A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY.
The expression that came upon Arthur's face and Roy's when the sleek
and plausible stranger hurried away from them, without waiting for the
money that Joe was getting ready to give him, was a study. Joe gave
them one quick glance, and then, utterly heedless of the fact that he
was drawing the amused attention of many of the passing crowd, placed
his hands upon his hips and laughed--not boisterously, as he would
if he had been in the woods or even in Mount Airy, but none the less
heartily.
"Was--was it a bite?" inquired Arthur, as soon as he could speak.
"I should say it was," replied Joe, wiping the tears from his eyes.
"And you fellows thought I was taken in by it. Don't you read the
papers, you two? Why, that game is old enough to be gray-headed No one
ever tried to play it on me before, but I recognized it in a minute."
"I confess that I don't see where the trick comes in," said Roy.
"Don't you? Well, look here. The reason that fellow gave for turning
the purse over to us was because he couldn't wait until morning to
claim the reward that would surely be offered for its recovery, being
obliged to leave town by the first train. Some folks would believe that
story. The purse is fat enough to excite the cupidity of a dishonest
man, who, nine times out of ten, will pay the sharper out of his own
pocket, rather than open the purse and let him see what there is in
it. Now, suppose I had given that fellow twenty-five good and lawful
dollars of the Republic; let's see what I would have received in
return."
As Joe said this he turned out the contents of the purse, and Roy and
Arthur discovered, to their no small astonishment, that what they had
taken for a greenback was nothing more nor less than the advertisement
of a quack medicine, warranted to cure every conceivable form of
disease. It was wrapped around a roll of brown paper, the ends being
turned over to hide it from view.
"He thought I would give him the money he wanted out of my own pocket,"
continued Joe. "But when he found that I was not quite so green, and
that his little game would be exposed in a minute more, and perhaps in
the presence of a policeman, he took himself off."
Yes, that was one reason why the sharper left without taking time to
say good-by, but there was another that the boys knew nothing about.
I must speak of it here so that you will be able to understand what
happened afterward.
Just as Joe Wayring was about to open the purse, the sharper cast a
furtive glance over his shoulder and saw standing within a few paces
of him, and intently watching his every movement, a short, thick-set
man, dressed in a plain gray suit. It was evident that the two were not
strangers to each other, for when the man in gray scowled and jerked
his thumb over his shoulder, the sharper lost no time in getting out
of sight. At the same instant Roy Sheldon turned his face that way, and
the man in the gray suit, as if afraid of being seen and recognized,
promptly wheeled about and looked toward the street. But he did not
lose sight of the boys. He followed them to the Academy of Music, and
sat within a few feet of them during the whole of the performance.
"I'll chuck these things down there so that they can never be used
to fool anybody," said Joe, when he and his friends had examined the
purse and its contents to their satisfaction, and with the words he
tossed the unlucky sharper's stock in trade into an opening between
the grating on which they stood and the bottom of the store window. "I
wonder what he thinks of country wheelmen by this time."
"He was a pretty sleek talker, wasn't he?" said Roy. "Do you suppose he
rides?"
"No," answered Arthur, emphatically. "He is a professional swindler,
and has no time to devote to riding. Besides, such chaps don't get into
the L.A.W. Well, we've made a very fair beginning; only twelve hours
from home, and one adventure to our credit already. I hope if we have
any more they will all turn out as well as this one has."
Having been shown to their seats in the Academy of Music, the boys
devoted themselves to the business of the hour and forgot all about the
sharper and his disappointment. Their quiet demeanor evidently excited
the surprise of the gentleman in gray, and drew from him some remarks
which were addressed to one who came in and took a seat beside him just
as the entertainment was about to begin.
"Takes it most too cool, don't he?" said the man in gray. "You're quite
sure that there's no mistake about it? Bear in mind that I haven't
seen him since his last escapade two years ago, and he has had time to
change a good deal since then."
"How in the world can there be any mistake about it?" asked the other,
in reply. "Don't I see him every day, and oughtn't I to know him if
anybody?"
The first speaker drew a photograph from the inside pocket of his coat
and looked at it intently, now and then raising his eyes to compare it
with the profile of one of the boys in front, which was occasionally
turned toward him. At length he appeared to be satisfied with his
examination, for he replaced the picture, at the same time remarking,
with something like a sigh of resignation:
"It's a go if you insist upon it; but I want you to understand very
distinctly that if any trouble follows the arrest, I am not the one to
stand the brunt of it."
"How is there going to be any trouble about it? Didn't the old man
stand by you before? He did, and paid you well into the bargain. He'll
do the same this time, and you may depend upon it."
"But you say he isn't at home now."
"I know it; but I am simply obeying orders, and my word is good till he
comes."
"If the boy has everything he wants, including all the money he can
spend, and is as kindly treated and as well cared for as you say he is,
I don't for the life of me see why he should run away from home," said
the man in gray. "Boys don't generally desert home and friends without
a cause. At least they didn't the first time I was on earth."
"Well, this foolish fellow will do it every chance he gets, because he
is determined to find his father. His uncle always tried to make him
believe that his parents were both dead; but some gossip or another had
to go and tell him different, and the old man hasn't seen a days peace
of mind since. He lives in constant fear that the boy will give him the
slip. This is the second time he has tried it, and some day he'll get
off. Then there _will_ be a time, I tell you."
"Why doesn't his uncle tell him where his father is, and let him go and
see him?"
"Oh, that would never do. Don't you know that the money goes with the
boy? His father isn't fit to handle it, for he is a worthless scamp who
would squander the last dime of it in less than no time. The law gave
him to his uncle, who is also his guardian, and he intends to hold fast
to him."
"And the money, too, I suppose. Well, all I have to say is, that if I
were in that boy's place my uncle would have to keep a double guard
over me night and day. If I wanted to see my father I'd see him in
spite of everybody. Besides, the boy is pretty near old enough to
choose his own guardian."
"Don't say that," whispered the other, hastily. "Whatever you do, don't
say that where he can hear it. That's a point of law that he doesn't
know anything about, and his uncle wouldn't like to have him posted."
"Pooh! I shan't say anything. If I am employed to catch him as often as
he runs away, so much the better for my pocket-book. I am too old to
quarrel with my bread and butter."
When the entertainment was ended Joe Wayring and his chums left with
the others, and close behind them in the aisle came the man in gray and
his companion. In the hall they encountered two dense living streams
that came pouring down from the galleries, and in the crush that
followed the boys became separated. Joe and Arthur found each other
again on the sidewalk, but nothing was to be seen of Roy. As Arthur
locked arms with his friend to prevent a second separation, they
noticed a little knot of curious people gathered by the curbstone, and
saw a close carriage driven rapidly away.
"Move on!" exclaimed a burly policeman. "It's nothing at all except a
fellow resisting arrest. Move on, please."
The two boys would have been glad to wait for Roy; but as the guardian
of the night emphasized his order by resting his club lightly against
Joe's back, they concluded that they had better move on. They walked
the length of the block and then returned, but no Roy Sheldon was in
sight. There were but few people coming out of the hall now, but there
was the watchful policeman with his ready club and his stereotyped
command:
"Move on, please. Don't block up the walk."
"Roy has certainly come out before this time, and that blue-coat has
driven him away," said Joe. "He knows the road to the hotel, and
there's where we shall find him."
The boys turned about and went down the street again, and the first
thing that attracted their attention when they entered their hotel
was the familiar uniform which they had adopted for their own--dark
blue tights, white flannel shirt with blue trimmings, and white helmet.
The boy who wore it was standing with his back to them, examining the
register.
"I never noticed before that Roy was so fine a figure," whispered
Arthur. "Look at the muscles on his legs. He fills out those tights as
though he had been melted and poured into them."
Without saying or doing anything to attract the boy's notice, the two
friends slipped up behind him, and Arthur threw his arms over his
shoulders.
"Now, you runaway, give an account of yourself!" he exclaimed.
The effect produced by these innocent words was surprising in the
extreme. In less than a second the supposed Roy Sheldon proved that he
was quite as muscular as he looked to be. Uttering a cry of surprise
and alarm he doubled himself up like a jack-knife and lunged forward
with all his strength, and then almost as quickly jerked himself
backward. By the first movement he came within a hair's breadth of
throwing Arthur Hastings heavily on his head; and by the second he
slipped out of his grasp like an eel. Then he straightened up and faced
him with clenched hands and flashing eyes.
"Don't touch me!" he began, fiercely. "If you or any of your hirelings
lay an ugly finger on me again--"
When he had said this much he stopped and looked hard at Arthur and
then at Joe, while an expression of great astonishment settled on
his face. My master and his friend were equally amazed. That was Roy
Sheldon's uniform, if they ever saw it, but it wasn't Roy who was in
it, although he looked almost exactly like him. There were the same
clear-cut features, hazel eyes and wavy brown hair, and the same faint
suspicion of a mustache; but they did not belong to Roy Sheldon. A
second look showed them that.
"Who are you?" demanded the young fellow, at length.
"I think that is a proper question for us to ask you," replied Arthur,
who, having never before been handled so easily by any boy of his
size, felt disposed to resent it. "What are you doing in our uniform,
we'd be pleased to have you tell us."
"Your uniform!" exclaimed the stranger eagerly. "Are you from
Jamestown?"
"No. Never heard of such a place about here. Don't even know where it
is. We are from Mount Airy."
"Then we are even," said the stranger, in a disappointed tone, "for I
don't know where Mount Airy is."
"Then of course you live a good way from here."
"Not so very far; not more than twenty miles, but it might as well be
a thousand for all I know about this city. But you are wheelmen, of
course. Well, now I wish--but say," added the speaker, as if something
had just occurred to him. "Why did you grab me and call me a runaway?"
"Because we thought you were. I mean we took you for a runaway from our
party," said Joe; and then he wondered why it was that the stranger
exhibited so much anxiety and even alarm at the words. "There is
another fellow in our party, but we have lost him in some unaccountable
manner."
"Does he look anything like me?"
"He does, indeed; so very much like you that when we saw you with our
uniform on we took you for our missing friend. You are a little stouter
than he is. That's all the difference there is in your figures; but to
look at your faces a little distance away, any one not well acquainted
with you would take you for twin brothers. How did you happen to choose
that uniform? What club do you belong to?"
"I don't belong to any club. How does it come that you happened to
choose it when there were so many more that you might have taken?"
"We made it up all out of our own heads," replied Arthur.
"I can't say that I did. I copied it. The Jamestown boys wear it, and I
have seen a good many bicyclists running along the road past our island
dressed in the same way."
"Your island!" repeated Joe.
"Yes; my island prison, for that is just what it is to me. Let's go
into the reading-room," said the stranger, seeing that the hotel clerk
was becoming interested in their conversation. "I don't care to have
everybody hear what I say."
He moved away from the desk as he said this, and Joe and Arthur
followed, lost in wonder. If there wasn't a mystery in this young
fellow's life he was out of his head. That was plain to both of them.
"My real name is Rowe Shelly," began the stranger, taking possessing
of a chair at one of the tables and drawing two others alongside of
him, "but when I registered I signed myself Robert Barton, and gave
Baltimore as my home."
"What made you do that? What have you been up to?" inquired Joe, while
Arthur began to wonder if they had fallen in with another sharper who
would presently make an effort to cheat them out of some money.
"I haven't done anything that either of you would not do if you were
in my place," answered young Shelly, if that was really his name. "To
make a long story short, money is at the bottom of all my trouble. My
grandfather, when he died, willed the most of his large property to
my father, who was his only child, on condition that he quit the sea
and settled down on shore with his family, mother and me. There was a
step-son, who had assumed the family name in the hope of getting some
of the money, but he was left without a dollar. Our home at that time
was near some southern sea-port whose name I do not remember, for I
was too young to know anything. This step-son, who had been dubbed
"colonel" on account of his supposed wealth, happened to be at home
when grandfather died, and what did he do but get possession of the
will, spread the report that father had been lost at sea, take out
letters of administration, turn mother out of the house, and have
himself appointed my guardian. I don't pretend to know what trickery he
resorted to, to bring all this about, but I know he did it."
"Humph! I wouldn't live with such a villain," exclaimed Joe, who was
deeply interested. He believed this strange story, and so did Arthur,
who told himself that he must have been about half crazy when he
suspected a boy who bore so close a resemblance to Roy Sheldon of being
a sharper.
"I don't live with him any more," replied Rowe. "I have left him for
good; but of course I did not take the trouble to ask his consent."
"Oh, that's what made you jump and look frightened when I caught
hold of you and called you a runaway, was it?" said Arthur. "If your
guardian finds you can he make you go back against your will?"
"Certainly. He has often given me to understand that he will have full
control of my actions as well as of my property until I am twenty-one
years old."
"Then he told you what isn't so," declared Joe.
"I guess not," answered Rowe doubtfully. "At any rate, when I ran away
from him two years ago he gobbled me with the aid of a policeman and
took me back."
"But you are older now than you were then," said Joe. "How old are you,
if it is a fair question?"
"I was eighteen last month."
"Then snap your fingers at that guardian of yours, and tell him you are
done with him."
"That wouldn't make a particle of difference to him," replied Rowe. "He
would have detectives after me, and I don't know but there are some on
my track this very minute. That's why I registered under a fictitious
name, and adopted this uniform. It is worn by so many wheelmen around
here that it will not be likely to attract attention. But I am going to
change it the first thing in the morning, trade off my Rudge safety for
another wheel, and then put for the country and stay there as long as
my money lasts."
"Say, Joe," said Arthur suddenly, "he looks a good deal like Roy
Sheldon, doesn't he?"
"He is the very picture of him," answered Joe, surprised.
"And you say," added Arthur, this time addressing himself to Rowe
Shelly, "that your guardian put detectives on your track when you ran
away from him two years ago, and that he has probably got them on your
track to-night?"
"I don't think I used those words, but that was what I meant," replied
Rowe. "Why do you ask the question, and what makes you glare at me in
that fashion?"
"I didn't know that I was glaring at you," said Arthur. "But I wish
from the bottom of my heart that you had changed that uniform for
another a hundred years ago, or else that you had never adopted it,
for it has been the means of getting one of the best fellows that ever
lived into trouble."
"Art," exclaimed Joe, starting up in his chair, "do you think--do you
mean to say--"
"Doesn't everything go to show it?" exclaimed Arthur, who was very
highly excited. "His uniform is the counterpart of ours; he looks so
much Roy that a stranger couldn't tell one from the other if he were to
see them together; he has the best of reasons for believing that his
guardian has put detectives on his track, and who knows--"
"Good gracious!" cried Joe, starting up in his turn; "I never once
thought of that."
"What are you afraid of?" inquired Rowe, whose face betrayed the
keenest anxiety and apprehension. "I hope you don't think that my
resemblance to your friend has brought him into difficulty."
"That is just what we are afraid of," replied Joe soothingly, while
Arthur Hastings paced the room like a caged tiger. "But, of course,
nobody can blame you for it. If one of the detectives you spoke of saw
him, he probably mistook him for you, just as Arthur and I mistook you
for Roy Sheldon. It's a case of mistaken identity, and that's all that
can be made of it."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Arthur; "it is a clear case of abduction."
"We'll have to see a lawyer about that."
"Then let's be about it. What are we wasting time here for?"
"Let us first make sure that Roy has been spirited away by somebody who
thought he was Rowe Shelly. Say, Art, you remember the carriage that
was driven away just as we came out of the Academy of Music, don't
you? Well how do we know but Roy was in it, and that he was the fellow
who resisted arrest?"
"That's so," exclaimed Arthur. "Suppose we go right back and interview
that policeman if we can find him."
When Arthur proposed this plan Rowe Shelly's face grew white again.
"That will be a dead give-away on me, won't it?" said he.
"I don't see why it should be," replied Joe. "We're not going to tell
any one that we have seen you. If you are afraid of it, go somewhere
while we are gone, and then we can say, if we are asked questions we
don't care to answer, that we don't know where you are."
The young stranger evidently thought this a suggestion worth heeding,
for when Joe and his companion left the room he followed slowly after
them, first carefully reconnoitering the office to make sure there was
no one there he did not want to meet.
"What's your opinion of that fellow, any way?" asked Joe, as he and
Arthur hurried along the street toward the Academy of Music. "He tells
a queer story, but I really believe there are some grains of truth in
it."
"So do I," answered Arthur. "And if it turns out that Roy has been
kidnapped, I shall believe it is all true. I wish that Shelly boy had
been in Guinea before he adopted our uniform."
"Or else that we had been there," added Joe. "He's got as much right to
it as we have. Look here, Art. We mustn't let the Mount Airy folks know
anything about this."
"Not by a long shot. They'd order us home as they did when they read in
the papers that Matt Coyle had tied you to a tree in the woods. If Roy
is in a scrape we'll help him out of it and get well on our way beyond
Bloomingdale before we say a word about it."
The boys were not obliged to go all the way to the hall in which they
had passed the evening, for they met the officer of whom they were in
search at the lower end of his beat. Arthur thought he looked at them
rather sharply as they came up, but he answered their questions civilly
enough.
"Policeman," said Joe, "will you please tell us what sort of a looking
fellow it was who was put into a carriage in front of the Academy of
Music, and driven away just as the performance ended? You were on duty
there at the time."
"Aw! go on now!" replied the officer good-naturedly. "He must have been
one of your own crowd, for he wore the same kind of clothes."
"What was his name?" asked Arthur, whose heart seemed to sink down into
his boots when he heard this answer.
"Aw, now!" said the officer again, "what's the use of my wasting my
time with you? You know more about him than I do; but I will tell you
one thing: you had better keep clear of him, or he will bring you into
trouble. He's a bad nation. He stole a pile of money from his guardian
before he ran away."
"Not the boy who was put into the carriage, if it was the one we think
it was," said Joe earnestly. "In the first place, he has no guardian,
and he never stole a cent, for his father gives him all the money he
needs. There's been a big mistake made here, Mr. Officer."
"Haw, haw!" laughed the policeman. He turned on his heel and started
back along his beat, but he did not shake off the boys. They wanted to
learn something before they left him, so they kept close to him, one on
each side.
"But I assure you there has been the biggest kind of a blunder made,"
Joe insisted. "The wrong boy has been arrested. His name is Roy
Sheldon, and he left Mount Airy with us this morning. Everybody there
knows him and us, too."
"No, I guess not," replied the policeman, with another laugh. "Bab's
been in the business too long to make a mistake that might get him into
trouble."
"Who's Bab?"
"Why, Bab--Babcock, the detective," answered the officer, in a tone
which implied that he had no patience with a boy who could ask him so
foolish a question. "The youngster had the cheek to appeal to me for
protection, but I told him he had better go along peaceable and quiet,
for it would only make matters worse for him if he didn't. I knew Bab,
you see."
"Well, this is a pretty state of affairs, I must say," exclaimed
Arthur, his anger getting the better of his prudence. "Of course Roy
resisted, as any other decent fellow would have done under the same
circumstances; and when he asked for protection from one of whom he had
a right to expect it, he was told that he had better go along if he
wanted to keep out of worse trouble."
"That's enough from you, young man," said the officer, shortly. "If you
give me any more of your insolence I will run you in to keep company
with that runaway and thief. Move on, now."
Arthur didn't wait for a second order. He faced about at once and
started back toward his hotel; but Joe stayed behind. He wanted to ask
another question or two, although he hardly expected that the policeman
would answer them.