CHAPTER V.
“A robbery?” muttered Tom. “Well, old pard, it wasn’t me.”
While the argument was going on a little fellow slipped like a rat from his hiding place, and would have scurried away but the pawnbroker held him tightly.
“Where were you, you little devil?” whispered he.
“Under the counter.”
“And heard all?”
“Every word.”
“Then keep your mouth shut, and I’ll help you out of the watch scrape.”
The officer saw that there was another prisoner for him.
“Ah, Jimmie Farren,” cried the detective. “You are the youngster that stole that watch? Now come with me.”
“I didn’t steal the watch; I just found it.”
Tom threw back his head and laughed.
“We are innocent, aren’t we, pard? Well, if we have to go with the police, come along like a man, but they will soon ship me, for I am as innocent as a new-born lamb.”
He played his fingers on the end of his nose to the pawnbroker and left the shop, following the detective.
“When I come back, I’ll fix you, you old skate,” said he just as the door slammed in his face.
“Ah, ha, so he will come back, will he? Well I guess he won’t. That was a smart thing that George Benson thought of, and I tell you any one that gets in that man’s path he will knock out quicker than a wink.”
At the station house Tom stood before the captain and gave a history of himself. He told how he was a former ward of Mr. Benson, how he had lived there for many years and then of his sudden dismissal.
“And what are you here for?” asked the sergeant.
“Because he raised a row in a pawnshop.”
“And what were you going to pawn?”
“My clothes in that bundle,” and the sailor pointed to the package in the officer’s hand.
“What’s in it?”
“A new suit of clothes I bought in England, and we landed in town yesterday, and I haven’t drawn any money yet, so had to pawn my clothes.”
“Open the package,” ordered the sergeant.
The officer obeyed and out rolled a small box of velvet which the man picked up doubtfully, and all were looking at the box as the policeman handed it over to the leader.
“What’s this?” he asked of Tom Cooper.
The young sailor was looking at the box in mystified silence.
“I do not know,” said he at last, and there was one in the room who knew that he did not know, for Jim Farren had seen and heard what passed between George Benson and the Jew, and knewthat this young man was a victim of their conspiracy, but for his own sake he dared not speak, for there would be a chance for him if he stood in with the old Jew, but he knew that there would be nothing done if he should try to aid the young sailor.
A few words would not be amiss about this young man Jim Farren. Brought up in one of the toughest parts of New York, he had had no influence to aid him into a better life. He would steal and then lie out of it, but this time he had been caught in his own trap. What a fool he had been to go to that shop after pawning a watch which of course would be identified.
He was thus thinking when he heard the sailor say stoutly:
“Well, whether you believe me or not, I did not steal those gems,” and for the first time in his life Jim Farren had an impulse to say, “He did not, for I saw the thief.”
The next day the papers were full of the robbery and the skilful catching of the thief. George Benson went and shook hands with the pawnbroker, and said: “If we had not worked this fellow off of our hands we would have been in a pickle just now.”
When George got home he found that his uncle had sent his lawyer to the inner closet in the library, giving him a design of the room, and the attorney found that the jewels were gone.
It was in this way that the detectives took up the case, and they were located in a pawnshop which belonged to one Nathans.
It gave the name of Tom Cooper, and old Mr. Benson turned upon his pillow with a groan when he found that the boy he had loved and taken care of from a baby had been the serpent that stung him in a most vital place, for had not his Helen, his wife and beloved, worn these precious diamonds about her neck, and had not his daughter, whom he loved, also had them close to her beating heart? For many hours after thisrevelation was made to him he said nothing, and then he opened his lips.
“It is dreadful to be treated thus. I loved this boy, and was on the eve of sending for him to find out the truth of the matter of a few months ago, but if these gems were found upon him then there can be no excuse for him.”
It was strange that the old invalid did not think it about time to send his nephew from his home, especially after the terrible confession George had made about his daughter, but Benson felt that George was his own flesh and blood, and how could he find it in his heart to turn him away? He had grown more tender since the leaving of his Annie. He would put all the worry out of his mind, with the exception of thoughts of Annie, and for her he would wish until the very air produced vibrations that would bring her back to him.
“Do you really believe, George,” said the lawyer one morning after Tom’s sentence had been passed upon him and he had been sent up for anumber of years, “that this young sailor took these gems?”
“I only know,” responded the smooth villain, “as much about the case as you. I do not worry about strangers.”
“Was this young man not a boy brought up with you?”
“Yes.”
“Then, he is not a stranger to you.”
“Well, he is no blood relation, and I am not being put through the third degree, am I?”
The lawyer went out with the firm conviction that this young man, with his handsome eyes, knew more about this plot of the diamond theft than he cared to admit.
George Benson threw himself out of the room with an impatient gesture.
“I’ll be glad when the old man is dead,” muttered he as he swung off up the avenue, “for he has such a set of inquisitors about him that they drive me out of my senses.”
When poor Annie staggered out of the pawnshop with her pretty bauble in her fingers she ran into another woman hurrying along.
“Why, you poor darling,” said the warm-hearted newcomer; “you ain’t about this kind of a day, and no warm clothes on? Now, be a good girl and come back home with me. Where have you bin?”
“I’ve been trying to pawn this trinket, but he told me that it wasn’t worth over two dollars. And I know better, for my father gave it to me. Oh, Biddy Roan, if the time ever comes that I can repay you and Mrs. Higgins for your kindness to me, then will I come back and make you comfortable. But now I am going away.”
She turned and made her way toward the other street swiftly, and would not listen to the strong Irish voice that commanded her to return. She walked hastily along until she came to Broadway and took this thoroughfare down and seemed bent upon making a certain point before the turning of the night, but fate seemed to have overtaken this poor woman, and with her heart beating andher lips praying for her father’s forgiveness she swept on, dragging the whining child through the now shadowy streets.
“Oh, mother, I am so tired,” cried the child.
“I know you are, dear little Helen, but be a good girl. We are going to see grandpa.”
“Is he the grandpa that wouldn’t let us in his house?” asked Helen, this time hugging closer to her mother, for the night’s shades brought the chill winds from the sea.
“He did not know, love, how badly we wanted to see him, I am sure, or he would not have turned us away. Now listen, dearest, and you shall have enough to eat before long.”
This was every word true, but, little Helen Standish, it would not be in your grandfather’s mansion that you would eat, but in the awfulness of a prison house. The poor exhausted mother, tired and weary, was swept from the street into the gutter by a heavy truck, and when they picked her up stunned, the policeman said that she was drunk, and she was sent to the Island for three months.
While the papers did not give her name, a small account of the dreadful woman, with her child at her side, and found drunk in the streets, gave a slight vision of some of the other half in New York of whom so little is known by those living in luxury.
But the description of the child and the woman and especially the trinket found in the woman’s fingers, which it was supposed she had stolen, made George seek Nathans.
“I believe that this woman is that Annie Standish,” cried he, “and you must find out. I believe the old man is on his last legs. He will have no opportunity to see his daughter. Now then, if this is she, then we must get the child, and do away with it, and I think the mother has consumption. Now then, you can work in that little thief Farren, can’t you?”
“How?”
“Give him a thousand dollars for kidnapping the child. Buy off some of the guards to allow him to get away by the river, and then impress upon his mind that if the child is the same he isto see that it falls into the water. It won’t be missed. He regains his freedom and a thousand, and future help if he needs it.”
The pawnbroker thought for a long time.
“What do I get out of all this?” he asked, squinting his eye at his companion. “I must know this.”
“Oh, you’ll have enough. Don’t fear.”
“Then, tell me now,” said Nathans.
“Five thousand.”
“Five thousand?” ejaculated the broker. “Do all the dirty work for you and get a paltry five thousand out of a clean two million? You must think that I am a fool. I’ve loaned you more than that in clean cold cash.”
“Of course, I understand that I should return that also.” The broker walked away.
“I want nothing to do with your scheme.”
“Then, tell me what you do want,” said George almost pleadingly.
“Half.”
“Half! My heavens, man, that is a fortune.”
“I know, and you will have one, too. I don’tintend you to get the cream and leave me the skim milk.”
“Then, if you will drive such a hard bargain, come back, and half is agreed.”
The broker chuckled softly.
“That is more like it,” said he.
“Then you will see the boy,” asked George as he pulled his collar up tightly about his neck.
“Yes,” and true to his promise the Jew crossed the river and presented himself at the prison door.
“May I see a young man in whom I am interested by the name of Farren? He was put in for theft.”
“And a bird he is, too,” said the officer in charge.
“Let me see, do I know you?” hesitated the Jew, looking into the officer’s face.
“I guess you do, Mr. Nathans, for I am the man that took the sailor and Jim from your shop. My partner is here, too, Arkwright, only he is too darn nice to live. I wouldn’t want to ask him to do a job for me if I wanted one done.”
And the officer winked his eye laughingly.
After the thick-headed Jew had gotten it through his brains what it meant, he was glad that the man had given him this hint, for had he not come to try to bribe Arkwright, but this timely hint was enough, so he said:
“If you wanted something done in this burg, who would you go to?”
“Not to Arkwright,” was the answer, and he made a very wry face.
“To whom, then?”
“To me.”
“And is it possible for you to allow a prisoner to escape?”
“If you should buy up my partner also,” said the man.
“And which one is he?” asked the Jew eagerly.
“I’ll show you. There now, don’t be in a hurry. Let me make the proposition to him while you see the boy. Is it Jim that you want to get out?”
The Jew nodded slightly just as the boy jumped into the room.
“Well, Jim,” said the Jew, holding out his hand; “how are you doing?”
“Pretty much as I please,” replied the lad.
“Then you don’t want to leave this place?” and the Jew looked closely at him.
“Oh, wouldn’t I like to get back to New York!” cried he sharply. “Just you give me the chance,” sighed he.
“Well, the chance is yours.”
“How?” gasped the youngster.
“By doin’ exactly as I tell you. Now, don’t get mixed up with any one else in this game, or they might mix you up. Understand?”
“I should tink I did, mister. Now, tell me about it, and no kiddin’.”
A whispered conversation went on while the bribed guard kept his ears shut, waiting for the time that money should open them.
“The same day that you were placed in here a woman was brought here with a child. I want you to escape and take the kid with you and accidentally drop it off the boat. Understand?”
“Oh, I am to kill the kid, is that it?”
“No, it will kill itself, if you leave it in the water long enough.”
“Just let it slip off the bark, is that it?” asked Jim.
“Yes, that’s it.”
“But, where’s the boat to come from?” asked Jim, interested in his own safety, “and how much dough am I to get for this?”
“One thousand dollars and your freedom.”
“Hully Gee, but that would set me up in business. I guess I’ll take it, mister.”
“Then you are to wait until I send you a chart. Do you see that man sleeping there? He will aid you. He says that you have been trying to escape.”
“Yes, I dug my way out t’other night, but found that I was in another cove’s cell. He just lay there and let me dig and then laughed at me fer my pains.”
“Never mind, Jim; now you can laugh at him for his pains,” said the Jew.
Inside a little book which the Jew handed, witha show of reverence, to the convict were some fine files and the like to aid him to escape.
“The warden thinks it’s a prayer book that I brought you,” said the Jew. “Now hide the things away, and don’t let any one into your secret.”
Just as they were talking in a low tone the warden ushered in a woman.
“If it ain’t Biddy Roan, me cousin,” said Jim, trying to hide his head. “I don’t want her to see me,” but see him she did, and the good Irishwoman had to go over the whole death scene of the poor mother of Jim, who had died since he came to the prison.
“Now then, Jim,” said she, “if you ever get out and want to be a good fellow, you just come to my place of business. I’ve got a house on the river side, and you’re welcome for your poor mother’s sake, and you may take care of my boats for the payment of your board,” and Biddy Roan, who had been visiting the sick woman upstairs, hurried out of the prison with tears in her eyes.