by Morgan Scott
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE DARKEST HOUR.
The Oakdale lockup was beneath the Town Hall, and into that cage forculprits Stone was thrust. Curious and unfriendly eyes had seen himbrought back into the village. As the post office was passed, one of agroup of men lounging on the steps called out: “I see you got thecritter, Bill.”
“Yep,” answered the deputy sheriff, with a grin of triumph; “we ketchedthe rascal all right, Eben.”
The afternoon session had begun at the academy, and therefore Ben’splight was not witnessed by any of the scholars, for which he wasdoubly thankful. When they were inside the lockup Pickle removed thehandcuffs from the boy’s wrists.
“There,” he said, “I don’t guess you’ll break out of here. There’s achair and a bunk, and you better make yo’rself as comf’table as ye can.Hubbard will have charge of ye now till you’re brought to trial.” Thedoor closed heavily behind the departing officer, the bolt gratingharshly in the lock.
On the journey back to Oakdale Ben had tried in vain to learn theparticulars of the crime with which he was charged. While avoiding orrefusing to answer his questions, the two men had craftily sought tolead him into compromising statements; failing in which, theydisappointedly told each other that his attempt at “slickness” would dohim no good.
The boy sat on the heavy, broken-backed chair, resting his elbows onhis knees and bowing his face in his hands. There he sat motionless fora long time, trying to divine by what baleful freak of circumstances hehad been brought to this wretched plight; but, without knowledge of thefacts to work upon, he found himself floundering helplessly and blindlyin a mire of uncertainty.
He was aroused by voices outside the door, above which an iron-barredwindow admitted light and air.
“I say it’s just inhuman to treat the poor boy in sech a fashion! Youain’t fed him, y’u say; y’u ain’t even found out if he’s hongry an’starvin’. I’ve brung him some vittles, an’ the least y’u can do is feedhim. I don’t b’lieve he ever stole nothin’, an’ I’ll never b’lieve ittill it’s proved ag’in’ him. He’s a good boy, an’ a kindhearted boy. Hewas good to my little Jimmy, an’ I’ll never forgit it as long’s theLord lets me live.”
Ben thrilled, for it was the voice of Mrs. Jones; and here was one, atleast, who still had faith in him.
“That’s all right, Mis’ Jones,” said Abel Hubbard. “Your sympatheticheart sartainly does you credit, but in this case it’s a dead surething you’re a-wastin’ your sympathy on an undeservin’ objec’. Why,there ain’t no doubt in the world but he’s the thief, for wasn’t thewatches and the rings and some of the money found hid under the strawtick of his bed right in your own house? That’s proof enough, Mis’Jones, and there ain’t no gittin’ round it.”
“I don’t b’lieve he put them things there, Abel Hubbard—no, siree! Idunno how they come to be there, but that boy never stole ’em.”
“He’s been up to things wuss’n that, and his father before him was ajailbird. Blood will tell, Mis’ Jones—blood will tell. I s’pose heorter have somethin’ to eat, but we’ve been so busy we ain’t got ’roundto feed him yet. I’ll give him the grub you’ve brung. Yes, I’ll give itto him now, Mis’ Jones; but you better stand back from the door, ’causehe’s a desperate critter, and there’s no tellin’ what he may try. He’llnever play no snigdums on me, though; he’ll find me ready if he tries’em.”
When the heavy bolt was shot back and the door opened cautiously by theconstable, Ben was seen standing at a distance, showing no dispositionto attempt anything desperate. The widow was there, bearing in herhands a large dish covered by a napkin, snowy white, though somewhatfrayed. Her broad, kindly face was softened with sympathy and sorrow.
“Oh, my poor boy!” she said. “I’ve brung y’u something to eat to keepy’u from starvin’, for these heathen ’round here don’t seem to have nothought about that. I’ve brung the best I had in the house, which,goodness knows, is poor enough—cold beans left over from Sunday, an’bread an’ butter an’ doughnuts an’ a piece of blueb’ry pie. I’ll fetchy’u a warm supper by and by, for I bought a piece of lamb to stewa-purpose, an’ Sadie is tendin’ it. You must be awful hongry, an’ Iknow cold beans won’t hurt your deejeshun, though they alwus sotmonstrous hard on Joel’s stummick. You jest keep up your pucker, Ben,an’ don’t lose courage; for you’ve got some friends left, an’ they’regoin’ to do everything they can for y’u. I wisht the constable wouldlet me in to see y’u, but he says no, an’ so I can’t come.”
Ben had advanced slowly toward the door, closely watched by thesuspicious eye of Abel Hubbard. He had fought back his emotions untilonce more he seemed to be the stolid, indifferent fellow who had won solittle sympathy when he first appeared in Oakdale. Nevertheless, therewas a catch in his voice as he took the dish and sought to express hisgratitude. The door closed upon him, and he was again alone.
He had eaten some of the beans and one of the doughnuts when Hubbardreopened the door on a crack and thrust in a pitcher of water, which heleft standing upon the floor.
The time passed with leaden feet. He had ceased trying to understand;he waited dumbly. Far away a bell clanged, sending a slight shudderthrough him; it was the academy bell, telling that mid-afternoonintermission was over. Doubtless his schoolmates knew all about it bythis time; they had heard of his arrest and imprisonment in the lockup,and they had told one another what they thought of it. Hayden wasrejoicing and his friends were satisfied, while probably still othershad said they knew all along it would come to something like this. Itwas the darkest hour of Ben Stone’s life.
He did not think wholly of himself, however; indeed, his thoughts dweltfar more upon his helpless blind brother, whom he had promised to standby and to protect, but from whom he had been ruthlessly and unfeelinglyseparated. His soul was heavy and faint with the weight laid upon it,when again there were voices at the door and again the lock gratedharshly.
Roger Eliot entered, followed by a smooth-faced, middle-aged man; andthe constable, stepping inside, relocked the door and stood grimly onguard.
Ben had risen. His eyes met those of Roger squarely, and in a momentthe latter rushed forward with his hand outstretched.
“Stone, old fellow,” said Eliot, “this is tough luck.”
Their hands met, and there was strength and reassurance in the gripRoger gave.
“I didn’t hear what had happened to you until intermission time,Stone,” said the football captain apologetically; “if I had, you’d seenme before this. My father sent me word. He has engaged Lawyer Marsh todefend you. This is Mr. Marsh, Ben.”
The lawyer likewise took the hand of the accused boy, looking earnestlyinto his face. “Mr. Eliot,” he said, “seems to think there must be somemistake. He is unwilling to believe you are guilty, my lad.”
Ben’s face, which had been quite pale, flushed deeply; for, of asudden, his heart sent the blood leaping through his body. So UrianEliot did not believe him a thief! Roger had faith in him and was readyto stand by him! After a moment he spoke with strange calmness:
“I am not guilty.”
“I knew it!” cried Roger. “I would have staked my life on it.”
“As your counsel,” said the lawyer, “I have come to talk the matterover with you, that I may prepare to defend you when the trial iscalled at ten o’clock to-morrow. I shall ask you some questions, andyou must answer them frankly, fully and truthfully.”
“You shall have a truthful answer to every question you ask, sir.”
“I suppose you know the circumstances which have led to your arrest?”
“I only know that I am charged with robbery. I have been told nothingmore.”
“Then you may not be aware that two lockers at the gymnasium werebroken open, that of Roger and of Bernard Hayden.”
“I know nothing about it, sir.”
“They were broken open and pilfered while football practice was inprogr
ess last night. Roger’s watch and some money belonging to him weretaken; Hayden likewise lost a watch, two rings and some money. Thesewatches, the rings and a part of the money were found after you haddisappeared, concealed beneath the straw tick of the bed in your room.That is the evidence against you, and to most people it must seemdecidedly convincing.”
“I never touched any of those stolen articles, sir. I did not hide themin my room. If I had stolen them why did I leave them there when I ranaway?”
“That’s it!” cried Roger. “The very question I asked.”
“But why did you run away?” interrogated the lawyer, watching Benintently.
Stone answered that question without hesitation. In doing so, he wentback to the cause of Jerry’s flight from the home of his dead uncle,explaining how the blind lad had been pursued even to Oakdale, and howwhile purchasing that pair of shoes Ben had learned that a man hadarrived in the town and made inquiries for the fugitive.
“They told me the man was at the hotel getting supper,” concluded Ben.“I knew he would have no trouble in finding Jerry after that, and so welost not a minute in getting away.”
“This clears up that point, which I could not understand,” smiled Rogerin great satisfaction. “I knew there must be some other explanationthan that Ben had fled to escape arrest. The man arrived at Mrs. Jones’house while Deputy Sheriff Pickle was searching Ben’s room. He wasintensely disappointed when he found he had delayed just long enough tobaffle himself.”
“Where is he now—where is he?” asked Stone eagerly.
“He left this morning, after doing a lot of telephoning. I think hefancied he had a clew to the course you had taken. I doubt if he hasyet learned of your arrest.”
“He will catch Jerry!” said Ben dejectedly.
“Which doubtless will be the best thing that could happen,” was thelawyer’s opinion. “We must bring the man and your brother back toOakdale. We’ll need them both at the trial to establish the motive foryour flight. It’s really unfortunate that the officers who arrested youdidn’t bring Jerry along also.”
“But we’ll find them both—we’ll find Jerry and the man,” declaredRoger. “The telephone will do it, and my father’s car will bring themto Oakdale in a hurry.”
“My boy,” urged the lawyer, “tell me your exact movements on leavingthe academy yesterday afternoon.”
“I went directly to my room, where I knew Jerry was waiting all alone.I hurried away from the academy without saying a word to anyone. We hada talk, Jerry and I, and I told him I had made up my mind at last toleave school and take him away to some place where I could find work;for what money I had was not enough to support us both while I finishedthe term at the academy. When we had talked it all over, I took somethings Roger had loaned me and left them in the gymnasium, after whichI crossed over to the field that I might let Roger know. From the fieldI came straight back into town and purchased a pair of shoes for Jerryat Mr. Doyle’s store. It was there I heard of the arrival in town of aman who had made inquiries about a blind boy and a little yellow dog. Iknew what that meant, and I ran back to Mrs. Jones’, where as soon aspossible I made up a bundle of things most needed, fearing every momentthat the man would appear. We slipped out of the house and got away onthe road to Barville. That’s all I can tell you, sir, and every word istrue.”
He had spoken in a convincing manner, and the lawyer nodded his headslowly. “A straightforward statement, my lad; but how that stolenproperty came to be concealed in your bed is a staggering question.”
“Someone must have placed those things there—some enemy of mine. I havea bitter enemy.”
“He means Bern Hayden,” said Eliot; “but Hayden could not have doneit—that’s out of the question. Nevertheless, Bern is determined to pushthis matter. I have refused to press it, for which Hayden has beenpleased to sneer at me.”
“Oh, he thinks he’s got me now!” cried Stone. “He’s glad, and he’llmake me suffer, if he can.”
“We’ll do our best to get this business straightened out and clearedup,” promised the lawyer; “and, in order that we may make all possiblehaste, I’ll have to telephone right away and try to locate the man whogave his name as Henry Bailey—the man who was trying to catch yourbrother. Keep up your courage, my boy, and we’ll talk this matter overagain when there’s more time to go into the minutest details. You havea loyal friend in Roger, and one in his father, who will stand behindyou and fight it out to a finish. If you’re innocent—and since hearingyour statement I myself believe you are—we’ll leave no stone unturnedto establish that fact.”
“That’s right, old fellow,” assured Roger, his face lighted by thatrare smile as he placed his hands on Stone’s shoulders. “A man is neverdown and out till he loses heart and gives up. I’ve seen you playfootball, and you’re a good fighter at that; be a good fighter at this,and you’ll win.”
Their hands met again, and once more Eliot’s firm, friendly gripimparted some of his own optimism and strength. They left Ben feelinggreatly heartened and encouraged.
“Roger is right,” he said after a time; “the fellow who knows he’sright and quits isn’t worthy to come out on top.”
As night was coming on Mrs. Jones brought a huge steaming bowl of lambstew, and with it more words of cheer. Ben ate the stew, every bit ofit. The window above his prison door he left open to admit air when hefinally lay down upon the hard bunk. Occasional sounds from the villagedrifted in upon him. Once he heard some of the boys calling to oneanother. He had uttered a prayer for Jerry, and the sleep that came tohim at last was full and peaceful, unbroken by dreams.
Nevertheless, he awoke suddenly, fancying that he was dreaming; for tohis ears floated the sound of a violin, on which someone was playingthe tune that had so moved him as he was beginning his flight fromOakdale, “Home, Sweet Home.” For a few moments he lay listening likeone in a trance. Then he leaped up, stumbled against his chair, seizedit, felt his way in the darkness to the door, placed the chair andmounted it, till, grasping the iron bars above, he could peer outthrough the grating.
A thin, pale moon was in the sky, and by its light he saw beneath hisdoor the little lad who was drawing that plaintive melody from the oldfiddle. At the feet of the player sat a small dog.
“Oh, Jerry,” cried Ben—“Jerry, Jerry!”
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