The two boys would have been glad to wait for Roy; but as the guardian of the night emphasized his order by resting his club lightly against Joe's back, they concluded that they had better move on. They walked the length of the block and then returned, but no Roy Sheldon was in sight. There were but few people coming out of the hall now, but there was the watchful policeman with his ready club and his stereotyped command:
"Move on, please. Don't block up the walk."
"Roy has certainly come out before this time, and that blue-coat has driven him away," said Joe. "He knows the road to the hotel, and there's where we shall find him."
The boys turned about and went down the street again, and the first thing that attracted their attention when they entered their hotelwas the familiar uniform which they had adopted for their own—dark blue tights, white flannel shirt with blue trimmings, and white helmet. The boy who wore it was standing with his back to them, examining the register.
"I never noticed before that Roy was so fine a figure," whispered Arthur. "Look at the muscles on his legs. He fills out those tights as though he had been melted and poured into them."
Without saying or doing anything to attract the boy's notice, the two friends slipped up behind him, and Arthur threw his arms over his shoulders.
"Now, you runaway, give an account of yourself!" he exclaimed.
The effect produced by these innocent words was surprising in the extreme. In less than a second the supposed Roy Sheldon proved that he was quite as muscular as he looked to be. Uttering a cry of surprise and alarm he doubled himself up like a jack-knife and lunged forward with all his strength, and then almost as quickly jerked himself backward. By the firstmovement he came within a hair's breadth of throwing Arthur Hastings heavily on his head; and by the second he slipped out of his grasp like an eel. Then he straightened up and faced him with clenched hands and flashing eyes.
"Don't touch me!" he began, fiercely. "If you or any of your hirelings lay an ugly finger on me again—"
When he had said this much he stopped and looked hard at Arthur and then at Joe, while an expression of great astonishment settled on his face. My master and his friend were equally amazed. That was Roy Sheldon's uniform, if they ever saw it, but it wasn't Roy who was in it, although he looked almost exactly like him. There were the same clear-cut features, hazel eyes and wavy brown hair, and the same faint suspicion of a mustache; but they did not belong to Roy Sheldon. A second look showed them that.
"Who are you?" demanded the young fellow, at length.
"I think that is a proper question for us to ask you," replied Arthur, who, having neverbefore been handled so easily by any boy of his size, felt disposed to resent it. "What are you doing in our uniform, we'd be pleased to have you tell us."
"Your uniform!" exclaimed the stranger eagerly. "Are you from Jamestown?"
"No. Never heard of such a place about here. Don't even know where it is. We are from Mount Airy."
"Then we are even," said the stranger, in a disappointed tone, "for I don't know where Mount Airy is."
"Then of course you live a good way from here."
"Not so very far; not more than twenty miles, but it might as well be a thousand for all I know about this city. But you are wheelmen, of course. Well, now I wish—but say," added the speaker, as if something had just occurred to him. "Why did you grab me and call me a runaway?"
"Because we thought you were. I mean we took you for a runaway from our party," said Joe; and then he wondered why it was that the stranger exhibited so much anxiety andeven alarm at the words. "There is another fellow in our party, but we have lost him in some unaccountable manner."
"Does he look anything like me?"
"He does, indeed; so very much like you that when we saw you with our uniform on we took you for our missing friend. You are a little stouter than he is. That's all the difference there is in your figures; but to look at your faces a little distance away, any one not well acquainted with you would take you for twin brothers. How did you happen to choose that uniform? What club do you belong to?"
"I don't belong to any club. How does it come that you happened to choose it when there were so many more that you might have taken?"
"We made it up all out of our own heads," replied Arthur.
"I can't say that I did. I copied it. The Jamestown boys wear it, and I have seen a good many bicyclists running along the road past our island dressed in the same way."
"Your island!" repeated Joe.
"Yes; my island prison, for that is justwhat it is to me. Let's go into the reading-room," said the stranger, seeing that the hotel clerk was becoming interested in their conversation. "I don't care to have everybody hear what I say."
He moved away from the desk as he said this, and Joe and Arthur followed, lost in wonder. If there wasn't a mystery in this young fellow's life he was out of his head. That was plain to both of them.
"My real name is Rowe Shelly," began the stranger, taking possessing of a chair at one of the tables and drawing two others alongside of him, "but when I registered I signed myself Robert Barton, and gave Baltimore as my home."
"What made you do that? What have you been up to?" inquired Joe, while Arthur began to wonder if they had fallen in with another sharper who would presently make an effort to cheat them out of some money.
"I haven't done anything that either of you would not do if you were in my place," answered young Shelly, if that was really his name. "To make a long story short, money isat the bottom of all my trouble. My grandfather, when he died, willed the most of his large property to my father, who was his only child, on condition that he quit the sea and settled down on shore with his family, mother and me. There was a step-son, who had assumed the family name in the hope of getting some of the money, but he was left without a dollar. Our home at that time was near some southern sea-port whose name I do not remember, for I was too young to know anything. This step-son, who had been dubbed "colonel" on account of his supposed wealth, happened to be at home when grandfather died, and what did he do but get possession of the will, spread the report that father had been lost at sea, take out letters of administration, turn mother out of the house, and have himself appointed my guardian. I don't pretend to know what trickery he resorted to, to bring all this about, but I know he did it."
"Humph! I wouldn't live with such a villain," exclaimed Joe, who was deeply interested. He believed this strange story, and so did Arthur, who told himself that he musthave been about half crazy when he suspected a boy who bore so close a resemblance to Roy Sheldon of being a sharper.
"I don't live with him any more," replied Rowe. "I have left him for good; but of course I did not take the trouble to ask his consent."
"Oh, that's what made you jump and look frightened when I caught hold of you and called you a runaway, was it?" said Arthur. "If your guardian finds you can he make you go back against your will?"
"Certainly. He has often given me to understand that he will have full control of my actions as well as of my property until I am twenty-one years old."
"Then he told you what isn't so," declared Joe.
"I guess not," answered Rowe doubtfully. "At any rate, when I ran away from him two years ago he gobbled me with the aid of a policeman and took me back."
"But you are older now than you were then," said Joe. "How old are you, if it is a fair question?"
"I was eighteen last month."
"Then snap your fingers at that guardian of yours, and tell him you are done with him."
"That wouldn't make a particle of difference to him," replied Rowe. "He would have detectives after me, and I don't know but there are some on my track this very minute. That's why I registered under a fictitious name, and adopted this uniform. It is worn by so many wheelmen around here that it will not be likely to attract attention. But I am going to change it the first thing in the morning, trade off my Rudge safety for another wheel, and then put for the country and stay there as long as my money lasts."
"Say, Joe," said Arthur suddenly, "he looks a good deal like Roy Sheldon, doesn't he?"
"He is the very picture of him," answered Joe, surprised.
"And you say," added Arthur, this time addressing himself to Rowe Shelly, "that your guardian put detectives on your track when you ran away from him two years ago,and that he has probably got them on your track to-night?"
"I don't think I used those words, but that was what I meant," replied Rowe. "Why do you ask the question, and what makes you glare at me in that fashion?"
"I didn't know that I was glaring at you," said Arthur. "But I wish from the bottom of my heart that you had changed that uniform for another a hundred years ago, or else that you had never adopted it, for it has been the means of getting one of the best fellows that ever lived into trouble."
"Art," exclaimed Joe, starting up in his chair, "do you think—do you mean to say—"
"Doesn't everything go to show it?" exclaimed Arthur, who was very highly excited. "His uniform is the counterpart of ours; he looks so much Roy that a stranger couldn't tell one from the other if he were to see them together; he has the best of reasons for believing that his guardian has put detectives on his track, and who knows—"
"Good gracious!" cried Joe, starting up in his turn; "I never once thought of that."
"What are you afraid of?" inquired Rowe, whose face betrayed the keenest anxiety and apprehension. "I hope you don't think that my resemblance to your friend has brought him into difficulty."
"That is just what we are afraid of," replied Joe soothingly, while Arthur Hastings paced the room like a caged tiger. "But, of course, nobody can blame you for it. If one of the detectives you spoke of saw him, he probably mistook him for you, just as Arthur and I mistook you for Roy Sheldon. It's a case of mistaken identity, and that's all that can be made of it."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Arthur; "it is a clear case of abduction."
"We'll have to see a lawyer about that."
"Then let's be about it. What are we wasting time here for?"
"Let us first make sure that Roy has been spirited away by somebody who thought he was Rowe Shelly. Say, Art, you remember the carriage that was driven away just as we cameout of the Academy of Music, don't you? Well how do we know but Roy was in it, and that he was the fellow who resisted arrest?"
"That's so," exclaimed Arthur. "Suppose we go right back and interview that policeman if we can find him."
When Arthur proposed this plan Rowe Shelly's face grew white again.
"That will be a dead give-away on me, won't it?" said he.
"I don't see why it should be," replied Joe. "We're not going to tell any one that we have seen you. If you are afraid of it, go somewhere while we are gone, and then we can say, if we are asked questions we don't care to answer, that we don't know where you are."
The young stranger evidently thought this a suggestion worth heeding, for when Joe and his companion left the room he followed slowly after them, first carefully reconnoitering the office to make sure there was no one there he did not want to meet.
"What's your opinion of that fellow, any way?" asked Joe, as he and Arthur hurried along the street toward the Academy of Music."He tells a queer story, but I really believe there are some grains of truth in it."
"So do I," answered Arthur. "And if it turns out that Roy has been kidnapped, I shall believe it is all true. I wish that Shelly boy had been in Guinea before he adopted our uniform."
"Or else that we had been there," added Joe. "He's got as much right to it as we have. Look here, Art. We mustn't let the Mount Airy folks know anything about this."
"Not by a long shot. They'd order us home as they did when they read in the papers that Matt Coyle had tied you to a tree in the woods. If Roy is in a scrape we'll help him out of it and get well on our way beyond Bloomingdale before we say a word about it."
The boys were not obliged to go all the way to the hall in which they had passed the evening, for they met the officer of whom they were in search at the lower end of his beat. Arthur thought he looked at them rather sharply as they came up, but he answered their questions civilly enough.
"Policeman," said Joe, "will you pleasetell us what sort of a looking fellow it was who was put into a carriage in front of the Academy of Music, and driven away just as the performance ended? You were on duty there at the time."
"Aw! go on now!" replied the officer good-naturedly. "He must have been one of your own crowd, for he wore the same kind of clothes."
"What was his name?" asked Arthur, whose heart seemed to sink down into his boots when he heard this answer.
"Aw, now!" said the officer again, "what's the use of my wasting my time with you? You know more about him than I do; but I will tell you one thing: you had better keep clear of him, or he will bring you into trouble. He's a bad nation. He stole a pile of money from his guardian before he ran away."
"Not the boy who was put into the carriage, if it was the one we think it was," said Joe earnestly. "In the first place, he has no guardian, and he never stole a cent, for his father gives him all the money he needs. There's been a big mistake made here, Mr. Officer."
"Haw, haw!" laughed the policeman. He turned on his heel and started back along his beat, but he did not shake off the boys. They wanted to learn something before they left him, so they kept close to him, one on each side.
"But I assure you there has been the biggest kind of a blunder made," Joe insisted. "The wrong boy has been arrested. His name is Roy Sheldon, and he left Mount Airy with us this morning. Everybody there knows him and us, too."
"No, I guess not," replied the policeman, with another laugh. "Bab's been in the business too long to make a mistake that might get him into trouble."
"Who's Bab?"
"Why, Bab—Babcock, the detective," answered the officer, in a tone which implied that he had no patience with a boy who could ask him so foolish a question. "The youngster had the cheek to appeal to me for protection, but I told him he had better go along peaceable and quiet, for it would only make matters worse for him if he didn't. I knew Bab, you see."
"Well, this is a pretty state of affairs, I must say," exclaimed Arthur, his anger getting the better of his prudence. "Of course Roy resisted, as any other decent fellow would have done under the same circumstances; and when he asked for protection from one of whom he had a right to expect it, he was told that he had better go along if he wanted to keep out of worse trouble."
"That's enough from you, young man," said the officer, shortly. "If you give me any more of your insolence I will run you in to keep company with that runaway and thief. Move on, now."
Arthur didn't wait for a second order. He faced about at once and started back toward his hotel; but Joe stayed behind. He wanted to ask another question or two, although he hardly expected that the policeman would answer them.
CHAPTER IV.
ROWE SHELLY, THE RUNAWAY.
"Justone more word, Mr. Officer," continued Joe Wayring, when he had seen his discomfited friend Arthur vanish in the crowd, "and then I will cease troubling you."
"Be in a hurry, then," was the gruff rejoinder. "Don't say anything to confirm the suspicion I have that you are trying to make game of me, for if you do you will spend the rest of the night under lock and key, sure pop."
"I assure you that my only desire is to gain some reliable information regarding my missing friend," answered Joe, choking back his wrath. "What precinct does this man Babcock belong to?"
"He doesn't belong to any. He is a private detective, and works wherever he is called."
"What agency does he belong to?"
"Wilcox's; two-thirty-four Bank street."
"Thank you. That's one point gained. I suppose he will report the arrest at his own headquarters, will he not?"
"Very likely he will, and I'll report it to my captain."
"I wasn't aware that a private detective could make an arrest without a warrant, except in cases where there is a fight or some other violation of the public peace. I thought he was obliged to call upon a policeman."
"Well, wasn't I here?" exclaimed the officer, with some indignation in his tones. "I want you to understand that I know my business, and that you nor nobody like you can teach it to me. Move on. I've had enough of you."
"All right," replied Joe cheerfully. "But first allow me to apologize for troubling you, and to thank you for your courteous answers to my questions."
If this was intended for sarcasm it had no effect whatever upon the policeman, who walked off with a very dignified step, while Joe moved on to find Arthur Hastings. He discovered him in the reading-room of the hotel, holding an earnest conversation with a young fellow in citizen's clothes. It was Rowe Shelley; but when he left his uniform in his room he seemed to have left with it nearly all the resemblance he had once borne to Roy Sheldon. Joe could see now that the two boys did not look so very much alike after all.
"I want to assure you of one thing, Wayring," said Rowe, as Joe seated himself in a chair by his side; "what that policeman told you about my stealing a lot of money before I left home, is utterly false. The little I have with me is what I have managed to save during the last two years out of my regular allowance. I have the best of reasons for believing that every cent there is in that house rightfully belongs to me, but I have never touched any of it except when it was given to me."
"Are there any stores on the island?" inquired Joe.
Rowe replied that there were not. The entire island was claimed by his guardian, who said he was Rowe's uncle, although he was no relation to him. Besides the family mansion,and the barns and other out-buildings that belonged to it, there were four tenement houses that were occupied by his guardian's hired help.
"And I know they are not hired simply to work the place and keep the grounds in order," said Rowe bitterly. "They are employed to keep an eye on me, although they do not seem to pay any attention to me. When I had saved a little money and began laying my plans to skip out, there was not one among them to whom I could go for help, or whom I dared take into my confidence. I had to depend upon myself."
"Then what was the use of a regular allowance of money if you couldn't spend it?" inquired Arthur.
"I could save it for an emergency like this, couldn't I? Besides, whenever I wanted anything, I could send for it by some one who was coming to the city. Did you learn anything more about your missing friend? Hastings tells me that there is no doubt he was mistaken for me and sent away in that carriage."
"That is what I think," answered Joe. "I know the name of the detective who arrested him, as well as the agency to which the detective belongs. It's Wilcox's, two-thirty-four Bank street, and there's where we must go the first thing in the morning."
"Great Scott!" cried Arthur. "Can't we do anything for Roy before morning? Must he be put in a cell and—"
"By no means," exclaimed Rowe. "Your friend will fare as well at my home as you will here at a hotel. Beyond a doubt my guardian's steam yacht was in waiting at one of the piers along the river side, and Roy is probably half way to the island by this time. Of course the detective will stay with him till he gets there, for fear that Roy will jump overboard or do some other desperate thing to escape from Willis."
"Who is Willis?"
"He is my guardian's superintendent and my jailer. At least, that is what I call him, although he is very friendly to me, and has seldom interfered with me. When I ran away two years ago, he followed me up and put thedetectives on my track. I'd got away sure, if it hadn't been for him."
"Of course if Babcock goes to the island he can't report the arrest to his superior before morning," said Joe, turning to Arthur. "So what's the use in going there (to the agency, I mean) before we can learn something?"
"I don't see why you should go to the agency, or give yourselves the least uneasiness about the matter," said Rowe. "As soon as Willis has taken a good look at Roy, he will know that the detectives has made a mistake, and then he will lose no time in setting his prisoner at liberty and sending him back to the city."
"We'll call upon Mr. Wilcox the first thing in the morning," said Joe, decidedly. "At least Art and I will, and you had best pack your bundle and dig out before daylight. As soon as your guardian finds out that—"
"He isn't at home," interrupted Rowe. "He has gone away somewhere on business, and that's why I am here. I took advantage of his absence."
"At any rate the search for you will be renewed when it becomes known that a mistakehas been made, and if I were in your place I would not stay here. I think you were very imprudent to come to the city at all."
"That's because you don't know what extraordinary precautions I took to make everybody think I was going the other way," replied Rowe.
"But it seems that the tricks to which you resorted, whatever they were, did not work," said Arthur. "This man Willis, who probably runs things during your guardian's absence, must have come to the city or sent word to some one to be on the watch for you. If he didn't do one or the other, how does it come that Roy was molested? Joe, what course are you going to follow when you get to the agency?"
"I'm simply going to tell the man in charge that one of his detectives has made a blunder and arrested Roy Sheldon when he thought he was arresting some one else, and ask him to undo his night's work and bring our friend back to us as quick as he knows how."
"But he'll want evidence, won't he?"
"I shall be provided with the evidence,"replied Joe quietly. "Rowe, you wouldn't mind writing a couple of letters, one to your guardian's superintendent and the other to the detective, stating the facts, would you?"
"Why—why, I don't see how I can do it without putting the detectives on my own track," stammered Rowe, who was very much astonished at this proposition. "I'd have to sign my right name to the letters, wouldn't I?"
"Certainly. A fictitious name would be of no use to us, and we'll see that you don't get into trouble by it. Write the letters containing a full statement of the case, make yourself scarce about here without telling us where you are going, and then we can't answer any questions that may be asked us. If he don't do it," added Joe mentally, "the only thing I can do is to bring in some of father's business friends and Uncle Joe's to vouch for us, and add weight to our story. I am opposed to that, and I believe Roy himself would kick against it; for of course those friends would write the full particulars to the folks at home, and that would knock our trip across the State into a cocked hat."
"If he doesn't do it," said Arthur to himself, seeing that Rowe still hesitated, "he will find that we are not to be trifled with. I'll denounce him as soon as I can find anybody to denounce him to. He got Roy into this scrape, and it is no more than fair that he should help get him out."
"Is there no other way in which I can assist you?" inquired Rowe, after a long pause.
"There is none that occurs to me just now," answered Joe. "Can you think of any?"
"I can't think of anything. My mind is in a whirl, and has been ever since I left the island."
"I thought as much," said Arthur, drily. "Otherwise you would never come to the city and put up at wheelmen's headquarters. Don't you know that this is the very hotel of all others that you ought to have shunned?"
"I thought the very boldness of the thing would throw my pursuers, if I had any, off the track; and I believe it did, for I have seen no one to be afraid of since I came here. Do you think the chief detective will be readyto undo this work when you ask him?" added Rowe, addressing himself to Joe.
"I think he will. I would, if I were in his place, for it would hurt my business to have it get out. If people knew that Wilcox kept such a blunderhead as that Babcock about, they would not be apt to give him much to do."
"All right. It shall be as you say," exclaimed Rowe, getting upon his feet and hastening into the office, whence he presently returned with a couple of envelopes and as many sheets of paper in his hand. "Have you any influential friends in town?" he asked, as he seated himself at the table.
"We've enough to make it exceedingly uncomfortable for those people on the island if they don't turn that boy loose in a little less than no time," replied Arthur, with emphasis. "Tell your man Willis to put that in his pipe."
"He'll not need any such threat to quicken his movements," said Rowe, with a smile, the first one Joe had seen on his face that evening. "When he discovers that Babcock has notbrought him the right boy, he will be only too glad to get rid of him. But I'll put it in."
After a few minutes spent in rapid writing Rowe handed Joe the following, which was addressed to George Willis, Shelly's Island, New London Harbor:
"You have probably found out by this time that the man Babcock, whom you notified to be on the lookout for me, has made a mistake that is likely to get him and every one concerned in it into serious difficulty. He has made a prisoner of Roy Sheldon, who lives in Mount Airy. He has friends there, as well as in this city, who will make it hot for you if you don't treat him well while he is on the island, and send him back with the least possible delay. Tell my guardian, when he returns, that I have grown weary of waiting for him to tell me where my father and mother are, and have set out to find them. I know I shall succeed this time, and then there will be a change of administration on Shelly's Island, or I shall miss my guess."Now I should like to know what you mean by spreading the report that I stole a lot of money before I went away. You know it to false. If any of my money has disappeared(it is my money, mind you, and not my guardian's) I would as soon think you took it as to accuse anybody else."If you haven't sent that boy back already, do it as soon as you read this, if you don't want to have some papers served on you."
"You have probably found out by this time that the man Babcock, whom you notified to be on the lookout for me, has made a mistake that is likely to get him and every one concerned in it into serious difficulty. He has made a prisoner of Roy Sheldon, who lives in Mount Airy. He has friends there, as well as in this city, who will make it hot for you if you don't treat him well while he is on the island, and send him back with the least possible delay. Tell my guardian, when he returns, that I have grown weary of waiting for him to tell me where my father and mother are, and have set out to find them. I know I shall succeed this time, and then there will be a change of administration on Shelly's Island, or I shall miss my guess.
"Now I should like to know what you mean by spreading the report that I stole a lot of money before I went away. You know it to false. If any of my money has disappeared(it is my money, mind you, and not my guardian's) I would as soon think you took it as to accuse anybody else.
"If you haven't sent that boy back already, do it as soon as you read this, if you don't want to have some papers served on you."
"Is that satisfactory?" inquired Rowe, as Joe passed the letter to Arthur.
"Perfectly. If Willis fails to understand it, it will not be your fault. But why don't you get another guardian and put it out of this man's power to harass you with detectives every time you leave the island?"
"I wish to goodness I could; but I can't. The law put him where he is."
"And the law can take him out. When he was appointed your guardian he must have perjured himself if he swore that he was your next of kin. But here's a question: Do you know that your parents are still alive?"
"No; I don't know it, but I think so. I do know, however, that my father was not lost at sea, as my guardian reported. Since that time people who know him have seen and talkedwith him. He was alive when I tried to find him two years ago."
"Where does he live?"
"Somewhere in the State of Maryland. On the coast, I suppose, for he is fond of the water, and has been a sailor all his life."
"Now just think a moment," said Joe, earnestly. "Can't you see that you show a wonderful lack ofsomethingin starting off on your wheel to hunt a needle in a haystack? You must remember that Maryland has an area of more than eleven thousand square miles, not counting in the bay, which has a coast line three hundred and eighty miles in length. You have set yourself something of a job, old fellow."
"So I have," said Rowe nervously. "Do you know, I never once thought of that? There was but one idea in my mind, and that was to get safely off the island and away from New London, so that I could hide myself among strangers. Then, after the excitement had had time to die away, and my guardian had given up looking for me, I thought it would be the easiest thing in the world to run down intoMaryland and find my parents. It wouldn't be too long a run, would it? I think I have heard of a man who went from San Francisco to Boston on his wheel."
"No doubt you did; and that man, if you are thinking of the same one I am, is now on his way around the world. The run wouldn't trouble you, but finding the objects of your search would not be so easy as you seem to think. You have gone about it in the wrong way."
"How would you act, if you were in my place?"
"My first hard work would be to rid myself of that guardian," exclaimed Joe.
"Haven't I told you that he was appointed by the court?"
"Of course he was, or else he could not have slipped into the position. But you were too young to have any voice in the matter. You are older now than you were then, and have reached an age when the law says you are capable of choosing your own guardian."
Howe became greatly excited when he heard this. He threw his pen upon the table, jumpedto his feet, and paced the floor with long and rapid strides.
"I hope you know what you are telling me," said he, as soon as he could say anything.
Joe replied that he was sure of his ground.
"How shall I go to work?" continued Rowe. "What shall I do first?"
"Go to some honest lawyer, tell him your story just as you have told it to us, going rather more into details, and he will tell you what to do. If you give the case into his hands, he will probably advertise for your people. He'll not start off alone to hunt them up, unless he knows pretty near where they are; I can tell you that much."
"And will the law really help me to rid myself of that man?" cried Rowe, as if he could hardly believe it. "And will I have my father and mother to live with me, and be free to come and go, as other fellows do? It seems too good to be true. Why didn't you tell me this long ago?"
"I have been on the point of telling you half a dozen times," answered Joe, "butsomehow I always got switched off on another track. You know it now, and if you remain shut up any longer deprived of your rights, it will be your own fault."
"I shall not let the grass grow under my feet, I assure you," said Rowe, seating himself at the table and once more taking up his pen. "I shall not leave the city until this thing has been settled. How would it do to add a line to the letter I have written to Willis?"
"Telling him what you intend to do?" exclaimed Joe. "I wouldn't. Spring it on 'em and take them by surprise before they have a chance to run away with any of the money. If the man who claims to be your uncle got his position by fraud, he wouldn't be above cheating you if he saw an opportunity to do it without detection."
It was much harder work for Rowe to write this letter than it was to write the first, because he was so nervous and excited that he could scarcely hold his pen steady. But he finished it at last, and handed it over to Joe to read. It was much the same as the other, except that there was no allusion made to the story that Willis or somebody else had spread abroad, that Rowe had appropriated a sum of his guardian's money to help him in his runaway scheme. Then the letters were sealed, stamped and addressed, and Joe went out to put them into the box. He wanted them to reach their destination as soon as possible; and furthermore, he intended to allow the one that was addressed to the detective ample time to have an effect before he called at the agency on the following morning. They had done all that could be done that night, and when Joe went back to the reading-room he announced his intention of going to bed.
"Then I will bid you good-by, for it is not at all likely that I shall be here when you come down in the morning," said Rowe, shaking each of them cordially by the hand. "If you only knew what a terrible load you have lifted from my heart by the friendly encouragement and advice you have given me, you would believe me when I say that I am glad to have met you, and sorry indeed that your friend got into trouble through me. Pleasesay as much, to him when you see him, and add that I shall live in hopes of some day making his acquaintance. I suppose you can't tell me where to address you in case I should have anything interesting to communicate?"
Joe was sorry to say that he could not; for although their proposed route had been marked out in their road-book before they left home, there was no certainty that they would stick to it. But he and his friends would like much to know how Rowe succeeded in his efforts to assert his rights, and a letter addressed to them at Mount Airy would follow them until it caught them. There were their cards. Good-night and good luck!
"He's a simple-hearted fellow and totally unused to the ways of the world; and although he hasn't got much sense to boast of in some things, he can sling ink better than I can," said Arthur, as he and Joe ascended to their rooms. "Do you suppose he has ever been to school?"
"No, I don't. He had a private teacher."
"Then why didn't he make a confidant of him?"
"Because he was afraid to. Perhaps his teacher was some poverty-stricken scholar, who was told to keep his mouth, eyes and ears closed as long as he remained on the island, and was well paid for doing it. More than that, the guardian was careful to tell his side of the story first, so that the tutor would be likely to take anything Rowe said to him with a grain or two of allowance."
"It does not seem possible that such things can happen in this day and age of the world," said Arthur reflectively. "That fellow told us a strange story, and I shall do as I please about believing it until we hear from Roy Sheldon. Well, good-night. Call me when you get up."
The first thing the two friends did when they went down to the office in the morning was to inquire for Robert Barton; for you will remember that that was the name the runaway signed to the register.
"He left a message for you to the effect that he had decided to take the night boat for Bloomingdale," replied the clerk. "He will put in the time visiting friends there until you arrive."
"That means that Rowe Shelly has gone into hiding somewhere in the city," said Joe, as he followed Arthur into the dining-hall. "Of course he wouldn't be foolish enough to say that he was going up the river on a steamer if he really meant to do it."
"I don't know whether he would or not," answered Arthur, doubtfully. "He acknowledges to doing a great many foolish things. Putting up at this hotel was one of them."
After eating a very slender breakfast the boys inquired the way to Bank street, and left the hotel to obtain an interview with Mr. Wilcox. About half an hour later a carriage was driven up to the sidewalk, and a boy clad in a bicycle uniform got out and hurried into the hotel; but I doubt if such a boy and such a uniform had ever been seen in the Lafayette House before. He seemed anxious to escape observation, for it was not until he had concealed himself behind one of the wide front doors that he stopped to pay his hackman. Then he stepped up to the desk and looked at the astonished clerk with his right eye. He wore a handkerchief over the other one, andthere was a suspicion of blood on the handkerchief. One sleeve of his shirt had disappeared, and so had his cap; and when the clerk came to take a second look at him, he saw that, although his uniform was dry, it looked as though it had been dumped in the harbor—as indeed it had.
"Well, well," exclaimed the clerk, as soon as he had in some measure recovered from his astonishment. "What in the world have you been doing to yourself, Mr.—ah—er—Barton?" he added, consulting the register to make sure of the name. "Did the steamer sink or burn up?"
"What steamer? I don't know anything about a steamer."
"Why, didn't you tell the clerk whom I relieved that you were going to take the night boat for Bloomingdale?"
"Not much I didn't. I wasn't here last night, and furthermore, my name isn't Barton. There's my name, Roy Sheldon; and I came to town yesterday afternoon in company with that fellow and that one," said the new-comer, pointing out Joe's name and Arthur's.
"Then, who was the chap who left a message for Wayring and Hastings?" exclaimed the puzzled clerk.
"I'm sure I don't know. Did he beat you out of anything?" inquired Roy, thinking of the swindler who had tried to palm off those bogus greenbacks upon him and his friends.
"Oh, no! He settled up all fair and square, and said he would wait for Wayring and Hastings at Bloomingdale. It couldn't have been your brother, could it? He looked like you."
"Don't own any brother. Say," cried Roy, an idea striking him. "Wasn't it Rowe Shelly?"
The clerk backed away from his desk and looked at Roy without speaking.
"I don't know who else it could have been, for I was mistaken for him, kidnapped, and carried over to the island, and just escaped being taken to sea by the skin of my teeth," continued Roy, growing excited as he thought of it. "Rowe must have been here and scraped an acquaintance with my friends, or he wouldn't have left a message for them. I did say I would make trouble for somebody if Iever got ashore, but since I have had time to think the matter over, I am not as mad as I was. Did it blow much here last night and early this morning? Well, I was out in the whole of it."
"Do you mean to say that that fool Rowe Shelly has run away from home again?" said the clerk, as if he could hardly believe the story.
"He has run away, but I don't know whether he's a fool or not. I am inclined to think he isn't. Where are those friends of mine?"
The clerk didn't know. They left the hotel after inquiring the way to Bank street, but he couldn't tell what business they had on hand, or how long they would be gone.
"They'll show up when they get ready," said Roy. "In the mean time, if you will give me the key to forty-seven, I will go up and try to make myself a little more presentable."
"What have you been doing to get yourself into such a plight?" asked the interested clerk.
"The story is too long to be told in detail,and all I can say just now is that I have had a time of it. But if Rowe got away I don't care. I would go through as much more to help him, although he is a perfect stranger to me. Don't say anything about this, please, for I positively decline to be interviewed. I don't want my folks to hear of it, for fear they will order me home," added Roy to himself. "That's the plain English of the matter."
So saying he took his key and went up to his room.
CHAPTER V.
ROY IN TROUBLE.
Youwill remember that it was during the crush which occurred at the Academy of Music when the "gallery gods" came pouring down into the main hall from both sides, that Roy Sheldon became separated from his friends Joe and Arthur. While he was making his way slowly toward the door, he felt a hand laid upon his arm, and without turning his head to see who it was, supposing, of course, that one of his companions was close at his side, Roy took hold of the hand and drew it through his arm. When he reached the sidewalk he looked around to say something uncomplimentary regarding the rough fellow who had elbowed him rather too sharply in his haste to get out, and then he found that it was not a boy who had hold of him, but a man whom he had never seen before—a brown-whiskered man dressed in gray clothes. Thinking of the swindler whom he and his friends had encountered during the early part of the evening, Roy made an effort to twist himself out of the stranger's grasp, but found that he could not do it. The man had a grip like a vise.
"Softly, softly," said he, in a low tone. "The game's up, and you might as well give in. You know me, and you know, too, that I wouldn't see you harmed. The carriage is ready and waiting."
"I don't know you, either," said Roy, greatly astonished. "Let go my arm, or I'll black your eye for you."
"If you strike me," said the man, who seemed rather surprised at this display of spirit, "I shall have to put the irons on you right here, and you don't want to make a scene before all these people. It wouldn't look well for a young fellow of your standing."
Roy, too amazed to speak again, looked around for his friends; but they seemed to have disappeared very mysteriously. He was surrounded by strange people, the majority of whom seemed to be paying no sort of attentionto him, while others looked on in wonder, and the rest laughed at him. An arrest in the crowded streets of New London was too common an occurrence to attract more than a passing notice.
All this while Roy was being led slowly but surely toward a carriage, whose door was held invitingly open by a rather genteel-looking man who carried a heavy cane in his hand. When Roy saw that preparations had been made to convey him away secretly, he recovered his power of action and the use of his tongue at the same instant. He resisted with all his strength, and finally appealed to a policeman who, for a wonder, chanced to appear at that opportune moment.
"What do you mean, anyway?" he exclaimed, giving his arm a sudden wrench, but with no other effect than to cause the man in gray to tighten his grasp until Roy could scarcely endure the pain. "Mr. Officer, do you see what this villain is doing? I ask you to interfere for my protection."
The Arrest.
Roy, in his simplicity, supposed that the guardian of the city's peace would rush up andknock his assailant down with his club, or else take him into custody; but he did nothing of the sort. He strolled leisurely up to the carriage, saying, in a drawling tone:
"I suppose it is all right, Bab?"
"Of course it is," replied the man in gray, "or I wouldn't be in it. I am too old a dog to bark up the wrong tree."
"It's all right, sonny," said the policeman, soothingly. "Go along quiet and peaceable and you won't get into trouble with Bab. He'll take good care of you."
"But who is he, and by what authority does he commit this outrage?" demanded Roy, who was so angry and astonished that he hardly knew what he was saying.
But his indignant words met with no verbal response. The policeman, who, according to Roy's way of thinking, ought to have helped him, lent effective assistance to his assailant by taking the boy by the other arm and gently pushing him into the carriage. The minute the two men released their hold of him, Roy jumped for the other side of the vehicle, intending to open the door and take to his heels,but the man who carried the heavy cane was there before him.
"What's the use of cutting up like this?" said he, with a cunning smile that exasperated the prisoner to the highest degree. "One would think, from your actions, that you were going to prison, instead of to the pleasantest home that any boy of your size ever had. Why can't you stay there and be contented? There's many a youngster in this city who would be glad to be in your boots."
As the man said this he mounted to a seat on the box beside the driver, and at the same moment his companion, who had got into the carriage and closed the door behind him, seized Roy by the arm and drew him away from the window.
"Sit down and take it easy," said he, pleasantly. "The game is up, as I told you, and you might as well give in and wait until you see another chance to run away."
"Run away!" repeated Roy. "Where from?"
"Oh, come now. What's the use of playing off in that way? I know it's quite a whilesince I saw you, but I knew you the minute I put eyes on you. That chap didn't fool you, did he?"
"What chap?"
"Why, the fellow who tried to play the pocket-book game on you and those two wheelmen you picked up somewhere."
"Did you see that operation?" exclaimed Roy, forgetting for the moment that he was being taken somewhere against his will, and that there might be disagreeable things in store for him.
"I saw it all. I followed you from the Lafayette House—say, Rowe, don't you think you were foolish to go to that hotel where all the wheelmen stop? That was the very first place I went to find you when Willis told me that you had skipped again. What made you go there?"
"Who is Willis?" asked Roy, in reply.
"Oh, get out!" exclaimed his companion, in a tone of disgust. "If you want me to talk to you, you must talk sense."
"Well, then, where are you going to take me?"
"That isn't sense, either.Imight be liable to make a mistake, seeing it's two years and better since I last met you, but Willis ought to know you."
"Who does he think I am?"
"Oh, quit your nonsense. I am in no humor for foolishness. I was up all last night working on a case, and now I've got to stay up till I see you safe at home. I'm cross for want of rest."
"You don't talk as if you were cross," said Roy. "I'll stop bothering you if you will tell me who you are, who you think I am, and why you kidnapped me as you have done."
"Bless your heart, you won't bother me if you will only talk sense. I didn't kidnap you. I arrested you for a runaway, and there's my authority for doing it."
As the man said this he squared around on his seat, drew back the lapel of his coat, and the light of a street lamp, which streamed in through the window at that moment, fell full upon a detective's shield.
"My name is Babcock," he continued. "Of course you remember me now. Bab, youknow; the same man who arrested you when you lit out two years ago.Bab, you recollect."
"Never heard your name before, and never saw you, till you bounced me back there in the hall," said Roy, who told himself that he was learning something every minute.
"Oh, come now," replied the detective, in an injured tone. "Everybody knows Bab."
"Everybody except me, perhaps. But you never arrested me for the simple reason that I never ran away from home. It's much too pleasant a place for me to leave voluntarily, I can tell you. It is plain enough to me that you have mistaken me for somebody else."
"But there's Willis," said the detective; and if Roy could have seen his face distinctly he would have had the satisfaction of knowing that he had aroused a train of disagreeable thoughts in that official's mind.
"Who's Willis?" asked Roy, again.
"Your uncle's superintendent; the man on top with the driver. He has known you all your life, and he says you are Rowe Shelly."
"Well, I am not. I am Roy Sheldon, andmy home is in Mount Airy. If you don't want to take my word for it, tell your hackman to drive us to the Lafayette House. You will find a couple of my friends there, and in an hour I can bring a hundred more from among New London's best business men."
"If you have so many acquaintances in the city, why did you put up at a hotel? That statement will hardly wash."
"It's the truth whether it will wash or not," Roy insisted. "Having just so much time at our disposal, we made all our arrangements before we left home, and we didn't want our friends to interfere with our plans in any way. You may save yourself trouble by going to my hotel."
"No; I don't guess I would," replied the detective, with a yawn. "I'd a little rather trust Willis than you, for you know that you are full of tricks, and that you came within one of giving me the slip two years ago. Remember it, don't you?"
Roy replied that it had slipped his mind entirely, and then went back to the point from which he started, hoping that by settingout on a new tack he could induce the detective to tell him who Rowe Shelly was, where he lived, and why he had run away from home.
"If you are an officer, as you pretend to be, what is the reason you did not arrest that fellow when he was trying to play the pocket-book game on my friends and me?" said he. "You say you saw it all."
"And I say so yet; but I didn't want to have anything to do with him just then, for I had bigger game in sight. That was you, and I was afraid you would recognize me if I showed you my face. So I just nodded to the swindler to let him know that I was on to his little performance, pointed down the street, and he took the hint and cleared out."
"Oh, that's the reason he went off in such a hurry, was it?" exclaimed Roy. "We thought it was because he was afraid his game was about to be exposed. Now that I think of it, I believe I did see you standing near by, but your back was turned toward us."
"No doubt. And you saw me when I took you in at Peach Grove two years ago, didn't you? Come, now, be honest."
"I don't know where Peach Grove is, and I tell you I never saw you before to-night," replied Roy. "How far do you intend to take me in this close carriage?"
"Not much farther. We're most to the pier now."
"Then I've got to go the rest of the way by water, have I?" said Roy. "Why don't you let down the windows? It's suffocating in here."
"It's pretty warm, that's a fact," assented the detective, taking off his hat and drawing his handkerchief across his forehead. "You'd holler if I put the windows down."
"No, I wouldn't," protested the boy.
"And that wouldn't be pleasant; because it would attract attention," continued the detective. "You'd be sorry enough for it after you'd had time to cool off, and, besides, your uncle wouldn't like to have so much publicity given to this matter. He wants everything done on the quiet, and I promise you it shall be, if you will do just as I say."
"Who's my uncle?" asked Roy, believing that he had got upon the right track at last.
"Why, your uncle; Colonel Shelly; the man who owns the island where you live," answered the detective. And then, as if he was angry at himself for giving his questioner this much satisfaction, he added: "I declare, if Job was here in my place he'd lose patience and be tempted to shake you. But go on with your foolishness. I've got to keep awake somehow."
"Then let down the windows so that a fellow can breathe," said Roy, prompt to take advantage of this permission. "If I speak louder than my ordinary tone of voice it will not take you long to put them up again. There, now. That's better. You say you are going to take me to an island. Are there any people on it?"
"A dozen, or such a matter, I should say."
"Have they been long in Colonel Shelly's employ?"
"Some have been there always, and some ain't."
"That's all I want to know on that point," said Roy, who was greatly relieved. "Of course the minute those old-timers see methey will know that you have made a mistake."
"Of course, they won't know nothing of the kind," replied the detective, angrily. "They know, and so does everybody else, that Bab understands his business and is not in the habit of making mistakes. Don't you build any hopes on that."
"Colonel Shelly will know that I am not his nephew, won't he? I can at least build some hopes on that."
"He ain't at home, and you know it as well as I do. If he was, you and I wouldn't be here in this carriage. You waited until he went off somewhere on business, and then you skipped."
"Oh, that was the way of it. The colonel must be rich if he can afford to own a whole island so near a big city like New London, mustn't he?"
"Aw! Go on now," replied the detective. "He's awful rich, and so are you. At least you will be one of these days."
"That's news to me. I've seen the time when I thought I was well off if I had fifteencents in my pocket. What's the matter?" inquired Roy, seeing that his companion was twisting uneasily about on his seat. "Don't I talk fast enough to keep you awake?"
"You make me tired," answered the detective. "But I'll tell you one thing, young man. If Willis has made a mistake and you are not Rowe Shelly, you're a trifle the coolest customer I have seen for many a day."
"I don't deny that I was frightened at first," said Roy, "but I don't feel at all uneasy now. Of course I know that you have made a mistake, for there's nothing that you or any one else can gain by running me off in this way."
"Well, look here," said the detective earnestly. "If there's been a blunder made, you mustn't blame me for it. Blame Willis."
"What's the name of the boy you took me for—Rowe Shelly? Do I look much like him?"
"That's another question that makes me tired," answered Babcock. "Look like him! Youarehim, otherwise you wouldn't be here."
"But I say I am Roy Sheldon and nobodyelse, as I can prove if you will give me a chance. When we get to some place where we can borrow a light, I want you to take a good look at my face. You never saw a boy who looked exactly like me, and I'll bet on it."
This was just what the detective had determined to do. The boy was altogether too much at his ease to suit him; he did not act at all as a disappointed runaway ought to act, and the fear that, for once, he had committed a blunder was almost enough to drive Babcock frantic. If he had made a prisoner of the wrong boy he could look for nothing but a prompt discharge from his employer, who would not be likely to recommend him to any other private detective bureau. But then he never would have made the arrest if Willis had not urged it, and repeatedly declared that he knew Rowe Shelly when he saw him, and that there was no chance for a mistake. And besides, there was the money that Rowe was said to have stolen from his guardian! To do the detective justice he did not believe that part of the story, but told himself thatthe superintendent had concocted it in order to make the case against the runaway as bad as it could be.
"I don't much like this private detective business, and never did," thought Babcock. "If there is a mean piece of work to be done, something so low down that the city officers won't touch it, we are called upon to do it. I'll have a good look at this boy's face as soon as we reach the pier, and if I am not entirely satisfied with what I see there, I'll wash my hands of the whole business, and leave Willis to take him to the island and get out of the scrape afterwards as well as he can. That's what I'll do."
Seeing that his companion had suddenly grown very unsociable, Roy settled back on his seat and thought over the situation. What would Joe and Arthur think when they missed him, and what would they do about it? When they found that he had not returned to the hotel would they become frightened, report the matter at police headquarters, and write to the folks in Mount Airy about it? The bare thought of such a thing alarmedRoy, who was almost tempted to burst open the door and take to his heels.
"But that plan wouldn't work at all," said he to himself. "Babcock would have me hard and fast before I could get fairly on my feet. I must wait until we reach the pier, and then I'll make a dash, if they give me the least show. If Joe and Arthur write home about it, that will be the end of our trip, and I'll pick a quarrel with the pair of them as soon as I can find them."
But, after all, Roy did not borrow a great deal of trouble on this score. His friends had never yet "gone back on him," and Roy did not believe they would do it now, when there was so much at stake.
While these thoughts were passing through his mind, the carriage, which had been driven at as high a rate of speed as the hackman thought he could venture upon without attracting the attention of the police, turned off the main thoroughfare into a narrow street, then into another, and finally into a third, which was so dark and gloomy that the street lamps looked as though they were shiningthrough a fog. Presently it came to a standstill.
"Here we are," said Babcock, with alacrity. "Jump out. Not that side, but this one. Aha! You'll bear watching, won't you?"
But Roy could not have made his exit through the door toward which he turned, without bringing on a useless struggle with his captors: for the minute the carriage stopped, the man Willis clambered down from the box and appeared at the window.
"Rowe Shelly must be a slippery fellow," thought Roy, as he faced about and followed the detective, "and no doubt he has given these two men a lesson that they will not soon forget. They won't let me have the ghost of a chance to run."
When Roy got out of the carriage he saw that it had stopped at the end of a pier which jutted out into the harbor for a hundred feet or more. There was no possible chance for escape, unless he were reckless enough to jump into the water and trust himself to the tide, which was running out at a rapid rate, but his captors were so very much afraid of him, thatthey kept fast hold of both his arms while they marched him to the farther end of the pier, where they found a natty little yacht with steam up, ready for a start.
"Do you intend to take me away on this thing?" inquired Roy. "Well, before you do it, hadn't you better get a lantern and satisfy yourselves that you have made no mistake in the boy? I tell you I am not Rowe Shelly. If he has any good reason for running away from his uncle, I hope he is a thousand miles from here at this moment, and that you will never catch him. But if you don't quit fooling with me here and now, I'll make trouble for you as sure as I live to get ashore."
"I'm used to such talk as that," said Willis, with a laugh. "Yes," he added, in reply to a low question from a man on the forecastle who proved to be the captain of the yacht, "we've found him already. Had no trouble at all in tracking him. Are you ready? Then cast off and—"
"Hold on," interrupted the detective. "I want to say a few words to you in private, Willis. Captain, can this boy be locked in thecabin with any certainty that we shall find him there when we want him?"
The man appealed to said he was sure of it; whereupon Roy was conducted down the companion ladder, and into an elegantly furnished little room in the stern of the yacht. The hanging lamp gave out a brilliant light, and Roy, believing that the detective would never have a better opportunity to take a good look at his face, placed his hands on his hips and stood in such a position that the rays from the reflector fell full upon him.
"Now what do you think?" said he. "Can you truthfully say that you ever saw me before?"
"Why, what's the matter?" inquired Willis, while Roy was sure he looked somewhat concerned and anxious. "What are you talking about, Rowe? You don't pretend to deny yourself, do you? If that's your scheme, it won't work."
"Of course I do not mean to deny my identity," replied Roy. "But I do say I am not Rowe Shelly."
"What nonsense!" exclaimed Willis."Shove off, captain. We are wasting time here. Mr. Babcock will go to the island with us, as he did before."
"Don't be in a hurry, captain," interposed the detective. "It is possible that I shall want to stay ashore. Now, Willis, come on deck and tell me who is to pay me for this night's work."
Willis knew, and so did Roy Sheldon, that this was simply a ruse on Babcock's part to take the superintendent out of the prisoner's hearing so that he could speak his mind to him without fear of being overheard. I afterward learned all about that rather stormy interview, and so I will tell of it here in its proper place.
"Look here," said Babcock, as soon as he and Willis had gained the deck. "You have brought me into a pretty mess, and I am going to get out of it with the least possible delay. I am as near the island as I am going to-night."
"You—you don't suppose—" began Willis.
"Yes; I mean to say that you have made me arrest the wrong boy," exclaimed the detective, as if he read the thoughts that werepassing in his companion's mind; "and if you don't know it, too, your face belies you. What do you say, captain? Who is that boy we just left in the cabin?"
"Why, it's Rowe Shelly, of course. Who else should it be?"
"Did you take a good look at him?"
"I did. I would know him if I had met him in Europe."
"There, now," said Willis, angrily, "I hope you're satisfied. I've heard that boy talk. He can almost make one believe that black is white, and I can see plain enough that he tried his blarney on you while you were in the carriage with him. You wouldn't have made the arrest if it hadn't been for me."
"You're right, I wouldn't. I believed you when you said you knew the boy, and now I've got into a nice pickle by it. I hope the colonel will give you your walking-papers the minute he hears of it."
"Oh, he dassent do that. I know too much about—" began Willis, and then he stopped, frightened at what he had said.
"You know too much about him and hisaffairs, do you?" exclaimed Babcock, finishing the sentence for him. "That's what I have thought for a long time."
"I didn't say so," replied Willis, hastily, at the same time taking the detective by the arm and leading him out of earshot of the captain of the yacht. "You ought not to have spoken so plainly in the presence of a third party. I tell you it's all right."
"And I tell you I am sure it isn't. If you will take my advice, you will bring that boy out of the cabin and show him the way to his hotel at once. If he is a stranger in town he could not find his way there alone on a dark night like this."
"I wouldn't do that for no money," said Willis, alarmed at the mere mention of such a thing. "Just see the trouble I'd get into."