NEW YORK AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE
It took no very long interval to prove that there was some foundation
for Mr. Tolman's last assertion, for within a short time the travelers
were standing on Fifth Avenue amid the rush of traffic, and feeling of
as little importance as dwarfs in a giant's country. The roar of the
mighty city, its bustle and confusion, were both exhilarating and
terrifying. They had left their luggage at the hotel and now, while
Steve's father went to meet a business appointment, the boy was to take
a ride up the Avenue on one of the busses, a diversion of which he never
tired. To sit on top and look down on the throng in the streets was
always novel and entertaining to one who passed his days in a quiet New
England town. Therefore he stopped one of the moving vehicles and in
great good humor bade his father good-by; and feeling very
self-sufficient to be touring New York by himself, clambered eagerly up
to a seat.
There were few passengers on the top of the coach for the chill of early
morning still lingered in the air; but before they reached Riverside
Drive a man with a bright, ruddy countenance and iron-grey hair hailed
the bus and climbed up beside the boy. As he took his place he glanced
at him kindly and instantly Steve felt a sense of friendliness toward
the stranger; and after they had ridden a short distance in silence the
man spoke.
"What a beautiful river the Hudson is!" he remarked. "Although I am an
old New Yorker I never cease to delight in its charm and its fascinating
history. It was on this body of water, you know, that the first
steamboat was tried out."
"I didn't know it," Stephen confessed, with an honest blush.
"You will be learning about it some day, I fancy," said the other, with
a smile. "An interesting story it is, too. All the beginnings of our
great industries and inventions read like romances."
"My father has just been telling me about the beginnings of some of our
railroads," observed Steve shyly, "and certainly his stories were as
good as fairy tales."
"Is your father especially interested in railroads?" inquired the New
Yorker.
"Yes, sir. He is in the railroad business."
"Ah, then that accounts for his filling your ears with locomotives
instead of steamboats," declared the man, with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Now if I were to spin a yarn for you, it would be of steamboats because
that happens to be the thing I am interested in; I believe their history
to be one of the most alluring tales to which a boy could listen.
Sometime you get a person who knows the drama from start to finish to
relate to you the whole marvelous adventure of early steamboating, and
you see if it does not beat the railroad story all out."
He laughed a merry laugh in which Stephen joined.
"I wish you would tell it to me yourself," suggested the lad.
The man turned with an expression of pleasure on his red-cheeked face.
"I should like nothing better, my boy," he said quickly, "but you see it
is a long story and I am getting out at the next corner. Sometime,
however, we may meet again. Who knows? And if we do you shall hold me to
my promise to talk steamboats to you until you cry for mercy."
Bending down he took up a leather bag which he had placed between his
feet.
"I am leaving you here, sonny," he said. "I take it you are in New York
for a holiday."
"Yes, sir, I am," returned Steve with surprise. "My father and I are
staying here just for a few days."
"I hope you will have a jolly good time during your visit," the man
said, rising.
Stephen murmured his thanks and watched the erect figure descend from
the coach and disappear into a side street. It was not until the New
Yorker was well out of sight and the omnibus on its way that his eye was
caught by the red bill book lying on the floor at his feet. None of the
few scattered passengers had noticed it and stooping, he picked it up
and quietly slipped it into his pocket.
What should he do with it?
Of course he could hand it over to the driver of the bus and tell him he
had found it. But the man might not be honest and instead of turning it
in to the company might keep it. There was little doubt in Steve's mind
that the pocketbook belonged to the stranger who had just vacated the
place and it was likely his address was inside it. If so, what a
pleasure it would be to return the lost article to its rightful owner
himself. By so doing he would not only be sure the pocketbook reached
its destination but he might see the steamboat man again.
He longed to open the bill book and investigate its contents. What was
in it, he wondered. Well, the top of a Fifth Avenue coach was no place
to be looking through pocketbooks, there was no question about that. Let
alone the fact that persons might be watching him, there was danger that
in the fresh morning breeze something might take wing, sail down to the
Hudson, and never be seen again. Therefore he decided to curb his
impatience and wait until he reached a more favorable spot to examine
his suddenly acquired treasure. Accordingly he tucked the long red
wallet farther down into the breast pocket of his ulster, and feeling
assured that nothing could be done about it at present, gave himself up
to the pleasure and excitement of the drive.
It was not until he had rejoined his father at the hotel and the two
were sitting at lunch in the great dining room that the thought of it
again flashed into his mind.
"Gee, Dad!" he suddenly exclaimed, looking up from his plateful of fried
chicken with fork suspended in mid-air. "I meant to tell you I found a
pocketbook in the bus this morning."
"A pocketbook!"
"Yes, sir. I think the man who had been sitting beside me must have
dropped it when he stooped over to get his bag. At any rate it was lying
there after he got out."
"What did you do with it?" Mr. Tolman inquired with no great warmth of
interest. "Gave it to the conductor, I suppose."
The boy shook his head.
"No, I didn't," was the answer. "I was afraid he might not turn it in,
and as I liked the man who lost it I wanted to be sure he got it, so I
brought it back with me."
"And where is it now?" demanded Mr. Tolman, now all attention. "I hope
you were not so careless as to leave it upstairs in our room."
"No. I didn't leave it in the room," returned the lad. "It is out in my
coat pocket. I meant to take it out and see what was in it; but so many
things happened that I forgot about it until this very minute."
"You don't mean that you left it in your ulster pocket and let them hang
it out there on the rack?"
"Yes."
"You checked your coat and left it there?"
"Why--yes," came the faltering reply.
Mr. Tolman was on his feet.
"Wait here until I come back," he said in a sharp tone.
"Where are you going?"
"Give me your check quickly," went on his father, without heeding the
question. "Hurry!"
Steve fumbled in his jacket pocket.
"Be quick, son, be quick!" commanded Mr. Tolman impatiently. "Don't you
know it is never safe to leave anything of value in your coat when you
are staying at a large city hotel? Somebody may have taken the
pocketbook already."
Scarlet with consternation the lad produced the check.
"If nothing has happened to that pocketbook you will be very fortunate,"
asserted the man severely. "Stay here! I will be right back."
With beating heart the boy watched him thread his way between the tables
and disappear from the dining room into the lobby.
Suppose the bill book should be gone!
What if there had been valuable papers in it, money--a great deal of
money--and now through his carelessness it had all disappeared? How
stupid he had been not to remember about it and give it to his father
the instant they had met! In fact, he would much better have taken a
chance and handed it to the bus conductor than to have done the foolish
thing he had. He had meant so well and blundered so grievously! How
often his father had cautioned him to be careful of money when he was
traveling!
Tensely he sat in his chair and waited with miserable anxiety, his eyes
fixed on the dining-room door. Then presently, to his great relief, he
saw his father returning.
"Did you--" he began.
"You will have to come yourself, Steve," said the elder man whose brow
was wrinkled into a frown of annoyance. "The maid who checked the coats
is not there, and the one who is insists that the ulster is not mine,
and in spite of the check will not allow me to search the pockets of
it."
Stephen jumped up.
"I suppose she is right, too," went on Mr. Tolman breathlessly, "but the
delay is very unfortunate."
They made their way into the corridor, where by this time an office
clerk and another man had joined the maid who was in charge of the coat
rack.
Stephen presented his check and without comment the woman handed him his
coat. With trembling hand he dived into the deep pocket and from it drew
forth the red bill book which he gave to his father.
"There it is, Dad, safe and sound!" he gasped.
Instantly the clerk was in their path.
"I beg pardon, sir," said he with deference, "but does that pocketbook
belong to you?"
Mr. Tolman wheeled about.
"Eh--what did you say?" he inquired.
"I asked, sir, if that pocketbook was your property?" repeated the
clerk.
Mr. Tolman faced his inquisitor.
"What business is that of yours?" he demanded curtly.
"I am sorry, sir, to appear rude," the hotel employee replied, "but we
have been asked to be on the lookout for a young lad who rode this
morning on one of the Fifth Avenue busses where a valuable pocketbook
was lost. Your son tallies so well with the description that--"
"It was I," put in Stephen eagerly, without regard for consequences.
"Who wants me?"
With a smile of eagerness he turned, expecting to encounter the genial
face of his acquaintance of the morning. Then he would smile, hold out
the pocketbook, and they would laugh together as he explained the
adventure, and perhaps afterward have luncheon in company.
Instead no familiar form greeted him. On the contrary the slender man
who had been standing beside the clerk came forward.
Mr. Tolman sensed the situation in a second.
"You mean somebody thinks my son took the pocketbook?" asked he
indignantly, as he confronted the clerk and his companion.
"It is not my affair, sir, and I am sorry it should happen in our
hotel," apologized the clerk. "Perhaps if you will just explain the
whole matter to this gentleman--" he broke off, saying in an undertone
to the man at his elbow. "This is your boy, Donovan."
The tall man came nearer.
"You are a detective?" asked Mr. Tolman bluntly.
"Well, something of the sort, sir," admitted the man called Donovan. "It
is occasionally my business to hunt people up."
"And you have been sent to hunt my son up?"
Donovan nodded.
Stephen turned white and his father put a reassuring hand on his
shoulder.
"My son and I," he replied, addressing the detective quietly, "can
explain this entire affair to you and will do so gladly. The boy did
find the pocketbook but he was ignorant of its value because he has not
even looked inside it. In fact, that he had the article in his
possession did not come into his mind until a few moments ago. If he had
known the thing was valuable, do you suppose he would have left it in
his ulster pocket and checked the coat in a public place like this?"
The detective made no reply.
"We both shall be very glad," went on Mr. Tolman firmly, "to go with you
to headquarters and straighten the matter out."
"There may be no need of that, sir," Donovan responded with a pleasant
smile. "If we can just talk the affair over in a satisfactory way--"
"Suppose you come upstairs to our room," suggested Mr. Tolman. "That
will give us more quiet and privacy. Will that be agreeable to you?"
"Perfectly."
As the three walked toward the elevator Steve glanced with trepidation
at the plain-clothes man.
The boy knew he had done nothing wrong; but would he be able to convince
the detective of the truth of his story? He was thoroughly frightened
and wondered whether his father was also alarmed.
If, however, Mr. Tolman was worried he at least did not show it. Instead
he courteously led the way from the elevator down the dim corridor and
unlocked the door of Number 379.
"Come in, Mr. Donovan," he said cordially. "Here is a chair and a cigar.
Now, son, tell us the story of this troublesome pocketbook from
beginning to end."
In a trembling voice Stephen began his tale. He spoke slowly,
uncertainly, for he was well scared. Gradually, however, he forgot his
agitation and his voice became more positive. He recounted the details
of the omnibus ride with great care, adding ingenuously when he came to
the termination of the narrative:
"And I hoped the man's name would be inside the pocketbook because I
liked him very much and wanted to return to him what he had lost."
"And wasn't it?" put in Mr. Donovan quickly.
"I don't know," was the innocent retort. "Don't you remember I told you
that I hadn't looked inside yet?"
The detective laughed with satisfaction.
"That was a shabby trick of mine, youngster," said he. "It was mean to
try to trap you."
"Trap me?" repeated Steve vaguely.
"There, there, sonny!" went on Donovan kindly. "Don't you worry a minute
more about this mix-up. Mr. Ackerman, the gentleman who lost the bill
book, did not think for a second that you had taken it. He simply was so
sure that he had lost it on the bus that he wanted to locate you and
find out whether you knew anything about it or not. His name was not
inside the pocketbook, you see, and therefore any one who found it would
have no way of tracing its owner. What it contains are valuable papers
and a big wad of Liberty Bonds which, as your father knows, could
quickly be converted into cash. In consequence Mr. Ackerman decided that
the sooner the pocketbook was found the better. The omnibus people
denied any knowledge of it and you were the only remaining clue."
Mr. Tolman sank back in his chair and a relaxation of his muscles
betrayed for the first time that he had been much more disturbed than he
had appeared to be.
"Well," he said, lighting a fresh cigar, "the bill book is not only
located but we can hand it back intact to its owner. If you can inform
us where the gentleman lives, my boy and I will call a taxi and go to
his house or office with his property."
A flush of embarrassment suffused the face of the officer.
"Maybe you would like to come with us, Donovan," added Mr. Tolman, who
instantly interpreted the man's confusion.
"I hate to be dogging your footsteps, sir, in this fashion," Mr. Donovan
answered, with obvious sincerity. "Still, I--"
"You have your orders, no doubt."
"Well, yes, sir," admitted the plain-clothes man with reluctance. "I
have."
"You were to keep your eye on us until the pocketbook reached its
owner."
"That's about it, sir. Not that I personally have the least suspicion
that a gentleman like you would--"
"That is all right, my man. I perfectly understand your position," Mr.
Tolman cut in. "After all, you have your duty to do and business is
business. We'll just telephone Mr. Ackerman that we are coming so that
we shall be sure of catching him, and then we will go right up there."
"Very well, sir."
Stephen's father started toward the telephone and then, as if struck by
a sudden thought, paused and turned.
"Steve," he said, "I believe you are the person to communicate with Mr.
Ackerman. Call him up and tell him you have found his purse and that you
and your father would like to come up to his house, if it will be
convenient, and return it."
"All right, Dad."
"You will find his number on this slip of paper, sonny," the detective
added, handing the lad a card. "He is not at his office. He went home to
lunch in the hope that he had left the pocketbook there."
After some delay Stephen succeeded in getting the number written on the
card. A servant answered the summons.
"May I speak to Mr. Ackerman, please?" inquired the lad. "He is at
luncheon? No, it would not do the least good for me to tell you my name
for he would not know who it was. Just tell him that the boy who sat
beside him this morning on the Fifth Avenue bus--" there was a little
chuckle. "Oh, he will be here directly, will he? I thought perhaps he
would."
A moment later a cheery voice which Steve at once recognized to be that
of the steamboat man came over the wire:
"Well, sonny?"
"I found your bill book, Mr. Ackerman, and my father and I would like to
bring it up to you."
"Well, well! that is fine news!" cried the man at the other end of the
line. "How did you know who it belonged to?"
"Oh, I--we--found out--my father and I," stammered the lad. "May we come
up to your house with it now?"
"You would much better let me come to you; then only one person will be
inconvenienced," the New Yorker returned pleasantly. "Where are you
staying?"
"At the Manhattan."
"You must not think of taking the trouble of coming way up here. Let me
join you and your father at your hotel."
"Very well, Mr. Ackerman. If you'd rather--"
"I certainly should rather!" was the emphatic answer. "I could not think
of bringing two people so far out of their way."
"There are three of us!" squeaked Stephen.
"Three?"
"Yes, sir. We have another person--a friend--with us," explained the
boy, with quiet enjoyment. How easy it was to laugh now!
"All the more reason why I should come to you, then," asserted Mr.
Ackerman. "I will be at the Manhattan within half an hour. Perhaps if
you and your father and your friend have the afternoon free you would
like to go to some sort of a show with me after we conclude our
business. Since you are here on a holiday you can't be very busy."
Stephen's eyes sparkled with merriment.
"I don't know whether our friend can go or not," he replied politely,
"but I think perhaps Dad and I could; and if we can we should like to
very much."
"That will be excellent. I will come right along. Not only shall I be
glad to get my pocketbook back again but I shall be glad to see you once
more. I told you this morning that I had a feeling we should meet some
time. Whom shall I ask for at the hotel?"
"Stephen Tolman."
With a click the boy hung up the receiver.
"Mr. Ackerman is coming right down," said he, addressing his father and
the detective with a mischievous smile. "He has invited the three of us
to go to the matinee with him."
"The three of us!" echoed the plain-clothes man.
"Yes," returned the lad. "I told him we had a friend with us and so he
said to bring him along."
"Good heavens!" Donovan ejaculated.
Mr. Tolman laughed heartily.
"Not all the thieves you arrest take you to a theater party afterward,
do they, Officer?" he asked.
"I said from the first you were gentlemen," Mr. Donovan asserted with
humor.
"But couldn't you go?" inquired Steve, quite seriously.
"Bless you, no, sonny!" replied the man. "I am from headquarters, you
know, and my work is chasing up crooks--not going to matinees."
Nevertheless there was an intonation of gentleness in his voice, as he
added, "I am obliged to you just the same, for in spite of my calling I
am a human being and I appreciate being treated like one."