CHAPTER XX.COLLECTING EVIDENCE FOR THE DEFENCE.AS MAY well be imagined that westward journey was a sad one to Myles. The detective, who never for a moment lost sight of him, was not a talkative man at best, and made it a rule not to hold unnecessary conversation with his prisoners. Thus Myles was left to his own thoughts, and the more he pondered upon his situation the more complicated and hopeless it seemed to him. Who had sent him that money? Could it have been Ben Watkins? He hated to think that his old classmate could do so mean a thing as that, and even if he were sure of it how could it be proved? He no longer had the note that came with the money, and he did not believe its sender could be traced if he could produce it; for it was probably written in a disguised hand. Still, it would help prove that the $50 had been sent to him, and its post-mark would give the date.Yes, it would be a most important bit of evidence in his favor if it could only be found. But he had not the slightest idea what had become of it; he had not even discovered its loss until he was starting away from Mountain Junction, and had felt for money with which to purchase his ticket to New York. Billings had bought that for him without exactly understanding how his friend happened to be without money, and had loaned him a few dollars besides. No, it was not likely the note ever would be found.How, then, could he prove his innocence? To be sure, he had powerful friends who stood ready to help him, but all the friends in the world could not clear his name from disgrace unless this horrible charge against him could be disproved. Supposing it should not be? Why, his whole life would be ruined, that was all. Who would care to associate with a thief, or even one suspected of being such? Who would give him employment? Yes, his career was blasted. He might as well, or better, be dead. What would they say at home? Would it kill his mother? As yet they had no suspicion of this overwhelming disgrace. How could he dash theirfond hopes by letting them know of it? He could not. And yet, suppose they should hear of it through some other channel!Thus the poor boy thought and puzzled and despaired over his situation until it seemed as though there was no hope nor happiness left in the world. He felt like one already tried, found guilty, and sentenced to a lifetime of disgrace. At last, about midnight, he fell into a troubled sleep. When he next awoke the detective was bending over him and saying that Mountain Junction was in sight.The train had hardly stopped at the well-remembered station before there was a commotion at the car-door, and a little man, whose presence seemed in a moment to pervade the whole car, rushed in, elbowing his way with remarkable dexterity through the crowd of passengers who were leaving it. They growled at him, but they gave way and made room for him to pass, as all crowds will before any one who has the self-assurance to push himself forward. In a moment he caught sight of Myles, and called out:“Good enough, old man! You’re a trump to come back and face the music. Now we will have some fun.”Here the detective stepped in front of Myles, and said sternly:“That will do, sir. I can’t allow any communication with my prisoner.”“Your prisoner!” cried Billings—for of course it was he. “Well, that’s a go! What is he your prisoner for, I’d like to know? And what’s the matter with my interviewing him? Is he an anarchist or a horse-thief? Whatever he is you can’t stop me from talking to him unless you muzzle me, and you can’t muzzle me, for I represent the press, and it’s against the law to muzzle the press in this country. Oh, no, my friend, if you think you are in Russia you are mightily mistaken. You are in a country of freeborn American reporters, and when one of them sets out to interview your prisoner, or even yourself, you’ve got to submit quietly to the process, or else you’ll find yourself up a pretty tall tree in less than no time. So step to one side, if you please, and let me speak to this gentleman.”Bewildered and overwhelmed by this torrent of words the detective actually did step aside, muttering if the gentleman was a reporter of course that made a difference.“And I am his lawyer,” said another voice behind them. “Of course you cannot object to an interview between your prisoner and his counsel.”As the officer looked around to see who would be the next to claim the privilege of speaking with his prisoner, the gentleman who said he was a lawyer, but who wore the uniform of a soldier, stepped past him and held out his hand to Myles.It was Captain Ellis, of the 50th Regiment, the one who had been with him when he sent back that key.“Yes,” he said, laughing at Myles’ bewilderment, “I am your lawyer, or, rather, I am four lawyers all in one, for I have already received four retainers to act as your counsel. I retained myself as soon as I heard of your little difficulty, and was glad enough of the chance to offer my services to one who had offered his so freely to me. Then I was retained by the boys of the 50th, for the regiment has taken up your case as its own, and is determined to see you through regardless of expense. They are also glad of an opportunity to be of service to you, and their only regret is that they were compelled to return to New York last night without waiting to give youanother reception. Next I was retained by our friend Billings here, on behalf of thePhonograph. Last of all I received a retainer just now by telegraph from a New York friend who does not wish his name mentioned, but who evidently takes a deep interest in your case.”“And now, Mr. Detective,” said Billings, who seemed to have taken the entire management of affairs into his own hands, “if you will join our little party of four lawyers, one captain, one prisoner, and one reporter, and come up to the hotel for breakfast our happiness will be complete.”The detective went, of course, for nobody ever refused Billings any thing, and, though the little fellow worried and puzzled and made fun of him from the time they sat down to table until they rose from it, he completely won his heart. The officer said afterwards that, when it came time for Mr. Billings to be arrested, he hoped some one besides himself would be sent to do it, for the little chap would laugh the chief himself out of the job before it was begun.Amid all this merriment in company with these friends poor Myles’ mountain of trouble rapidlydecreased in size until its difficulties did not appear so very insurmountable after all.As soon as breakfast was over the whole party went to court, where, after a very brief preliminary examination, Myles was admitted to bail and the date of his trial was fixed for the following Monday. He was amazed at the ease with which the whole business was transacted. There seemed to be a dozen men ready and anxious to sign his bail-bond, though only two were needed.When this formality had been disposed of, Myles and his friends, bidding the detective good-bye, returned to the hotel, where, in Billings’ room, they held a consultation as to what was to be done next.After listening attentively to his client’s story, and asking him many questions, the soldier-lawyer became convinced that the real thief was Ben Watkins, but that, under the circumstances, this was going to be very difficult to prove.“If ever there was a guilty-looking chap in this world,” said Billings, “it was that same Watkins when he found, or rather pretended to find, that envelope under the carpet in this very room. He watched me all the time he was making believe lookin other places, and when he saw that his companions were about to leave the room he walked right to the place where the envelope was and stopped there as readily as though it were lying out in plain sight. If he didn’t put it there himself then I’m a billy goat, that’s all.”“What we have got to do,” said Captain Ellis, thoughtfully, “is to get hold of Jacob Allen, if possible, for I fancy that his testimony would be very important. Then if we could by some happy chance discover the note signed by ‘A Friend in Need,’ it would be a great piece of luck. We must also find out every thing we can about Ben Watkins and his mode of life since he came to this place. This last I will make my especial business, while I want you two to use every possible effort you can think of to find Allen and that note.”To Myles a search for either of these seemed hopeless, and even the sanguine Billings acknowledged that the assignment was a tough one.“Still, it’s your first job of space work, old man,” he said cheerfully to Myles, “and it won’t do to give it up without a big try.”Myles first duty was to write home a full accountof his present trouble, for he had decided that this was, after all, the best thing to do. He made as light of it as he could, and took the most hopeful view possible of the situation; but he did not conceal any thing. He was afterwards thankful enough that he did this, for, by some means or other, a very exaggerated report of the case got into one of the New York papers the next day, and somebody took pains to send a marked copy of it to Mrs. Manning.Myles also wrote a letter, of which he said nothing to either of his companions, to Mr. Saxon. It contained a request which was so promptly granted that two days later he received an answer which apparently gave him great satisfaction as he read it.He saw but little of Ben Watkins during this week, for Ben was out of town most of the time, and even when he was not, both he and Myles carefully avoided meeting each other.In the meantime Myles and Billings made two trips out to the lonely little cabin in which the former had found shelter on the night that he lost the “Friend-in-Need” note they were now anxious to discover. Both times they found the cabin closed and deserted, and, though they lingeredin its vicinity for several hours, they saw nothing of the man named Bill who lived there. Still, the place did not have the air of being abandoned. They even felt almost certain from what they saw that it was occupied between the times of their visits, and once Myles was confident that he heard Tige barking at a distance up on the mountain-side. The locality seemed to have a peculiar fascination for Billings, and Myles found it difficult to get him away each time that they visited it.“There’s something here, old man,” said the little reporter; “something that I want. I feel it in my bones, but I can’t tell where or what it is.”The study of Billings’ character interested Myles greatly, and served largely to divert his thoughts from the unpleasant contemplation of his approaching trial. The little man had sent to New York for a trunkful of clothes, and was no longer obliged to borrow shirts and collars many sizes too large for him. On the contrary, he now dressed with the same attention to detail that Myles had noticed when they first met. When about the hotel he was the same languid, tired-appearing individual, apparently indifferent to all that was going on abouthim, that he appeared in New York. When, however, he was on duty and engaged in some difficult undertaking, like the present search for the lost note, he was another being. He became wide-awake, alert, sharp-witted, and so brimful of cheerfulness that it continually bubbled over in laughter and bright sayings. To Myles he was a true friend, a charming companion, and a constant puzzle.On the day that Myles received the letter from Mr. Saxon he inclosed it in an envelope with one written by himself, and took them to Jacob Allen’s cottage, in which the striker’s wife and little Bob still remained. The child was playing outside, and its mother sat in the door-way sewing. Myles lifted his hat as he asked:“Is this Mrs. Allen?”“Yes, sir.”“Did your husband tell you of what an escape little Bob there had a week or so ago?”“Indeed he did, sir, and it makes me tremble now to think of it. The child was saved by a New York reporter. God bless him!”“Yes,” said Myles, flushing a little, “I know it, for I am the reporter who was fortunate enough to be on hand just in time.”“You, sir! Are you Mr. Manning?” cried the woman, starting from her chair and gazing eagerly in Myles’ face.“Yes, that is my name.”“Well, sir, I’ve wanted badly to see you and thank you with my own lips, and I would have done so too but for the trouble that has come to my man. They are watching me that close in the hope of me leading them to him that I can’t stir from the house without being followed. But oh, sir, I’m proud to see you, and thankful, and may a mother’s blessing follow you all the years of your life for the brave deed you did that night!”“I didn’t come here to be thanked or praised, Mrs. Allen,” said Myles, considerably embarrassed by the woman’s warmth of manner, “though I am much obliged to you for your kind words. I came to ask a favor of you.”“Ask a thousand, sir, and if it lies in my power I’ll be only too glad of the chance to grant them all.”“Well, perhaps you will find it hard to grant even the one I am going to ask,” said Myles, smiling. “It is that you will take this letter and contrive somemeans of getting it to your husband within the next three days. If you can do that you will indeed be conferring a favor, for I am in a great trouble that I believe your husband can help me out of.”“And him with a price on his head!” exclaimed the woman, regarding the letter doubtfully, as though it might contain something dangerous to her husband’s safety.“I know it,” said Myles, “and I realize that it may be very difficult, and perhaps impossible, to get this letter to him. I know though that you will undertake it for the sake of what I was able to do for little Bob, and because your husband would want you to if he knew of it.”“Of course, sir, I’ll gladly take the letter and get it to him if I have the chance. I only hesitated because of the unlikelihood of having it in his hands within the time you named. I’m watched so close. There comes one of them now. Give me your letter quick and go your way, sir, before the spy suspects what we are talking of.”“Very well, madam,” said Myles loud enough for the man who was sauntering slowly past the house and watching them closely to hear, “I am sorry Ican’t sell you one of our sewing-machines on the installment plan. But here is a circular containing the address, and if you ever feel inclined to give the machine a trial, just drop us a postal.”“Thank you, sir,” answered the woman, with a ready comprehension. “If I’m ever in a way to buy a machine I’ll give you the first chance to sell it to me.”As she spoke she turned to go into the house, and Myles, again lifting his hat, bade her good afternoon and walked away.He felt satisfied that he had done a good stroke of business, and was almost certain that, by some means, Mrs. Allen would contrive to have his letter conveyed to her husband within the time named.While Myles was thus engaged Billings was also perfecting a plan that he proposed to carry out alone that very night. As he was already at work upon it when Myles returned to the hotel the latter could not find his versatile companion, and wondered where he was. This wonder increased when he did not appear at supper-time, and had not been seen or heard from at eleven o’clock, when, tired of waiting for him, Myles went to bed.It was broad daylight when he awoke with a start to find a most disreputable, dirty, and weary-looking, but triumphant Billings standing at his bedside, and holding out for his inspection a soiled and crumpled envelope. As he took it wonderingly, a folded paper dropped from it. It was the identical note signed “A Friend in Need” they had been so anxious to obtain, but which they had given up for lost.“Good for you, Billings!” he cried joyfully. “But when, where, and how did you get it?”“Last night, where you lost it, and by asking for it,” replied Billings, soberly.“Oh, come, old man, you know what I mean. Sit down and tell me all about it, there’s a good fellow.”“Well,” said Billings, pretending he was not just as anxious to tell his story as Myles was to hear it, “if I must I suppose I must, but”—here he gave a prodigious yawn—“I’m powerful sleepy. You see I wanted to get hold of that bit of paper, and I was pretty certain if it still existed it would be found in the possession of your cabin friend Bill. So last evening I took a walk out that way. I got to the place about sunset, and, as usual, it was closed anddeserted. Then I just lay low and waited. I have had many a lonely night-watch in the city since I became a reporter, waiting for some folks to die, for others to be born, and for more to be arrested, but that wait out there in the woods, with only the hoot-owls for company, beat them all for pure, unadulterated loneliness. Scared! I never was so scared in my life, and the noises that scared me most were generally made by crickets or frogs, or other wild beasts of that kind.“However, they say all things come to him who waits, and so all sorts of things came to me; among them a man and a dog.”“Bill and Tige,” interrupted Myles.“How do you know? Were you there?”“Go on,” laughed the other, “I won’t interrupt again.”“Well, they were Bill and Tige, and without suspecting my presence, they went into the cabin.“After giving them time to get something to eat and settle down a bit, I went to the door and knocked. At the same time I called out: ‘Hello, Bill! Hang on to Tige, for I’m coming in’; and in I went.“‘Who are you?’ said Bill, holding on to Tige with all his might.“‘A New York reporter, come to interview you,’ said I.“That tickled him so that he nearly let go of Tige with laughing. Then we had a nice long talk. I told him exactly what I wanted, and what I wanted it for.“At first he said he hadn’t got the letter, and didn’t know any thing about it, but when I told him that if he’d give it to me no questions would ever be asked about the money, he finally pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over.“Then I told him I wanted him to come to the trial and testify as to how the letter came into his possession, and how much money there was in it when Tige found it lying on the ground in front of the cabin where you dropped it. If he doesn’t he knows I will tell where his moonshine distillery is.”“Billings, you are a born detective.”“I’m better than that. I’m a born reporter, though a mighty hungry, sleepy, and tired one just at this minute.”“WHO ARE YOU?” SAID BILL, HOLDING ON TO TIGE WITH ALL HIS MIGHT. (Page310.)
CHAPTER XX.COLLECTING EVIDENCE FOR THE DEFENCE.AS MAY well be imagined that westward journey was a sad one to Myles. The detective, who never for a moment lost sight of him, was not a talkative man at best, and made it a rule not to hold unnecessary conversation with his prisoners. Thus Myles was left to his own thoughts, and the more he pondered upon his situation the more complicated and hopeless it seemed to him. Who had sent him that money? Could it have been Ben Watkins? He hated to think that his old classmate could do so mean a thing as that, and even if he were sure of it how could it be proved? He no longer had the note that came with the money, and he did not believe its sender could be traced if he could produce it; for it was probably written in a disguised hand. Still, it would help prove that the $50 had been sent to him, and its post-mark would give the date.Yes, it would be a most important bit of evidence in his favor if it could only be found. But he had not the slightest idea what had become of it; he had not even discovered its loss until he was starting away from Mountain Junction, and had felt for money with which to purchase his ticket to New York. Billings had bought that for him without exactly understanding how his friend happened to be without money, and had loaned him a few dollars besides. No, it was not likely the note ever would be found.How, then, could he prove his innocence? To be sure, he had powerful friends who stood ready to help him, but all the friends in the world could not clear his name from disgrace unless this horrible charge against him could be disproved. Supposing it should not be? Why, his whole life would be ruined, that was all. Who would care to associate with a thief, or even one suspected of being such? Who would give him employment? Yes, his career was blasted. He might as well, or better, be dead. What would they say at home? Would it kill his mother? As yet they had no suspicion of this overwhelming disgrace. How could he dash theirfond hopes by letting them know of it? He could not. And yet, suppose they should hear of it through some other channel!Thus the poor boy thought and puzzled and despaired over his situation until it seemed as though there was no hope nor happiness left in the world. He felt like one already tried, found guilty, and sentenced to a lifetime of disgrace. At last, about midnight, he fell into a troubled sleep. When he next awoke the detective was bending over him and saying that Mountain Junction was in sight.The train had hardly stopped at the well-remembered station before there was a commotion at the car-door, and a little man, whose presence seemed in a moment to pervade the whole car, rushed in, elbowing his way with remarkable dexterity through the crowd of passengers who were leaving it. They growled at him, but they gave way and made room for him to pass, as all crowds will before any one who has the self-assurance to push himself forward. In a moment he caught sight of Myles, and called out:“Good enough, old man! You’re a trump to come back and face the music. Now we will have some fun.”Here the detective stepped in front of Myles, and said sternly:“That will do, sir. I can’t allow any communication with my prisoner.”“Your prisoner!” cried Billings—for of course it was he. “Well, that’s a go! What is he your prisoner for, I’d like to know? And what’s the matter with my interviewing him? Is he an anarchist or a horse-thief? Whatever he is you can’t stop me from talking to him unless you muzzle me, and you can’t muzzle me, for I represent the press, and it’s against the law to muzzle the press in this country. Oh, no, my friend, if you think you are in Russia you are mightily mistaken. You are in a country of freeborn American reporters, and when one of them sets out to interview your prisoner, or even yourself, you’ve got to submit quietly to the process, or else you’ll find yourself up a pretty tall tree in less than no time. So step to one side, if you please, and let me speak to this gentleman.”Bewildered and overwhelmed by this torrent of words the detective actually did step aside, muttering if the gentleman was a reporter of course that made a difference.“And I am his lawyer,” said another voice behind them. “Of course you cannot object to an interview between your prisoner and his counsel.”As the officer looked around to see who would be the next to claim the privilege of speaking with his prisoner, the gentleman who said he was a lawyer, but who wore the uniform of a soldier, stepped past him and held out his hand to Myles.It was Captain Ellis, of the 50th Regiment, the one who had been with him when he sent back that key.“Yes,” he said, laughing at Myles’ bewilderment, “I am your lawyer, or, rather, I am four lawyers all in one, for I have already received four retainers to act as your counsel. I retained myself as soon as I heard of your little difficulty, and was glad enough of the chance to offer my services to one who had offered his so freely to me. Then I was retained by the boys of the 50th, for the regiment has taken up your case as its own, and is determined to see you through regardless of expense. They are also glad of an opportunity to be of service to you, and their only regret is that they were compelled to return to New York last night without waiting to give youanother reception. Next I was retained by our friend Billings here, on behalf of thePhonograph. Last of all I received a retainer just now by telegraph from a New York friend who does not wish his name mentioned, but who evidently takes a deep interest in your case.”“And now, Mr. Detective,” said Billings, who seemed to have taken the entire management of affairs into his own hands, “if you will join our little party of four lawyers, one captain, one prisoner, and one reporter, and come up to the hotel for breakfast our happiness will be complete.”The detective went, of course, for nobody ever refused Billings any thing, and, though the little fellow worried and puzzled and made fun of him from the time they sat down to table until they rose from it, he completely won his heart. The officer said afterwards that, when it came time for Mr. Billings to be arrested, he hoped some one besides himself would be sent to do it, for the little chap would laugh the chief himself out of the job before it was begun.Amid all this merriment in company with these friends poor Myles’ mountain of trouble rapidlydecreased in size until its difficulties did not appear so very insurmountable after all.As soon as breakfast was over the whole party went to court, where, after a very brief preliminary examination, Myles was admitted to bail and the date of his trial was fixed for the following Monday. He was amazed at the ease with which the whole business was transacted. There seemed to be a dozen men ready and anxious to sign his bail-bond, though only two were needed.When this formality had been disposed of, Myles and his friends, bidding the detective good-bye, returned to the hotel, where, in Billings’ room, they held a consultation as to what was to be done next.After listening attentively to his client’s story, and asking him many questions, the soldier-lawyer became convinced that the real thief was Ben Watkins, but that, under the circumstances, this was going to be very difficult to prove.“If ever there was a guilty-looking chap in this world,” said Billings, “it was that same Watkins when he found, or rather pretended to find, that envelope under the carpet in this very room. He watched me all the time he was making believe lookin other places, and when he saw that his companions were about to leave the room he walked right to the place where the envelope was and stopped there as readily as though it were lying out in plain sight. If he didn’t put it there himself then I’m a billy goat, that’s all.”“What we have got to do,” said Captain Ellis, thoughtfully, “is to get hold of Jacob Allen, if possible, for I fancy that his testimony would be very important. Then if we could by some happy chance discover the note signed by ‘A Friend in Need,’ it would be a great piece of luck. We must also find out every thing we can about Ben Watkins and his mode of life since he came to this place. This last I will make my especial business, while I want you two to use every possible effort you can think of to find Allen and that note.”To Myles a search for either of these seemed hopeless, and even the sanguine Billings acknowledged that the assignment was a tough one.“Still, it’s your first job of space work, old man,” he said cheerfully to Myles, “and it won’t do to give it up without a big try.”Myles first duty was to write home a full accountof his present trouble, for he had decided that this was, after all, the best thing to do. He made as light of it as he could, and took the most hopeful view possible of the situation; but he did not conceal any thing. He was afterwards thankful enough that he did this, for, by some means or other, a very exaggerated report of the case got into one of the New York papers the next day, and somebody took pains to send a marked copy of it to Mrs. Manning.Myles also wrote a letter, of which he said nothing to either of his companions, to Mr. Saxon. It contained a request which was so promptly granted that two days later he received an answer which apparently gave him great satisfaction as he read it.He saw but little of Ben Watkins during this week, for Ben was out of town most of the time, and even when he was not, both he and Myles carefully avoided meeting each other.In the meantime Myles and Billings made two trips out to the lonely little cabin in which the former had found shelter on the night that he lost the “Friend-in-Need” note they were now anxious to discover. Both times they found the cabin closed and deserted, and, though they lingeredin its vicinity for several hours, they saw nothing of the man named Bill who lived there. Still, the place did not have the air of being abandoned. They even felt almost certain from what they saw that it was occupied between the times of their visits, and once Myles was confident that he heard Tige barking at a distance up on the mountain-side. The locality seemed to have a peculiar fascination for Billings, and Myles found it difficult to get him away each time that they visited it.“There’s something here, old man,” said the little reporter; “something that I want. I feel it in my bones, but I can’t tell where or what it is.”The study of Billings’ character interested Myles greatly, and served largely to divert his thoughts from the unpleasant contemplation of his approaching trial. The little man had sent to New York for a trunkful of clothes, and was no longer obliged to borrow shirts and collars many sizes too large for him. On the contrary, he now dressed with the same attention to detail that Myles had noticed when they first met. When about the hotel he was the same languid, tired-appearing individual, apparently indifferent to all that was going on abouthim, that he appeared in New York. When, however, he was on duty and engaged in some difficult undertaking, like the present search for the lost note, he was another being. He became wide-awake, alert, sharp-witted, and so brimful of cheerfulness that it continually bubbled over in laughter and bright sayings. To Myles he was a true friend, a charming companion, and a constant puzzle.On the day that Myles received the letter from Mr. Saxon he inclosed it in an envelope with one written by himself, and took them to Jacob Allen’s cottage, in which the striker’s wife and little Bob still remained. The child was playing outside, and its mother sat in the door-way sewing. Myles lifted his hat as he asked:“Is this Mrs. Allen?”“Yes, sir.”“Did your husband tell you of what an escape little Bob there had a week or so ago?”“Indeed he did, sir, and it makes me tremble now to think of it. The child was saved by a New York reporter. God bless him!”“Yes,” said Myles, flushing a little, “I know it, for I am the reporter who was fortunate enough to be on hand just in time.”“You, sir! Are you Mr. Manning?” cried the woman, starting from her chair and gazing eagerly in Myles’ face.“Yes, that is my name.”“Well, sir, I’ve wanted badly to see you and thank you with my own lips, and I would have done so too but for the trouble that has come to my man. They are watching me that close in the hope of me leading them to him that I can’t stir from the house without being followed. But oh, sir, I’m proud to see you, and thankful, and may a mother’s blessing follow you all the years of your life for the brave deed you did that night!”“I didn’t come here to be thanked or praised, Mrs. Allen,” said Myles, considerably embarrassed by the woman’s warmth of manner, “though I am much obliged to you for your kind words. I came to ask a favor of you.”“Ask a thousand, sir, and if it lies in my power I’ll be only too glad of the chance to grant them all.”“Well, perhaps you will find it hard to grant even the one I am going to ask,” said Myles, smiling. “It is that you will take this letter and contrive somemeans of getting it to your husband within the next three days. If you can do that you will indeed be conferring a favor, for I am in a great trouble that I believe your husband can help me out of.”“And him with a price on his head!” exclaimed the woman, regarding the letter doubtfully, as though it might contain something dangerous to her husband’s safety.“I know it,” said Myles, “and I realize that it may be very difficult, and perhaps impossible, to get this letter to him. I know though that you will undertake it for the sake of what I was able to do for little Bob, and because your husband would want you to if he knew of it.”“Of course, sir, I’ll gladly take the letter and get it to him if I have the chance. I only hesitated because of the unlikelihood of having it in his hands within the time you named. I’m watched so close. There comes one of them now. Give me your letter quick and go your way, sir, before the spy suspects what we are talking of.”“Very well, madam,” said Myles loud enough for the man who was sauntering slowly past the house and watching them closely to hear, “I am sorry Ican’t sell you one of our sewing-machines on the installment plan. But here is a circular containing the address, and if you ever feel inclined to give the machine a trial, just drop us a postal.”“Thank you, sir,” answered the woman, with a ready comprehension. “If I’m ever in a way to buy a machine I’ll give you the first chance to sell it to me.”As she spoke she turned to go into the house, and Myles, again lifting his hat, bade her good afternoon and walked away.He felt satisfied that he had done a good stroke of business, and was almost certain that, by some means, Mrs. Allen would contrive to have his letter conveyed to her husband within the time named.While Myles was thus engaged Billings was also perfecting a plan that he proposed to carry out alone that very night. As he was already at work upon it when Myles returned to the hotel the latter could not find his versatile companion, and wondered where he was. This wonder increased when he did not appear at supper-time, and had not been seen or heard from at eleven o’clock, when, tired of waiting for him, Myles went to bed.It was broad daylight when he awoke with a start to find a most disreputable, dirty, and weary-looking, but triumphant Billings standing at his bedside, and holding out for his inspection a soiled and crumpled envelope. As he took it wonderingly, a folded paper dropped from it. It was the identical note signed “A Friend in Need” they had been so anxious to obtain, but which they had given up for lost.“Good for you, Billings!” he cried joyfully. “But when, where, and how did you get it?”“Last night, where you lost it, and by asking for it,” replied Billings, soberly.“Oh, come, old man, you know what I mean. Sit down and tell me all about it, there’s a good fellow.”“Well,” said Billings, pretending he was not just as anxious to tell his story as Myles was to hear it, “if I must I suppose I must, but”—here he gave a prodigious yawn—“I’m powerful sleepy. You see I wanted to get hold of that bit of paper, and I was pretty certain if it still existed it would be found in the possession of your cabin friend Bill. So last evening I took a walk out that way. I got to the place about sunset, and, as usual, it was closed anddeserted. Then I just lay low and waited. I have had many a lonely night-watch in the city since I became a reporter, waiting for some folks to die, for others to be born, and for more to be arrested, but that wait out there in the woods, with only the hoot-owls for company, beat them all for pure, unadulterated loneliness. Scared! I never was so scared in my life, and the noises that scared me most were generally made by crickets or frogs, or other wild beasts of that kind.“However, they say all things come to him who waits, and so all sorts of things came to me; among them a man and a dog.”“Bill and Tige,” interrupted Myles.“How do you know? Were you there?”“Go on,” laughed the other, “I won’t interrupt again.”“Well, they were Bill and Tige, and without suspecting my presence, they went into the cabin.“After giving them time to get something to eat and settle down a bit, I went to the door and knocked. At the same time I called out: ‘Hello, Bill! Hang on to Tige, for I’m coming in’; and in I went.“‘Who are you?’ said Bill, holding on to Tige with all his might.“‘A New York reporter, come to interview you,’ said I.“That tickled him so that he nearly let go of Tige with laughing. Then we had a nice long talk. I told him exactly what I wanted, and what I wanted it for.“At first he said he hadn’t got the letter, and didn’t know any thing about it, but when I told him that if he’d give it to me no questions would ever be asked about the money, he finally pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over.“Then I told him I wanted him to come to the trial and testify as to how the letter came into his possession, and how much money there was in it when Tige found it lying on the ground in front of the cabin where you dropped it. If he doesn’t he knows I will tell where his moonshine distillery is.”“Billings, you are a born detective.”“I’m better than that. I’m a born reporter, though a mighty hungry, sleepy, and tired one just at this minute.”“WHO ARE YOU?” SAID BILL, HOLDING ON TO TIGE WITH ALL HIS MIGHT. (Page310.)
COLLECTING EVIDENCE FOR THE DEFENCE.
AS MAY well be imagined that westward journey was a sad one to Myles. The detective, who never for a moment lost sight of him, was not a talkative man at best, and made it a rule not to hold unnecessary conversation with his prisoners. Thus Myles was left to his own thoughts, and the more he pondered upon his situation the more complicated and hopeless it seemed to him. Who had sent him that money? Could it have been Ben Watkins? He hated to think that his old classmate could do so mean a thing as that, and even if he were sure of it how could it be proved? He no longer had the note that came with the money, and he did not believe its sender could be traced if he could produce it; for it was probably written in a disguised hand. Still, it would help prove that the $50 had been sent to him, and its post-mark would give the date.Yes, it would be a most important bit of evidence in his favor if it could only be found. But he had not the slightest idea what had become of it; he had not even discovered its loss until he was starting away from Mountain Junction, and had felt for money with which to purchase his ticket to New York. Billings had bought that for him without exactly understanding how his friend happened to be without money, and had loaned him a few dollars besides. No, it was not likely the note ever would be found.
How, then, could he prove his innocence? To be sure, he had powerful friends who stood ready to help him, but all the friends in the world could not clear his name from disgrace unless this horrible charge against him could be disproved. Supposing it should not be? Why, his whole life would be ruined, that was all. Who would care to associate with a thief, or even one suspected of being such? Who would give him employment? Yes, his career was blasted. He might as well, or better, be dead. What would they say at home? Would it kill his mother? As yet they had no suspicion of this overwhelming disgrace. How could he dash theirfond hopes by letting them know of it? He could not. And yet, suppose they should hear of it through some other channel!
Thus the poor boy thought and puzzled and despaired over his situation until it seemed as though there was no hope nor happiness left in the world. He felt like one already tried, found guilty, and sentenced to a lifetime of disgrace. At last, about midnight, he fell into a troubled sleep. When he next awoke the detective was bending over him and saying that Mountain Junction was in sight.
The train had hardly stopped at the well-remembered station before there was a commotion at the car-door, and a little man, whose presence seemed in a moment to pervade the whole car, rushed in, elbowing his way with remarkable dexterity through the crowd of passengers who were leaving it. They growled at him, but they gave way and made room for him to pass, as all crowds will before any one who has the self-assurance to push himself forward. In a moment he caught sight of Myles, and called out:
“Good enough, old man! You’re a trump to come back and face the music. Now we will have some fun.”
Here the detective stepped in front of Myles, and said sternly:
“That will do, sir. I can’t allow any communication with my prisoner.”
“Your prisoner!” cried Billings—for of course it was he. “Well, that’s a go! What is he your prisoner for, I’d like to know? And what’s the matter with my interviewing him? Is he an anarchist or a horse-thief? Whatever he is you can’t stop me from talking to him unless you muzzle me, and you can’t muzzle me, for I represent the press, and it’s against the law to muzzle the press in this country. Oh, no, my friend, if you think you are in Russia you are mightily mistaken. You are in a country of freeborn American reporters, and when one of them sets out to interview your prisoner, or even yourself, you’ve got to submit quietly to the process, or else you’ll find yourself up a pretty tall tree in less than no time. So step to one side, if you please, and let me speak to this gentleman.”
Bewildered and overwhelmed by this torrent of words the detective actually did step aside, muttering if the gentleman was a reporter of course that made a difference.
“And I am his lawyer,” said another voice behind them. “Of course you cannot object to an interview between your prisoner and his counsel.”
As the officer looked around to see who would be the next to claim the privilege of speaking with his prisoner, the gentleman who said he was a lawyer, but who wore the uniform of a soldier, stepped past him and held out his hand to Myles.
It was Captain Ellis, of the 50th Regiment, the one who had been with him when he sent back that key.
“Yes,” he said, laughing at Myles’ bewilderment, “I am your lawyer, or, rather, I am four lawyers all in one, for I have already received four retainers to act as your counsel. I retained myself as soon as I heard of your little difficulty, and was glad enough of the chance to offer my services to one who had offered his so freely to me. Then I was retained by the boys of the 50th, for the regiment has taken up your case as its own, and is determined to see you through regardless of expense. They are also glad of an opportunity to be of service to you, and their only regret is that they were compelled to return to New York last night without waiting to give youanother reception. Next I was retained by our friend Billings here, on behalf of thePhonograph. Last of all I received a retainer just now by telegraph from a New York friend who does not wish his name mentioned, but who evidently takes a deep interest in your case.”
“And now, Mr. Detective,” said Billings, who seemed to have taken the entire management of affairs into his own hands, “if you will join our little party of four lawyers, one captain, one prisoner, and one reporter, and come up to the hotel for breakfast our happiness will be complete.”
The detective went, of course, for nobody ever refused Billings any thing, and, though the little fellow worried and puzzled and made fun of him from the time they sat down to table until they rose from it, he completely won his heart. The officer said afterwards that, when it came time for Mr. Billings to be arrested, he hoped some one besides himself would be sent to do it, for the little chap would laugh the chief himself out of the job before it was begun.
Amid all this merriment in company with these friends poor Myles’ mountain of trouble rapidlydecreased in size until its difficulties did not appear so very insurmountable after all.
As soon as breakfast was over the whole party went to court, where, after a very brief preliminary examination, Myles was admitted to bail and the date of his trial was fixed for the following Monday. He was amazed at the ease with which the whole business was transacted. There seemed to be a dozen men ready and anxious to sign his bail-bond, though only two were needed.
When this formality had been disposed of, Myles and his friends, bidding the detective good-bye, returned to the hotel, where, in Billings’ room, they held a consultation as to what was to be done next.
After listening attentively to his client’s story, and asking him many questions, the soldier-lawyer became convinced that the real thief was Ben Watkins, but that, under the circumstances, this was going to be very difficult to prove.
“If ever there was a guilty-looking chap in this world,” said Billings, “it was that same Watkins when he found, or rather pretended to find, that envelope under the carpet in this very room. He watched me all the time he was making believe lookin other places, and when he saw that his companions were about to leave the room he walked right to the place where the envelope was and stopped there as readily as though it were lying out in plain sight. If he didn’t put it there himself then I’m a billy goat, that’s all.”
“What we have got to do,” said Captain Ellis, thoughtfully, “is to get hold of Jacob Allen, if possible, for I fancy that his testimony would be very important. Then if we could by some happy chance discover the note signed by ‘A Friend in Need,’ it would be a great piece of luck. We must also find out every thing we can about Ben Watkins and his mode of life since he came to this place. This last I will make my especial business, while I want you two to use every possible effort you can think of to find Allen and that note.”
To Myles a search for either of these seemed hopeless, and even the sanguine Billings acknowledged that the assignment was a tough one.
“Still, it’s your first job of space work, old man,” he said cheerfully to Myles, “and it won’t do to give it up without a big try.”
Myles first duty was to write home a full accountof his present trouble, for he had decided that this was, after all, the best thing to do. He made as light of it as he could, and took the most hopeful view possible of the situation; but he did not conceal any thing. He was afterwards thankful enough that he did this, for, by some means or other, a very exaggerated report of the case got into one of the New York papers the next day, and somebody took pains to send a marked copy of it to Mrs. Manning.
Myles also wrote a letter, of which he said nothing to either of his companions, to Mr. Saxon. It contained a request which was so promptly granted that two days later he received an answer which apparently gave him great satisfaction as he read it.
He saw but little of Ben Watkins during this week, for Ben was out of town most of the time, and even when he was not, both he and Myles carefully avoided meeting each other.
In the meantime Myles and Billings made two trips out to the lonely little cabin in which the former had found shelter on the night that he lost the “Friend-in-Need” note they were now anxious to discover. Both times they found the cabin closed and deserted, and, though they lingeredin its vicinity for several hours, they saw nothing of the man named Bill who lived there. Still, the place did not have the air of being abandoned. They even felt almost certain from what they saw that it was occupied between the times of their visits, and once Myles was confident that he heard Tige barking at a distance up on the mountain-side. The locality seemed to have a peculiar fascination for Billings, and Myles found it difficult to get him away each time that they visited it.
“There’s something here, old man,” said the little reporter; “something that I want. I feel it in my bones, but I can’t tell where or what it is.”
The study of Billings’ character interested Myles greatly, and served largely to divert his thoughts from the unpleasant contemplation of his approaching trial. The little man had sent to New York for a trunkful of clothes, and was no longer obliged to borrow shirts and collars many sizes too large for him. On the contrary, he now dressed with the same attention to detail that Myles had noticed when they first met. When about the hotel he was the same languid, tired-appearing individual, apparently indifferent to all that was going on abouthim, that he appeared in New York. When, however, he was on duty and engaged in some difficult undertaking, like the present search for the lost note, he was another being. He became wide-awake, alert, sharp-witted, and so brimful of cheerfulness that it continually bubbled over in laughter and bright sayings. To Myles he was a true friend, a charming companion, and a constant puzzle.
On the day that Myles received the letter from Mr. Saxon he inclosed it in an envelope with one written by himself, and took them to Jacob Allen’s cottage, in which the striker’s wife and little Bob still remained. The child was playing outside, and its mother sat in the door-way sewing. Myles lifted his hat as he asked:
“Is this Mrs. Allen?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did your husband tell you of what an escape little Bob there had a week or so ago?”
“Indeed he did, sir, and it makes me tremble now to think of it. The child was saved by a New York reporter. God bless him!”
“Yes,” said Myles, flushing a little, “I know it, for I am the reporter who was fortunate enough to be on hand just in time.”
“You, sir! Are you Mr. Manning?” cried the woman, starting from her chair and gazing eagerly in Myles’ face.
“Yes, that is my name.”
“Well, sir, I’ve wanted badly to see you and thank you with my own lips, and I would have done so too but for the trouble that has come to my man. They are watching me that close in the hope of me leading them to him that I can’t stir from the house without being followed. But oh, sir, I’m proud to see you, and thankful, and may a mother’s blessing follow you all the years of your life for the brave deed you did that night!”
“I didn’t come here to be thanked or praised, Mrs. Allen,” said Myles, considerably embarrassed by the woman’s warmth of manner, “though I am much obliged to you for your kind words. I came to ask a favor of you.”
“Ask a thousand, sir, and if it lies in my power I’ll be only too glad of the chance to grant them all.”
“Well, perhaps you will find it hard to grant even the one I am going to ask,” said Myles, smiling. “It is that you will take this letter and contrive somemeans of getting it to your husband within the next three days. If you can do that you will indeed be conferring a favor, for I am in a great trouble that I believe your husband can help me out of.”
“And him with a price on his head!” exclaimed the woman, regarding the letter doubtfully, as though it might contain something dangerous to her husband’s safety.
“I know it,” said Myles, “and I realize that it may be very difficult, and perhaps impossible, to get this letter to him. I know though that you will undertake it for the sake of what I was able to do for little Bob, and because your husband would want you to if he knew of it.”
“Of course, sir, I’ll gladly take the letter and get it to him if I have the chance. I only hesitated because of the unlikelihood of having it in his hands within the time you named. I’m watched so close. There comes one of them now. Give me your letter quick and go your way, sir, before the spy suspects what we are talking of.”
“Very well, madam,” said Myles loud enough for the man who was sauntering slowly past the house and watching them closely to hear, “I am sorry Ican’t sell you one of our sewing-machines on the installment plan. But here is a circular containing the address, and if you ever feel inclined to give the machine a trial, just drop us a postal.”
“Thank you, sir,” answered the woman, with a ready comprehension. “If I’m ever in a way to buy a machine I’ll give you the first chance to sell it to me.”
As she spoke she turned to go into the house, and Myles, again lifting his hat, bade her good afternoon and walked away.
He felt satisfied that he had done a good stroke of business, and was almost certain that, by some means, Mrs. Allen would contrive to have his letter conveyed to her husband within the time named.
While Myles was thus engaged Billings was also perfecting a plan that he proposed to carry out alone that very night. As he was already at work upon it when Myles returned to the hotel the latter could not find his versatile companion, and wondered where he was. This wonder increased when he did not appear at supper-time, and had not been seen or heard from at eleven o’clock, when, tired of waiting for him, Myles went to bed.
It was broad daylight when he awoke with a start to find a most disreputable, dirty, and weary-looking, but triumphant Billings standing at his bedside, and holding out for his inspection a soiled and crumpled envelope. As he took it wonderingly, a folded paper dropped from it. It was the identical note signed “A Friend in Need” they had been so anxious to obtain, but which they had given up for lost.
“Good for you, Billings!” he cried joyfully. “But when, where, and how did you get it?”
“Last night, where you lost it, and by asking for it,” replied Billings, soberly.
“Oh, come, old man, you know what I mean. Sit down and tell me all about it, there’s a good fellow.”
“Well,” said Billings, pretending he was not just as anxious to tell his story as Myles was to hear it, “if I must I suppose I must, but”—here he gave a prodigious yawn—“I’m powerful sleepy. You see I wanted to get hold of that bit of paper, and I was pretty certain if it still existed it would be found in the possession of your cabin friend Bill. So last evening I took a walk out that way. I got to the place about sunset, and, as usual, it was closed anddeserted. Then I just lay low and waited. I have had many a lonely night-watch in the city since I became a reporter, waiting for some folks to die, for others to be born, and for more to be arrested, but that wait out there in the woods, with only the hoot-owls for company, beat them all for pure, unadulterated loneliness. Scared! I never was so scared in my life, and the noises that scared me most were generally made by crickets or frogs, or other wild beasts of that kind.
“However, they say all things come to him who waits, and so all sorts of things came to me; among them a man and a dog.”
“Bill and Tige,” interrupted Myles.
“How do you know? Were you there?”
“Go on,” laughed the other, “I won’t interrupt again.”
“Well, they were Bill and Tige, and without suspecting my presence, they went into the cabin.
“After giving them time to get something to eat and settle down a bit, I went to the door and knocked. At the same time I called out: ‘Hello, Bill! Hang on to Tige, for I’m coming in’; and in I went.
“‘Who are you?’ said Bill, holding on to Tige with all his might.
“‘A New York reporter, come to interview you,’ said I.
“That tickled him so that he nearly let go of Tige with laughing. Then we had a nice long talk. I told him exactly what I wanted, and what I wanted it for.
“At first he said he hadn’t got the letter, and didn’t know any thing about it, but when I told him that if he’d give it to me no questions would ever be asked about the money, he finally pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over.
“Then I told him I wanted him to come to the trial and testify as to how the letter came into his possession, and how much money there was in it when Tige found it lying on the ground in front of the cabin where you dropped it. If he doesn’t he knows I will tell where his moonshine distillery is.”
“Billings, you are a born detective.”
“I’m better than that. I’m a born reporter, though a mighty hungry, sleepy, and tired one just at this minute.”
“WHO ARE YOU?” SAID BILL, HOLDING ON TO TIGE WITH ALL HIS MIGHT. (Page310.)
“WHO ARE YOU?” SAID BILL, HOLDING ON TO TIGE WITH ALL HIS MIGHT. (Page310.)
“WHO ARE YOU?” SAID BILL, HOLDING ON TO TIGE WITH ALL HIS MIGHT. (Page310.)