The Voyage of the Hoppergrass Part 14

"I mighta let yer off, but now I'm goin' to keep yer right here in the lockup, an' consider the case tomorrer mornin'. Take him below, Justin." Justin was the fat man, with the fan-like ears. He stepped forward.

"Number six?" he asked the constable.

"Yup. Put him in number six."

Justin took the prisoner by the arm, took the banjo in his other hand, and together they started down stairs. They pa.s.sed in front of us to reach the stairs, and as they did so, the young man turned to Mr. Daddles with a smile:

"If you ever get out alive, remember me to my friends, out there.

Tell 'em I pa.s.sed away, thinking of them."

"Silence in the Court!" cried Gregory.

The constable was now in a fury.

"If he locks up a man for banjo-playing--" murmured Mr. Daddles,--

"He'll have us burned at the stake," suggested Jimmy Toppan.

I had been feeling very unhappy ever since we arrived in the police-station. It looked to me as if we were in a pretty bad fix.

The constable was so savage toward everybody it didn't seem possible that he would believe that we had broken into the house by mistake. Also, I was so tired that I was ready to drop. We had been up since four o'clock that morning, and it was now after midnight. It seemed to be years since we had left the "Hoppergra.s.s," and during the last few hours we had walked over a dozen miles.

"Now," said the constable, "we'll make short work of you. Names?"

He really seemed to be less indignant with us, than with the banjo-player. Burglary was a smaller offence in his eyes than "disturbin' the peace,"--with a banjo.

He soon had the names of Edward Mason, James Rogers Toppan, and Samuel Edwards added to his list.

"Name?" he snapped to Mr. Daddles.

"Richard Hendricks."

"Why!" exclaimed Ed Mason, "I thought your name was Daddles!"

"Hear that? hear that?" put in Gregory the Gauger, "that's his Elias!"

"No, it's not an alias,--in the sense that you mean. It's a nickname. There is no use in going through this again. What I told you in the first place is all true,--and we'll prove it to you in the morning. I know, or used to know, a number of people here. I know Mr. Littlefield, my uncle's neighbor, but if he's gone away, that won't do any good. But I know an old lady down the street here, who lets rooms, and sells sweet-peas, and painted sh.e.l.ls, and things. Isn't there such a woman?"

"What's her name? S'pose there is,--what of it?"

"I can't recall her name now. She could tell you who I am. But if you're determined to lock us up until the morning you might as well do it. We're all tired out, and we've got to sleep somewhere.

I warn you that you're making a mistake and that we're not the burglars you are looking for. We came in here this afternoon in a boat, as I told you."

"I told you they come in a boat," said a man.

"What was the name of the boat?" asked the constable.

"The Hoppergra.s.s."

"The--what's-that-you-say?"

"Hoppergra.s.s."

"I never heard of no such boat."

Mr. Daddles was silent.

"Where's the boat, now?"

"I don't know,--she sailed away."

The constable laughed.

"You needn't think you can play it over me, with any such story as that, young feller."

Justin had now returned from down stairs, and the constable ordered him and another man to conduct us all below.

"Put 'em in number four an' five."

"Number four an' five it is!"

So we descended the stairs. Below, there was a brick-lined corridor, with three cells on each side. At the end a kerosene lamp hung in a bracket on the wall. This was the only light.

"Hullo!" said a cheerful voice, "how long did you get? Life- sentence?"

It was the man who called himself Sprague. His banjo stood against the wall just outside his cell, and under the lamp.

"No," said Mr. Daddles, "we're awaiting our trial in the morning, the same as you."

"What was your crime, anyway? Whistling?"

Justin shook his head at the man in the cell.

"You fellers better look out,--all on ye," said he. "Eb's pretty mad. An' he's got a bad temper when he gets riled, I tell you. An'

folks are all stirred up about this burglin' business."

He looked at us doubtfully, and shook his head again. The other man--he was the tall, silent one, who had led me along the road- opened the last cell on the right and told Ed Mason and me to go in. Mr. Daddles and Jimmy were put in a cell across the corridor.

The tall man vanished upstairs, leaving us all locked in. Justin was turning down the light.

"Look here, old sport," said the banjo-player, "just let me have that, will you?"

He pointed toward the banjo. Justin's jaw dropped, and he raised his hands in horror.

"Let yer have that? Holy Cats! Why, Eb would skin me alive--an'

you too--if you was to play on that thing down here!"

"I don't want to play on it," replied the man, "but the strings will get damp, and break, out there. Just let me have it in here, --that's a good fellow. I can let the strings down a bit. No good spoiling 'em. I won't play a note on it. Honest Injun!"

"Sure about it?" asked Justin.