Loe raamatut: «Terry's Trials and Triumphs», lehekülg 7

CHAPTER XI
IN A STRAIT BETWIXT TWO

Amid the anxious bustle that filled the office Terry sat at his desk with strange and perplexing thoughts coursing through his brain. He had seen the bag just for one moment as Mr. Drummond was hastily throwing it into his desk. So far as he knew, only Mr. Hobart and himself, of the office staff, had any knowledge of its existence. That Mr. Hobart should have taken it was a notion so absurd that his mind refused to entertain it for an instant. His kind friend was to him the incarnation of every human virtue, and Terry would have resented hotly the insinuation that he could possibly be guilty of any such wrong-doing.

Who, then, could be the thief? As he looked about the office, glancing from one to the other of the countenances of the clerks, all of whom, laying aside their work for the time, were exchanging conjectures as to how the robbery had been managed, his eyes seemed drawn irresistibly towards Morley.

The latter was not at his own desk, but stood near the window looking out, as though not particularly interested in the earnest discussion, yet every now and then he gave a glance towards the group which showed that he was listening intently to all they said.

It was his expression when he did this which impressed Terry. It had a blending of anxiety, bravado, and cunning triumph that could not fail to provoke curiosity, if not to arouse suspicion, in so keen an observer.

Once he caught Terry studying him, and instantly his face flushed with anger, and he gave back such a vicious scowl that Terry, apprehensive of an outburst, took care not to meet his glance again.

Mr. Hobart had been in the inside office again for some time, when he came out, seeming more troubled than ever, and beckoned Terry to him.

"Mr. Drummond wants to see you," he said, "although I told him you couldn't know anything about it."

In no small perturbation Terry entered the sanctum. The two partners were sitting at their desks, both evidently greatly disturbed by what had happened.

"Did you see anything of the bag that has been stolen, Terry?" asked Mr. Drummond abruptly.

Terry hesitated for a moment. Did Mr. Drummond mean before it was put into the desk or after?

"Why don't you answer me at once?" demanded his questioner testily, while Mr. Brown regarded Terry with a look of sharp inquiry.

"I – I – didn't see it since you put it in your desk, sir," stammered Terry slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the toes of his boots.

"Oh, ho!" cried Mr. Drummond in a tone that suggested he thought he was getting some light on the mystery. "Then you did see the bag before it was put in my desk?"

"Yes, sir," answered Terry, the words coming more readily as he regained his self-command. "I saw the gentleman carrying it up the wharf."

"Was that all you saw of it?" asked Mr. Drummond, eying him narrowly. "Tell me now exactly."

"No, sir," replied Terry, the colour mounting in his face as the thought came that perhaps he would be suspected of prying into a matter that did not concern him. "I saw it when you were putting it into your desk."

The partners exchanged significant glances. Here now they seemed to be finding a clue that might help them. Recognizing the wisdom of being more diplomatic in his mode of cross-examination, Mr. Drummond pursued his inquiry in a much quieter tone.

"And how did you come to see the bag then?" he asked.

"The door of your office was open, sir," was the reply.

"And you were peeping, were you?" continued Mr. Drummond.

"Yes, sir. I didn't mean any harm," pleaded Terry.

"Perhaps not, but maybe harm has come of it whether you meant it or not," retorted Mr. Drummond in a half-sneering tone. "Now tell me, was that the last you saw of the bag? Have you seen nothing of it since? Look me straight in the face as you answer me."

Terry lifted his eyes, and looked full into his employer's face as he responded earnestly, "No, sir; sure as I'm standing here, sir, I haven't."

The fervent frankness of his manner carried conviction, and there was a perceptible change in Mr. Drummond's tone when he put the next question: —

"From the way you say that, Terry, I believe it's the truth. But tell me this: did you mention to any person about having seen the bag? Think now, before you answer."

The boy's countenance, which had assumed its natural colour, grew flushed again, and he hesitated for a moment before he replied, —

"I did tell my mother about it when I went home, sir."

Once more the partners exchanged meaning glances, and Mr. Brown seemed about to say something, when Mr. Drummond checked him by a warning motion of his hand.

"That will do for the present, Terry," said he. "I may want to ask you some more questions afterwards. Don't mention to any of the clerks what I've been asking you, or what you have told me. Just keep your own counsel. Do you understand?"

When Terry went out, the two men consulted earnestly together. From the signs left by the thief, whoever he was, it seemed clear that he had a complete knowledge of the premises. He had apparently entered the warehouse by a back window, which in his haste he had forgotten to close after him, broken open the desk with a large chisel, taken nothing except the bag, and made off in the same way that he had come.

Terry's confession as to telling his mother of the bag was, to say the least, suggestive. Black Mike had not much reputation to lose. According to the popular opinion of him, he would have small scruples about taking the bag. Of course he could not be arrested upon mere suspicion. Some more substantial grounds than that would have to be found. But, in the meantime, he was worth watching, and accordingly it was decided to engage a detective to "shadow" him, in the hope of obtaining further proof.

When Terry came out of Mr. Drummond's office, Mr. Hobart took him aside, and questioned him as to what he knew of the affair; and Terry told him as much as he could without disobeying Mr. Drummond's injunctions.

His listener did not make any comments, although in his mind there arose the same thought that had occurred to the partners.

Terry's quick instinct told him there was something significant in his story which had made an impression on the members of the firm and upon Mr. Hobart. Yet, strange to say, its actual import did not occur to him at the time. Indeed he was too deeply troubled with the fear lest he himself should be in some way regarded as an accomplice in the robbery, to speculate much as to who really might be the guilty one.

He saw nothing of his father all day. Black Mike had not shown up for work, and the foreman took it for granted he was off on a spree. But for the fact that after a holiday of this kind he always seemed determined to atone for his absence by increased exertion, and would positively do the work of two ordinary men, thanks to his enormous strength, his name would not have stood upon the Long Wharf pay-roll at all. As it was, he received wages for the time he actually worked, and seemed quite content with the arrangement.

It was late at night before he reeled into Blind Alley, and stumbled up the steep stairs to his squalid home. Tired though Terry felt, owing to the stress and strain of the day, he had, in spite of his mother's protests, stayed up to keep her company. Not a word did either speak when the drunkard lurched into the room and fell heavily across the bed. They knew better than to arouse his anger by addressing either himself or one another.

He rolled about uneasily on the hard bed, grunting and growling more like some wild animal than a human being. As he did so the clank of coins in his pocket could be heard, and presently in his contortions several of them worked out, and fell with a loud clang upon the floor. He made as though he would get up to recover them; but the effort was too much for him, and sinking back with a smothered oath, he fell into the heavy stupor of the drunkard's sleep.

It was not until he felt perfectly sure of his father's helplessness that Terry ventured to pick up the coins. To his astonishment they were not copper pennies, as he had supposed from the sound of their fall, but great golden double-eagles of the value of twenty dollars each.

With a bewildered expression of countenance he laid them on his mother's lap.

"Sure it's a heap of money," he whispered; "and how could father get hold of so much?"

Mrs. Ahearn felt the splendid coins one by one as though to convince herself that they were no optical illusion.

"The blessed saints preserve us, Terry!" she replied, crossing herself almost mechanically. "Maybe it's goblin gold, and we should not be touchin' it at all."

Not only was Terry far less superstitious than his mother, but he had enjoyed the advantage of a wider experience. He had often seen Mr. Hobart counting over precisely similar coins, and he felt pretty sure that there was no goblin element about the contents of his father's pockets.

"Och! no, mother," he answered, "it's not goblin gold at all. We often have the same at the office."

There was a certain perceptible note of pride in his voice as he brought out the last sentence, reassured by which Mrs. Ahearn took the coins into her hands again, and permitted her sense of beauty to indulge itself in admiring their perfection.

Neither spoke for the next minute; their brains were busy with perplexing thoughts. Meantime Black Mike lay motionless as a log, only an occasional gurgling gasp showing that he was actually alive. He was now lying upon the broad of his back, thus leaving all his pockets exposed. Acting upon an impulse that he could not restrain, Terry went over to him and made a thorough search of the pockets. The result was the discovery of three more double-eagles, making five in all.

One hundred dollars! more money by far than Black Mike had ever had at once in his life before. How could he have honestly come by it? Unknown to each other the same thought was forming in the mind of the mother and son, and they dared not look into one another's eyes lest it should be revealed. Mr. Hobart had told Terry that the black bag contained a very large amount of money in gold, and this the boy had duly repeated at home.

At last the silence became unendurable to both. Unable to restrain herself any longer, Mrs. Ahearn caught Terry by the arm, and drew him towards her.

"Holy Mary!" she murmured, as though praying for strength; and then, after a moment's pause, added in a hoarse whisper, "Could your father have stolen it, Terry?"

Terry started as if he had been struck, for his mother had uttered the very question that possessed his own mind. He did not hold towards his father a very warm affection. Black Mike's treatment of him from his babyhood had been too consistently unfatherly for that. But the thought of being arrested and sent to the grim granite penitentiary out by the North-West Arm filled him with horror.

"Surely not, mother," he responded with a warmth that was increased by his desire to convince himself as well as his mother. "It's not the likes of father to be stealing money; somebody must have given it to him."

The suggestion was a very unlikely one, yet they both sought to take comfort from it. Gold was very plentiful in Halifax in those days, and the successful blockade-runners lavished it with a free hand. Some one of them, whose wits had been stolen away by strong drink, might have filled Black Mike's pockets in a fit of reckless generosity.

But the more Terry thought over this the more improbable did it seem, and he felt himself, however reluctantly, thrown back upon the only other alternative to which almost unconsciously he gave expression.

"If father did steal the money," he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the drunken form, "where do you think he could have got it?"

He put the question because, although he had already answered it in his own mind, he shrank from expressing his thought, at least until he saw whether the same had come into his mother's mind.

Mrs. Ahearn was silent for some moments. Then, bending over towards him as if afraid the sleeper might catch her words, she replied, —

"The black bag, Terry!"

Terry gave a groan of misery. His own harrowing suspicion had found expression in his mother's words, and instantly he saw himself transfixed between the horns of a terrible dilemma.

Not only so, but just as his mother had hit upon, the same solution of the mystery of the gold, so must she realize the position in which he was placed by it. That she did this was made clear the next moment; for, as he remained silent, she drew him into her arms, and folding him to her breast, sobbed out in plaintive tones, —

"Ye won't tell Mr. Drummond, will ye, Terry darlint? Sure it would break me poor heart entirely if they were to send the police after your father, and have him put in the penitentiary."

It was long past midnight before sleep came to Terry's eyes. He tossed and tumbled about on his hard bed in a state of the most painful perplexity. The idea of informing upon his father seemed nothing short of horrible to him, and yet did not duty to his employer and to the truth demand it? Mr. Drummond had been so good to him. Here, now, was an opportunity to prove his gratitude. By prompt action a good part of the stolen money might perhaps be recovered before it was squandered, therefore the sooner he informed the better. His mother had carefully put away the gold coins, in order that they might be restored when they knew for certain to whom they rightfully belonged. Should he take them to the office in the morning, and tell the whole story?

When he got up the next morning, a little later than usual, having overslept himself, he found his father already gone out. Black Mike had apparently not missed the gold, and asked no questions, although his drunkenness had disappeared.

Nothing was said between Terry and his mother while he ate his breakfast quickly; but just as he was hurrying off, she threw her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, —

"Say nothin' about the gold to-day, Terry darlint. Maybe it wasn't your father took the bag at all."

At the office the clerks had settled down again to their regular routine, and the distractions of the preceding day having caused some arrears, they had to work all the harder to make them up. Terry was kept on his feet continually, and was left little time for quiet thinking. Mr. Hobart was absent, having been sent off by the firm on an important mission to Windsor, whence he would not return until the following day. Terry's heart sank when he heard this, for he craved a talk with his friend, although his mind was not yet made up as to whether he would tell him about his father.

Another absentee was Morley. A note had come from him, stating that he was ill and confined to bed, but hoped to be at his desk in a day or two. For some inexplicable reason, when Terry learned this the thought flashed into his mind that Morley might know something about the black bag. He could give himself no reason for it, yet there it stuck, and by its presence helped to strengthen his reluctance to make known the facts about his father.

In the afternoon the office was once more thrown into a state of excitement by the news that the detectives had discovered the thief, and already had him under arrest. Terry was out on an errand when the word came.

On his return he entered the office just behind Mr. Boggs, the assistant book-keeper, at sight of whom one of the other clerks, eager to be the first to tell the news, shouted out, —

"They've caught the burglar, Boggs. Guess who it is?"

Terry's heart stopped beating, and an icy chill ran through his body, as, pausing by the door, he waited in harrowing apprehension for the answer.

CHAPTER XII
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

Mr. Hobart was not the only friend Terry had among the employés at Drummond and Brown's. The storeman, John Connors, had always been kind to him in his own rough way. He pitied the boy because of his drunken father, and liked him because of his pluck and energy.

Having no boys of his own, he had several times, half in jest, half in earnest, offered to adopt him; and although his proposition could not be considered, it strengthened the warm affection that Terry felt towards the bluff "boss" of Long Wharf.

Intense, then, as was his relief that it was not his father who had been arrested for the stealing of the black bag, there quickly followed feelings of keen surprise and sorrow, for the suspected criminal proved to be no other than John Connors, in whose possession had been found a bag presumed to be the one taken from Mr. Drummond's desk.

Terry listened for a while to the conversation of the clerks as they exchanged wondering conjectures in reference to the matter, and all the time the conviction grew stronger within him that, however appearances might be against him, Connors was no more guilty than he was himself. At length he could not keep silence, and burst out with, —

"John Connors never stole the bag. I'm sure he didn't."

His fervent declaration of faith in the storeman's innocence roused a laugh, and one of the clerks turned upon him with the question, —

"What do you know about it any way that you're so sure as to who didn't do it?"

Instantly there came up in Terry's mind the scene at home, and the mysterious gold dropping from his father's pockets. What did he know about it indeed? Far more perhaps than he cared to tell just then. Regretting that he had spoken, he made no answer; and noticing his confusion, the clerk, attributing it to his being so sharply challenged, added good-humouredly, —

"Never mind, Terry; we're a good deal of the same opinion. We don't think Connors is the man to do such a thing, and there must be a mistake somewhere."

As soon as he got home Terry told his mother of Connors' arrest, and Mrs. Ahearn, eager to seize upon any other explanation of the affair than one which would involve her husband, said persuasively, —

"Now then, Terry, ye'll not be saying anything about your father till ye find out some more, will ye, darlint?"

Poor Terry was in a sadly perplexed state of mind. He firmly believed in Connors' innocence; yet he was by no means sure of his father's guilt, and, without being able to explain to himself why, he had haunting suspicions as to Morley. How he longed to have a talk with Mr. Hobart! But his friend was away, and there was no one else in whom he had the same confidence, or to whom he could go for the counsel he so sorely needed.

Black Mike did not show himself in Blind Alley that night, greatly to the relief of both Terry and his mother, for they dreaded seeing him in their then state of mind. The two had a long talk before going to bed; but it did not make the future much clearer, although the more he thought over the matter, the more strongly Terry felt that he was not doing right in withholding the information about his father.

Immediately on his arrival at the office next morning he was told not to go out anywhere, as he would soon be particularly wanted, and presently he learned that he was to appear in the police-court as a witness at the preliminary examination of Connors. His heart sank within him at the prospect of this ordeal, and he felt as though he would give anything to run off and hide himself until the trial was over.

Shortly after eleven o'clock, Mr. Hobart, who had just got back that morning, told him to accompany him to the police-court. In profound perturbation Terry obeyed. It would be his first appearance as a witness, and he had the vaguest possible notions as to what would be required of him.

They found the court-room already crowded, for the case attracted a good deal of attention. It was a bare gaunt room, whose principal virtue lay in its being well lit. Along the farther end ran a dais, upon which stood three desks, with a big black sofa behind; while over all hung a canopy bearing the royal arms of Great Britain.

As the market clock sounded out eleven strokes, a door at the side of the dais opened, and the stipendiary magistrate, the presiding genius of the place, appeared. He had rather an imposing port, which was helped by his full gray beard and large gold spectacles. Behind came Mr. Drummond and Mr. Brown, who at his invitation took seats upon the sofa.

Having adjusted himself comfortably at the central desk, he directed the clerk, who sat in an enclosure behind him, to open the court.

A number of "drunk and disorderly" cases, which were represented by a row of men and women in various stages of rags and frowziness, had first to be disposed of, the routine being to call up the policeman who had made the arrest, listen to his statement, and without further inquiry impose fines of "five dollars, or twenty days," or "ten dollars, or forty days," according to the gravity of the offence.

At length the dock was cleared of its unsavoury tenants, and the clerk called the case of "The Queen versus John Connors."

A perceptible stir and murmur ran through the crowd when Connors came forward. He certainly had not the appearance of a criminal, and despite his evident distress at his situation, there was nothing in his bearing to indicate guilt. He had secured the services of Mr. Morton, the leading criminal lawyer, and was permitted to take his seat beside him, instead of being placed in the dock. There seemed something reproachful in the glance he gave his employers, as though to say, "You ought to have had more faith in me than to put me here."

The preliminary formalities being gone through with, the examination of the witnesses was entered upon. Mr. Drummond, Mr. Brown, the officers of the blockade-runner, and Mr. Hobart gave their evidence one after another, while Terry listened to every question and answer as though his own life depended upon the result. His mind was in a state of the utmost distress and indecision. His turn would come soon. How much should he tell? No one could have any idea of what he knew. Must he betray his father, or had he the right to maintain silence?

Never in his life before had he been brought face to face with so perplexing a moral problem, and his early training was indeed a poor preparation for its right solution. Indeed, had he been left to decide it by the standards of that training, it would have been quickly done; but during his short stay with Mr. Sargent in Boston a new view of life had come to him, in the light of which he saw his duty as he had never done before.

He looked longingly at Mr. Hobart, for he felt that a good talk with him would be a wonderful help in straightening matters out; but there was no chance of that now, and he had come no nearer a decision when he heard his name called by the clerk.

Dazed, and trembling in every limb, he entered the witness box, and took tight hold of the front rail, for it seemed as though his knees would sink under him. In consideration of his youth and manifest perturbation, the prosecuting attorney questioned him very gently and briefly as to what he knew, and Terry having told about seeing the bag locked up in the desk, hoped that the ordeal was over.

But to his dismay Mr. Morton now took him in hand, adjusting his gold spectacles so as to look straight through them into the boy's face; and assuming a very confident air, as though he knew all about it, the renowned cross-examiner said, —

"Come now, Master Ahearn, you're a bright-looking lad, and no doubt you think a good deal. Have you been thinking much about this wonderful black bag?"

Terry started, and the colour deepened on his already flushed cheeks. Had he been thinking about it? What else indeed had occupied his thoughts since first he heard of the robbery?

His keen eye observing the boy's confusion, Mr. Morton, who as a matter of fact had intended simply to play with him for a few minutes while he collected his own thoughts, for the case seemed going hard against his client, began to suspect that possibly the extent of Terry's knowledge had not yet appeared; so, changing his manner from one of good-humoured raillery to penetrating scrutiny, he put the question straight to him, —

"See here, Master Ahearn, don't you know more about this matter than you have yet told us?" Then raising his voice to a tone of command, he pointed his long finger at him like the barrel of a revolver, as he cried, "Out with it now. Tell the court everything you know, or – " He did not finish the sentence, believing it would be more effective to leave the consequences to be imagined.

The supreme crisis in Terry's life had come, and he had only an instant in which to make his decision. On the one side was duty to the truth and to the accused man; on the other, fear for his father and for himself, for he did not know but what his concealment of his father having the gold would bring down punishment on his own shoulders.

To get out of the difficulty he had only to disclaim any further knowledge, and who could gainsay him? Glancing up for a moment at the magistrate, his eyes went past him to Mr. Drummond, who sat at his left. There was a look of deep concern on the merchant's face that touched Terry to the heart, and instantly his decision was made. In a voice scarcely audible he murmured, —

"Yes, sir, I do know something more."

Mr. Morton's face suddenly brightened. Here perchance was something that might help his client.

"Ah! ha!" he exclaimed, "I thought you did. Come, then, let us have it. We're all waiting upon you."

In trembling tones and with many interruptions, Terry, helped out by the lawyer's questions, related all that transpired the night his father brought home the gold. His story produced a profound sensation. Although Black Mike had been placed under surveillance, it was without result; but now, through his son's evidence, his complicity in the crime seemed on the verge of being established.

A distinct air of relief pervaded the court-room. Mr. Morton, looking quite cheerful again, held a whispered consultation with Connors. Mr. Drummond and his partner did the same with the magistrate, while the other spectators buzzed to one another about the new turn the case had taken.

Feeling as though a fearful load had been taken off him, Terry, now seeming very pale and tired, stood in the box awaiting further questioning. But to his great relief this was not required of him, as, after some discussion, Mr. Morton asked for an adjournment until the following morning, to enable Black Mike to be brought into court. His request was granted, and officers were sent out to find Black Mike.

When the proceedings were resumed the next day, not only Black Mike was present, but also Tom Morley, and there were excited whispers current of yet more surprising developments than Terry's evidence had foreshadowed. Before the day closed the whole mystery was unravelled, and a strange story it made for, as it turned out, neither John Connors nor Black Mike, in spite of the circumstantial evidence against them, had any part whatever in the robbery, or share in its proceeds. The entire guilt lay upon Tom Morley, and to the cleverest detective in the force was due the credit of bringing it home to him.

It seemed that Morley was in the warehouse above the office when the officers brought in the black bag, and, peeping through a pipe hole in the floor, he had witnessed its being thrust into the desk. Then came to him the thought of taking it, for he was sorely in need of money to pay gambling debts. He remained in the warehouse until long after dark, broke open the desk, and carried off the bag, effecting his escape through the window.

By chance Detective Power had learned of Morley being remarkably flush with money, and while the other officers were following up clues which led to the storeman being arrested, he devoted himself to tracking the real criminal, with the result of running him down, and obtaining a full confession from him, together with the greater portion of the money.

As to the grounds of suspicion against John Connors and Black Mike, they proved to be easily explained away. The black bag found in the former's possession turned out to be another one altogether; and with regard to the gold the latter had brought home, it belonged to an officer of the Colonel Lamb, with whom he had been carousing, and who, fearing he might be robbed, had handed it over to Black Mike for safe keeping.

There was great rejoicing throughout the establishment of Drummond and Brown over the complete clearing up of the robbery, and Terry was warmly commended for his fidelity to the truth. Mr. Drummond was particularly pleased with him, for when he understood the whole matter he realized how trying had been the boy's situation.

It was not long after this that Terry was once more called in to Mr. Drummond's office, for his employer had something important to say to him.

"I have been thinking about you, my boy," said he, "and have decided to give you the opportunity of making up for lost time in the way of education; so I am going to send you off to a first-class commercial academy, where you can stay two or three years if you will, and then come back here qualified to make a valuable clerk. How would you like that?"

Now, not so many months before, Mr. Drummond had made Terry a somewhat similar offer, and it had met with no encouragement. But the boy saw things with different eyes now. He had been made to realize his deficiencies so keenly that the great desire of his heart was to have the opportunity of repairing them, and he was all ready to spring at the chance offered him.

"Faith, sir," he replied with a happy smile, "there's nothing I'd like better, if I may say so; and if you're pleased to send me, I'll do my very best to learn all they'll teach me."

"I fully believe you will, my boy," said Mr. Drummond, smiling back at him; "I'll have arrangements made without delay."

For two full years Terry toiled hard at the academy, overcoming one by one many difficulties and temptations that beset his path, and making such rapid improvement from every point of view that, when he returned to his desk, the keenest eye could hardly have recognized in the good-looking youth with so easy a bearing the ragged wharf boy of a little while before.