Kitabı oku: «Ned Wilding's Disappearance: or, The Darewell Chums in the City», sayfa 9

CHAPTER XXVI
CASSIDY CATCHES NED

A systematic search of the lodging houses was begun that afternoon. But it was harder and more baffling work than any one had imagined.

John Newton gave them unexpected aid. As he had much time to himself he offered to go with them to the different lodging houses in the evenings, and give his whistling imitations of birds.

“What good will that do?” asked Bart. “Does he think Ned will hear him and come from hiding?”

“Not that,” explained Fenn, to whom John had told his scheme. “But when he’s whistling there’s sure to be a crowd around him, and, if Ned is in the place, he’ll join the others and we may see him. I think it’s a good plan.”

The others did also, and, for several evenings John amused the inmates of the lodging houses with his whistling. As Fenn had said, crowds gathered about him, and the three chums looked eagerly through them for a sight of Ned.

It was perhaps one of the best plans the boys could have adopted, for in their eagerness to hear the “Bird Warbler” the unfortunate lads and men who were forced to the shelter of the places crowded close up around John Newton. In this way Bart and his companions could scrutinize at short range nearly every person in the throng.

“Aren’t you getting tired of it?” asked Bart one evening when they were starting out for a large lodging house on the Bowery.

“I don’t mind it a bit,” replied John. “I’d do more than this to help find Ned. Besides, it’s a good advertisement for me. You see the fellows in these places hear me, and when they see my name on the theatrical bill boards they’ll come in. You can’t get too much advertising when you’re an actor,” and John looked quite important.

There was a larger crowd than usual in the lodging house that night. John made his way to the front of the room. At first no one paid any attention to the entrance of himself and his friends. But, as soon as John began an imitation of a mocking bird, there was a stir.

“That sounds just like it used to when I was a boy!” exclaimed an old man. “Many and many’s the mornin’ I’ve heard them birds. Can you do a song-sparrow imitation, sonny?”

“Sure,” replied John, and he trilled some sweet high notes.

“My but that’s fine!”

From that John proceeded to imitate a robin and a bob-o-link. He had scarcely finished with the last before there was a stir in one corner of the room. It seemed as if some one was trying to get out.

“Maybe Ned’s there!” exclaimed Bart to Fenn. “Go over and take a look.”

Fenn edged his way through the crowd, but found, instead of some one trying to get out, it was a man trying to make his way closer to where the whistler was. From his appearance the man seemed to have just awakened from a sound sleep on a couple of chairs.

“Where are they?” he exclaimed. “Let me get at ’em!”

“What’s the matter?” asked several.

“I want to catch those birds!” the recently awakened sleeper said, rubbing his eyes. “I can put ’em in cages and sell ’em. I haven’t made any money lately, now’s my chance. Get out of my way, can’t you? I used to trap birds when I was a boy. These are fine singers.”

John had not yet caught sight of the man making his way toward him. The “Warbler” was giving an imitation of a blackbird, and he managed to send out his notes with such skill that it really sounded as if the bird was in a different part of the room from where the whistler stood. The notes appeared to come from a window in the corner.

“I can get him! Look out!” cried the man.

He made a dash for the window, and at that, John, who was now aware of what was going on, changed the whistling to the notes of a bluebird.

This time the tones were so directed as to seem to come from a window on the other side of the room, and the man turned to make a dash in that direction.

“Why, there’s two birds!” he exclaimed. “I’ll catch ’em all!”

No sooner had he reached the second window than John changed the tune to that made by a bullfinch, and the man, listening, thought the bird was in the back of the apartment. He made his way there, the crowd parting to let him through, and laughing, the meanwhile, at the deluded man’s actions.

John was concealed from view by the throng packed close about him, or the man would have discovered the trick at once. As it was he thought sure there were several birds in the room. When he got to the rear the notes of the feathered songster seemed more distinct than ever. The man climbed up on a chair to peer behind the window curtain, and, as he did so, John, whose vocal abilities were not alone limited to birds, let out a croak like a big frog.

“That’s no bird!” exclaimed the man in disgust, as the crowd broke into a laugh at him. “Am I dreaming or what’s the matter? Is this place haunted?”

Then he caught sight of John, who was just puckering up his lips to again imitate a bird.

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” the man exclaimed. “Well you’re a good one, all right, to fool me. I used to live in the woods and I know birds pretty well.”

“That’s where I learned to imitate ’em; in the woods,” said John, glad of a chance to rest, for his lips and mouth were aching from the strain.

“Can you whistle tunes?” the man asked him.

“A little.”

“Give us some music then. I like a good jolly song; and we’ll join in the chorus.”

Then John poured forth his melody in a series of popular songs, for he was a good whistler, aside from his power to mimic, and, for half an hour the lodging house rang with the voices of the men, led by John’s shrill notes.

All this while Bart and the others kept a close lookout for Ned. They did not see him, and, when it was evident that all the inmates of the place had come under their scrutiny, the boys left, their mission unsuccessful. And so it was for several evenings.

Meanwhile Ned, all unconscious of the search being made for him, was puzzling his brains as to what he had better do. He was in no immediate danger of starving, as there were several snowstorms, and he earned enough to pay for his room and live frugally. Still he knew his father and chums would worry but he did not feel he dare communicate with them. He bought the papers each day, and saw several references to the swindling operations of Skem & Skim. They had not been arrested yet, it stated, and search was being made for them and for a young fellow who was believed to have helped them in their operations by dealing in a number of shares of oil stock.

“That means me,” thought Ned, as he read it. “I’ve got to lay low yet.”

So he went his weary way, fearing arrest every moment, yet feeling rather secure now that a week had passed and he had not been apprehended. He found several odd jobs to do when there was no snow to shovel and so managed to make enough to live on.

The four boys and Mr. Wilding kept up their search. The police and private detectives did what they could but to no purpose. Personals were inserted in the papers, begging Ned to communicate with his father, but Ned never thought of looking for them.

One afternoon, William, who had adopted the plan of walking about the streets in the hope of seeing Ned, whom he knew by description and a photograph, paused in front of a commission store, where a youth about his own age was helping to move boxes of oranges from a truck. Something about the lad attracted William’s attention.

“I wonder if that’s Ned?” he said to himself. “He looks just like the boys told me he would and like that photograph Mr. Wilding had. Still I wouldn’t like to make a mistake. I must get closer.”

He pretended to be searching for a number on the building, and so approached near to the boy helping unload the crates.

“I’ll bet it is Ned,” William said to himself with conviction. “I’m going to ask him. He can’t any more than say no.”

He sauntered up to the young fellow, and, with an air of unconcern asked:

“Do you know anyone around here named Ned Wilding? I’m looking for him.”

The boy, carrying a crate of oranges, jumped so he almost dropped the fruit. Then he looked sharply at William. His face grew pale, and William was sure he had found Ned.

“I haven’t got time to talk,” was the rather gruff answer made by the boy with the crate. “I’m busy,” and then he hurried into the store with the box.

“Fooled again,” thought William. He waited until the boy came out again, and this time he was sure it was the missing youth. But now he decided on a different plan.

“Evidently, if it is Ned, he doesn’t want to be known,” thought William. “Something’s gone wrong with him. My only chance is in getting some of his chums here to identify him. I must telephone to one of them. They may be at the hotel. If not I’ll leave word for them to come here as soon as they get back. Mr. Wilding too! I must ’phone him! Then I’ll remain on the watch until some one arrives.”

There was a telephone pay-station across the street, and William sent his two messages from there. Neither of the three chums was in, nor was Mr. Wilding, but at both hotels the clerks said they would deliver the messages promptly.

“Now to wait until they come,” said William as he left the booth.

Just then, as he was looking at the boy, who was still carrying in the crates, he saw a big man with a red moustache approach him. William was not near enough to hear what the man said, but he noted that the boy seemed frightened.

“Ah I’ve caught you, haven’t I?” exclaimed the man, and Ned (for as William suspected the boy carrying in the oranges was the missing youth) looked up with a start. “I’ll teach you to steal my money and run away.”

He grabbed Ned by the arm and shook him roughly.

“I didn’t take your money, Mr. Cassidy!” exclaimed the boy, as he recognized the lodging house keeper.

“What did you run away for? I’m on to your game. Now you can come along with me and work out what you stole from me, or I’ll hand you over to the first officer I meet. What are you going to do?”

What was poor Ned to do? He was in dire straits. Still it seemed better to go with Cassidy than to make a scene on the street and be arrested. He wanted that least of all things.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, “though you have no right to make me, and I didn’t take your money.”

“What’s the matter?” asked the fruit man, who had hired Ned to assist in unloading the truck.

“Nothing much,” replied Cassidy. “This lad owes me some money and I’ll make him work it out.”

“That’s your affair,” the fruit man replied. “He’s earned half a dollar working for me. Here it is.”

He was about to hand it to Ned, but Cassidy took it.

“I’ll apply that on account,” he said grimly, as he marched Ned away.

The whole affair had occurred so suddenly that Ned did not know what to do. He was in a sort of dream. The appearance of Cassidy, the confiscation of the half dollar and the lodging house keeper’s evident intention of holding the boy to account for a theft he had never committed, made Ned think he was doomed to misfortune, no matter what he did to avoid it.

Then followed a natural desire to escape. He knew Cassidy had no right to take him into custody, and he felt the injustice of it keenly. The man held him loosely by the coat sleeve, and marched him along through the streets. Several persons turned to look at the spectacle, but no one ventured to interfere. New Yorkers have formed the habit of not taking much interest in affairs that do not concern them directly.

As they were crossing a narrow street in one of the thickly settled tenement districts a horse, attached to a wagon, and rapidly driven, bore down on them. Ned, with the instinct of a quick runner, started to dash ahead. Cassidy, who moved slower, pulled back toward the curb, to let the steed pass. The movement separated Ned from his captor, for Cassidy’s hold on the boy’s sleeve was broken. Ned was free!

The horse and wagon was now between him and the man. The boy gave a hasty glance back, and saw Cassidy standing on the crossing, ready to dash forward as soon as the wagon should pass. He could not go around it because of vehicles on either side.

“Here’s my chance!” exclaimed Ned as he dashed forward and ran down the other side of the street.

An instant later the wagon had passed and Cassidy was after him. But the start Ned had he used to good advantage. He was fleet of foot and he had an object in making speed, such as he had never had before. Somewhat to his surprise Cassidy did not shout to him to stop, and made no outcry.

“I wonder if he’s afraid to let people know he’s after me?” thought Ned.

The truth of it was, Cassidy wanted to save his breath for running. Also, he did not want to raise too much disturbance in his pursuit of Ned. He knew he had no right to take the boy into custody, and, though he knew he could cause his arrest on the false charge, that would not bring back the money Cassidy thought Ned had stolen. It was the money, or its equivalent, the lodging house keeper was after.

So he decided to try to catch Ned without aid from outside sources if possible. With this in view he started after the fugitive without raising an alarm, though the streets were well filled.

Ned made good time. He speeded down the thoroughfare until he came to where another intersected it, and turned the corner. This put him out of Cassidy’s view.

The second street was not so thronged as the one he had just left, and Ned had a chance to run better. But there was this disadvantage, that he was more closely observed. On the crowded avenue a running lad attracts little attention, but when more plainly in sight, as Ned now was, he becomes an object of interest.

As he ran he looked back over his shoulder to see if Cassidy was in sight. Past several houses Ned kept on, and his pursuer did not appear around the corner. Then, just as he came in front of a big tenement house Ned saw Cassidy some distance in the rear.

“I guess I’ll go in here!” thought the boy. “Maybe I can slip out of the back before he gets here and that will fool him. I’m going to try!”

He darted into the hallway, but, before he had gone three steps he collided with an old man who, at that instant, was coming from his room into the corridor. The shock threw the old man down, and Ned could scarcely retain his balance.

“Excuse me!” he exclaimed, pausing, when he had recovered his equilibrium, to help the aged man to his feet. “I’m sorry,” and then he started to run through the hallway.

“Here! Vait a minute!” the man exclaimed. “Are you tryin’ to rob me? I dinks you are a t’eef! Hold on! Vait until I see if you haf taken my vatch!”

“I haven’t taken anything of yours!” cried Ned. “I’m in a hurry!”

He was almost at the end of the hall, and saw that it opened into a sort of court. Abutting on that was another tenement.

“Vait! You vas a t’eef!” cried the old man, and he set up such a yelling that doors on either side of the corridor opened, and men and women stuck their heads forth, all demanding to know what the matter was.

“I’m done for now!” thought Ned. “If Cassidy comes past here he’ll be sure to hear the excitement, and they’ll tell him I ran through!”

Still he determined not to give up. He dashed on into the court, leaving behind the aged man who was now the centre of an excited throng.

“He vos a t’eef! He knocked me down! He vouldn’t vait until I looked to see if I am robbed!” was the burden of the aged one’s cry. “Call de police! He vos a t’eef!”

Ned ran across the open space and into the other tenement house. The hallway there seemed deserted, but he knew it would not be so long, when the cries from the other house had aroused the inmates.

“If I can only get through the corridor, and into the other street I can fool Cassidy,” Ned reasoned. “I seem to be having all my bad luck at once.”

He had almost reached the front door, for it was the back entrance of the structure that he had gone in, and he thought he saw freedom before him, when there sounded behind him a cry of:

“Stop thief! Stop thief!”

This is enough to arouse excitement anywhere, but in a New York tenement nothing can sooner be calculated to draw the inmates from their rooms, than such an alarm, unless, indeed, it be one of fire.

No sooner had the first cry resounded through the corridor than the hall was swarming with people. Ned found his way blocked, the more effectually when one woman ran to the front door and closed it.

“I’ve caught you!” she exclaimed. “I’ll teach you to rob honest people, even if they are poor!”

“I haven’t robbed anybody!” cried Ned, as he saw the throng in front of him, and heard the tramp of many feet in his rear.

“Stop him! Hold him!” cried half a score.

Ned looked about him. There seemed to be no way of escape. He was standing near the flight of stairs leading to the upper stories of the second tenement. There was a little clear space in front of him, as the crowd before him was composed mostly of women, who were a little timid about approaching too closely to a “thief” even if he was only a lad.

“I’m going to chance it,” thought Ned. “If I can get to the roof I can cross to some other house, and go down a scuttle hole, perhaps, and so reach the street. Or I can hide until the excitement blows over.”

With this in mind he suddenly grasped the balustrade near which he was. With a jump and a swing he was over it and part way up the stairs. Then he began to run, while the crowd below him, surprised at his sudden escape, set up a chorus of yells.

But Ned had a good start. He took the steps three at a time, and was soon at the top. Then he essayed the next flight, and so on until he found himself on the roof, which was a big, wide stretch of tin. It was used as a place for hanging out clothes, and was easy of access from the top hallway.

Below him Ned could hear the shouts and cries, and the tramp of many feet.

“Which way shall I go?” he asked himself, as he paused for an instant. “Guess it can’t make much difference.”

He turned to the left and ran along until he came to a stairway several houses further along. The door of this was open, and he went down. He had fairly distanced his pursuers, for none of them were yet on the roof.

“I’ll get to the street and leave ’em behind,” the boy reasoned. “Everyone will be in the house looking for me, and the street will be deserted.”

In this Ned was almost right, for when, after hurrying down several flights of stairs, he reached the thoroughfare, the only person in sight in the immediate neighborhood was a colored man putting in coal. He seemed to be so busily engaged that he had no time to waste in pursuit, so, after a hasty glance from the front door of the tenement, Ned went out.

But in this he reckoned without his host. The colored man, looking up from his shoveling, saw Ned. The lad’s wild and disheveled appearance raised the man’s suspicions. Besides he had heard of the chase after the thief.

“I’ll cotch you!” he cried, leaping from his wagon. “I’ll get you!”

Ned, who was, by this time, running past where the coal wagon was backed up to the curb, turned out to avoid the negro, who, with outstretched arms was advancing toward him. In his anxiety to avoid the coal man, Ned did not notice an open hole down which the black diamonds were being shoveled. Before he could save himself he had plunged into it.

Lucky for the boy the cellar underneath was almost full, the coal coming to within a few feet of the sidewalk, so when Ned toppled in he only went down a little ways. There he was, his head and shoulders sticking up above the pavement, while his feet and legs were buried in the pile of coal underneath.

“Now I’ve got you!” yelled the colored man, as he ran up to Ned, and hauled him from the hole. “I’ve got you! What’d you steal?”

“I didn’t steal anything,” Ned answered. “It’s all a mistake. Please let me go!”

“Hold him!” cried Cassidy, appearing at that moment from the front entrance of the house, up the stairs of which Ned had dashed a few minutes before. “Don’t let him get away!”

“He’ll not get away,” replied the negro.

Cassidy came up and took charge of Ned. Quite a crowd gathered, but the lodging house keeper answered none of the many questions asked him.

“Guess he’s a detective,” was the general whisper that went around, and Cassidy did not correct it.

“You come with me!” he said to Ned. “Don’t try any of your tricks again, or it’ll be the worse for you.”

And he marched Ned off.