A SLIGHT MISTAKE.
When Archibald Jackson, constable of Tottenville and the surrounding
country, strode forth from the home of Widow Sheldon on the night of
the call which we have described, he felt like "shaking hands with
himself," for he was confident he had made one of the greatest strikes
that ever came in the way of any one in his profession--a strike that
would render him famous throughout the country, and even in the city of
New York.
"A man has to be born a detective," he said, as he fell over a
wheelbarrow at the side of the road; "for without great natural gifts
he cannot attain to preeminence, as it were, in his profession. I was
born a detective, and would have beaten any of those fellows from Irish
Yard or Welsh Yard or Scotland Yard, or whatever they call it.
"Queer I never thought of it before, but that was always the trouble
with me; I've been too modest," he added, as he climbed over the fence
to pick up his hat, which a limb had knocked off; "but when this
robbery at the Misses Perkinpine's occurred, instead of relying on my
own brains I must send for Mr. Carter, and was worried half to death
because he didn't come.
"I s'pose he found the task was too gigantic for him, so he wouldn't
run the risk of failure. Then for the first time I sot down and begun
to use my brains. It didn't take me long to work the thing out; it came
to me like a flash, as it always does to men of genius--confound that
root; it's ripped the toe of my shoe off."
But Archie was so elevated in the region of conceit and
self-satisfaction that he could not be disturbed by the petty
annoyances of earth; he strode along the road with his chest thrust
forward and his head so high in air that it was no wonder his feet
tripped and bothered him now and then.
"I don't see any use of delaying the blow," he added, as he approached
his home; "it will make a sensation to-morrow when the exposure is
made. The New York papers will be full of it and they will send
their reporters to interview me. They'll print a sketch of my life
and nominate me for governor, and the illustrated papers will have
my picture, and my wife Betsey will find what a man of genius her
husband--ah! oh! I forgot about that post!"
He was recalled to himself by a violent collision with the
hitching-post in front of his own house, and picking up his hat and
waiting until he could gain full command of his breath, he entered the
bosom of his family fully resolved to "strike the blow" on the morrow,
which should make him famous throughout the country.
With the rising of the sun he found himself feeling more important
than ever. Swallowing his breakfast hastily and looking at his bruised
knuckles, he bade his family good-by, telling his wife if anybody
came after him they should be told that the constable had gone away on
imperative business.
With this farewell Archie went to the depot, boarded the cars and
started for the country town of Walsingham, fifty miles distant. He
bought a copy of a leading daily, and after viewing the scenery for
several miles, pretended to read, while he gave free rein to his
imagination and drew a gorgeous picture of the near future.
"To-morrow the papers will be full of it," he said, not noticing that
several were smiling because he held the journal upside down, "and
they'll want to put me on the force in New York. They've got to pay me
a good salary if they get me--that's sartin."
Some time after he drew forth a couple of legal documents, which
he read with care, as he had read them a score of times. They were
correctly-drawn papers calling for the arrest of two certain parties.
"The warrants are all right," mused the officer, as he replaced them
carefully in the inside pocket of his coat, "and the two gentlemen--and
especially one of them--will open his eyes when I place my hand on his
shoulder and tell him he is wanted."
A couple of hours later, the constable left the cars at the town of
Walsingham, which was in the extreme corner of the county that also
held Tottenville, and walked in his pompous fashion toward that portion
where Colonel Bandman's menagerie and circus were making ready for the
usual display.
It was near the hour of noon, and the regular street parade had taken
place, and the hundreds of people from the country were tramping back
and forth, crunching peanuts, eating lunch and making themselves ill on
the diluted stuff sold under the name of lemonade.
The constable paid scarcely any heed to these, but wended his way to
the hotel, where he inquired for Colonel Bandman, the proprietor of the
establishment which was creating such an excitement through the country.
Archie was told that he had just sat down to dinner, whereupon he said
he would wait until the gentleman was through, as he did not wish to be
too severe upon him. Then the officer occupied a chair by the window on
the inside, and feeling in his pockets, to make sure the warrants were
there, he kept an eye on the dining-room, to be certain the proprietor
did not take the alarm and get away.
After a long time Colonel Bandman, a tall, well-dressed gentleman, came
forth, hat in hand, and looked about him, as if he expected to meet
some one.
"Are you the gentleman who was inquiring for me?" he asked, advancing
toward the constable, who rose to his feet, and with all the
impressiveness of manner which he could assume, said, as he placed his
hand on his shoulder:
"Colonel James Bandman, you are my prisoner!"
The other donned his hat, looked somewhat surprised, as was natural,
and with his eyes fixed on the face of the constable, asked:
"On what charge am I arrested?"
"Burglary."
"Let me see the warrant."
"Oh, that's all right," said Mr. Jackson, drawing forth a document from
his pocket and opening it before him; "read it for yourself."
The colonel glanced at it for a moment, and said with a half smile:
"My name is not mentioned there; that calls upon you to arrest Thomas
Gibby, who is my ticket agent."
"Oh, ah--that's the wrong paper; here's the right one."
With which he gave Colonel James Bandman the pleasure of reading the
document, which, in due and legal form, commanded Archibald Jackson to
take the gentleman into custody.
"I presume the offense is bailable?" asked the colonel, with an odd
smile.
"Certainly, certainly, sir; I will accompany you before a magistrate
who will fix your bail. Where can I find Mr. Gibby?"
"I will bring him, if you will excuse me for a minute."
Colonel Bandman started to enter the hotel again, but the vigilant
constable caught his arm:
"No you don't; I'll stay with you, please; we'll go together; I don't
intend you shall slip through my fingers."
The colonel was evidently good-natured, for he only laughed and then,
allowing the officer to take his arm, started for the dining-room, but
unexpectedly met the individual whom they wanted in the hall.
When Gibby had been made acquainted with the business of the
severe-looking official he was disposed to get angry, but a word and a
suggestive look from Colonel Bandman quieted him, and the two walked
with the officer in the direction of a magistrate.
"I've got this thing down fine on you," ventured Mr. Jackson, by way of
helping them to a feeling of resignation, "the proofs of the nefarious
transaction in which you were engaged being beyond question."
Colonel Bandman made no answer, though his companion muttered something
which their custodian did not catch. As they walked through the street
they attracted some attention, but it was only a short distance to the
magistrate's office, where the official listened attentively to the
complaints. When made aware of its character he turned smilingly toward
the chief prisoner and said:
"Well, colonel, what have you to say to this?"
"I should like to ask Mr. Jackson on what grounds he bases his charge
of burglary against me."
"The house of the Misses Perkinpine, near Tottenville, in this county,
was robbed of a lot of valuable silver plate and several hundred
dollars in money on Monday night last. It was the night before the
circus showed in that town. Fortunately for the cause of justice the
two parties were seen and identified, especially the one who did the
actual robbing. A bright young boy, who is very truthful, saw the
robber at his work, identified him as the ungrateful wretch who was
given his supper by the two excellent ladies, whom he basely robbed
afterward. The description of the pretended tramp corresponds exactly
with that of Colonel Bandman--so closely, indeed, that there can be
no mistake about him. The account of his confederate is not so full,
but it is sufficient to identify him as Mr. Gibby, there. When I was
assured beyond all mistake that they were the two wretches I took out
them warrants in proper form, as you will find, and I now ask that they
may be held to await the action of the grand jury."
Having delivered himself of this rather grandiloquent speech, Mr.
Jackson bowed to the court and stepped back to allow the accused to
speak.
Colonel Bandman, instead of doing so, turned to the magistrate and
nodded for him to say something. That official, addressing himself to
the constable, asked:
"You are certain this offense was committed on last Monday evening?"
"There can be no possible mistake about it."
"And it was done by these two?"
"That is equally sartin."
"If one is guilty both are; if one is innocent so is the other?"
"Yes, sir; if you choose to put it that way."
"It becomes my duty to inform you then, Mr. Jackson, that Colonel
Bandman has not been out of the town of Walsingham for the past six
weeks; he is an old schoolmate of mine, and on last Monday night he
stayed in my house with his wife and daughter. This complaint is
dismissed, and the best thing you can do is to hasten home by the next
train. Good day, sir."
Archie wanted to say something, but he could think of nothing
appropriate, and, catching up his hat, he made haste to the station
where he boarded the cars without a ticket. He was never known to refer
to his great mistake afterward unless some one else mentioned it, and
even then the constable always seemed anxious to turn the subject to
something else.