ANOTHER SURPRISE FOR ROY.
"Well, this is a pretty way to treat a fellow, I do think,"
soliloquized the puzzled and anxious superintendent, as he stood on the
yacht's deck and watched the retreating form of the detective until it
was swallowed up in the darkness. "He gets me into difficulty and then
clears out, leaving me to sink or swim, he don't care which. What do
you say, captain?" he added, turning to the master of the yacht, who
came up when he saw Babcock spring ashore. "You're quite positive that
the boy below is Rowe Shelly, and nobody else?"
"What's the matter with you and Babcock?" asked the captain, testily.
"You act like a couple of--I don't know what."
"And that's the way I feel," replied Willis. "Babcock has been worked
upon in some mysterious way, and now he's gone away and left me to
bear the brunt of the whole thing alone."
"Well, wasn't that what you expected to do when you got back to the
island?" inquired the captain. "His guardian being absent, you will
have to take full charge of Rowe until he returns. That's what you did
the last time he ran away, and you never made any fuss over it. I know
it is disagreeable business, this standing guard over an uneasy fellow
who won't stay where he is put, but seeing that we are well paid for
it, and know that it is for the boy's best good, where's the harm?"
"But Babcock seems to think that Rowe has slipped through our fingers,
and that we have brought back the wrong boy."
The captain made a gesture of impatience but said nothing.
"All right," exclaimed Willis. "Cast off the fasts and get under way as
quickly as possible."
"Where's his wheel?" inquired the captain. "I didn't see you bring it
aboard."
"We didn't stop for it," answered Willis, "for the youngster was in
fighting humor, and would have drawn a crowd about us if we hadn't
hustled him into the carriage just as we did. We'll have to send for it
when he gets ready to tell us where he left it."
"Don't he feel inclined to talk? That isn't at all like Rowe, who
usually has gab enough."
"Bless you, he's nothing but talk; but the trouble is, he won't tell
the truth. He has hit upon a new plan this time. He says he is somebody
else, and sticks to it. But you know him and I know him, even if
Babcock doesn't; so it's all right. Now get underway. It _must_ be all
right, although I confess that Babcock frightened me by talking and
acting as he did," said Willis, as the master of the yacht hastened
forward to take his place at the wheel. "I had a good view of him while
he stood in front of that window with those two young wheelmen; I sat
almost within reach of him during the entire evening; and I've had
several good looks at him since. Babcock had all the chances he wanted
to compare his face with the photograph I gave him, and he didn't
think there was anything wrong until after Rowe had had opportunity
to talk to him. I'd give something handsome to know what passed
between them while I was on the box with the driver; then, perhaps I
should know what to do. I ought to have stayed with them, but I never
dreamed of anything like this. However, I shall be prepared for any
emergencies. I'll take Tony into my confidence just as soon as I can
get Rowe into the house and up to his room."
So saying, the superintendent faced about and went into the cabin to
see what the prisoner thought of the situation. To his surprise he
found him reading a paper he had taken from the table. According to
Willis's way of thinking, that was a bad sign. Why didn't he walk the
floor and shake his fists in the air and utter threats, and in various
other ways act as if he had taken leave of his senses? That was the way
he did the last time he was captured, and Willis could not understand
why he didn't do so now.
"Well," said Roy, laying down his paper and squaring around in his
chair. "What conclusion did you and Babcock come to?"
"What conclusion?" repeated Willis, innocently.
"Yes. You went on deck to hold a private confab, and I should like to
know what came of it. It is a matter in which I am somewhat interested."
"I don't see how you can be. Bab wanted to know who was to pay him for
interfering with your plans, and I told him he would have to go to your
uncle for that. There was nothing private about it."
"I suppose I am at liberty to believe that or not," replied Roy.
"Babcock knows that when he caught me he didn't get the boy he wanted,
and you know it, too. I don't say you knew it when you took me away
from my friends in front of the hall, but you do now!"
Roy said this at a venture, and, no doubt, would have been greatly
amazed if he had known just how close he had shot to the mark. He was
sitting a little to one side of the reflector, so that the rays from
the hanging lamp fell squarely upon him, and now that Willis had
leisure to look at him without fear of interruption from a crowd of
curious by-standers, the cold chills began creeping over him. There
was a wonderful resemblance, it is true, between the prisoner and Rowe
Shelly, and yet Willis could not help seeing that they were different
in a good many particulars. Roy had a way of holding his head, and even
of sitting in his chair, which were unlike anything the superintendent
had ever noticed in Rowe. How earnestly he wished that Roy would
own up, confess that he was the runaway, and thus put an end to his
suspense!
"Where's Babcock now?" asked Roy, after a short pause.
"On deck," answered Willis, who did not think it would be good policy
to tell the prisoner just what had passed between himself and the
detective. "It always makes him sea-sick to remain in a close cabin
when on the water, and so he stayed where he could get the breeze."
"It works that way with me, too," said Roy; but Willis could not be
made to believe it.
"It won't do, Rowe," said he, with something that was intended for
a good-natured smile. "I've seen you on the water too often, and you
can't crowd any such story down me. I wouldn't mind allowing you to go
on deck if I could trust you; but I have learned that I can't. Your
word isn't good for anything."
"Your remarks may apply to Rowe Shelly, but I want you to understand
that they don't hit me. My word is always good. But what's the use of
talking?" said Roy, again, picking up the paper. "I've told my story to
the detective, who probably told it to you, and in a few hours you will
learn that it is a true one. Where has Colonel Shelly gone, and when is
he expected to return?"
Willis answered that he didn't know.
"It's immaterial," said Roy. "When my friends come to the island after
me, as they surely will as soon as they find out where I have been
taken, I shall go ashore with them, no matter whether the colonel is
there or not."
It was right on the point of Roy's tongue to add: "And you will go
also, for I don't intend to submit to treatment of this sort." But he
did not utter the words. It came into his mind like a flash, that
possibly this man Willis might have it in his power to shut him up in
some strong room on the island, and if that was the case Roy did not
wish to make him angry.
"You still stick to it that you are not Rowe Shelly, do you?" exclaimed
Willis, trying to look and speak as if he were becoming indignant,
though the effort was a sorry failure. He was frightened, and Roy saw
it plain enough. "You might as well give up, for everybody who has ever
seen you knows who you are."
"Oh, I'll give up because I can't well help myself," replied Roy. "In
fact I have a curiosity to see the thing out, and to know what you and
Babcock will do when you find that you have put your feet in it. So
long as I get good treatment, a soft bed to sleep in--I have been in
the saddle nearly all day, and consequently I feel rather tired--and
plenty to eat, I would just as soon--indeed, I would rather stay on an
island to-night than sleep at my hotel. I never did like a city hotel,
and if I were sure that my friends are not worrying about me, my mind
would be quite at rest. Hal-lo! What have I said now, I wonder."
"By the piper that played before Moses, that ain't Rowe Shelly," said
Willis, to himself, as he sprang from his chair and bolted up the
companion-ladder. "Babcock was right, and I'm in for it, sure enough.
Rowe's got sublime cheek, but it can't compare with this fellow's. Now
what shall I do?"
It was plain as daylight to me, when I heard of it, that there was
but one course of action open to the superintendent, and that was the
honest and manly one. When he became convinced, or even suspected,
that he had made a blunder, the best thing he could do was to order
the yacht back to the pier and conduct Roy Sheldon to his hotel with
such apologies as he could think up on the spur of the moment. But,
unfortunately, Willis had never been known to do an honest and manly
thing. Probably he never thought of it. He wasn't above a mean act, and
when detected in it generally did something meaner to cover it up. And
that was what he decided to do in this case. He did not go into the
cabin again, but paced the deck, lost in thought. He turned over in
his mind a dozen wild schemes for ridding himself of the prisoner in
case he did not prove to be the boy he wanted, but through it all he
clung to the hope that he was Rowe Shelly, and nobody else. It couldn't
be possible, he told himself, that there was a boy in the world who
looked enough like the runaway to deceive everybody at first sight. At
any rate, it would not take long to settle the matter now, for here
was the island close at hand. There were several people on the jetty
awaiting the yacht's return, and every one of them would be able to
tell at a glance whether or not he had brought Rowe Shelly with him.
"I'll not so much as drop a hint that I am afraid there is something
wrong," said Willis, to himself. "I'll just walk him ashore as if it
was all right, and leave them to find a difference between him and the
runaway, if they can. If they don't say anything, I shall know that I
have been a fool for allowing Babcock's words to have so much weight
with me."
When the yacht whistled for the landing, Willis stuck his head down the
companion-way and told Roy he might come on deck; a privilege of which
the weary prisoner was prompt to avail himself. He had been asleep,
with his head resting on the table, and now all he cared for was to
get to bed. It would be time enough, he thought, to look into his
surroundings and inquire about Rowe Shelly and his reasons for leaving
home, after he had had a good night's rest. But by the time the yacht
was stopped at the jetty and the lines made fast and the gang-plank
shoved out, he was wide awake.
"He's come," said somebody on the jetty. "Don't you see his white shirt
and cap? That's him. That's Rowe."
"Now this is mighty strange," said Roy to himself. "These folks appear
to be friendly to the boy I am supposed to be, and yet they don't want
to have him run away, although he must have good reasons for it, having
tried it twice. When they get a closer view of my face we'll see how
quick they will sing another tune."
But, to Roy's surprise, they didn't do anything of the sort.
They crowded about him, as he walked down the staging by the
superintendent's side (for a wonder the man did not take hold of
his arm, as Roy expected him to do), all eager to shake him by the
hand. They even gazed into his face, which was plainly visible, owing
to the bright light emitted by the blazing torch that was standing
among the rocks at the end of the jetty. The climax was reached when
a motherly-looking woman, who was waiting for them at the shore end
of the jetty, threw her arms around the neck of the startled boy and
kissed him on the nose before he knew what she was going to do.
"Bless his heart, has he come back again?" she exclaimed, holding him
off at arm's length so that she could get a good view of him. "Come
right into the house and get a good supper before you go to bed. I know
you must be tired to death, and don't suppose you have had a bite to
eat since you went away, seeing that you did not take any money with
you."
"Let us go in, Mrs. Moffat," interrupted Willis, who grew nervous when
the housekeeper began talking about money.
"I'll tell you what's a fact: this is getting serious," soliloquized
Roy, as he moved toward the house in company with Willis and Mrs.
Moffat, one walking on each side of him. "But I don't know that I care
so very much. I'll see how it looks in the morning." Then aloud he
said: "I don't want anything to eat, Mrs.--beg pardon, I didn't quite
catch the name."
"Good laws! Just listen at the child," exclaimed the housekeeper,
throwing up her hands and looking the picture of astonishment.
"He's been going on that way ever since we found him, Mrs. Moffat,"
said Willis in a low tone. "He don't know me nor Babcock nor the
captain nor nobody. He acts as if he had lost all his senses."
"That's just what I have been afraid of for a longtime," answered the
housekeeper in a loud, shrill whisper. "No boy who was in his right
mind would want to run away and leave a kind uncle and a beautiful home
like this. I've suspected it, and so have others whose names I could
mention."
Willis started when he heard this, and so did Roy. The woman's words
suggested an idea to both of them.
"I've sense enough to know that I am not hungry," said Roy. "All I ask
is to get to bed and be left alone for the rest of the night. I'm tired
and sleepy; and besides, I want a chance to think about this business,"
he added, to himself.
The housekeeper hastened to assure him that it should be just as he
said, and a few minutes later Roy was conducted up the front steps and
into a wide hall from which winding stairs led to the floor above.
Fortunately, his guides did not leave him here, for if they had, Roy
would not have known what to do. No doubt he would have confirmed the
housekeeper's suspicions by requesting her to show him to his room. But
she and Willis did that without being asked. They led him up-stairs
to a handsomely furnished apartment, and even accompanied him into
it. There was a student lamp on the center-table, a bright wood-fire
burning in the grate (although it was summer, the breeze that came
off the Sound was raw and chilly), and everything looked cheerful and
inviting.
"I haven't touched the room since you went away, except to slick it
up a little," said Mrs. Moffatt. "Now, is there anything I can do for
you before I say good-night? Hadn't you better let me bring up a little
lunch for fear that you may get hungry before morning?"
"I don't care for any, because I never eat during the night. When I
once fall asleep, I don't know anything more till daylight comes.
There's nothing you can do, thank you," replied Roy.
The motherly housekeeper was evidently disappointed because the boy
did not make some complaints or order something, for she lingered as
if waiting for him to speak again, while Willis walked the floor with
his hands behind his back. He was lost in a brown study from which he
presently aroused himself to say:
"Very well. If there is nothing we can do for you, we'll bid you
good-night. If you want anything you know how to get it."
"I'll be shot if I do," said Roy, mentally. "Rowe Shelly must be a
queer chap if he has to be waited on during the night. If that's the
way he has been brought up he had better stay at home as long as he
can, for he'll have to take hard knocks when he gets out into the
world. I declare, he lives in clover, does he not?" added Roy, glancing
around at the expensive furniture, the pictures on the walls, the
ornaments on the mantel, which included the model of a full-rigged
ship, and the well-filled book-cases that stood on each side of the
fire-place. Through an open door at the farther end of the apartment,
Roy caught a glimpse of the runaway's bed-room.
"But I'll not go in there," said he, to himself. "I'll move this sofa
pillow to the lounge, borrow a book, if I can find one to suit me, and
read myself to sleep. So long as I am treated like one of the masters
of the house instead of an interloper, I don't see why I shouldn't make
the best of the situation. Of course Joe and Art will be along in the
morning, and they will be able to prove to Willis's satisfaction that
I don't belong here. I knew it would be of no use to argue the matter
with Mrs. Moffatt after Willis told her I was out of my head."
While Roy talked to himself in this way he ran his eye over the volumes
in one of the book-cases, took out "Gulliver's Travels," and lay down
upon the lounge; but before he had read half a page the hand that held
the book gradually fell away from his face until the volume rested
on the floor by his side. There was no sham about his weariness. His
thirty-six mile ride had tired every muscle in his body, and Roy was
fast asleep. Would his slumber have been as peaceful as it was if he he
had known what was going on outside the house?
When Roy awoke it was with a start and the indescribable feeling that
sometimes comes over a sleeper when a stranger unexpectedly enters his
room. He looked around, and sure enough he was not alone. Willis was
standing a little distance away, and Roy was almost certain that he saw
him turn and signal to another man, who whisked out of the door before
he could obtain a fair view of him. It might have been nothing but the
vagary of a dream, but still Roy thought it worth while to speak of it.
"What do you want now?" he demanded. "Why do you come in without
awaking me, and who was that fellow who just went out?"
"What fellow?" asked Willis, answering the last question first, and at
the same time facing about and looking at the door, which was still
slowly and softly closing.
"That's what I asked _you_," replied Roy, springing off the lounge,
jerking the door wide open and looking out into the hall. There was no
one there. If there had been Roy certainly would have seen him, for the
lamps were still burning.
"Why, what's the matter?" inquired Willis, as if he thought this a very
strange proceeding on Roy's part. "What are you afraid of?"
"I don't know that I am afraid of anything; but I'd like to have you to
tell me who came into this room with you, and why you are here. I told
you I shouldn't want anything to-night."
"I thought you might, and that's why I came," replied the man. "There
is no one with me. I am alone." And then, as if he had just thought of
the object of his visit, he continued: "I was sure you would like to
hear some word from your friends--the two who were with you when that
bunco-steerer tried to cheat you out of some money. I know I might have
waited until morning, and since you were sleeping so soundly, I am
sorry I didn't. I have found out--"
"Great Scott, man!" interrupted Roy, who could scarcely believe that he
heard aright. "Don't talk about waiting till morning when you have good
news to tell. Where are my friends? Are they here--on the island? How
did you get word from them? Go on, please, and tell me what you have
found out."
If Willis had not already received as good evidence as he wanted that
the boy before him was not Rowe Shelly, he had it now. The real runaway
could not have talked and acted as Roy did at that moment.
"I heard of them through Babcock," Willis began.
"Then he didn't come to the island with us, did he? I wondered why I
did not see him."
"No. He left me at the pier and went to the city to make inquiries
about you. He went straight to the--the--"
"Lafayette House," prompted Roy, when the man hesitated.
"That's the place. The Lafayette House, and saw your name on the
register. Let me see; what did he say it was?"
"Was it Roy Sheldon?"
"Yes, it was. Sounds a good deal like Rowe Shelly, don't it? He found
your name there, and also the names of--"
Here Willis hesitated again, for he was not quite sure of his ground.
You must remember that he did not know as much about the prisoner as
Babcock did, for Roy had not had the same chance to talk to him. So he
stopped as often as he needed posting, and, strange to say, Roy never
suspected that there was anything wrong. He afterward had occasion to
take himself to task for his stupidity.
"My two friends, Joe Wayring and Arthur Hastings?" again prompted
Roy. "Did Babcock see them, and what did they have to say about my
disappearance? I hope they haven't thought of writing home about it. I
wouldn't have them do that for anything."
This was something that Roy ought to have kept to himself; but he said
it, and Willis was quick to make a note of it.
"I don't know about that," he replied. "Babcock didn't see 'em to speak
to 'em, and they didn't come off with him."
"Now--why didn't they?" exclaimed the disappointed Roy, who had
secretly cherished the hope that the fellow who so suddenly disappeared
through the door was one of his chums. It would have been just like Art
Hastings to play a trick of that kind on him.
"I'll tell you why he didn't speak to--what's their names?" answered
Willis. "He spoke to the clerk instead, because he did not want to
raise a row, and he told him all about you."
"The clerk did?" said Roy. "Why, he doesn't know anything about me. He
never saw me until I went into his hotel in company with my friends."
"That's what he told Bab; but he knew you were from--what is the name
of that place again?"
"Mount Airy?"
"That's it. He knew you came from there, and more than that, he saw the
genuine Rowe Shelly."
"There, now," cried Roy. "That's evidence worth having. Did he catch
him?"
"No; but he is close on his trail. He brought this news over to me just
now, Babcock did, and then went back to follow him up."
"I hope he'll not catch him," said Roy. "I'm sure I can't understand
why a boy as well fixed and as kindly treated as young Shelly seems to
be should want to run away from home, but I suppose he has good reasons
for it."
"Not the first; not the smallest shadow of a reason," protested Willis.
"Then he's crazy; that's flat."
"Now you have hit it. That's what's the matter with him, and you
heard Mrs. Moffatt say she had suspected it for a long time. You look
surprisingly like Rowe, or else all those folks who met us on the
jetty wouldn't have taken you for him. You've got the same hair, eyes,
and mustache, and your clothes are exactly like his; but when I had
a chance to exchange a word with you, I knew that Bab had made a big
mistake."
"Bab says you are the one who made the mistake, and that if I blame
anybody for what has happened to me to-night, I must blame you."
"Well, you wouldn't blame anybody if you could see Rowe Shelly," said
Willis, deprecatingly. "Of course any amends that--"
"Oh, I don't ask any amends," interposed Roy. "I've had an agreeable
adventure, and I shall not make any trouble on account of it. All I ask
is that you will send me to the city at once, so that I may relieve the
anxiety of my friends. Now, what do you want me to do? Are you going to
send me off in the yacht?"
"I'd like to, but I can't," answered Willis. "The captain's asleep, and
steam has gone down, so that it would take an hour to get ready for the
start. I'll have to send you ashore in a boat, if you don't mind going
that way."
"Any way to get there," said Roy, picking up his cap. "I'm ready if you
are."
Willis left the room at once, and Roy followed him downstairs and out
of the house. Did the man move with cautious footsteps as if he were
afraid of disturbing somebody? Roy was sure he did, and thought it
looked suspicious.