The night before, when Jim Farren recognized the man and the girl, he
was delighted, and he argued to himself that no harm could come to him
while he had such influential friends as Nathans and Benson, and that
if he got into trouble they would extricate him. He hurried along with
his hands still in his pockets.
“It’ll be me chance to get even wit’ this cove for cheating me out of
the money, only that I’m glad that der goil ain’t dead, and she is a
sweet-looking piece of humanity.”
But there was no compunction in his heart as he said this. He had no
scruples in breaking up a beautiful home now, taking a warm-hearted
lover from his sweetheart. Especially should this man have been anxious
for Tom to escape, knowing that he was innocent, but Tom had taken
away his chances of a fortune and a business.
He made his way to the fashionable quarter of the city, and rang the
bell at the Benson mansion. It was a long time before there was an
answer, and then the butler put his head outside.
“Is Mr. Benson in?” asked Jim.
“No,” and before he could ask when he would be in, the door was slammed
and locked in his face.
Then he pondered what he would do. Of course Tom Cooper would try and
get away, and he would take the girl with him, and there was a fortune
for her in the will of her grandfather.
Thinking this, Jim thought there was no time to lose, so he went to the
telephone.
“Is this the police headquarters?”
“Yes.”
“Is there a man there by the name of Arkwright?”
“Yes; do you want to talk with him?”
“Yes.”
“All right, go ahead, there’s his wire.”
“Hello.”
“Arkwright, is this you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, this a fellow that knows where there is an escaped convict.”
“Who? And who are you?”
“Never mind who I am, but you just watch the boathouse of Biddy Roan,
on the river. Tom Cooper is there with the Standish girl, whose mother
died in prison.”
“You don’t say so,” cried the detective. “Have you been to see Mr.
George Benson?”
“Yes, but the cove ain’t in. Now then, what are you going to do?”
“Ask you to come here and go with me to Mr. Benson’s.”
“Well, you must promise not to ask me any questions about myself,” said
Jim, “or else I won’t come.”
“Don’t worry. You put me on the track of that girl, and I’ll make you
all right.”
So Jim went to police headquarters, thinking he was doing a great
stroke of business, and it was late in the night when Arkwright called
up the Benson mansion.
“I want to speak with Mr. Benson.”
“He has retired.”
“Never mind, call him to the wire. I want to speak with him. This is
the police headquarters.”
George Benson responded immediately to the call.
“This is Arkwright. May I call upon you at your home immediately? I
have found trace of your cousin, Helen Standish.”
When the detective did come in answer to Benson’s reply in the
affirmative, he found the rich man pale with fright. The fifteen years
that had passed had whitened the locks about his forehead, and his eyes
had taken upon them a crafty expression, and no one could ever hold
their attention long at a time.
“Maybe you are mistaken,” said he when Jim Farren gave the history of
his call upon his Cousin Biddy.
“I’d know that girl by the jewel about her neck,” said the thief.
“I don’t believe it,” stubbornly replied Benson.
“Nevertheless I am going to investigate this matter,” said Arkwright,
“and if she is there you will be relieved of your burden in taking care
of her fortune.”
Benson’s face darkened, as he was just beginning to think it time to
apply to the court to make the money over to him as the next heir, but
now there would be another delay. If this little fool of a convict had
only come to him before going to the police there would have been a
chance to silence the girl forever if it proved that she was living,
but with Arkwright on the trail Benson would dare to do nothing.
“What are you going to do?” he asked tremblingly.
“Be there at the peep of day and arrest this Tom Cooper and place Helen
Standish in your hands, as the law left you her guardian.”
Benson drew a long breath. What could he want more? His conscience
troubled him so that he thought everybody knew of his evil intentions.
He breathed again peacefully and said with a genial smile:
“You could not please me more than to bring my cousin to me, and I
shall be glad to make a statement of her fortune to her.”
“We all know you have done your best, Mr. Benson,” said the detective,
“and I hope that you will have many a happy day with your relation. You
will go with me in the morning?”
“Yes, and I think I will have Mr. Nathans there to identify the sailor,
as you know the goods were taken to his place to pawn.”
“All right, I’ll leave that with you.”
There was after that a long conversation over the ’phone between Benson
and Nathans.
The Jew agreed to come in the morning and meet the trio, and he would
swear away the freedom of Tom Cooper.
* * * * *
Nellie turned uneasily upon her bed. It had been her custom for many
years to sleep late in the morning, Biddy refusing to break the
slumber of “the sweet young thing,” and telling Tom when he argued that
it was for the girl’s good that she should be made to work, that it was
the place of an Irish Biddy to do hard work, and that Nellie should
sleep.
But this morning she could not rest. She heard the whispering and
talking between her two friends outside, so she got up and dressed just
as Tom was taking a lot of papers from an old trunk.
“What are you doing, Tom?” asked she curiously.
Tom raised his head and the girl hardly recognized her lover.
“Something has happened to you,” she ejaculated. “I know, Tom; don’t
shake your head at me.”
“We are going away from here, Nellie,” said he hoarsely, “you, Biddy
and I.”
“Why?”
“Because we have enemies who are going to take you from us. There,
don’t look frightened, but we are afraid of your cousin.”
“How can he take me if I do not want to go?” asked Nellie.
“The law might say that you should go,” answered Tom.
“I’d like to hear them say that I was to leave you and Biddy.”
“Tom, now don’t scare that child. You’re not going from us; get on your
things, for you and Tom are to go before me.”
Hardly had these words escaped from Biddy’s lips before there was a
knock at the door, and the Irishwoman saw the red face of her cousin
peeping in at the door.
“You nasty spalpeen,” cried she, trying to make a grab for his head,
“what are youse doing here? Get out wid youse.”
“I have some friends with me, Biddy, calling upon Mr. Cooper, and the
pretty young lady.”
“Nellie, will you go in the bedroom, dear?” asked Tom, but the
detective raised his hand.
“I want the young lady to remain. What I have to say is of great
importance to her.”
Nellie looked mystified, and Benson was gazing with his soul in his
eyes at the pretty face. There was a sweetness about her that made
him think of her mother, and there was also something that made him
acknowledge to himself that he should some time love this girl.
“What have you to say to Miss Standish?” began Tom Cooper, with a
sickening feeling at his heart.
“She is the granddaughter of the dead millionaire Benson, and this
gentleman here is her cousin. You are one of the greatest heiresses in
New York, my dear young lady.”
The detective bowed low before Nellie, but still the mystified
expression remained in the deep blue eyes.
“And this gentleman,” said Arkwright sarcastically, coming nearer Tom,
“is an escaped convict, whom I shall have to ask to accompany me to the
station house.”
Light seemed to break upon Nellie’s mind, but she strenuously denied
the charge, keeping a tight hold of her lover.
“You have made a mistake,” cried she. “Tom never did a wrong thing in
his life, and I am going to be his wife.”
“But you cannot, my dear Miss Standish; you are a minor, and cannot
have your own way for a whole year yet.”
“Nevertheless I am going to be his wife, am I not, Tom? Tell me that
they have made a mistake, and that you are not what they are trying to
prove you.”
The man did not speak.
“Tell me, Tom, was that island in the fairy story--was that Blackwell’s
Island?”
“Yes.”
This one word fell from the man’s lips as if all hope had left him, and
he knew that they would tear from him his darling, and that he would
spend the rest of his days in prison.
Benson now came forward, trying to take Nellie’s hand in his.
“My dear little cousin, you cannot again be taken from me. I have
searched the city for you, and now you shall take your position in
life, and be the rich girl you ought to be.”
“I do not want to go with you,” said she mournfully.
“But you must.”
“I will not.”
The more she contemplated the step the more she shuddered, and she did
not intend that Tom should be taken from her.
“Miss Standish, listen to me,” and Arkwright went close to her; “now
the law has left you in the charge of your cousin. Mr. George Benson
was left by the terms of your grandfather’s will, the one trustee
who should look after you personally. I suppose if he had known that
you did not want to be with him your relative would have changed his
wishes, but now that he is dead you will have to be satisfied with the
arrangements, and as far as this man is concerned,” pointing to Tom,
“I know him to be an escaped convict, and I shall have to ask him to
accompany me.”
“I am this young lady’s guardian,” put in Tom obstinately.
“Self-appointed,” sneered Arkwright, “but that will not hold. Then,
too, you will be in a cell before night.”
“Oh, no, no, Tom, tell me all about it, sweetheart.”
“I will, Nellie, and remember what I am telling you is as true as my
love for you. I was arrested for a crime which I did not commit. I did
not steal your grandfather’s jewels, and that man knows it.”
He brought out the last words with a jerk, and pointed his finger at
Benson.
George started toward him, but Arkwright detained him.
“I believe you, Tom,” said Nellie simply, “and as long as I live I
shall believe you are innocent.”
“But that will not prevent your going with your cousin.” The detective
said this as he fastened the bracelets upon Tom’s wrists.
“I won’t go unless Biddy can go, too.”
“Well, she cannot,” said Benson, looking crossly at the Irishwoman.
“Then, I stay right here. Do you understand? And I would like to see
any law drag a girl twenty years old to a place that she simply won’t
go. Now, gentlemen, what are you going to do?”
This was a sticker, and George Benson and the detective talked in low
tones, while Nellie placed her arms about her lover’s neck.
“Don’t you worry, Tom, about going, for you won’t be there long. Now
then, when you go away you are to write to me every day, and I will to
you, and just as soon as I find a good lawyer you shall be free.”
“We have decided to allow you to take your friend Biddy with you for a
while,” said the detective affably, “if, when Mr. Benson finds a lady
of your own rank, you will be satisfied to allow this woman to go.”
Nellie plumped herself down again in her chair.
“I won’t agree to any such thing. Biddy’s been my mother for years, and
if Mr. Benson doesn’t want her in his house, then I won’t go. I don’t
want a lady of any different rank than myself, and Biddy is my choice.
So there.”
Tom smiled at her from his corner, and the sight made Benson furious.
Again the two gentlemen conferred, while Nathans took it upon himself
to argue with the girl.
“Look a-here, Mr. Jew,” cried Nellie, “you just mind your business. No
one has asked you to live with my Biddy, and Mr. Benson needn’t live
with us either. If I have all the money you say I have then I can make
a home for Biddy and me until I can get my Tom out.”
Again George ground his teeth. He would soon make this girl realize
that he was her guardian, and he would commence right then.
“Helen, there will be a time in your life when you won’t want to
associate with these people, and then you will be glad that I insisted
that you come unencumbered into your beautiful home. You may bring
Biddy with you for a while, but please do not think of that man again.”
He pointed at Tom with his white index finger, and the girl’s eyes
followed in that direction.
The expression of pain that crossed her lover’s face hurt the girl’s
heart. She slipped down at his feet, and placed her arms about him.
“Tom, I love you; don’t you let those beasts of men make you believe
otherwise. What are you doing?”
“Taking off this,” and saying these words, the young fellow pulled his
false whiskers and mustache from his face.
“Well, my soul, Tom, how very handsome you are!” cried Nellie. “If I
had known this before I would have taken several peeps at you as you
are now.”
“We have heard enough rot,” ejaculated Benson. “Now, young lady, when
will you come to my home?”
“To her home, you mean, Benson,” corrected the detective.
“Well, what’s the difference? I shall stay with her until she is
married, and maybe she will be satisfied to----”
The rest of the words were lost to Tom, but he imagined what they were,
and his cheek flushed and the blood seemed to burn his life away.
As Arkwright was placing the hat upon the rearrested convict, Tom
turned to Jim:
“I suppose you did not tell your aunt about this affair?”
“Yes, I did, sir, and because I told on you and the girl, I got scot
free, sir.”
“Scat,” cried Bridget, “or I’ll pull your scraggy hair out of your
little impudent head, you dirty spalpeen.”
“Well,” said Nellie, taking Tom’s hand in hers as he was being taken
away, “I wish you all to understand that here stands a girl whom you
say is worth a million dollars. There stands a man whom I love. I shall
spend every one of those millions of dollars to prove him innocent, and
then we can come back here to live with Biddy after he is out of prison
and we are married.”