"Have you ever visited the suburbs of Boston?" asked Melville.
"No," answered Herbert. "I know very little of the city, and nothing ofthe towns near it."
"Then, as we have time to spare, we will board the next horse car andride out to Roxbury."
"I should like it very much, Mr. Melville," said Herbert, in a toneof satisfaction. I may remark that Roxbury was at that time a separatemunicipality, and had not been annexed to Boston.
They did not have to wait long for a car. An open car, of the kind incommon use during the pleasant season, drew near, and they secured seatsin it. After leaving Dover Street, Washington Street, still then narrow,broadens into a wide avenue, and is called the Neck. It was gay withvehicles of all sorts, and Herbert found much to attract his attention.
"The doctor tells me I ought to be a good deal in the open air," saidMelville, "and I thought I would act at once upon his suggestion. It ismuch pleasanter than taking medicine."
"I should think so," answered Herbert, emphatically.
Arrived at the end of the route, Melville and Herbert remained on thecar, and returned at once to the city. When they reached the crowdedpart of Washington Street a surprise awaited Herbert.
From a small jewelry store they saw a man come out, and walk rapidlyaway.
"Mr. Melville," said Herbert, in excitement, "do you see that man?"
"Yes. What of him?"
"It is the man who tried to rob me on Bunker Hill Monument."
He had hardly uttered these words when another man darted from the shop,bareheaded, and pursued Herbert's morning acquaintance, crying, "Stop,thief!"
The thief took to his heels, but a policeman was at hand, and seized himby the collar.
"What has this man been doing?" he asked, as the jeweler's clerk cameup, panting.
"He has stolen a diamond ring from the counter," answered the clerk. "Ithink he has a watch besides."
"It's a lie!" said the thief, boldly.
"Search him!" said the clerk, "and you'll find that I have made nomistake."
"Come with me to the station house, and prepare your complaint," saidthe policeman.
By this time a crowd had gathered, and the thief appealed to them.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I am a reputable citizen of St. Louis, come toBoston to buy goods, and I protest against this outrage. It is either amistake or a conspiracy, I don't know which."
The thief was well dressed, and some of the bystanders were disposed toput confidence in him. He had not seen Herbert and George Melville, whohad left the car and joined the throng, or he might not have spoken soconfidently.
"He doesn't look like a thief," said one of the bystanders, abenevolent-looking old gentleman.
"I should say not," said the thief, more boldly. "It's a pretty stateof things if a respectable merchant can't enter a store here in Bostonwithout being insulted and charged with theft. If I only had some ofmy friends or acquaintances here, they would tell you that it is simplyridiculous to make such a charge against me."
"You can explain this at the station house," said the policeman. "It ismy duty to take you there."
"Is there no one who knows the gentleman?" said the philanthropistbefore referred to. "Is there no one to speak up for him?"
Herbert pressed forward, and said, quietly:
"I know something of him; I passed the morning in his company."
The thief turned quickly, but he didn't seem gratified to see Herbert.
"The boy is mistaken," he said, hurriedly; "I never saw him before."
"But I have seen you, sir," retorted our hero. "You saw me draw somemoney from a bank in State Street, scraped acquaintance with me, andtried to rob me of it on Bunker Hill."
"It's a lie!" said the prisoner, hoarsely.
"Do you wish to make a charge to that effect?" asked the policeman.
"No, sir; I only mentioned what I knew of him to support the charge ofthis gentleman," indicating the jeweler's clerk.
The old gentleman appeared to lose his interest in the prisoner afterHerbert's statement, and he was escorted without further delay to thestation house, where a gold watch and the diamond ring were both foundon his person. It is scarcely needful to add that he was tried andsentenced to a term of imprisonment in the very city--Charlestown--wherehe had attempted to rob Herbert.
"It is not always that retribution so quickly overtakes the wrongdoer,"said Melville. "St. Louis will hardly be proud of the man who claims hercitizenship."
"Dishonesty doesn't seem to pay in his case," said Herbert,thoughtfully.
"It never pays in any case, Herbert," said George Melville,emphatically. "Even if a man could steal enough to live upon, and weresure not to be found out, he would not enjoy his ill-gotten gain, as anhonest man enjoys the money he works hard for. But when we add the riskof detection and the severe penalty of imprisonment, it seems a fatalmistake for any man to overstep the bounds of honesty and enroll himselfas a criminal."
"I agree with you, Mr. Melville," said Herbert, thoughtfully. "I don'tthink I shall ever be tempted, but if I am, I will think of this man andhis quick detection."
When they reached the depot, a little before four o'clock, GeorgeMelville sent Herbert to the ticket office to purchase tickets, while heremained in the waiting room.
"I might as well accustom you to the duties that are likely to devolveupon you," he said, with a smile.
Herbert had purchased the tickets and was turning away, when to hissurprise he saw Ebenezer Graham enter the depot, laboring evidentlyunder considerable excitement. He did not see Herbert, so occupiedwas he with thoughts of an unpleasant nature, till the boy greeted himrespectfully.
"Herbert Carr!" he said; "when did you come into Boston?"
"This morning, sir."
"Have you seen anything of my son, Eben, here?" gasped Mr. Graham.
"Yes, sir; he was on the same train, but I did not see him to speak tohim till after I reached the city."
"Do you know what he has been doing here?" asked Ebenezer, his facehaggard with anxiety.
"I only saw him for five minutes," answered Herbert, reluctant to tellthe father what he knew would confirm any suspicion he might entertain.
"Where did you see him?" demanded Ebenezer, quickly.
"At a railroad ticket office not far from the Old South Church."
"Do you know if he bought any ticket?" asked Ebenezer, anxiously.
"Yes," answered Herbert. "I overheard him purchasing a ticket toChicago."
Ebenezer groaned, and his face seemed more and more wizened and puckeredup.
"It is as I thought!" he exclaimed, bitterly. "My own son has robbed meand fled like a thief, as he is."
Herbert was shocked, but not surprised. He didn't like to askparticulars, but Ebenezer volunteered them.
"This morning," he said, "I foolishly gave Eben a hundred dollars, andsent him to Boston to pay for a bill of goods which I recently bought ofa wholesale house on Milk Street. If I had only known you were going in,I would have sent it by you."
Herbert felt gratified at this manifestation of confidence, especiallyas he had so recently been charged with robbing the post office, but didnot interrupt Mr. Graham, who continued:
"As soon as Eben was fairly gone, I began to feel sorry I sent him, forhe got into extravagant ways when he was in Boston before, and he hadbeen teasing me to give him money enough to go out West with. Aboutnoon I discovered that he had taken fifty dollars more than the amountI intrusted to him, and then I couldn't rest till I was on my way toBoston to find out the worst. I went to the house on Milk Street andfound they had seen nothing of Eben. Then I knew what had happened. Thegraceless boy has robbed his father of a hundred and fifty dollars, andis probably on his way West by this time."
"He was to start by the three o'clock train, I think," said Herbert, andgave his reasons for thinking so.
Ebenezer seemed so utterly cast down by this confirmation of his worstsuspicions, that Herbert called Mr. Melville, think
ing he might be ableto say something to comfort him.
CHAPTER XIX. EBENEZER GRAHAM'S GRIEF.
Do and Dare — a Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune Page 18