Ahead of the Show Part 20

"I suppose you have often heard it said that justice and mercy ought to go hand in hand."

"It is a very true saying, my lad."

"Well, you say you have just been on an errand of mercy; suppose you now perform an act of justice."

"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Ferguson, uneasily.

"I guess you know. I mean that I want you to hand back the money and jewelry that you stole from me."

"Do you mean to insult me, or are you mad?" almost shouted the alleged clergyman. "Do you dare accuse me, me, David Ferguson, of theft?"

"That's about the size of it," replied Al, coolly. "And, remember, I know now that your name is no more David Ferguson than mine is."

"Do you dare----" began the fellow.

"That'll do," interrupted Al. "Bluff will not work with me. Are you going to return my property?"

He had not uttered the last word when "Mr. Ferguson" abruptly turned on his heel and started to run.

He did not go far, however. Out went Al's foot, and the next moment the adventurer lay sprawling on the pavement. He was helped to his feet by Al and the brakeman, who both kept a tight hold on him.

The sanctimonious expression had entirely vanished from the fellow's face, which now wore a look of rage and fear.

The transformation was wonderful; he did not seem the same man.

"Well," he said, "what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to hand you over to the police in short order if you don't return my property."

"If I give it all back," demanded the man, "will you agree not to make any charge against me?"

"Don't agree to anything of the sort," interrupted the belligerent brakeman.

But Al said: "I ought not to do it, but I have no time to attend to the case, so, if you hand back what you took from me you can go."

"Mr. Ferguson" fished the roll of bills from his pocket and handed it to Al, who carefully counted it.

"Now, the watch and ring," he said.

The "crook" produced the timepiece and gave it to its owner.

"I can't return the ring," he whined.

"Why can't you?"

"I've p.a.w.ned it."

"Give me the ticket, then."

"I can't do that, either."

"How is that?"

"I've lost it."

"Well," said Al, "that's unlucky--for you. Now, see here, my reverend friend, I have no more time to waste. If your story is true, you'll come along with me to the police station. If it is a lie, which I believe, you had better hand over that ring in quick time."

"I----"

"I advise you to hurry, for here comes a policeman, and if the ring is not on my finger by the time he gets here, I shall hand you over to him as sure as I am standing here."

The "crook" hesitated no longer.

"Here you are, then," he said.

As he spoke, he thrust the ring into Al's hand.

"Now," he asked, in a voice that trembled with nervousness, "may I get out?"

"Skip," responded Al, laconically.

In less than ten seconds the fellow had disappeared from view.

The brakeman extended his hand to his companion.

"I have wronged you," he said.

"That's what I told you," replied Al, quietly, "but you wouldn't take my word for it."

"I hope you'll accept my apology."

"Of course I will; and you must accept your money back."

And the boy handed his companion a ten-dollar bill.

"I hope you don't feel hard toward me?" persisted the man.

"Not at all," Al responded, readily. "You were very kind to offer me the money at the depot. I was a perfect stranger to you."

"But I sized you up as a square lad."

"It didn't take you long to change your mind, though."

"You must admit that I had some reason to change it."

"I do admit it. Appearances were very much against me, and if I had been in your place I should, very likely, have thought just what you did."

"Nevertheless, I'm sorry I was so hasty. Now, see here, young fellow, I've taken a liking to you--honest, I have. I'd like to help you. Now, I have an idea that you are in some sort of trouble."

"You are not far out of the way there," admitted the boy.

"Of course, it's none of my business, and I'm not one of the sort that cares much about other people's affairs; but--but what is your trouble? I only ask, thinking that I may be able to help you in some way."

Al hesitated, then said: "I need help badly enough, but I don't see what you could do. However, I will tell you why I am in New York."

In a few words he told the story of his sister's abduction. When he explained why he had left the depot so suddenly his companion interrupted him.

"Why," he cried, excitedly, "I saw the cab that you wanted to follow! I can tell you just where you can find its driver, too."

"You can?"

"Yes. As it happens, he is an old friend of mine, and there isn't much that he won't do for me. He drives for a stable up on Fifth Avenue, but he ought to be home by this time. I can get a good deal more information out of him than they would give you if you went up to the stables. Do you want to go round to his house with me now and see if he is in?"

"Is it far from here?"

"Not ten minutes' walk."

"Let us go, then. But, perhaps, we ought to go to a police station first."

"We shall pa.s.s one on our way there. Come on; I'll bet that you won't be sorry you met me."

Within five minutes Al had given a description of his sister to the police, and an alarm was about to be sent out when he left the station.

"Now, to see my friend, Tim Story," said the brakeman, "who, if I am not mistaken, will be able to give us as much information in five minutes as the police will gain in twenty-four hours."

Tim Story's home proved to be a floor in a West-Side tenement. The cabman had just returned home, and did not seem to be in a very communicative mood. But in a few minutes Al's new friend had obtained information from him that gave the boy a new hope.

"We have found her!" he exclaimed. "How can I thank you?"

"Don't thank me yet," was the reply. "Remember the old saying, 'There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip.' You have a dangerous job ahead of you, my boy."

CHAPTER x.x.x.

HARD LUCK.

Among the pa.s.sengers that arrived at the Grand Central Depot by a train which reached the city about three hours before Al Allston's arrival, were a trio who attracted some attention from their fellow pa.s.sengers; attention that was evidently unwelcome and annoying to at least two of the three.

There were two women and a man. One of the women, slight and heavily veiled, was supported, almost carried, by her companions. She seemed to be very ill.

As she was lifted from the car, one of the pa.s.sengers, an elderly gentleman, overheard her say: "Where am I? Where are you taking me?"

The gentleman stepped forward and asked: "Can I be of any a.s.sistance? The lady seems to be sick."

His voice and manner showed very plainly that he suspected there was something wrong, but the two persons he addressed either did not notice this, or willfully ignored it.

"You are very kind, sir," responded the male member of the party of which the apparent invalid was one. "The lady is ill, and we are anxious to get her to her home as soon as possible. Would you be kind enough to call a carriage for us? I would not ask this of a stranger had you not so kindly proffered your a.s.sistance."

"I will do so with pleasure," replied the gentleman, evidently a little surprised at the manner in which his offer was received. "But may I ask what is the matter with the lady?"

The man he addressed tapped his forehead significantly.

"Brain disease?" questioned the gentleman.

"Yes. Brought on by overwork at school. Poor girl! But we have hope that in a few weeks she will be herself again."

"It is very sad."

"Very; and now, sir, if you will kindly call the carriage for me, I shall be greatly indebted to you."

"Certainly, sir."

As the gentleman hurried away, the woman whom we have mentioned as the third member of the party, a tall, showy-looking brunette, said: "What's your game, Jack? Why did you send that old fellow for a carriage?"

"It was the easiest way to get rid of him," was the reply. "Didn't you see that he was very suspicious?"

"Of course."

"The way in which I accepted his offer took him off his guard, and, perhaps, saved us some trouble."

"Hus.h.!.+ here he comes."

"I see him. Don't say a word. Leave all to me."

"I have found a very good coach for you," announced the old gentleman, hurrying toward them. "Come this way, please."

Murmuring his thanks, Jack Farley, whom the reader has, perhaps, ere this, recognized, hurried toward the entrance, supporting the alleged invalid, who was now moaning piteously.

A few moments later the three were ensconced in the carriage.

"Where shall I tell the driver to go?" asked the gentleman.

Farley gave an address.

As the carriage started, Miss Hollingsworth asked: "Why did you give that address?"

"You didn't suppose I was going to give the right one, did you?" said Farley, petulantly. "When we are out of sight of the depot I'll tell the driver where to go."

As soon as the coach had turned a corner he leaned out of the window and called out: "Driver, I've changed my mind."

"Well, sir?"