TIM DOWNEY ARRESTED.
Two days later, just at dusk, some startling occurrences were to be
witnessed in the vicinity of Boyer’s Hotel in Springfield.
Since the day previous, a strangely dressed boy had occupied Daley’s
room. It was the scheming Tim Downey.
Tim had replaced his old clothes with new ones, and having an
opportunity to secure cheap the discarded suit of a lackey, he
presented a decidedly comical appearance in his attire, and fancied
that no one would recognize him in it.
He at once wrote a letter to Colonel Darringford at Millville as soon
as he reached the city.
It was a vaguely worded epistle, and hinted that the colonel would save
serious trouble for himself and his son by coming alone to a certain
room at Boyer’s Hotel that night.
At the hotel was a close spy on Tim, although he little suspected it.
Dean Mercer had acted wisely and cautiously, and had secured the very
next room to that occupied by Tim.
He had cut a small hole in the partition between the two rooms, and so
closely did he watch Tim and overhear his hopeful soliloquies, that he
knew that the latter expected Colonel Darringford that night.
He did not, however, know where Tim intended to meet him, and at dusk
Dean went to a doorway near the hotel entrance and lingered there,
determined, if Tim came out, to follow him wherever he went.
Dean had resolved on a definite plan of action now, in pursuance of
Marcus Ellison’s suggestions.
He resolved to learn the result of Tim’s interview with Colonel
Darringford, then he would hasten to the police and demand his arrest,
and if the colonel gave Tim a large sum of money as he expected, its
possession by Tim would go to prove Dean’s assertions.
Dean lingered in the doorway watching the hotel entrance, but Tim did
not come out.
“I guess if he expects the colonel it is at his room” decided Dean at
last. “Hello! there is the very man.”
Yes, Colonel Darringford came slowly down the street at that moment.
He was not alone. A companion, who seemed to be only walking his way,
was with him.
“It’s the town marshal at Millville,” murmured Dean somewhat
concernedly. “They shake hands, and Morton goes on, but the colonel
has entered the hotel. I must get to my room and see all that goes
on--stop, sir! What do you mean?”
“Well! well! it is Dean Mercer!”
Dean struggled in a strong grasp. He had crossed the road, forgetting
all about the town marshal.
The latter had seen him, stared at him, and now he held him firmly--a
prisoner.
Dean was too overcome to speak.
“Disguised yet, eh? But I know you. How lucky I chanced to walk this
way with the colonel from the steamer!” chuckled Morton. “Dean, you’ve
led us a troublesome chase. But I’ve got you now!”
“Mr. Morton!” gasped Dean.
“Well?”
“You mean to arrest me?”
“Ha! ha! I should say so!” cried the marshal exultantly.
“Please don’t!”
“Ho! ho!”
“That is, just now,” pleaded Dean desperately. “I won’t try to escape,
honest I won’t. I never burned the _Spray_, I never robbed Judge
Oglesby!”
“Oh, you didn’t? Well, you will come on to jail!”
“Do you want to learn the truth--do you want to recover the money that
was stolen?” asked Dean.
“Certainly.”
“Then come with me, only for a minute, Mr. Morton. I promise you I
won’t try to escape, only you must come with me into that hotel, and I
will prove to you that I am innocent.”
The marshal hesitated.
“No tricks!” he said sternly. “Lead the way.”
“Cautiously, sir.”
Morton clutched Dean tighter as the latter led the way to his room and
then to the hole in the partition that looked into Tim Downey’s room.
“Now, sir, look and listen!”
In amazement Morton peered into the adjoining apartment.
“Incredible!” he gasped.
For within the next half-hour he heard Tim Downey accuse Colonel
Darringford of having hired him to burn the _Spray_.
He heard the colonel admit it.
Tim told how Dean had been drugged and robbed, and how Rodney had
cashed the eight thousand dollar check.
The craven colonel promised to pay Tim’s demand to free his son and
remove the possibility of arrest for his share in the burning of the
_Spray_.
“The villains!” gasped Morton. “Dean, you are indeed an innocent,
wronged victim of a terrible plot.”
“Will you arrest them, sir?” asked Dean eagerly.
“The colonel, no. We must proceed cautiously.”
“But, Tim?”
“Yes.”
Colonel Darringford left the hotel. A minute later the astounded Tim
Downey was confronted by the Millville marshal.
He slept in the city jail that night. Before morning he had confessed
everything, under a promise of light punishment for his share in the
plot against Dean Mercer.
That night, too, several policemen left Springfield to arrest Daley,
Spofford and Rodney at the cave near Portsmouth.
And the next morning a messenger left for Millville to bring Judge
Oglesby and Lawyer Montague at once to Springfield.