VIITHE REDEMPTION OF YOUNG BILLINGTON RAND
"Jenkins," said Raffles Holmes, lighting his pipe and throwing himself downupon my couch, "don't you sometimes pine for those good old days of JackSheppard and Dick Turpin? Hang it all--I'm getting blisteringly tired of themodern refinements in crime, and yearn for the period when the highwaymanmet you on the road and made you stand and deliver at the point of thepistol."
"Indeed I don't!" I ejaculated. "I'm not chicken-livered, Raffles, but I'mmighty glad my lines are cast in less strenuous scenes. When a book-agentcomes in here, for instance, and holds me up for nineteen dollars a volumefor a set of Kipling in words of one syllable, illustrated by his aunt, andevery volume autographed by his uncle's step-sister, it's a game of witsbetween us as to whether I shall buy or not buy, and if he gets away with mysignature to a contract it is because he has legitimately outwitted me. Butyour ancient Turpin overcame you by brute force; you hadn't a run for yourmoney from the moment he got his eye on you, and no percentage of the swagwas ever returned to you as in the case of the Double-Cross Edition ofKipling, in which you get at least fifty cents worth of paper and print forevery nineteen dollars you give up."
"That is merely the commercial way of looking at it," protested Holmes. "Youreckon up the situation on a basis of mere dollars, strike a balance andcharge the thing up to profit and loss. But the romance of it all, theelement of the picturesque, the delicious, tingling sense of adventure whichwas inseparable from a road experience with a commanding personality likeTurpin--these things are all lost in your prosaic book-agent methods of ourday. No man writing his memoirs for the enlightenment of posterity wouldever dream of setting down upon paper the story of how a book-agent robbedhim of two-hundred dollars, but the chap who has been held up in the darkrecesses of a forest on a foggy night by a Jack Sheppard would always findbreathless and eager listeners to or readers of the tale he had to tell,even if he lost only a nickel by the transaction."
"Well, old man," said I, "I'm satisfied with the prosaic methods of the gascompanies, the book-agents, and the riggers of the stock-market. Give meWall Street and you take Dick Turpin and all his crew. But what has set yourmind to working on the Dick Turpin end of it anyhow? Thinking of going infor that sort of thing yourself?"
"M-m-m yes," replied Holmes, hesitatingly. "I am. Not that I pine to becomeone of the Broom Squires myself, but because I--well, I may be forced intoit."
"Take my advice, Raffles," I interrupted, earnestly. "Let fire-arms andhighways alone. There's too much of battle, murder, and sudden death inloaded guns, and surplus of publicity in street work."
"You mustn't take me so literally, Jenkins," he retorted. "I'm not going tofollow precisely in the steps of Turpin, but a hold-up on the public highwayseems to be the only way out of a problem which I have been employed tosettle. Do you know young Billington Rand?"
"By sight," said I, with a laugh. "And by reputation. You're not going tohold him up, are you?" I added, contemptuously.
"Why not?" said Holmes.
"It's like breaking into an empty house in search of antique furniture," Iexplained. "Common report has it that Billington Rand has already beenskinned by about every skinning agency in town. He's posted at all hisclubs. Every gambler in town, professional as well as social, has hisI.O.U.'s for bridge, poker, and faro debts. Everybody knows it except thosefatuous people down in the Kenesaw National Bank, where he's employed, andthe Fidelity Company that's on his bond. He wouldn't last five minutes ineither place if his uncle wasn't a director in both concerns."
"I see that you have a pretty fair idea of Billington Rand's financialcondition," said Holmes.
"It's rather common talk in the clubs, so why shouldn't I?" I put in."Holding him up would be at most an act of petit larceny, if you measure acrime by what you get out of it. It's a great shame, though, for at heartRand is one of the best fellows in the world. He's a man who has all themodern false notions of what a fellow ought to do to keep up what he callshis end. He plays cards and sustains ruinous losses because he thinks hewon't be considered a good-fellow if he stays out. He plays bridge withladies and pays up when he loses and doesn't collect when he wins. Win orlose he's doomed to be on the wrong side of the market just because of thosevery qualities that make him a lovable person--kind to everybody buthimself, and weak as dish-water. For Heaven's sake, Raffles, if the poordevil _has_ anything left don't take it from him."
"Your sympathy for Rand does you credit," said Holmes. "But I have just asmuch of that as you have, and that is why, at half-past five o'clock to-morrow afternoon, I'm going to hold him up, in the public eye, andincontinently rob him of $25,000."
"Twenty-five thousand dollars? Billington Rand?" I gasped.
"Twenty-five thousand dollars. Billington Rand," repeated Holmes, firmly."If you don't believe it come along and see. He doesn't know you, does he?"
"Not from Adam," said I.
"Very good--then you'll be safe as a church. Meet me in the Fifth AvenueHotel corridor at five to-morrow afternoon and I'll show you as pretty ahold-up as you ever dreamed of," said Holmes.
"But--I can't take part in a criminal proceeding like that, Holmes," Iprotested.
"You won't have to--even if it were a criminal proceeding, which it is not,"he returned. "Nobody outside of you and me will know anything about it butRand himself, and the chances that he will peach are less than a millionthpart of a half per cent. Anyhow, all you need be is a witness."
There was a long and uneasy silence. I was far from liking the job, butafter all, so far, Holmes had not led me into any difficulties of a seriousnature, and, knowing him as I had come to know him, I had a hearty beliefthat any wrong he did was temporary and was sure to be rectified in the longrun.
"I've a decent motive in all this, Jenkins," he resumed in a few moments."Don't forget that. This hold-up is going to result in a reformation thatwill be for the good of everybody, so don't have any scruples on thatscore."
"All right, Raffles," said I. "You've always played straight with me, sofar, and I don't doubt your word--only I hate the highway end of it."
"Tutt, Jenkins!" he ejaculated, with a laugh and giving me a whack on theshoulders that nearly toppled me over into the fire-place. "Don't be arabbit. The thing will be as easy as cutting calve's-foot jelly with arazor."
Thus did I permit myself to be persuaded, and the next afternoon at five,Holmes and I met in the corridor of the Fifth Avenue Hotel.
"Come on," he said, after the first salutations were over. "Rand will be atthe Thirty-third Street subway at 5.15, and it is important that we shouldcatch him before he gets to Fifth Avenue."
"I'm glad it's to be on a side street," I remarked, my heart beating rapidlywith excitement over the work in hand, for the more I thought of the venturethe less I liked it.
"Oh, I don't know that it will be," said Holmes, carelessly. "I may pull itoff in the corridors of the Powhatan."
The pumps in my heart reversed their action and for a moment I feared Ishould drop with dismay.
"In the Powhatan--" I began.
"Shut up, Jenkins!" said Holmes, imperatively. "This is no time forprotests. We're in it now and there's no drawing back."
Ten minutes later we stood at the intersection of Thirty-third Street andFifth Avenue. Holmes's eyes flashed and his whole nervous system quivered aswith the joy of the chase.
"Keep your mouth shut, Jenkins, and you'll see a pretty sight," hewhispered, "for here comes our man."
Sure enough, there was Billington Rand on the other side of the street,walking along nervously and clutching an oblong package, wrapped in brownpaper, firmly in his right hand.
"Now for it," said Holmes, and we crossed the street, scarcely reaching theopposite curb before Rand was upon us. Rand eyed us closely and shied off toone side as Holmes blocked his progress.
"I'll trouble you for that package, Mr. Rand," said Holmes, quietly.
The man's face went white and he caught his breath.
; "Who the devil are you?" he demanded, angrily.
"That has nothing to do with the case." retorted Holmes. "I want thatpackage or--"
"Get out of my way!" cried Rand, with a justifiable show of resentment. "OrI'll call an officer."
"Will you?" said Holmes, quietly. "Will you call an officer and so makeknown to the authorities that you are in possession of twenty-five thousanddollars worth of securities that belong to other people, which are supposedat this moment to be safely locked up in the vaults of the Kenesaw NationalBack along with other collateral?"
Rand staggered back against the newel-post of a brown-stone stoop, and stoodthere gazing wildly into Holmes's face.
"Of course, if you prefer having the facts made known in that way," Holmescontinued, coolly, "you have the option. I am not going to use physicalforce to persuade you to hand the package over to me, but you are a greaterfool than I take you for if you choose that alternative. To use anexpressive modern phrase, Mr. Billington Rand, you will be caught with thegoods on, and unless you have a far better explanation of how thosesecurities happen in your possession at this moment than I think you have,there is no power on earth can keep you from landing in state-prison."
The unfortunate victim of Holmes's adventure fairly gasped in his combinedrage and fright. Twice he attempted to speak, but only inarticulate soundsissued from his lips.
"You are, of course, very much disturbed at the moment," Holmes went on,"and I am really very sorry if anything I have done has disarranged anyhonorable enterprise in which you have embarked. I don't wish to hurry youinto a snap decision, which you may repent later, only either the police orI must have that package within an hour. It is for you to say which of us isto get it. Suppose we run over to the Powhatan and discuss the matter calmlyover a bottle of Glengarry? Possibly I can convince you that it will be foryour own good to do precisely as I tell you and very much to yourdisadvantage to do otherwise."
Rand, stupefied by this sudden intrusion upon his secret by an utterstranger, lost what little fight there was left in him, and at least seemedto assent to Holmes's proposition. The latter linked arms with him, and in afew minutes we walked into the famous hostelry just as if we were threefriends, bent only upon having a pleasant chat over a cafe table.
"What'll you have, Mr. Rand?" asked Holmes, suavely. "I'm elected for theGlengarry special, with a little carbonic on the side."
"Same," said Rand, laconically.
"Sandwich with it?" asked Holmes. "You'd better."
"Oh, I can't eat anything," began Rand. "I--"
"Bring us some sandwiches, waiter," said Holmes. "Two Glengarry special,a syphon of carbonic, and--Jenkins, what's yours?"
The calmness and the cheek of the fellow!
"I'm not in on this at all," I retorted, angered by Holmes's use of my name."And I want Mr. Rand to understand--"
"Oh, tutt!" ejaculated Holmes. "_He_ knows that. Mr. Rand, my friend Jenkinshas no connection with this enterprise of mine, and he's done his level bestto dissuade me from holding you up so summarily. All he's along for is towrite the thing up for--"
"The newspapers?" cried Rand, now thoroughly frightened.
"No," laughed Holmes. "Nothing so useful--the magazines."
Holmes winked at me as he spoke, and I gathered that there was method in hisapparent madness.
"That's one of the points you want to consider, though, Mr. Rand," he said,leaning upon the table with his elbows. "Think of the newspapers to-morrowmorning if you call the police rather than hand that package over to me.It'll be a big sensation for Wall Street and upper Fifth Avenue, to saynothing of what the yellows will make of the story for the rest of hoipolloi. The newsboys will be yelling extras all over town, printed in great,red letters, 'A Club-man Held-Up in Broad Daylight, For $25,000 InSecurities That Didn't Belong to Him. Billington Rand Has Something ToExplain. Where Did He Get It?--"
"For Heavens sake, man! don't!" pleased the unfortunate Billington. "God! Inever thought of that."
"Of course you didn't think of that," said Holmes. "That's why I'm tellingyou about it now. You don't dispute my facts, do you?"
"No, I--" Rand began.
"Of course not," said Holmes. "You might as well dispute the existence ofthe Flat-iron Building. If you don't want to-morrow's papers to be full ofthis thing you'll hand that package over to me."
"But," protested Rand, "I'm only taking them up to--to a--er--to a broker."Here he gathered himself together and spoke with greater assurance. "I amdelivering them, sir, to a broker, on behalf of one of our depositors who--"
"Who has been speculating with what little money he had left, has lost hismargins, and is now forced into an act of crime to protect his speculation,"said Holmes. "The broker is the notorious William C. Gallagher, who runs anup-town bucket-shop for speculative ladies to lose their pin-money andbridge winnings in, and your depositor's name is Billington Rand, Esq.--otherwise yourself."
"How do you know all this?" gasped Rand.
"Oh--maybe I read it on the ticker," laughed Holmes. "Or, what is morelikely, possibly I overheard Gallagher recommending you to dip into thebank's collateral to save your investment, at Green's chop-house lastnight."
"You were at Green's chop-house last night?" cried Rand.
"In the booth adjoining your own, and I heard every word you said," saidHolmes.
"Well, I don't see why I should give the stuff to you anyhow," growled Rand.
"Chiefly because I happen to be long on information which would be ofinterest, not only to the police, but to the president and board ofdirectors of the Kenesaw National Back, Mr. Rand," said Holmes. "It will bea simple matter for me to telephone Mr. Horace Huntington, the president ofyour institution, and put him wise to this transaction of yours, and that isthe second thing I shall do immediately you have decided not to part withthat package."
"The second thing?" Rand whimpered. "What will you do first?"
"Communicate with the first policeman we meet when we leave here," saidHolmes. "But take your time, Mr. Rand--take your time. Don't let me hurryyou into a decision. Try a little of this Glengarry and we'll drink heartyto a sensible conclusion."
"I--I'll put them back in the vaults to-morrow," pleaded Rand.
"Can't trust you, my boy," said Holmes. "Not with a persuasive crook likeold Bucket-ship Gallagher on your trail. They're safer with me."
Rand's answer was a muttered oath as he tossed the package across the tableand started to leave us.
"One word more, Mr. Rand," said Holmes, detaining him. "Don't do anythingrash. There's a lot of good-fellowship between criminals, and I'll stand byyou all right. So far nobody knows you took these things, and even when theyturn up missing, if you go about your work as if nothing had happened, whileyou may be suspected, nobody can _prove_ that you got the goods."
Rand's face brightened at this remark.
"By Jove!--that's true enough," said he. "Excepting Gallagher," he added,his face falling.
"Pah for Gallagher!" cried Holmes, snapping his fingers contemptuously. "Ifhe as much as peeped we could put him in jail, and if he sells you out youtell him for me that I'll land him in Sing Sing for a term of years. He ledyou into this--"
"He certainly did," moaned Rand.
"And he's got to get you out," said Holmes. "Now, good-bye, old man. Theworst that can happen to you is a few judgments instead of penal servitudefor eight or ten years, unless you are foolish enough to try another turn ofthis sort, and then you may not happen on a good-natured highwayman likemyself to get you out of your troubles. By-the-way, what is the combinationof the big safe in the outer office of the Kenesaw National?"
"One-eight-nine-seven," said Rand.
"Thanks," said Holmes, jotting it down coolly in his memorandum-book."That's a good thing to know."