CHAPTER XIII.
DICK IN THE STATION-HOUSE.
Poor Dick! If Trinity Church spire had suddenly fallen to the ground, itcould scarcely have surprised and startled him more than his own arrestfor theft.
During the hard apprenticeship which he had served as a street boy, hehad not been without his share of faults and errors; but he had never,even under the severest pressure, taken what did not belong to him.
Of religious and moral instruction he had then received none; butsomething told him that it was mean to steal, and he was true to thisinstinctive feeling. Yet, if he had been arrested a year before, itwould have brought him less shame and humiliation than now. Now he wasbeginning to enjoy the feeling of respectability, which he had compassedby his own earnest efforts. He felt he was regarded with favor by thosewhose good opinion was worth having, and his heart swelled within him ashe thought that they might be led to believe him guilty. He had neverfelt so down-hearted as when he walked in company with the policeman tothe station-house, to be locked up for examination the next morning.
"You wasn't sharp enough this time, young fellow," said the policeman.
"Do you think I stole the pocket-book?" asked Dick, looking up in theofficer's face.
"Oh, no, of course not! You wouldn't do anything of that kind," said thepoliceman, ironically.
"No, I wouldn't," said Dick, emphatically. "I've been poor enough andhungry enough sometimes, but I never stole. It's mean."
"What is your name?" said the officer. "I think I have seen you before."
"I used to black boots. Then my name was Ragged Dick. I know you. Yourname is Jones."
"Ragged Dick! Yes, yes, I remember. You used to be pretty well out atelbows, if I remember rightly."
"My clothes used to be pretty well ventilated," said Dick, smilingfaintly. "That was what made me so healthy, I expect. But did you everknow me to steal?"
"No," said the officer, "I can't say I have."
"I lived about the streets for more then eight years," said Dick, "andthis is the first time I was ever arrested."
"What do you do now?"
"I'm in a store on Pearl Street."
"What wages do you get?"
"Ten dollars a week."
"Do you expect me to believe that story?"
"It's true."
"I don't believe there's a boy of your age in the city that gets suchwages. You can't earn that amount."
"I jumped into the water, and saved the life of Mr. Rockwell's littleboy. That's why he pays me so much."
"Where did you get that watch and chain? Are they gold?"
"Yes, Mrs. Rockwell gave them to me."
"It seems to me you're in luck."
"I wasn't very lucky to fall in with you," said Dick. "Don't you seewhat a fool I should be to begin to pick pockets now when I am so welloff?"
"That's true," said the officer, who began to be shaken in his previousconviction of Dick's guilt.
"If I'd been going into that business, I would have tried it when I waspoor and ragged. I should not have waited till now."
"If you didn't take the pocket-book, then how came it in your pocket?"
"I was looking in at a shop window, when I felt it thrust into mypocket. I suppose it was the thief who did it, to get out of the scrapehimself."
"That might be. At any rate, I've known of such cases. If so, you areunlucky, and I am sorry for you. I can't let you go, because appearancesare against you, but if there is anything I can do to help you I will."
"Thank you, Mr. Jones," said Dick, gratefully. "I did not want you tothink me guilty. Where is the man that lost the pocket-book?"
"Just behind us."
"I should like to speak to him a moment."
The red-faced man, who was a little behind, came up, and Dick asked,quietly, "What makes you think I took your pocket-book, sir?"
"Wasn't it found in your pocket, you young rascal?" said the other,irritably.
"Yes," said Dick.
"And isn't that enough?"
"Not if somebody else put it there," said Dick.
"That's a likely story."
"It's a true story."
"Can you identify this as the boy who robbed you, and whom you sawrunning?"
"No," said the red-faced man, rather unwillingly. "My eyesight is notvery good, but I've no doubt this is the young rascal."
"Well, that must be decided. You must appear to-morrow morning to preferyour complaint."
"Mind you don't let the rascal escape," said the other.
"I shall carry him to the station-house, where he will be safe."
"That's right, I'll make an example of him. He won't pick my pocketagain in a hurry."
"I hope the judge won't be so sure that I am guilty," said Dick. "If heis, it'll go hard with me."
"Why don't you call your employer to testify to your good character?"
"That's a good idea. Can I write a note to him, and to another friend?"
"Yes; but perhaps the mail wouldn't carry them in time."
"I will send a messenger. Can I do so?"
"When we get to the station-house I will see that you have a chance tosend. Here we are."
Escorted by the officer, and followed by his accuser, Dick entered.There was a railing at the upper end of the room, and behind it a deskat which sat a captain of the squad.
The officer made his report, which, though fair and impartial, still wassufficient to cause our hero's commitment for trial.
"What is your name?" questioned the captain.
Dick thought it best to be straightforward, and, though he winced at theidea of his name appearing in the daily papers, answered in a manlytone, "Richard Hunter."
"Of what nation?"
"American."
"Where were you born?"
"In this city."
"What is your age?"
"Sixteen years."
These answers were recorded, and, as Dick expressed a desire tocommunicate with his friends before trial, permission was given him towrite to them, and the trial was appointed for the next morning at theTombs. The red-faced man certified that his wallet contained ninedollars and sixty-two cents, which was found to be correct. He agreed tobe present the next morning to prefer his charge, and with such manifestpleasure that he was not retained, as it sometimes happens, to insurehis appearance.
"I will find a messenger to carry your notes," said the friendlyofficer.
"Thank you," said Dick. "I will take care that you are paid for yourtrouble."
"I require no pay except what I have to pay the messenger."
Dick was escorted to a cell for safe-keeping. He quickly dashed off aletter to Mr. Murdock, fearing that Mr. Rockwell might not be in thestore. It was as follows:--
"MR. MURDOCK,--What will you think when I tell you that I have been unlucky enough to be arrested on suspicion of picking a man's pocket? The real thief slipped the wallet into my pocket as I was looking into a shop window, and it was found on me. I couldn't prove my innocence, so here I am at the station-house. They will think strange at the store because I am absent. Will you tell Mr. Rockwell privately what has detained me; but don't tell Mr. Gilbert. He don't like me any too well, and would believe me guilty at once, or pretend he did. I am sure _you_ won't believe I would do such a thing, or Mr. Rockwell either. Will you come and see me to-night? I am to be tried to-morrow morning. I aint very proud of the hotel where I am stopping, but they didn't give me much choice in the matter.
"RICHARD HUNTER."
"_Station-House, Franklin Street._"
The other letter was to Fosdick; here it is:--
"DEAR FOSDICK,--I didn't much think when I left you this morning that I should be writing to you from the station-house before night. I'll tell you how it happened." [Here follows a detailed account, which is omitted, as the reader is already acquainted with all the circumstances.] "Of course they will wonder at
the boarding-house where I am. If Miss Peyton or Mr. Clifton inquires after me to-night, you can say that I am detained by business of importance. That's true enough. I wish it wasn't. As soon as dinner is over, I wish you'd come and see me. I don't know if you can, not being acquainted with the rules of this hotel. I shan't stop here again very soon, if I can help it. There's a woman in the next cell, who was arrested for fighting. She is swearing frightfully. It almost makes me sick to be in such a place. It's pretty hard to have this happen to me just when I was getting along so well. But I hope it'll all come out right. Your true friend,
"DICK.
"P.S.--I've given my watch and chain to the officer to keep for me. Gold watches aint fashionable here, and I didn't want them to think me putting on airs.
"_Station-House, Franklin Street._"
After Dick had written these letters he was left to himself. Hisreflections, as may readily be supposed, were not the most pleasant.What would they think at the boarding-house, if they should find whatkind of business it was that had detained him! Even if he was acquitted,some might suppose that he was really guilty. But there was a worsecontingency. He might be unable to prove his innocence, and might befound guilty. In that case he would be sent to the Island. Dickshuddered at the thought. Just when he began to feel himselfrespectable, it was certainly bad to meet with such hard luck. What,too, would Mr. Greyson and Ida think? He had been so constant at theSunday school that his absence would be sure to be noticed, and he knewthat his former mode of life would make his guilt more readily believedin the present instance.
"If Ida should think me a pick-pocket!" thought poor Dick, and thethought made him miserable enough. The fact was, that Ida, by hervivacity and lively manners, and her evident partiality for his society,had quite won upon Dick, who considered her by all odds the nicest girlhe had ever seen. I don't mean to say that Dick was in love,--at leastnot yet. Both he and Ida were too young for that; but he was certainlyquite an admirer of the young lady. Again, if he were convicted, hewould have to give up the party to which he had been invited, and hecould never hope to get another invitation.
All these reflections helped to increase Dick's unhappiness. I doubt ifhe had ever felt so unhappy in all his life. But it never once occurredto him that his arrest was brought about by the machinations of hisenemies. He hadn't chanced to see Micky Maguire, and had no suspicionthat it was he who dropped the wallet into his pocket. Still less did hesuspect that Gilbert's hostility had led him so far as to conspire withsuch a boy as Micky against him. It was lucky that he did not know this,or he would have felt still more unhappy.
But it is now time to turn to Micky Maguire and Mr. Gilbert, whose jointscheme had met with so much success.