Alger Horatio Jr.
Slow and Sure: The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-Merchant
CHAPTER XVI.
LOCKED UP FOR THE NIGHT
About nine o'clock, after a comfortable breakfast, for which he had paid out of his morning's earnings, Julius went round again to Paul's necktie stand. He had just opened for business when the boy came up.
"You're late this mornin'," said Julius. "I was here before."
"Yes; I was detained at home. Is there anything new?"
"Yes, there is," said Julius.
"What is it?"
"They suspect somethin'."
"Who?"
"Jack and Marlowe. They think I ain't to be trusted."
"How do you know? Did they tell you so?" inquired Paul, with interest.
"No; Marlowe talked in his sleep."
"What did he say?"
"'Don't trust the boy! Make it Saturday night.'"
"Saturday night!" repeated Paul in excitement. "Why, that's to-morrow night."
Julius nodded.
"Do they know you overheard?"
"No."
"So you came and told me. You're a good fellow, Julius. You have done me a great favor."
"You've been good to me," said Julius. "That's why I did it."
"I shall be ready for them to-morrow night, then," said Paul.
This conference was watched, though neither Julius nor Paul was aware of it. Marlowe, on leaving the room some time after Julius, had come into the vicinity with the design of getting a view of Paul and ascertaining whether he was the boy whom he had seen purchasing the coat. He came up a moment after Julius reached the stand. Of course he identified Paul, and his suspicions as to the good understanding between him and Julius were confirmed by seeing them together. He listened intently, hoping to catch something of their conversation, but though not far off, the street noises were such as to render this impossible.
"The young viper!" he said to himself. "He's sold us, as sure as my name's Marlowe. I'll wring his neck for him. He'll find he's got into dangerous business."
He went back and reported to Jack what he had seen.
"If I thought the boy was playin' us a trick," growled Jack, "I'd strangle him; but I ain't sure. You didn't hear what he said?"
"No; I couldn't hear, but it stands to reason that he's sold us."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing yet. The boy don't know that we have changed our plans. He thinks we trust him. Let him think so, and when we get ready to go out Saturday night, we'll tie him hand and foot, so he can't stir. Then we'll go up to the house and take 'em unprepared."
"All right," said Jack. "Your head's longer than mine, Marlowe. You know best."
"Of course I do," said Marlowe. "You've got the strength and I've got the brain."
Jack Morgan extended his arms, and watched his muscular development with satisfaction. He was not sensitive about the slight to his understanding. He was content to be thought what he was, a strong and dangerous animal.
What preparations were necessary to be made were made during that day and the next by the two confederates. They were made during the absence of Julius, that he might know nothing of what was going on. Further to mislead him, the two spoke two or three times on the previous evening of their expedition of Monday night. Julius fathomed their design, and was sharp enough not to appear particularly interested.
So Saturday night came. At six o'clock Julius entered the room and found the two seated together. He had had half a mind not to appear at all, but to cut loose from them forever; but this would lead to suspicion, and he changed his mind. Though he had not seen Paul since, he had reason to believe that he had made preparations to receive the two burglars. In all probability they would be arrested, and this would be their last meeting.
"How are you, Jack?" he said, as he entered the room, with a little qualm at the thought that this man, bad as he was, was so near falling into the hands of justice, and by his means.
Jack looked at him, but did not answer. His expression was menacing, as Julius perceived, and his heart beat more quickly, as he thought, "Has he found out anything?"
But luckily for him neither Jack nor Marlowe knew anything definite. Had it been so, the boy's life would have been in peril.
"Have you seen young Hoffman to-day?" asked Marlowe.
"No."
"He don't know we're going to call Monday night, does he?"
"No," said Julius, and he answered truly. "Where could he find out?"
"You might say something to let him know."
"What would make me do that?" said Julius boldly.
"You might think he'd pay you for telling him."
"He ain't rich," said Julius.
"Do you know what I'd do to you if I found out as you'd sold us," here broke in Jack Morgan, his dull eyes gleaming fiercely. "I'd kill you."
"What makes you say that to me, Jack?" said Julius, not showing the fear he felt.
"Oh, it ain't nothin' to you, then?"
"No, it isn't."
Of course this was a falsehood, but it would have been idle to expect the truth from one like Julius, under such circumstances. He knew Jack well enough to understand that he was quite capable of carrying out his threat, and it decided him, when the two went out, to go out himself and not to return. They might find out that he had been dealing falsely with them, and if so his life was in danger. It was yet early, and he decided to go out at once, as he usually did, for it was not very agreeable to pass an entire evening in the miserable tenement rooms.
"Where are you going?" asked Marlowe, as he lifted the latch of the door.
"I'm goin' out. I haven't had any supper."
"You can do without supper to-night, eh, Jack?"
"Yes, he can do without supper to-night."
"Why? What's up?" demanded the boy.
"Never mind what's up," answered Marlowe. "You ain't goin' out to-night."
"I'm hungry."
"We'll bring you some supper. We're goin' out ourselves."
"You never kept me in before," said Julius, who felt that it was best to show surprise at the action of the confederates, though it did not surprise him.
"That's neither here nor there. You ain't goin' out to-night."
"All right," said Julius, "if you say so; only bring a feller some grub."
"We'll bring you some," said Jack, who was not as fully convinced as his comrade of Julius' treachery.
They left the room, carefully locking the door behind them.
Julius sat down on the bed, and began to review the situation. Evidently he was to be locked up in the room through the night, while Jack and Marlowe were robbing the house on Madison avenue. In all probability they would be arrested, and prevented from returning. But suppose one or both escaped from the trap in which they were expected to fall. If their suspicions of his fidelity were aroused now they would be confirmed by the discovery of the police. Knowing the desperate character of both, Julius reflected with a shudder that his life would possibly be sacrificed. It would not do for him to remain here. He must escape by some means.
But how? This was a difficult question to answer. The room was on the third floor, with a solitary window looking out into a small, dirty court. It was too high up to jump with safety, and there was nothing in the room by which he could descend.
He was still considering this question an hour later, when the two returned.
Jack had in his hand a couple of apples.
"There," said he, tossing them to Julius. "That'll do you till mornin'."
"Thank you," said Julius.
It was true that he had had no supper, and he ate the apples with a good appetite. The two men sat down, and, producing the same old, greasy pack of cards which they had before used, began to play. It was not until a late hour that they could go about the business which they had planned. Twelve o'clock was as early as they could venture to attempt entering the house. To prime them for the task, they had brought in with them a plentiful supply of whisky, of which they partook at frequent intervals. They offered none to Julius.
By and by Julius went to bed. He knew they would not go out till eleven, probably, and he would like to have kept awake till then. But this would have been unusual, and perhaps have increased suspicion. So after awhile he lay quiet, and pretended to be asleep. The men kept on playing cards till half-past ten. Then Marlowe spoke:
"We'll hold up now. It's time to be goin'."
"What time is it?"
"Most eleven."
"The boy's asleep."
"Is he?"
Marlowe went to the bed and leaned over. Julius felt his breath on his face, but gave no sign that he was still awake. He was filled with curiosity to know whether Marlowe and Jack meant to carry out their plan this evening.
"He seems to be asleep," said Marlowe, "but we'll lock him in, to make sure. In three hours we'll be back, if all goes well, with plenty of swag."
"I hope so, Marlowe. I've got tired of livin' this way; we'll go to California if we come out right."
"I'm with you, Jack, on that. A pal of mine went out to the mines and got rich. Then he swore off and turned respectable."
"So would I, if I had plenty of tin."
"I've no objection myself, with plenty of money to back me. Money's what makes the difference between people in this world. Give me a hundred thousand, and instead of bein' Tom Marlowe I would be Thomas Marlowe, Esq., our eminent fellow-citizen, and you would be the Hon. John Morgan, eh, Jack?"
Jack laughed at the unfamiliar title, though possibly he was no more undeserving of it than some who flaunt it in the face of society.
"I'm the figger for an Honorable," he said. "But it's time to be goin'. Here's good luck!" and he poured down a glass of the whisky at one gulp.
They carefully locked the door behind them, and their heavy steps were heard descending the rickety stairs.
Julius listened till the sound was no longer heard. Then he jumped up from the pallet on which he had been counterfeiting sleep, and said to himself, "It ain't safe to stay here any longer. How shall I get out?"
CHAPTER XVII.
TRAPPED
It was close upon midnight when Marlowe and Jack approached the house in Madison avenue. There was one thing connected with the position of the house, not before mentioned, which favored their attempt. It was a corner house, and in the rear a high wall separated the area from the street. The two confederates judged that this would be the most feasible way of entrance.
"Boost me up, Marlowe, first," said Jack Morgan. "You're lighter'n me, and can get up alone. I'm fat and clumsy, and I couldn't 'go it alone' to save my neck."
"All right, Jack. Are you ready?"
"Yes. Shove away."
Jack, raised by his companion, got firm hold of the top of the wall, and by an effort clambered over.
"I'm over, all right," he said, in a low voice. "Get over yourself."
Marlowe looked cautiously up and down the street, till he was satisfied no policeman was in sight, then, making a leap, seized the wall, and, by the exercise of his strength, drew himself up, and then, of course, easily descended into the area.
"Here we are," said Jack, in a tone of satisfaction. "Now for work."
"The lights are all out," said Marlowe, softly. "I hope they are all asleep."
"It's likely they are."
"Did Julius say whether any of them slept in the basement?"
"He didn't find out."
"Well, we must risk it. We'll reconnoiter a little and see what's the best way to get in."
At length it was decided that a particular window afforded the easiest ingress. Of course it was fastened inside; but they were not novices, and this presented not the slightest difficulty to their practiced hands. With an instrument pointed with a diamond, they cut out the pane of glass just beneath, and, thrusting in a hand, Marlowe turned back the fastening. Then the window was softly raised, and both entered.
They were now in the kitchen. It was dangerous to grope about in the dark, for some article of furniture might be overturned, and that would probably create an alarm which would be fatal to their plans. The first thing, therefore, was to strike a light.
They had a dark lantern with them, and this was speedily lighted. Then both removed their shoes, and one after the other filed into the entry.
"Take care, Jack," said Marlowe. "The woman may be sleeping in the front basement, and might hear you if you make the least noise."
"Suppose she does?"
"We must gag her. If it's the boy, I'll dispose of him pretty quick."
All was still as death. Neither had the slightest idea that their plan was known, and that preparations of a most unwelcome character had been made for their reception—that, in fact, they had ventured into a trap. But on the previous evening Paul had called at the nearest police station, and, communicating what he knew in regard to the intended attack, had asked for a guard. One of the force had been instructed to go back with him and carefully examine the house, the better to provide, not only for defense, but for the capture of the burglars.
"They will enter through the back area window," said the officer at once. "Where do you sleep?"
"My mother and little brother sleep in the front basement. I sleep upstairs."
"The basement must be left vacant."
"Certainly. I wouldn't trust mother and Jimmy there such a night."
"You had better all go upstairs—to the upper floor, if you like—and we will conceal ourselves on the second floor."
"We will do as you think best. I will stay with you."
"No, Paul," said Mrs. Hoffman, terrified.
"I can't think of your exposing yourself to so much danger."
"I'm not afraid, mother. I think it is my duty."
"You can do no good," said the officer. "There will be enough of us to take care of them."
With some reluctance Paul gave up his plan. He was bold and courageous, and, like most boys of his age, he was fond of adventure. An encounter with burglars promised no little excitement, and he wanted to be present, and have his share in it. But when he saw how uneasy and alarmed his mother was, he yielded his desire, as I am sure you, my boy reader, would have done in his place, even had your wish been as strong as his.
Jimmy was now fast asleep; but neither Mrs. Hoffman nor Paul could so readily compose themselves to slumber under the circumstances. They were standing at the head of the attic stairs, listening intently for the slightest sound from below which might indicate the arrival of the expected visitors. At length they heard a pistol shot, then a shriek, then confused noises of feet and voices, and they knew that the encounter had taken place. We must go back and explain what had happened. Carrying their shoes in their hands, the two burglars crept up the basement stairs. Their hopes were high. Their entrance had not yet been observed, and even if it were, they were two strong men against a woman and two boys, the oldest only half-grown. There seemed nothing to fear.
"Now for the safe," said Marlowe. "It's somewhere on the second floor."
"The door of the room may be locked."
"Then it'll take us longer, that's all."
But the door was not locked, and the safe was in the front room on the second floor. In the back room the police were concealed, and were listening intently to the movements of the burglars. Should the latter discover them they were ready for an immediate attack, but they hoped the visitors would get to work first. In this hope they were gratified.
By chance the two confederates entered the front room first.
"Here's the safe, Marlowe," whispered Jack, in tones of satisfaction. "Now, if luck's on our side, we'll make a raise."
"You talk too much," cautioned his companion. "Work first, and talk afterward."
They approached the safe, and Jack kneeled down before it and prepared to effect an entrance. Marlowe was about to follow his example, when his ear, made acute by necessity, distinguished a footstep outside.
"Jack," said he in a sharp whisper, "I hear a step outside."
Instantly Jack Morgan was on his feet.
"Do you think we are heard?"
"Perhaps so. If we are we must secure ourselves. It may be the boy. If it is, we'll quiet him pretty quickly."
They never dreamed of any opposition which they would be unable to withstand. Paul was, of course, no match for them, and as to Mrs. Hoffman, she might go into a fit of hysterics, or might give the alarm. It would be easy to dispose of her. Since, therefore, there was nothing to fear, the two confederates thought it best to face the enemy at once and put him hors de combat.
Thereupon Marlowe opened the door at once, and, to his dismay, found himself confronted by four stalwart policemen.
"The game's up, Jack!" he shouted. "Save yourself!"
He made a spring, eluding the grasp of the officers, and plunged downstairs at a breakneck rate. Meanwhile Jack had snapped a pistol at one of the policemen, but it missed fire. By a return shot he was wounded in the shoulder, and his right arm hung useless. He broke into a volley of execrations.
"Do you surrender?" demanded the officer, at whom he had fired.
"I must," said Jack, in a surly tone. "You're four to one."
Only one policeman had followed Marlowe downstairs. Circumstances favored the escape of this, the more dangerous villain of the two. At the foot of the basement stairs was a door, and on the outside was a bolt. This Marlowe had noticed on going up, and the knowledge stood him in good stead. He got downstairs sufficiently in advance of the policeman to bolt the door and so obstruct his progress. This gave him time, and time was all-important to him. While the officer was kicking at the door and trying to burst it open, as he finally did, Marlowe dashed through the kitchen and got out at the open window. Then he had to scale the wall; but this was easy to do on the inside, for there was a narrow ledge midway. In less than a minute he was on the pavement outside, and fleeing from the danger under cover of the darkness.
When he had got far enough to dare to slacken his pace time also came for thought, and he was able to consider how it happened that four officers were concealed in the house. There was but one possible explanation.
"It was that cursed boy!" he muttered, grinding his teeth in a fierce rage. "He betrayed us. He upset the likeliest plan I've joined in for years. He shall suffer for it, curse it! Before I go to sleep this night I'll give him a lesson. He won't need but one."
His soul thirsting for revenge, he hurried back to the miserable room in which Julius was confined. He had no doubt of finding him, for he was satisfied the boy could not get out.
Meanwhile Jack Morgan was compelled, by superior force, to surrender at discretion. The blood was trickling from the wound in his shoulder, and on the whole, he looked the burglar to perfection. While they were slipping on the handcuffs the officer who had pursued Marlowe returned and reported that he had escaped.
"Bully for him!" said Jack. "He's smart, Marlowe is!"
"So his name is Marlowe, is it?"
"You knew it before," said Jack, in a surly tone. "Who told you about our coming here to-night?"
"Never mind!" said the officer. "It was our business to find out, and we found out."
"I know well enough who blabbed," growled Jack. "Curse him! I'd like to strangle him."
"I don't know whom you suspect, my man," said the officer; "but I think it'll be some time before you'll have a chance to carry out your benevolent purpose."
"Perhaps it will," returned Jack; "but Marlowe ain't took yet. He'll attend to the business for both of us;" and there wis a look of malignant joy on his face as he thought of the sure retribution that would overtake Julius.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE VALUE OF A CLOTHES-LINE
When Julius found himself alone and understood that his companions had actually started on their illegal expedition, he felt that there was pressing need of action. He must escape by some means. While the prospect was that they would be captured, and so prevented from returning, on the other hand, one or both might escape, and in that case he knew enough of their savage and brutal character to realize that he would be in the greatest danger. He rose from his bed, and began to devise ways and means of escape.
The first and most obvious outlet, of course, was the door. But this was locked, and the key was in Marlowe's possession. Then there was the solitary window. It was on the third floor, and looked out into a court. It was too high to jump from, and the only other way was by a rope, but there was no rope in the room. Had there been a bedstead of the right kind, the bedcord would have served his purpose, but there was no bedstead at all. With a democratic contempt for such a luxury, all three slept on the floor. The prospect was not encouraging.
"I wonder if I could hang out of the window?" thought Julius.
He looked out, and decided that he would run the risk of breaking a limb if he attempted it. So that plan had to be given up.
Julius sat down and reflected. It occurred to him that perhaps Mrs. O'Connor's key (she roomed just beneath) would open the door. At any rate it was worth trying.
He stamped on the floor with such force that, as he expected, it attracted the attention of those beneath. Listening intently, he heard the woman ascending the staircase. He began to jump up and down with renewed vigor.
"What's the matter wid ye?" called Mrs. O'Connor through the keyhole. "Are you drunk?"
"I'm sick," returned Julius.
"Is it the jumpin' toothache ye have?" asked the Irish woman.
"I'm awful sick. I don't know what it is."
"Open the door, and I'll come in."
"I can't. The door's locked, and Jack has gone away."
Here Julius began to groan again.
"Poor bye!" said the compassionate woman. "What will I do for ye?"
"Try the door with your key. Perhaps it will open it."
"I'll do that same."
She drew out a key, and tried to put it in the lock, but to no purpose. It would not fit.
"I can't open it," she said.
This was a severe disappointment to Julius, who saw his chances of success fade away one by one.
"Have you got a clothes-line, Mrs. O'Connor?" he asked, suddenly.
"Yes," said the good woman, rather astonished, with a vague idea that Julius expected to cure himself by means of it. "And what for do you want it?"
"If you will go down to the court and throw it up to me, I'll get out of the window."
"And what good will that do you?"
"I will go for the doctor."
"I'll go meself, and save you the trouble."
"But he can't get through the keyhole."
"Thrue for you. Wait a bit, and I'll do it."
Mrs. O'Connor descended, and, obtaining from her room a well-worn clothes-line, went below, and, after two or three futile attempts, succeeded in throwing it up so that Julius could seize it.
"Thank you, Mrs. O'Connor," said the boy in exultation. "I'll come down directly."
He soon had it secured, and then boldly got out of the window and swung off. In a minute he was by the side of his friend.
"How do ye feel now?" asked the good woman, in a tone of sympathy.
"Better," said Julius.
"What made them lock ye up?"
"They didn't think I'd want to go out till mornin'. Good-bye, Mrs. O'Connor; I'm goin' for the doctor. You can get your line in the mornin'."
He left the house with a quick, alert step, showing no further evidence of pain. Mrs. O'Connor noticed it, and wondered that he should have got over his sickness so soon. Julius had been tempted to take her into his confidence and explain the real state of the case, but in the uncertain issue of the burglary he decided that it would not be best.
"Good-bye, old house!" he said, looking back to it in the indistinct light; "I shall never come back and live here again. I'll go down to the wharves and find a place to sleep the rest of the night."
He turned his steps in the direction of the East River. He found an out-of-the-way corner on one of the piers, where he disposed himself for sleep. It was nothing new to him. Scores of times he had spent the night in similar places, and never found fault with the accommodations. They might be poor, but the best of it was there was nothing to pay, and he must be indeed unreasonable who could complain under such circumstances. He fell asleep, but the shadow of recent events was upon him. He dreamed that Marlowe had him by the throat, and woke up in terror to find a dock-hand shaking him by the shoulder.
"Avast there!" said the man, who had caught some phrases from the sailors; "wake up and pay for your lodgin's."
"All my money's in the bank," said Julius. "I can't get at it till the bank opens."
"Not then, either," said the dock-hand, good-humoredly. "Well, I'll let you off this time. Your wife's expectin' you home."
"Are you sure of that?" said Julius. "I told her I was goin' to a party, and she needn't expect me home till mornin'."
"Well, the party's broke up, and you'd better be going," returned the other, good-naturedly.
Meanwhile let us go back to Marlowe, whom we left hurrying home a little past midnight, intent upon wreaking his vengeance on Julius for his treachery. Had he found the boy it would have gone hard with him. The ruffianly instinct of the burglar was predominant, and he might have killed him in the intensity of his blind rage. But the foresight and prudent caution of Julius defeated his wrathful purpose, and when he reached the shabby room which he called home his intended victim had escaped.
Marlowe did not at once discover the boy's flight. He unlocked the door, but it was dark within, for the window looked out upon an inclosed court, and permitted only a scanty light to enter. Before striking a light he locked the door again and put the key in his pocket. This was to prevent the boy's escape on the one hand, and any outside interference on the other. Then he drew a match from his pocket and lighted a fragment of candle upon the table. This done he turned his eyes toward the bed with stern exultation. But this was quickly turned into angry surprise.
"The boy's gone!" he exclaimed, with an oath. "How could he have got out, with the door locked?"
The open window and the rope hanging from it revealed the method of escape.
Marlowe strode to the window with a feeling of keen disappointment. Was he to be robbed of his revenge, after all? He had depended upon this with certainty, and meant to have it, though he should be arrested the next minute, and he knew that, though he had escaped from the house of his meditated crime, he was still in great peril. Doubtless Julius had given full information to the police of his name and residence, and even now they might be in pursuit of him. He ground his teeth when he thought of this, and clinched his fist in the impotent desire for vengeance.
"If I had him here," he muttered, "I'd crush him as I would a spider," and he stamped angrily upon the floor.
But where could he have got the rope? that was the next question. He knew that there was none in the room, and how one could have been smuggled in with the door locked was something that puzzled him. Julius himself could not very well have brought one in, as on account of its bulk it would have attracted the attention either of Jack Morgan or himself. Perhaps the woman downstairs might know something about it, he reflected, and this led him to go down and knock at Mrs. O'Connor's door.
After a little pause Mrs. O'Connor came to the door and opened it.
"What's wanted?" she asked. Then, recognizing her visitor as one of the lodgers in the room above, she added, "Is it the boy?"
"Yes; where is he?" demanded Marlowe, abruptly.
"It's gone to the doctor he is."
"Gone to the doctor!" repeated Marlowe, mystified. "What do you mean?"
"He was taken sick jist after you wint away, and as he couldn't open the door which was locked, he pounded on the floor. My key wouldn't fit, so he asked me to throw up a clothes-line, which I did, and the poor crayther got out of the winder, and wint for the doctor. He'll be back soon, I'm thinkin'."
"No, he won't," growled Marlowe. "He's a thief and a villain, and he's run away."
"Did I iver hear the likes?" exclaimed Mrs. O'Connor. "Who'd have thought it, shure?"
"I've a good mind to wring your neck, for helping him off," said Marlowe, forgetting in his anger the politeness due to the fair sex.
"Would you, thin?" exclaimed Mrs. O'Connor, incensed. "Then my husband would do the same to you, you brute! I am glad the boy's gone, so I am, and I hope he'll never get into your clutches again, you monster! Tim, wake up there, and defind yer wife from the thafe that's insulted her!"
Before Tim O'Connor aroused from his sleep at his wife's call, Marlowe, with a smothered execration, retreated to his own room, and began to consider his position. He must fly. There was no doubt of that. Remaining in his old haunts, he would, unquestionably, fall into the hands of the police, now probably on his track. He must get away, and that very night. Any delay would be dangerous. He must leave the city and remain in hiding for the present.
While he was making hurried preparations steps were heard on the stairs, and there was a loud knocking on the door.
"Who's there?" demanded Marlowe.
"Open, in the name of the law!" was the reply of the officers, who had tracked him to his lair.
"Wait a minute," said Marlowe.
He rushed to the window and descended swiftly by the same rope which had given Julius deliverance (it had escaped the attention of the officers, on account of the darkness), and while the officers were waiting for the door to be opened he eluded their vigilance and made his escape.
