Steve and the Steam Engine

by Sara Ware Bassett

  CHAPTER IX

  AN ASTOUNDING CALAMITY

  Mr. Ackerman was as good as his word, for within half an hour hepresented himself at the hotel where he found Mr. Tolman, Mr. Donovanand Steve awaiting him in their pleasant upstairs room. As he joinedthem his eye traveled inquiringly from one to another of the group andlingered with curiosity on the face of the detective. The next instanthe was holding out his hand to Stephen.

  "Well, my boy, I am glad to see you again," said he, a ring ofheartiness in his voice.

  "And I am glad to see you, too, Mr. Ackerman," Steve replied, returningthe hand-clasp with fervor. "This is my father, sir; and this"--for asecond he hesitated, then continued, "is our friend, Mr. Donovan."

  With cordiality the New Yorker acknowledged the introductions.

  "Mr. Donovan," explained Mr. Tolman, scanning Mr. Ackerman's countenancewith a keen, half-quizzical expression, "is from headquarters."

  The steamboat magnate started and shot a quick glance at those present.It was plain he was disconcerted and uncertain as to how to proceed.

  Mr. Donovan, however, came to his rescue, stepping tactfully into thebreach:

  "I was not needed for anything but to supply your address, sir; but Iwas able to do that, so between us all we have contrived to return yourpocketbook to you as good as before it left your possession."

  As he spoke Mr. Tolman drew forth the missing bill book and held ittoward its owner.

  "That looks pretty good to me!" Mr. Ackerman exclaimed, as he took thearticle from Mr. Tolman's outstretched hand and regarded itreflectively. "I don't know when I have ever done anything so carelessand stupid. You see I had got part way to the bank before I rememberedthat I had left my glasses, on which I am absolutely dependent, at home.Therefore, there being no taxi in sight, I hailed a passing bus andclimbed up beside this youngster. How the bill book happened to slip outof my pocket I cannot explain. It seemed to me it would be safer to havethe securities upon my person than in a bag that might be snatched fromme; but apparently my logic was at fault. I was, however, so certain ofmy wisdom that I never thought to question it until I had reached thesidewalk and the bus had gone.

  "Your boy, Mr. Tolman, confided while we rode along this morning that hewas visiting in New York for a few days; but of course I did not ask hisname or address and so when I wanted his help in tracing the missingpocketbook I had no way of locating him beyond assuming that he must bestaying at one of the hotels. Therefore when the omnibus company couldfurnish no clue, I got into touch with an agency whose business it is tohunt people up. If the pocketbook had been dropped on the bus I feltsure your boy, who was almost the only other person on top of the coach,would know about it; if, on the other hand, it had been dropped in thestreet, my problem would be a different one. In either case the sooner Iknew my course of action the better. I hope you will believe, Mr.Tolman, that when I called in the aid of detectives I had no suspicionsagainst your son's honesty."

  Mr. Tolman waved the final remark aside good-humoredly.

  "We have not taken the affair as a personal matter at all," he declared."We fully appreciate your difficulty in finding Stephen, for he was alsoup against the problem of finding you. New York is a rather large cityanyway, and for two people who do not even know one another's names toget together is like hunting a needle in a haystack. Our only recourseto discovering the owner of the pocketbook would be through theadvertising columns of the papers and that is the method we should havefollowed had not Donovan appeared and saved us the trouble."

  He exchanged a smile with the detective.

  "The advertising column was my one hope," Mr. Ackerman replied. "I feltsure that any honest person who picked up the purse would advertise it.It was not the honest people I was worrying about. It was the thoughtthat I had dropped the bill book in the street where anyTom-Dick-and-Harry could run away with it that concerned me. Moreover,even if your boy had found it on the bus, he might have turned it in toan employee of the coach line who was not honest enough to give it inturn to his superiors. So I wanted to know where I stood; and now that Ido I cannot tell you how grateful I am both to Stephen and to thisofficer here for the service they have rendered me." Then, turningtoward Mr. Tolman, he added in an undertone, "I hope neither you noryour son have suffered any annoyance through this unfortunate incident."

  "Not in the least," was the prompt response. "I confess we were a trifledisconcerted at first; but Mr. Donovan has performed his duty with suchcourtesy that we entertain toward him nothing but gratitude."

  "I am glad of that," Mr. Ackerman replied, "for I should deeply regretplacing either you or your boy, even for a moment, in an uncomfortableposition, or one where it might appear that I--"

  But Mr. Tolman cut him short.

  "You took the quickest, most sensible course, Ackerman," said he. "Toomuch was at stake for you to risk delay. When a pocketbook filled withnegotiable securities disappears one must of necessity act with speed.Neither Stephen nor I cherish the least ill-will about the affair; dowe, son?"

  "No, indeed."

  Then smiling ingenuously up into the face of the New York man, he said:

  "Don't you want to look in your pocketbook and see if everything is allright, sir?"

  The steamboat financier laughed.

  "You are a prudent young man," declared he. "No, I am quite willing torisk that the property you have so kindly guarded is intact."

  "It ought to be," the boy said. "I haven't even opened the pocketbook."

  "A better proof still that everything is safe within it," chuckled Mr.Ackerman. "No, sonny, I am not worrying. I should not worry even if youhad ransacked the bill book from one end to the other. I'd take a chanceon the honesty of a boy like you."

  Mr. Tolman, however, who had been listening, now came forward and brokeinto the conversation:

  "Stephen's suggestion is a good, businesslike one, Ackerman," hedeclared. "As a mere matter of form--not as a slam against our morals--Iam sure that both he and I would prefer that you examined your propertywhile we are all here together and assure yourself that it is allright."

  "Pooh! Pooh! Nonsense!" objected the financier.

  "It is a wise notion, Mr. Ackerman," rejoined Mr. Donovan. "Business isbusiness. None of us questions the honor of Mr. Tolman or his son. Theyknow that. Nevertheless I am sure we should all feel better satisfiedif you went through the formality of an investigation."

  "Very well, just as you say. But I want it understood that I do it attheir and your request. I am perfectly satisfied to leave things as theyare."

  Taking the now familiar red pocketbook from his coat he opened itunconcernedly; then the three persons watching him saw a look ofconsternation banish the smile from his face.

  "What's wrong, Ackerman?" inquired the plain-clothes man quickly.

  Without a word the other held the bill book toward him. It was empty.Bonds, securities, money were gone! A gasp of incredulity came fromStephen.

  "I didn't open it--truly I didn't!" exclaimed he, in a terror-strickenvoice.

  But Mr. Ackerman did not heed the remark.

  "I am afraid this looks pretty black for us, Ackerman," said Mr. Tolmanslowly. "We have nothing to give you but the boy's word."

  Mr. Donovan, however, who had been studying the group with a hawklikescrutiny now sprang to his feet and caught up his hat.

  "I don't see how they dared put it over!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Butthey almost got away with it. Even I was fooled."

  "You don't mean to insinuate," Mr. Tolman burst out, "that you thinkwe--"

  "Good heavens, no!" replied the detective with his hand on the doorknob. "Don't go getting hot under the collar, Mr. Tolman. Nobody isslamming _you_. I have been pretty stupid about this affair, I'm afraid;but give me credit for recognizing honest people when I see them. No,somebody has tricked you--tricked you all. But the game isn't up yet. Ifyou gentlemen will just wait here--"

  The sentence was cut short by the banging of the door. The detective wasgone.
His departure was followed by an awkward silence.

  Mr. Ackerman's face clouded into a frown of disappointment and anxiety;Mr. Tolman paced the floor and puffed viciously at a cigar; and Steve,his heart cold within him, looked from one to the other, chagrin,mortification and terror in his eyes.

  "I didn't open the pocketbook, Mr. Ackerman," he reiterated for thetwentieth time. "I truly didn't."

  But the steamboat magnate was too deeply absorbed in his own thoughtsand speculations to notice the high-pitched voice with its intonation ofdistress.

  At last Mr. Tolman could endure the situation no longer.

  "This is a most unfortunate happening, Ackerman," he burst out. "I ammore concerned about it than I can express. My boy and I are utterstrangers to you and we have no way of proving our honesty. All I cansay is that we are as much amazed at the turn affairs have taken asyourself, and we regret it with quite as much poignancy--perhaps moresince it reflects directly upon us. If there is anything we can do--"

  He stopped, awaiting a reply from the other man, but none came.

  "Good heavens, Ackerman," he cried. "You don't mean to say you do notbelieve my son and me--that you suspect us of double-dealing!"

  "I don't know what to believe, Tolman," owned Mr. Ackerman with candor."I want very much to credit your story; in my heart, I do credit it. Buthead and heart seem to be at variance in this matter. Frankly I ampuzzled to know where the contents of that pocketbook have gone. Werethe things taken out before the bill book fell into your son's hands orafterward? And if afterward, who took them? Who had the chance? Donovanseems to think he has a clue, but I confess I have none."

  "Hadn't you looked over the bonds and stuff since you took them home?"

  "No," Mr. Ackerman admitted. "I got them from the broker yesterday andas it was too late to put them into the safe-deposit vault, I took themhome with me instead of putting them in our office safe as I should havedone. I thought it would be easier for me to stop at the bank with themthis morning on my way to business. It was foolish planning but I aimedto save time."

  "So the pocketbook was at your house over night?"

  Mr. Ackerman nodded.

  "Yes," confessed he. "Nevertheless it did not go out of my possession.I had it in the inner pocket of my coat all the time."

  "You are sure no one took the things out while you were asleep lastnight?"

  "Why--I--I don't see how they could," faltered Mr. Ackerman. "Myservants are honest--at least, they always have been. I have had themfor years. Moreover, none of them knew I had valuable papers about me.How could they?" was the reply.

  Once more silence fell upon the room.

  "Come, Tolman," ejaculated the steamboat man presently, "you are alevel-headed person. What is your theory?"

  "If I did not know my son and myself as well as I do," Mr. Tolmananswered with deliberation, "my theory would be precisely what I fancyyours is. I should reason that during the interval between the findingof the purse and its return the contents had been extracted."

  He saw the New Yorker color.

  "That, I admit, is my logical theory," Mr. Ackerman owned with a blush,"but it is not my intuitive one. My brain tells me one thing and myheart another; and in spite of the fact that the arguments of my brainseem correct I find myself believing my heart and in consequencecherishing a groundless faith in you and your boy," concluded he, with afaint smile.

  "That is certainly generous of you, Ackerman!" Mr. Tolman returned, muchmoved by the other's confidence. "Stephen and I are in a verycompromising situation with nothing but your belief between us and agreat deal of unpleasantness. We appreciate your attitude of mind morethan we can express. The only other explanation I can offer, and in theface of the difficulties it would involve it hardly seems a possibleone, is that while the coat was hanging in the lobby--"

  There was a sound outside and a sharp knock at the door, and an instantlater Mr. Donovan entered, his face wreathed in smiles. Following himwas the woman who had checked the coats, a much frightened bell boy, anda blue-uniformed policeman.

  The woman was sobbing.

  "Indeed, sir," she wailed, approaching Steve, "I never meant to keep thepocketbook and make trouble for you. I have a boy of my own at home, alad about your age. What is to become of him now? Oh, dear; oh, dear!"

  She burst into passionate weeping.

  "Now see here, my good woman, stop all this crying and talk quietly,"cut in the policeman in a curt but not unkind tone. "If you will tell usthe truth, perhaps we can help you. In any case we must know exactlywhat happened."

  "She must understand that anything she says can be used against her,"cautioned the detective, who in spite of his eagerness to solve themystery was determined the culprit should have fair play.

  "Indeed, I don't care, sir," protested the maid, wiping her eyes on herridiculously small apron. "I can't be any worse off than I am now with apoliceman taking me to the lock-up. I'll tell the gentlemen the truth, Iswear I will."

  With a courtesy he habitually displayed toward all womanhood Mr. Tolmandrew forward a chair and she sank gratefully into it.

  "I spied the bill book in the young gentleman's pocket the minute hetook off his coat," began she in a low tone. "It was bright colored andas it was sticking part way out I couldn't help seeing it. Of course, Iexpected he would take it with him into the dining room but when hedidn't I came to the conclusion that there couldn't be anything of valuein it. But by and by I had more coats to hang up and one of them, a big,heavy, fur-lined one, brushed against the young gentleman's ulster andknocked the pocketbook out on to the floor so that it lay open under thecoat rack. It was then that I saw it was stuffed full of papers andthings."

  She stopped a moment to catch her breath and then went resolutely on:

  "It seemed to me it was no sort of a plan to put the wallet back intothe lad's pocket, for when I wasn't looking somebody might take it. So Idecided I much better keep it safe for him, and maybe," she owned with ablush, "get a good-sized tip for doing it. I have a big pocket in myunderskirt where I carry my own money and I slipped it right in there,meaning to hand it to the young man when he came out from lunch."

  The corners of her mouth twitched and her tears began to fall again, butshe wiped them away with her apron and proceeded steadily:

  "But nothing turned out as I planned, for no sooner was the bill book inmy pocket than I was called away to help about the wraps at a lady'sluncheon upstairs. There were so many people about the hall that I hadno chance to restore the bill book to the lad's pocket without some oneseeing me and thinking, perhaps, that I was stealing. There was no helpbut to take it with me, trusting they would not keep me long upstairsand that I would get back to my regular place before the young gentlemancame out of the dining room. It was when I got out of the elevator inthe upper hall that I spied Dick, one of the bell boys I knew, and Icalled to him; and after explaining that I couldn't get away to godownstairs I asked him to take the wallet and put it in 47's pocket.He's a good-natured little chap and always ready to do an errand, andmore than that he's an honest boy. So I felt quite safe and went towork, supposing the young man had his pocketbook long ago."

  All eyes were turned upon the unlucky bell boy who hung his head andcolored uncomfortably.

  "So it was the boy who took the contents of the pocketbook!" was Mr.Ackerman's comment.

  "Speak up, boy," commanded the officer. "The gentleman is talking toyou." The lad looked up with a frightened start.

  He might have been sixteen years of age but he did not look it for hewas pale and underfed; nor was there anything in his bearing to indicatethe poise and maturity of one who was master of the occasion. On thecontrary, he was simply a boy who was frankly distressed and frightened,and as unfeignedly helpless in the present emergency as if he had beensix years old and been caught stealing jam from the pantry shelf. It didnot take more than a glance to convince the onlookers that he was nohardened criminal. If he had done wrong it had been the result either ofimpulse or misch
ief, and the dire result of his deed was a thing he hadbeen too unsophisticated to foresee. The plight in which he now foundhimself plainly amazed and overwhelmed him and he looked pleadingly athis captors.

  "Well, my boy, what have you to say for yourself?" repeated Mr. Ackermanmore gently.

  "Nothin'."

  "Nothing?"

  "No, sir."

  "You did take the things out of the pocketbook then."

  "Yes, sir."

  "But you are not a boy accustomed to taking what does not belong toyou."

  The culprit shot a glance of gratitude toward the speaker but made noreply.

  "How did you happen to do it this time?" persisted Mr. Ackerman kindly."Come, tell me all about it."

  Perhaps it was the ring of sympathy in the elder man's voice that wonthe boy's heart. Whatever the charm, it conquered; and he met the eyesthat scanned his countenance with a timid smile.

  "I wanted to see what was in the pocketbook," said he with naivehonesty, "and so I took the things out to look at them. I wasn't goin'to keep 'em. I dodged into one of the little alcoves in the hall and hadjust pulled the papers out when I heard somebody comin'. So I crammedthe whole wad of stuff into my pocket, waiting for a time when I couldlook it over and put it back. But I got held up just like Mrs. Nolandid," he pointed toward the woman in the chair. "Some man was sick andthe clerk sent me to get a bottle of medicine the minute I gotdownstairs, and all I had the chance to do was to stick the empty walletin 47's pocket and beat it for the drug store. I thought there would beletters or something among the papers that would give the name of theman they belonged to, and I'd take 'em to the clerk at the desk an' sayI found 'em. But no sooner had I got the medicine up to room Number 792than the policeman nabbed me with the papers an' things on me. That'sall there is to it, sir."

  "Have you the things now?" the officer put in quickly.

  "Sure! Didn't I just tell you I hadn't had the chance to hand 'em overto the clerk," the boy reiterated, pulling a wad of crumpled LibertyBonds and documents out of his pocket, and tumbling them upon the table.

  There was no doubting the lad's story. Truth spoke in every line of hisface and in the frankness with which he met the scrutiny of those wholistened to him. If one had questioned his uprightness the facts boreout his statements, for once out of the hotel on an errand he mighteasily have taken to his heels and never returned; or he might havedisposed of his booty during his absence. But he had done neither. Hehad gone to the drug store and come back with every intention of makingrestitution for the result of his curiosity. That was perfectly evident.

  "I'm sorry, sir," he declared, when no one spoke. "I know I shouldn'thave looked in the pocketbook or touched the papers; but I meant noharm--honest I didn't."

  "I'll be bound of that, sir," the woman interrupted. "Dick was ever alad to be trusted. The hotel people will tell you that. He's been hereseveral years and there's never been a thing against him. I blame myselffor getting him into this trouble, for without meaning to I puttemptation in his way. I know that what he's told you is the livingtruth, and I pray you'll try and believe him and let him go. If harm wasto come to the lad through me I'd never forgive myself. Let the boy gofree and put the blame on me, if you must arrest somebody. I'm older andit doesn't so much matter; but it's terrible to start a child of hisage in as a criminal. The name will follow him through life. He'llnever get rid of it and have a fair chance. Punish me but let the littlechap go, I beg of you," pleaded the woman, with streaming eyes.

  Mr. Ackerman cleared his throat; it was plain that the simple eloquenceof the request had touched him deeply.

  "With your permission, officer, I am going to withdraw my charge," hesaid, with a tremor in his voice. "You are to let both these persons goscot free. You, my good woman, meant well but acted foolishly. As forthe boy, Donovan, I will assume the responsibility for him."

  "You are willing to stand behind him, Mr. Ackerman?"

  "I am."

  The detective turned toward the boy who had risen and was fumblingawkwardly with the brass buttons adorning his uniform.

  "You hear, Dick Martin, what the gentleman says," began he impressively."He believes you are a good boy, and as you have handed back thevaluables in your possession he is going to take a chance on you and letyou go."

  A wave of crimson swept over the face of the boy and for the first timethe tension in the youthful countenance relaxed.

  "But Mr. Ackerman," Donovan continued, "expects you are going to behaveyourself in future and never do such a thing again."

  "I am going to see your father, Dick," broke in Mr. Ackerman's kindlyvoice, "and talk with him and--"

  "I haven't any father," declared the lad.

  "Your mother then."

  "I've no mother either."

  "Who do you live with?"

  "Mr. Aronson."

  "Is he a relative?"

  "Oh, no, sir! I haven't any relatives. There's nobody belongin' to me.Mr. Aronson is the tailor downstairs where I sleep. When I ain't workinghere I do errands for him and he lets me have a cot in a room with fourother boys--newsboys, bell hops and the like. We pay two dollars betweenus for the room and sometimes when I carry a lot of boxes round for Mr.Aronson he gives me my breakfast."

  "Nobody else is responsible for you?"

  "Nop!" returned the boy with emphasis. "No, sir, I mean."

  "I'll attend to all this, Donovan," murmured Mr. Ackerman in anundertone to the detective. "The lad shall not remain there. I don'tknow yet just what I'll do with him but I will plan something." Thenaddressing the lad, he continued, "In the meantime, Dick, you are toconsider me your relative. Later I shall hunt you up and we will getbetter acquainted. Be a good boy, for I expect some day you are going tomake me very proud of you."

  "What!"

  In sheer astonishment the boy regarded his benefactor.

  There was something very appealing in the little sharp-featured facewhich had now lost much of its pallor and softened into friendliness.

  "Why shouldn't you make me proud of you?" inquired Mr. Ackerman softly."You can, you know, if you do what is right."

  "I'm goin' to try to, sir," burst out Dick with earnestness. "I'm goin'to try to with all my might."

  "That is all any one can ask of you, sonny," replied the steamboatmagnate. "Come, shake hands. Remember, I believe in you, and shall trustyou to live up to your word. The officer is going to let you go and noneof us is going to mention what has happened. I will fix up everythingfor you and Mrs. Nolan so you can both go back to your work withoutinterference. Now bid Mr. Tolman and his son good-by and run along.Before I leave the hotel I will look you up and you can give me Mr.Aronson's address."

  Master Richard Martin needed no second bidding. Eager to be gone heawkwardly put out his hand, first to Mr. Tolman and then to Steve; andafterward, with a shy smile to the detective and the policeman and aboyish duck of his head, he shot into the hall and they heard himrushing pell-mell down the corridor. Mrs. Nolan, however, was moreself-controlled. She curtsied elaborately to each of the men and calleddown upon their heads every blessing that the sky could rain, and it wasonly after her breath had become quite exhausted that she consented toretire from the room and in company with the policeman and the detectiveproceeded downstairs in the elevator.

  "Well, Tolman," began the New Yorker when they were at last alone, "yousee my heart was my best pilot. I put faith in it and it led me aright.Unfortunately it is now too late for the matinee but may I not renew myinvitation and ask you and your son to dine with me this evening andconclude our eventful day by going to the theater afterward?"

  Mr. Tolman hesitated.

  "Don't refuse," pleaded the steamboat man. "Our acquaintance has, Iconfess, had an unfortunate beginning; but a bad beginning makes for agood ending, they say, and I feel sure the old adage will prove true inour case. Accept my invitation and let us try it out."

  "You are very kind," murmured Mr. Tolman vaguely, "but I--"

  "Help me to persua
de your father to be generous, Stephen," interposedMr. Ackerman. "We must not let a miserable affair like this break upwhat might, perhaps, have been a delightful friendship."

  "I don't need any further persuading, Ackerman," Mr. Tolman spokequickly. "I accept your invitation with great pleasure."

  "That's right!" cried Mr. Ackerman, with evident gratification."Suppose you come to my house at seven o'clock if that will beconvenient for you. We will have a pleasant evening together and forgetlost pocketbooks, detectives and policemen."

  Taking out a small card, he hurriedly scrawled an address upon it.

  "I keep a sort of bachelor's hall out on Riverside Drive," explained he,with a shade of wistfulness. "My butler looks out for me and sees that Ido not starve to death. He and his son are really excellent housekeepersand make me very comfortable." He slipped into his overcoat. "At seven,then," he repeated. "Don't fail me for I should be much disappointed.Good-by!" and with a wave of his hand he departed, leaving Stephen andhis father to themselves.