“C’mon, Mouse, git on with it,” said Duck. “Yer killin’ us all.”
“So Hawker says,” continued Mouse calmly, “‘You can’t quit on me now, Quill. Wot kind o’ friend are you? Besides, I’m payin’ you handsome, ain’t I?’
“‘He’s doin’ that, all right,’ says this feller Maggot.
“Then this Quill, he jist grumbles roun’ a bit. Then he says, ‘Whyn’t you jist let me pick him up where he’s shinin’ shoes and drag ’im back? I think he’s on ter me, one night he’s goin’ ter lead me plumb inter the nex’ county. Let me jist pick him up. Why not, Hawker?’
“‘I tol’ you why not,’ says Hawker. ‘It ain’t him I want. It’s the brat I want. The boy c’n go drown fer all I care. You keep follerin’ him. One day he’s goin’ ter let down ’is guard an’ lead you ter wot I’m lookin’ fer.’
“‘Nice thing, Hawker,’ says this Quill. ‘You git me all wore out, but you still ain’t tellin’ wot’s this all ’bout.’
“‘That’s right. I ain’t. It’s my business an’ ain’t nobody else’s. An’ now I’m starvin’. I’m goin’ home an’ git me some grub.’
“So Hawker got up an’ went,” concluded Mouse. “I stuck roun’ a while ter listen ter them two, Quill an’ Maggot, goin’ on ’bout wot Hawker were makin’ Quill do. But Maggot kep’ on tellin’ Quill wot good money Hawker were payin’ ’im, an’ if he knowed wot were good fer ’im, he’d shut right on up an’ do wot Hawker wanted. Then they upped an’ lef’. But Robin, I wanted you sh’d hear all I heerd, so you ain’t thinkin’ I were makin’ a mistake when I said as how I b’lieve you was wrong. It ain’t Quill wot’s back o’ all this. It’s yer Hawker Doak!”
“And it’s not me he wants,” said Robin. “It’s not even me and Danny. It’s just Danny, my baby brother.”
“Why?” asked Piggy, with round eyes.
Why? Robin had no answer to the question. All he knew was that it gave him a terrible feeling of dread deep inside him.
Why Danny?
Why?
Chapter XIII
Pawnshop Revisited
The next day it started to rain early in the morning. The rain continued all day. It continued the next day. And the next. And the next. It continued to rain and drizzle for six days, and there was no sign that it had any intention of letting up.
There was no use in anyone going out with a shoe-shine box in such weather, for who wanted to have their shoes shined standing out in the wet? And what was the point anyway of having shoes shined only to have them immediately in need of shining again? So while it was true that Robin was freed for the time being of having to escape from Quill, it was also true that nobody, including Robin, was earning any money.
For the first day, and perhaps even the second, it was pleasant to stay in the nice warm cellar and not feel guilty in the least about being there. And now that they had been found out and welcomed by Mr. Gribbins, there were no worries on that score.
The boys played skip rope with an old piece of rope Mr. Gribbins found for them. They played ball in the hallway, courtesy of a ball from the same source. They took turns wheeling Danny all around the cellar in a cart Mr. Gribbins had made for him. And they especially spent a great deal of time with their pencil stubs and pieces of paper, practicing the letters Robin was teaching them. But by the fourth day, they had become restless. And by the sixth, there was a serious worry, for their money supply was dangerously low.
“We shouldn’ o’ been spendin’ all that on wot we was shovin’ in our faces,” said Spider. “Wot was we thinkin’? Ain’t never goin’ ter git ’nough fer a proper shoe stan’ like we been wishin’ fer.”
“Look who’s talkin’?” said Mouse. “Who’s allus wantin’ them apples wot ain’t got no worm holes? Seems ter me as how it’s you, Spider.”
“Sorry,” said Spider. “But I ain’t the one wot wanted ter git that big sausich, now were I?”
“Aw, stop it,” said Duck. “Wot s done’s done. Blamin’ someone ain’t gittin’ nothin’ back. An’ ain’t we all eatin’ nothin’ but stale bread now? It’s Danny s milk wot we got ter think ’bout. Ain’t that right, Robin?”
Robin nodded. It was right, indeed, and he had been thinking very hard about this, and how it had not been very wise to spend so much of his money when he first came. Showing off is what it was. He had only spent two cents later on the pencil stubs and paper, and worthwhile as that was, perhaps he should not have done that either.
“Could we borry from Mr. Gribbins?” asked Piggy.
“Nah, we ain’t goin’ ter start that,” said Duck. “Not ’less Danny ain’t got a drop o’ milk from anywheres. Mr. Gribbins’ Hannah’s ailin’, and needs lots o’ medicine, he says. An’ he don’t git paid spit, near as I c’n figger. No, we ain’t borryin’ from him.”
“We could borry from the box upstairs,” said Spider.
“That ain’t borryin’,” said Duck. “That’s stealin’, ’cause wot if we c’d never pay it back? Must be some other way.”
“We c’d sell somethin’ ter a peddler,” suggested Piggy hopefully.
“Like wot?” asked Duck. “Our cups an’ dishes we got in the dump? Saucepan from the same place? That’d bring in a pretty penny. An’ who’d pay us fer somethin’ wot they c’n find in the dump, I arsk you? More’n likely we’d be arsked ter pay fer someone ter take the stuff.”
“There’s our shoe boxes,” said Spider.
“No!” said both Duck and Mouse so sternly, Spider fairly shrivelled away.
“I … I could sell my papa’s watch,” said Robin. “I told you how just before I ran away I had to take money from what my mama left me, to pay Hawker because someone didn’t give me all the rent money I had to collect for him. Anyway, before I remembered I had the money, I tried to sell the watch at a pawnshop. Mr. Slyke said he’d give me only twenty-five cents, and I needed fifty, so I never sold it. But I could go back now and get the twenty-five cents.”
“Aw, not yer pa’s watch!” exclaimed Duck. “That ain’t right. You don’t want ter do that, do you?”
No, Robin did not want to do that. But twenty-five cents might be just enough to buy enough milk for Danny until they could all get out and start shoe shining again. If there were only something else that he had that he could sell.
The pin and the locket!
When he had taken them from Hawker’s drawer, he had considered them useless because they were not money. He had never told the boys about them because they were something he had stolen. But could they not be sold at the pawnshop just as well as the watch? Why had he never thought of this before? And now he might as well come out with it, stolen goods or not, for they were desperate. In for a penny, in for a pound!
“I … I have something else I could sell,” he blurted.
“Wot’s that?” asked Duck.
Before replying, Robin went to where his jacket lay on the floor, reached into a pocket, and pulled out the pin and locket.
“Here,” he said, handing them to Duck.
Duck gave a low whistle. Spider, Mouse, and Piggy clustered around him, staring bug-eyed at his hand.
“Wheeooo!” said Mouse. “Where’d you git this stuff, Robin?”
“Stole it,” said Robin.
“Wot?” said Spider.
“He said he stealed it,” Duck said. “Brush out yer ears, Spider.”
“How come you never said nothin’ ’bout havin’ this stuff?” Mouse asked.
“No stealing, no cheating, no gambling. Remember?” said Robin. “I couldn’t tell you about stuff I’d just come from stealing.”
“But you ain’t said yet where you stealed it from,” Piggy said.
“From the drawer where Hawker hid all his stolen stuff. Pins, rings, necklaces—things like that,” Robin replied. “Hawker works at the docks, and he collects rents for a landlord as well. But he’s in the stealing business too. I don’t know if he goes stealing himself, but he’s in business with people who do.
”
“Robbin’ from the robber,” mused Spider. “Stealin’ don’t seem so bad when you think on it that way.”
“That’s right,” agreed Duck. “Seems as how yer Hawker were jist gittin’ paid back.”
“I … I guess so,” said Robin. “But up until now, I wished I’d never taken anything from that drawer, because I knew if Hawker found anything missing, he’d try all the harder to find me. Then I remembered my mama whispering to me about a locket before she died. I thought she did, anyway, and I thought maybe this was the one, and it might have pictures of my papa and her in it. But it doesn’t. I don’t know who the people are.”
“Mind if I open yer locket?” Duck asked.
“Go ahead,” said Robin.
Duck snapped open the locket, studied in a moment, and then brought it up closer to his eyes. “Never seed anyone like the gent b’fore. Lady got the look o’ that purty one wot was handin’ them dyin’ flowers ter Mr. Gribbins first day I come ter St. Somethin’. But this picter’s small, and they’s probable a million purty ladies jist like this in this picter. Here, any o’ you want ter see?”
They all did, so as Duck handed the pin back to Robin, the open locket was passed from Spider, to Mouse, to Piggy. At last, still open, it came back to Robin. Glancing at it before closing it, he felt his stomach lurch. The pretty lady was still no one he had ever seen. But the man looked like the same one whose shoes he had shined outside St. Something!
Robin looked at it more closely, and then his stomach quickly righted itself. The picture was indeed very small. And while the bearded man in the picture did bear some resemblance to the one Robin had encountered, he no doubt resembled a million other bearded men. No, Robin decided, because he still remembered those cruel eyes, because of his frightening narrow escapes from Quill, and now because of his new fears for Danny, he was once again letting his imagination play tricks on him. No, this picture was just as he had thought before. It was no one he knew.
“So wot does you think yer goin’ ter do?” Duck asked.
“Go see my old friend, Mr. Slyke,” said Robin.
The weather the next day continued gray and drizzly, and once again there was no setting out to shine shoes. But Robin felt, and the others agreed with him, that he should wait until late afternoon, it being the safest time to go out. Hawker would be at The Whole Hog, no doubt accompanied by Maggot and Quill, who would have no prey to hunt down that day. When the time finally came, Robin set out with high hopes that he would return with enough money to rid them of all their worries.
“Don’t let yerself git gypped,” Duck said. “Them two pieces is got ter be gold through an’ through. Don’t let ’im give you none o’ ’is cup an’ saucer stuff like he done with yer pa’s watch.”
Yes, Robin was going off with something this time that Mr. Slyke would have to agree was not plated anything! Robin had decided, however, that he would only show him the pin. If he got enough for that, there was no reason to produce the locket, even though he brought it along with him. The locket he would save in case they ever had another emergency; or, if there never was one, to sell and put toward the shoe-shine stand they all wanted. He had great plans indeed for this suddenly realized source of wealth!
The pawnshop was open, as Robin expected it would be, and Mr. Slyke was behind the counter reading his newspaper just as he had been the first time Robin walked through the door. As soon as he saw Robin, a smile almost of triumph appeared on his sallow face.
“Well, I see he’s come back,” he said, “the boy with the watch. Did you decide to take my offer? I told you twenty-five cents is a good offer. A boy can do a lot with twenty-five cents.”
Robin hesitated. With the encouragement of the boys, he had entered the pawnshop feeling quite sure of himself. But Mr. Slyke had a way of making him feel unsure of anything.
“I … I didn’t bring my watch,” he said.
The smile vanished from Mr. Slyke’s face. “Then why are you here?” he asked abruptly.
“I … I have something else to sell,” replied Robin.
The smile halfway returned to Mr. Slyke’s face. “What is it? Something else that your papa gave you?”
Stolen from his step-papa was more like it! But Robin did not see that he needed to confess this to Mr. Slyke. He simply pulled the pin from his pocket and laid it on the counter. Mr. Slyke swiftly snatched it up and examined it closely as he had the watch.
“You say you got this from your papa?” he asked, pulling a small magnifying glass from a drawer and looking through it at the pin. He asked the question as if he were simply making conversation and had no real interest in the answer.
“Mmm,” said Robin, that passing for either “yes” or “no,” however Mr. Slyke chose to take it.
Mr. Slyke laid his magnifying glass down on the counter. “It’s gold,” he said with a shrug. “But low quality. Diamonds just chips. Ruby maybe just glass. I can give you one dollar forty-five cents, but I’ll be losing money.”
“Just one dollar forty-five cents?” repeated Robin, his dreams of sudden wealth instantly evaporating. He had thought at least five dollars.
“Nobody comes to a pawnshop who got a lot of money to spend,” said Mr. Slyke. “If I pay you more, I got to charge more, and nobody will look at it. You’d better be smart and take the dollar forty-five cents.”
What choice did Robin have? Right now he desperately needed money for Danny’s milk. “I’ll take it,” he said.
Mr. Slyke pulled open a drawer and started to count out money from it. But suddenly he paused, looked stealthily around the empty shop as if there might be someone there listening, leaned on the counter, and drew his face up close to Robin.
“You don’t have anything else of your papa’s, do you? I’ll look at anything you got, but I’ll tell you what I’m looking for. This man comes in all the time asking for something that once got stolen from him. He goes around to all the pawnshops hoping someone will bring it in. Now, I’m not saying your papa gave you something that was stolen, but I tell you I look at everything I can because you never know where it came from. This man will pay fifty dollars if it’s what he’s looking for. Whoever brings it to me gets fifteen, and no questions asked.”
“What … what is he looking for?” asked Robin.
“It’s a locket,” said Mr. Slyke, dropping his voice almost to a whisper. “You got anything like that?”
Robin nodded.
“Is your locket round with a small diamond in the middle and roses into it all around?” asked Mr. Slyke. “Locket’s got to be gold too. This man’s not paying for nickel plate. Your locket gold, is it, with the diamond and roses?”
Robin gulped, and nodded again.
“You got it on you?” asked Mr. Slyke. “Or you got to go get it?”
Robin put a shaking hand inside his jacket, pulled out the locket, and laid it on the counter. Mr. Slyke snatched it up.
“If that isn’t what he’s looking for, I’ll eat it,” he said, snapping open the locket. He glanced at the pictures, barely able to contain his glee. “That’s him all right. You just might be walking out of here with fifteen dollars more than you thought. Problem is, if you want your money now, I got to go show the man the locket. Won’t be gone long. He says any time I get one that fits what he wants, don’t waste time getting to him. He says take a cab, and he’ll pay for it. You wait here for me to get back.”
“H-h-here?” asked Robin.
“Yes, here,” said Mr. Slyke, already dropping the locket into his jacket. Then he leered at Robin. “You see, you don’t have to worry about trusting me with the locket. I’m trusting you to stay here all by yourself. Now, you could just rob me blind, couldn’t you?”
There was something Robin did not like about this plan, especially when Mr. Slyke’s trust did not go so far as to leaving the store unlocked and open for business. He hung the “closed” sign on his window, and padlocked his front door, leaving Robin, in truth, a prisoner until he r
eturned. As soon as Mr. Slyke had departed out the back, and Robin heard the sound of that door being locked as well, he began to realize what a ninnyhammer he was. Mr. Slyke could return and say he had lost the locket. Then what? That Mr. Slyke was not above lying, Robin was certain. But he could do nothing about it now, and just resign himself to waiting.
Examining everything in the store was interesting enough, but a person can only examine trays of tarnished teaspoons, stacks of mismatched dishes, torn old prints, and other similar items so many times without getting weary. Time dragged, and every time Robin consulted his watch, it seemed that only two or three minutes had passed. But at long last Mr. Slyke appeared from the back of the shop. He seemed nervous, but still gave Robin a smile displaying a full set of large, yellowed teeth. Taking down the “closed” sign, and unlocking the front door, he hurried behind the counter.
“Come here,” he said, his smile broadening. “I’ve got something for you.”
Mr. Slyke honest after all! Eagerly, Robin went to the counter and waited as Mr. Slyke opened the money drawer and rattled coins around in it. He was making so much noise, that Robin never heard the front door to the shop open. But suddenly, he saw something dangling from over his head before his eyes. It was the locket Mr. Slyke had taken with him.
“Waitin’ for somethin’, were you, boy?”
Robin whirled around, and found himself looking into the glaring, enraged eyes of Hawker Doak!
Chapter XIV
Peril Under the Pier
“Thought you were the clever one, didn’t you?” Hawker’s eyes narrowed to malevolent slits as he grabbed Robin by the collar. “Well, let me tell you somethin’, boy. You got to get up pretty early in the mornin’ to put one over on Hawker Doak. Runnin’ off like you done. Stealin’! I found out you were a thief when Kringle paid up his fifty cents. You never went back to get it from him like I ordered you, you chicken-livered little weasel. You got it from my hidin’ place under my bed, which you must o’ found out from spyin’. Good thing I weren’t stupid enough to tell him I already been paid.
Secret in St. Something Page 9