Fame and Fortune Part 25

"If I'd been going into that business, I would have tried it when I was poor and ragged. I should not have waited till now."

"If you didn't take the pocket-book, then how came it in your pocket?"

"I was looking in at a shop window, when I felt it thrust into my pocket. I suppose it was the thief who did it, to get out of the sc.r.a.pe himself."

"That might be. At any rate, I've known of such cases. If so, you are unlucky, and I am sorry for you. I can't let you go, because appearances are against you, but if there is anything I can do to help you I will."

"Thank you, Mr. Jones," said d.i.c.k, gratefully. "I did not want you to think me guilty. Where is the man that lost the pocket-book?"

"Just behind us."

"I should like to speak to him a moment."

The red-faced man, who was a little behind, came up, and d.i.c.k asked, quietly, "What makes you think I took your pocket-book, sir?"

"Wasn't it found in your pocket, you young rascal?" said the other, irritably.

"Yes," said d.i.c.k.

"And isn't that enough?"

"Not if somebody else put it there," said d.i.c.k.

"That's a likely story."

"It's a true story."

"Can you identify this as the boy who robbed you, and whom you saw running?"

"No," said the red-faced man, rather unwillingly. "My eyesight is not very good, but I've no doubt this is the young rascal."

"Well, that must be decided. You must appear to-morrow morning to prefer your complaint."

"Mind you don't let the rascal escape," said the other.

"I shall carry him to the station-house, where he will be safe."

"That's right, I'll make an example of him. He won't pick my pocket again in a hurry."

"I hope the judge won't be so sure that I am guilty," said d.i.c.k. "If he is, it'll go hard with me."

"Why don't you call your employer to testify to your good character?"

"That's a good idea. Can I write a note to him, and to another friend?"

"Yes; but perhaps the mail wouldn't carry them in time."

"I will send a messenger. Can I do so?"

"When we get to the station-house I will see that you have a chance to send. Here we are."

Escorted by the officer, and followed by his accuser, d.i.c.k entered.

There was a railing at the upper end of the room, and behind it a desk at which sat a captain of the squad.

The officer made his report, which, though fair and impartial, still was sufficient to cause our hero's commitment for trial.

"What is your name?" questioned the captain.

d.i.c.k thought it best to be straightforward, and, though he winced at the idea of his name appearing in the daily papers, answered in a manly tone, "Richard Hunter."

"Of what nation?"

"American."

"Where were you born?"

"In this city."

"What is your age?"

"Sixteen years."

These answers were recorded, and, as d.i.c.k expressed a desire to communicate with his friends before trial, permission was given him to write to them, and the trial was appointed for the next morning at the Tombs. The red-faced man certified that his wallet contained nine dollars and sixty-two cents, which was found to be correct. He agreed to be present the next morning to prefer his charge, and with such manifest pleasure that he was not retained, as it sometimes happens, to insure his appearance.

"I will find a messenger to carry your notes," said the friendly officer.

"Thank you," said d.i.c.k. "I will take care that you are paid for your trouble."

"I require no pay except what I have to pay the messenger."

d.i.c.k was escorted to a cell for safe-keeping. He quickly dashed off a letter to Mr. Murdock, fearing that Mr. Rockwell might not be in the store. It was as follows:--

"MR. MURDOCK,--What will you think when I tell you that I have been unlucky enough to be arrested on suspicion of picking a man's pocket? The real thief slipped the wallet into my pocket as I was looking into a shop window, and it was found on me. I couldn't prove my innocence, so here I am at the station-house. They will think strange at the store because I am absent. Will you tell Mr.

Rockwell privately what has detained me; but don't tell Mr.

Gilbert. He don't like me any too well, and would believe me guilty at once, or pretend he did. I am sure _you_ won't believe I would do such a thing, or Mr. Rockwell either. Will you come and see me to-night? I am to be tried to-morrow morning. I aint very proud of the hotel where I am stopping, but they didn't give me much choice in the matter.

"RICHARD HUNTER."

"_Station-House, Franklin Street._"

The other letter was to Fosd.i.c.k; here it is:--

"DEAR FOSd.i.c.k,--I didn't much think when I left you this morning that I should be writing to you from the station-house before night. I'll tell you how it happened." [Here follows a detailed account, which is omitted, as the reader is already acquainted with all the circ.u.mstances.] "Of course they will wonder at the boarding-house where I am. If Miss Peyton or Mr. Clifton inquires after me to-night, you can say that I am detained by business of importance. That's true enough. I wish it wasn't. As soon as dinner is over, I wish you'd come and see me. I don't know if you can, not being acquainted with the rules of this hotel. I shan't stop here again very soon, if I can help it. There's a woman in the next cell, who was arrested for fighting. She is swearing frightfully. It almost makes me sick to be in such a place. It's pretty hard to have this happen to me just when I was getting along so well. But I hope it'll all come out right. Your true friend,

"d.i.c.k.

"P.S.--I've given my watch and chain to the officer to keep for me.

Gold watches aint fas.h.i.+onable here, and I didn't want them to think me putting on airs.