upon it, and the winner pocketed his winnings with as much satisfaction as if it had been a thousand times as large.
About seven o'clock the next morning Julius awoke. Jack Morgan was still asleep and breathing heavily. His coarse features looked even more brutal in his state of unconsciousness. The boy raised himself on his elbow and looked thoughtfully at him as he slept.
"How did I come to be with him?" This was the question which passed through the boy's mind. "He ain't my father, for he's told me so. Is he my uncle, I wonder?"
Sometimes, but not often, this question had suggested itself to Julius; but in general he had not troubled himself much about ancestry. A good dinner was of far more importance to him than to know who his father or grandfather had been. He did not pretend to have a warm affection for the man between whom and himself existed the only tie that bound him to any fellow-creature. They had got used to each other, as Jack expressed it, and that served to keep them together when the law did not interfere to keep them apart. In general Julius had obeyed such orders as Jack gave him, but now, for the first time, a question of doubt arose in his mind. He was called upon to do something which would injure Paul, whose kindness had produced a strong impression upon him. Should he do it? This led him to consider how far he was bound to obey Jack Morgan. He could not see that he had anything to be grateful for. If Jack was flush he received some slight advantage. On the other hand, he was expected to give most of his earnings to his guardian when they were living together. While he was thinking the man opened his eyes.
"Awake, eh?" he asked.
"Yes," said Julius.
"What time is it?"
"The clock has gone seven."
"I can tell that by my stomach. I've got a healthy appetite this morning. Have you got any money?"
"Not a penny, Jack."
"That's bad. Just feel in the pocket of my breeches; there they are on the floor. See if you can find anything."
Julius rose from the pallet and did as he was ordered.
"There's twelve cents," he said.
"Good. We'll divide. We can get a breakfast at Brady's Free Lunch Saloon. Take six cents of it. I ain't going to get up yet."
"All right," said the boy.
"You must look sharp and pick up some money before night, or we shall go to bed hungry. Do you hear?"
"Yes, Jack."
"When Marlowe and I get hold of that gold and plate in Madison avenue we'll have a grand blow-out. You remember what Marlowe told you last night?"
"About the boy that keeps the necktie stand near Dey street?"
"Yes."
"I am to find out all I can about him."
"Yes. See if you can find out if he has any friends out of the city."
Julius nodded.
"We want to have the coast clear, so that we can break in next Monday night. The sooner the better. I'm dead broke and so is Marlowe, but I guess we can stand it till then."
"All right."
Jack Morgan turned over and composed himself to sleep again. He had said all he thought necessary, and had no pressing business to call him up. Julius opened the door and went out, down the rickety stairs and out through a narrow covered alleyway to the street, for the room which Jack Morgan and he occupied was in a rear tenement house. Several dirty and unsavory-looking children—they could not well be otherwise in such a locality—barefooted and bareheaded, were playing in the court. Julius passed them by, and sauntered along toward the City Hall Park. He met several acquaintances, newsboys and bootblacks, the former crying the news, the latter either already employed or looking for a job.
"Where are you goin', Julius?" asked a bootblack of his acquaintance.
"Goin' to get breakfast."
"Got any stamps?"
"Sixpence."
"You can't get a square meal for that."
"I'm goin' to 'free-lunch places.'"
"That's good if you're hard up. What are you doin' now?"
"Nothin' much."
"Why don't you black boots?"
"Haven't got any box or brush."
"You can borrow mine, if you'll give me half you make."
"What are you goin' to do?"
"I'll try sellin' papers for a change."
"I'll do it," said Julius, promptly, for he saw that the arrangement would, under the circumstances, be a good one for him. "Where will I see you to-night?"
"I'll be here at six o'clock."
"All right. Hand over your box." So the business arrangement was concluded—an arrangement not uncommon among street professionals. It is an illustration, on a small scale, of the advantage of capital. The lucky possessor of two or three extra blacking-boxes has it in his power to derive quite a revenue—enormous, when the amount of his investment is considered. As a general thing, such contracts, however burdensome to one party, are faithfully kept. It might be supposed that boys of ordinary shrewdness would as soon as possible save up enough to buy a box and brush of their own; but as they only receive half profits, that is not easy, after defraying expenses of lodging and meals.
Julius obtained one job before going to breakfast. He waited for another, but as none seemed forthcoming, he shouldered his box and walked down Nassau street till he reached a basement over which was the sign, FREE LUNCH. He went downstairs and entered a dark basement room. On one side was a bar, with a variety of bottles exposed. At the lower end of the apartment was a table, containing a couple of plates of bread and butter and slices of cold meat. This was the free lunch, for which no charge was made, but it was understood to be free to those only who had previously ordered and paid for a drink. Many came in only for the drinks, so that on the whole the business was a paying one.
Julius walked up to the bar and called for a glass of lager.
"Here, Johnny," said the barkeeper.
While he was drinking, a miserable-looking man, whose outward appearance seemed to indicate that Fortune had not smiled upon him lately, sidled in, and without coming to the bar, walked up to the table where the free lunch was spread out.
"What'll you have to drink, my friend?" asked the barkeeper, pointedly.
The man looked rather abashed, and fumbled in his pockets.
"I'm out of money," he stammered.
"Then keep away from the lunch, if you please," said the proprietor of the establishment. "No lunch without a drink. That's my rule."
"I'm very hungry," faltered the man, in a weak voice. "I haven't tasted food for twenty-four hours."
"Why don't you work?"
"I can't get work."
"That's your lookout. My lunch is for those who drink first."
Julius had listened to this conversation with attention. He knew what it was to be hungry. More than once he had gone about with an empty stomach and no money to buy food. He saw that the man was weak and unnerved by hunger, and he spoke on the impulse of the moment, placing five cents in his hand.
"Take that and buy a drink."
"God bless you!" uttered the man, seizing the coin.
"What'll you have?" asked the barkeeper.
"Anything the money will buy."
A glass of lager was placed in his hands and eagerly quaffed. Then he went up to the table and ate almost ravenously, Julius bearing him company.
"God bless you, boy!" he said. "May you never know what it is to be hungry and without a penny in your pocket!"
"I've knowed it more'n once," said Julius.
"Have you—already? Poor boy! What do you do for a living?"
"Sometimes one thing—sometimes another," said Julius. "I'm blackin' boots now."
"So I am relieved by the charity of a bootblack," murmured the other, thoughtfully. "The boy has a heart."
"Can't you get nothin' to do?" asked Julius, out of curiosity.
"Yes, yes, enough to do, but no money," said the other.
"Look here," said the barkeeper, "don't you eat all there is on the table. That won't pay on a five-cent drink—that won't."
He had some cause for speaking, for the man, who was almost famished, had already eaten heartily. He desisted as he heard these words, and turned to go out.
"I feel better," he said. "I was very weak when I came in. Thank you, my boy," and he offered his hand to Julius, which the latter took readily.
"It ain't nothin'," he said, modestly.
"To me it is a great deal. I hope we shall meet again."
Street boy as he was, Julius had found some one more destitute than himself, and out of his own poverty he had relieved the pressing need of another. It made him feel lighter-hearted than usual. It was the consciousness of having done a good action, which generally brings its own reward, however trifling it may have been.
Though himself uneducated, he noticed that the man whom he had relieved used better language than was common among those with whom he was accustomed to associate, and he wondered how such a man should have become so poor.
"I don't want to see that man again," said the barkeeper. "He spends five cents and eats twenty cents' worth. If all my customers were like that, I should soon have to stop business. Do you know him?"
"Never seed him afore," said Julius.
He shouldered his box and ascended the steps to the sidewalk above. He resolved to look out for business for the next two hours, and then go around to the necktie stand of Paul Hoffman.
Paul Hoffman was standing beside his stock in trade, when all at once he heard the question, so common in that neighborhood, "Shine yer boots?"
"I guess not," said Paul, who felt that his income did not yet warrant a daily outlay of ten cents for what he could easily do himself.
"I'll shine 'em for nothin'," said the boy.
Such a novel proposition induced Paul to notice more particularly the boy who made it.
"Why for nothing?" he asked, in surprise, not recognizing Julius.
"You gave me a dinner yesterday," said Julius.
"Are you the boy?" asked Paul, with interest.
"I'm the one," answered Julius. "Will you have a shine?"
"I don't want any pay for the dinner," said Paul. "You're welcome to it."
"I'd rather give you a shine," persisted Julius.
"All right," said Paul, pleased by his grateful spirit, and he put out his foot.
"Won't you let me pay for it?" asked Paul, when the job was finished and his boots were resplendent with a first-class polish.
"No," said Julius, hastily drawing back.
"Thank you, then. Have you had good luck this morning?"
"I got four shines," said Julius.
"I once blacked boots myself, for a little while," said Paul.
"You're doin' better now."
"Yes, I'm doing better now. So will you some day, I hope."
"Do you live in a house on Madison avenue?" asked Julius, abruptly.
"Yes," said Paul, surprised. "Who told you?"
"You take care of the house for a gentleman as has gone to Europe, don't you?"
"How do you know it?" demanded Paul.
"I want to tell you something" said Julius, "only don't you never let on as I told you."
"All right. Go ahead!" said Paul, more and more mystified.
"Ain't there some gold and bonds kept in the house?"
"Why do you ask?" demanded Paul, eying the boy with suspicion.
"There's a couple of chaps that's plannin' to rob the house," said Julius, sinking his voice almost to a whisper, and looking cautiously about him to guard against being overheard.
"Who are they? How do you know it?" asked Paul, startled.
"One is Jack Morgan, the man I live with; the other is a friend of his, Tom Marlowe."
"Did you hear them talking about it?"
"Yes; last night."
"Did they tell you about it?"
"They wanted me to find out all about you—if you'd got any friends in Brooklyn, or anywheres round. They want to get you off the night they're goin' to break in."
"When is that?"
"Next Monday."
"What made you tell me all this?"
"'Cause you was good to me and give me a dinner when I was hungry."
"Give me your hand," said Paul, his heart warming toward the boy who exhibited so uncommon a feeling as gratitude.
"It's dirty," said Julius, showing his hand stained with blacking.
"Never mind," said Paul, grasping it warmly. "You're a good fellow, and I'd rather take your hand than a good many that's cleaner."
Julius, rough Arab as he was, looked gratified, and his face brightened. He felt that he was appreciated, and was glad he had revealed the plot.
"Now," said Paul, "you have told me about this man's plans; are you willing to help me further? Are you willing to let me know anything more that you find out about the robbery?"
"Yes, I will," said Julius, unhesitatingly.
"Then I'll depend upon you. What sort of a man is this that you live with? What's his name?"
"His name is Jack Morgan. He's a bad sort, he is. He's shut up most of the time."
"What makes you stay with him?"
"I'm used to him. There ain't nobody else I belong to."
"Is he your father?"
"No, he ain't."
"Any relation?"
"Sometimes he says he's my uncle, but maybe it ain't so—I dunno."
"Is he a strong man?"
"Yes; he's a hard customer in a fight."
"How about the other man?"
"That's Marlowe. He's the same sort. I like Jack best."
"Do you think they will try to break in next Monday night?"
"If they think you are away."
"What will you tell them?"
"What do you want me to tell them?" asked Julius, looking at him earnestly.
"I don't know," said Paul, thoughtfully. "If you should say I was going to be away, they'd want to know where, and how you found out. They might suspect something."
"That's so," said Julius.
"Suppose they heard that I would remain in the house, what would they do to prevent it?"
"They might get you took up on a false charge and put in the station-house over night, or maybe they'd seize you if they got a chance and lock you up somewhere."
"How could they have heard that Mr. Talbot left any valuables in the house?"
Julius shook his head. On that point he could give no information.
"You may tell them," said Paul, after a moment's thought, "that I have an aunt, Mrs. Green, living in Brooklyn."
"Whereabouts in Brooklyn?"
"No. 116 Third avenue," said Paul, at a venture. "Can you remember?"
"Yes."
"They will probably send a message from her late Monday evening for me to go over there."
"Will you go?"
"I will leave the house, for they will probably be watching; but I shall not go far, and I shall leave the house well guarded."
Julius nodded.
"I'll tell 'em," he said.
He was about to go, when Paul called him back.
"Won't you get yourself into trouble?" he said. "I should not want to have any harm come to you."
"They won't know I'm in the game," answered Julius.
"Will you come to-morrow and let me know what they say?"
"Yes."
Julius crossed Broadway and turned into Fulton street, leaving Paul full of thought. He felt what a great advantage it was to be forewarned of the impending danger, since being forewarned was forearmed, as with the help of the police he could prepare for his burglarious visitors. He saw that the money he had paid for a dinner for a hungry boy was likely to prove an excellent investment, and he determined that this should not be the last favor Julius received from him.
Meanwhile Julius returned to business. With the help of his blacking materials he succeeded in earning a dollar before the close of the day. Unluckily, half of this was to be given to the young capitalist who had supplied him with a box and brush; but still fifty cents was more than he would probably have earned if he had been compelled to depend upon chance jobs. At six o'clock he met his young employer and handed over fifty cents, which the other pocketed with much satisfaction.
"Do you want to take the box ag'in to-morrow?" he asked.
"Yes," said Julius.
"All right. You can keep it then. You can take it home with you and bring me the stamps to-morrow night at this same hour."
So the contract was continued, and Julius, having treated himself to some supper, went home.
Jack Morgan was already there. He looked up as Julius entered.
"Where'd you get that box?" he asked.
"I borrored it."
"Of a boy?"
"Yes; I give him half I makes."
"How much did you make to-day?"
"Ten shines. That was a dollar."
"And half of it went to you?"
"Yes, Jack."
"Where is it?"
"I had to get my dinner and supper. There's all that's left."
He handed Jack ten cents.
"Why didn't you keep the whole of the money?" grumbled Jack. "You needn't have paid the boy."
"He'd have licked me."
"Then I'd lick him."
Julius shook his head.
"That would be cheatin'," he said. "I wouldn't want to cheat him when he give me the box."
"Oh, you're gettin' mighty particular," sneered Jack, not very well satisfied at having so large a portion of the boy's earnings diverted from himself.
"If I had a box and brush of my own I could keep all the stamps I made," said Julius.
"I'm dead broke. I can't give you no money to buy one. Did you go to see that boy I told you of?"
"Paul Hoffman?"
"Yes, if that's his name."
"Yes, I went to see him."
"And did you find out anything?" asked Jack, with eagerness.
"Yes."
"Well, out with it, then. Don't let me do all the talking."
"He's got an aunt as lives in Brooklyn."
"Whereabouts?"
"No. 116 Third avenue."
"How did you find out?"
"I got 'him to talkin'."
"That's good. And did he suspect you?"
"No," said Julius.
"No. 116 Third avenue," repeated Jack. "I must put that down. Did he tell you the name?"
"Mrs. Green."
"That's good. We'll trump up a message from her late Monday evening. I wish I knew how things was arranged in the house."
"Maybe I could go there," said Julius.
"What, to the house?"
"Yes. I could go there in the evenin' and ask him if he'd let me have some old clothes. Maybe he'd invite me upstairs, and—"
"You could use your eyes. That's a good idea, but I don't believe you'd get a chance to go up."
"Shall I try?"
"Yes; you may try to-morrow night. If we make a haul, you shall have your share. Halloo, Marlowe!"
These last words were addressed to Marlowe, who entered unceremoniously without knocking.
"I'm in luck," said Marlowe. "Here's a fiver," and he displayed a five-dollar greenback. "Come out and we'll have a jolly supper."
Jack accepted the invitation with alacrity, communicating to his companion as they walked along the information Julius had picked up.
It is not very pleasant to be informed that your house is to be entered by burglars. Still, if such an event is in prospect, it is well to know it beforehand. While Paul felt himself fortunate in receiving the information which Julius gave him, he also felt anxious. However well he might be prepared to meet the attack, he did not like to have his mother and Jimmy in the house when it was made. Burglars in nearly every case are armed, and if brought to bay would doubtless use their arms, and the possible result of a chance shot was to be dreaded. On Monday night, therefore, if that should be the one decided upon by the burglars, he made up his mind that his mother and Jimmy should sleep out of the house. He lost no time in proposing this plan to his mother.
"Mother," said he on reaching home, "I have had some news to-day."
"Not bad, I hope?" said Mrs. Hoffman.
"I leave you to judge," answered Paul, with a smile. "We are to have visitors next Monday evening."
"Visitors, Paul? Who are they?"
"Mr. Jack Morgan and Mr. Marlowe."
"Are they friends of yours? I never heard you mention them."
"I never saw them that I know of."
"Then why did you invite them here?"
"They invited themselves."
"I don't understand it, Paul. If you don't know them, why should they invite themselves here?"
"Perhaps you'll understand me better, mother, when I tell you their business."
"What is it?"
"They are burglars."
"Burglars!" repeated Mrs. Hoffman, turning suddenly pale and sinking back into a chair, for she had been standing.
"Yes, mother. They have found out, though I can't tell how, that there are some bonds and plate in the safe upstairs, and that is their reason for coming."
"How did you find out, Paul? What a dreadful thing!" gasped Mrs. Hoffman.
"It will be worse for them than for us, I am thinking," said Paul. "It was a boy told me—a boy that lives with them. I'll tell you about it."
He gave his mother an account of what had already been communicated to him.
"Oh, dear, we shall be murdered in our beds!" exclaimed his mother, in dismal accents.
Upon this Jimmy began to cry, but Paul only laughed.
"I thought you were braver, Jimmy," he said. "If I buy you a pistol, will you promise to use it?"
"I don't know," said Jimmy, dubiously. "I should be afraid to shoot a great big man. Would he have a pistol, too?"
"Probably."
At this Jimmy began to cry again, and Paul hastened to say: "Don't be afraid; I don't mean to have you sleep in the house that night."
"Where can we go?"
"I think Mrs. Norton will let you stop with her that night."
"And you will come, too, Paul?" said Mrs. Hoffman.
"And let the house be robbed, mother? What would Mr. Talbot think of that?"
"But you will be killed. What can you do against such bad men?"
"What would you recommend, mother?" asked Paul.
"You might write a letter to them, telling them you knew all about their plan and you would have them arrested if they came."
"I don't think, mother," said Paul, laughing, "that that would be the best course. I want to get them here and catch them. Then they can be shut up, and we shall be safe from any further attempts. I am going to police headquarters, and they will tell me what to do. Probably two or three officers will be concealed in the house, and when the burglars are fairly in will arrest them."
"You needn't stay, Paul."
"It is my duty, mother. We are left by Mr. Talbot in charge of the house and what it contains. Some of us ought to be here at such a time. I will take care not to get into danger."
Mrs. Hoffman was a woman and a mother, and it was with difficulty that Paul could convince her that it was his duty to remain. At length, however, she acquiesced, and agreed to go and see Mrs. Norton the next day and ask permission to remain with her on Monday night.
The next day Julius came to Paul's stand.
"Is there any news, Julius?" asked Paul.
"Nothin' much," said Julius. "Jack wants me to call up to your house and find out where the gold is kept."
"How does he think you are going to do it without my suspecting?"
"He told me to go up and ask for some old clothes. Then, if you didn't let me into the house, I was to ask for something to eat."
"A good plan." said Paul. "When are you coming?"
"To-night."
"Very well; I'll be ready for you. Is there any change in the evening?"
"No. They're comin' Monday night."
"I'll be ready for them," said Paul.
"What are you goin' to do?" asked Julius, and he fixed a pair of sharp, black eyes on Paul.
"Can I trust you, Julius?" demanded Paul, with a keen glance at the boy.
"Yes," said Julius.
"Then," said Paul, "I mean to have them arrested. They'll walk into a trap."
Julius looked thoughtful.
"Don't you like it, Julius?"
"I dunno," said the boy, slowly.
"Do you like this man Morgan?"
"I don't like him. I'm used to him."
"And you don't like the idea of his being arrested through your means?"
Julius nodded.
"I know how you feel, but I don't see how it can be helped. If he didn't rob us he would rob somebody else. Did he ever do any honest work?"
"Not as I knows on."
"How does he live?"
"By stealin' and gamblin'."
"I hope he won't teach you to follow his example, Julius."
"I don't want to be like him."
"Why not?"
"I want to be respectable, like you."
"You know it's wrong to steal."
"Yes," said Julius, but without any great depth of conviction. The fact is, stealing was too familiar to his observation to excite in him detestation or horror. But he was a sharp boy. He knew that his guardian for the last five years had spent more than half the time in confinement. Even when free he lived from hand to mouth. Julius had made up his mind that it did not pay. He saw that an honest mechanic got a good deal more comfort and enjoyment out of life than Jack, and he had a vague wish to become respectable. This was encouraging, as far as it went. Higher considerations might come by and by.
"If you want to be respectable, Julius, I'll help you," said Paul.
"Will you?" said Julius.
"Yes; you are doing me a great favor. I shall be in your debt, and that's the way I will pay you. You mustn't grow up like the man you live with."
"I don't want to."
"We'll talk about that after Monday. We shall have more time then."
"Shall I come up to-night, then?"
"Yes, come."
Julius strolled away with his blacking-box, and Paul was left to his reflections.
"He'll make a good boy if he's only encouraged," said Paul to himself. "I don't know what would have become of me if I'd been brought up by burglars like him. There's nothing like having a good mother. There ain't any excuse for a boy going wrong if he's got a good mother."
Paul was right. Our destinies are decided more than we know by circumstances. If the street boys, brought up to a familiarity with poverty, and often with vice and crime, go astray, we should pity as well as condemn, and if we have it in our power to make the conditions of life more favorable for any, it is our duty, as the stewards of our common Father, to do what we can.
It occurred to Paul that he had no old clothes to give Julius, all his wardrobe, not very extensive at the best, having been burned up in the fire which consumed his old home. As he had told Julius to come up, it was necessary that he should have something to give him, and he therefore decided to provide himself at a second-hand clothing store. He knew well enough where they were to be found. His old street companions used to go to Chatham street and Baxter street in search of clothing, and these localities, though not distinguished for fashion, are at least reasonable in their scale of prices.
A little earlier than usual Paul closed his stand, and walked across the City Hall Park and up Chatham street to a store he had frequently seen. Like most of its class, it had a large portion of its stock displayed outside, where the proprietor stood, keen-eyed and watchful, on the lookout for customers.
"Can I sell you something this afternoon?" he asked, obsequiously, as Paul halted in front of his store.
"That depends upon whether I see anything that suits me," answered Paul.
Before he had finished, the dealer had seized his arm, and, hurrying him into the store, pulled down a coat, on the merits of which he began to expatiate with voluble tongue.
"I don't want anything for myself," said Paul. "I want to buy a coat for a boy of twelve. Have you got anything of the right size?"
Paul need not have asked. The trader was keen at a sale, and if Barnum's giant had called for a second-hand suit, would have sworn boldly that he had the very thing. In the present case Paul found a coat which, as well as he could judge, would about fit Julius. At any rate, the street boy was not likely to be fastidious as to the quality or exact fit of a coat, which, at all events, would be a decided improvement upon the one he was now wearing.
"What is the price of this?" asked Paul.
"Five dollars," was the reply.
Paul was too well accustomed to the ways of Chatham street to pay the first price demanded, or the second or third. Finally he succeeded in getting the coat for one dollar and a half, which was cheap, although the dealer made a fair profit even at this price. Before the bargain was concluded, a tall man strayed in, and watched the bargaining with slight interest. Paul would have been not a little surprised had he known that this man was one of the burglars against whom he was contriving measures of defense. It was, indeed, Marlowe, who, having dexterously picked the pocket of a passenger on the Third avenue cars an hour before, found himself thirty dollars richer by the operation, and being himself out at elbows, had entered this shop on an errand similar to Paul's.
"What can I sell you?" asked the shopkeeper, to his new customer.
"I want a coat," said Marlowe, roughly; "good and cheap. Don't try any of your swindling tricks on me, for I won't stand them."
With the details of the negotiation that followed we have nothing to do. It is enough to say that this chance meeting between Paul and Marlowe was not without its results, though neither knew the other.