NED FLEES AGAIN
"I tell you I haven't your money!" exclaimed Ned. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean well enough! I had a lot of dollar bills under my
pillow! You sneaked in and took them! I want my money!"
"And I tell you I haven't it and didn't take it!" Ned repeated. "This is
my room, and you'd better get out of it!"
"Not until I have my money! Where is it?"
He lifted a pillow from Ned's bed. Under it were four one dollar bills
which Ned had placed there before he went to sleep.
"Here's part of it, anyhow!" the man exclaimed. "I want the rest now!
Fork it over!"
"That's my money!" cried Ned, as the red-moustached man took the bills
and stuffed them into his pocket.
"Your money! A likely story! Anybody with as much money as that would
never stop in a place like this."
"How did you happen to stop here then?" asked Ned quickly.
"Me? Why young impudence, I'm the proprietor of this lodging house! I
live here! That's why. Hey, Bill!" he called in a loud voice, "come
here. There's trouble."
In answer to the summons a big man, evidently the night porter or
watchman, came shuffling down the corridor.
"What's the trouble, boss?" he asked, and Ned began to believe the man
had spoken the truth when he said he was the proprietor of the place.
"Why, here's a kid comes into my room when I'm asleep and takes my cash
right from under my pillow. I wake up just in time to see him sneak
back into his room and when I get him with the goods on him he has the
impudence to deny it. There's part of the cash," and he showed Ned's
money, "but I want the rest. Better call a policeman, Bill."
"All right, boss. Just as you say," and the porter shuffled off.
"Do you mean to say you're going to have me arrested on a charge of
stealing your money?" asked Ned.
"That's what I am unless you give it up."
"But I didn't take it. It must have been some one else, if you really
were robbed. Why don't you look in some of the other rooms along here?"
"Because I saw you come in here after you were in my room, and had your
hand under my pillow."
"Couldn't you be mistaken?"
"Not much. I've been in this business too long. 'Tisn't the first time
I've been robbed, but it's the first time I got the thief and I'm goin'
to make an example of you."
"You're making a big mistake," Ned said, trying to speak bravely, but
the accusation, unjust as it was, coupled with his other misfortunes was
almost too much for him.
"I'll take the chances on that. Who are you, anyhow? What's your name,
and where'd you come from?"
Ned hesitated. If he gave his real name it might lead to trouble over
the stock, in case the proprietor carried out the threat to have him
arrested. He was not used to telling untruths and he was afraid if he
gave a false name he would soon betray himself. Still it seemed the best
thing to do and would harm no one save himself.
"My name's George Anderson," he said boldly. "Where I came from is none
of your affair."
"Afraid to tell, eh? Well, the judge will soon have it out of you."
It was quite cold now, and Ned, standing half dressed as he was in the
room, began to shiver. He put on his clothes.
"Guess that's a wise thing to do," the proprietor of the lodging house
remarked. "You'll get a ride in the hurry-up wagon soon."
The words struck a chill of terror to Ned's heart. Must he spend the
rest of the night in a cell? The man's manner showed no relenting. He
either believed Ned had robbed him or was insisting on the charge for
some reason of his own.
"Are you in earnest about this?" asked Ned, as he put on his hat and
overcoat.
"You can make up your mind to that," was the man's answer. "It'll be the
jail for yours, in a little while, if you don't give me back my money.
It isn't too late. I can fix it with the cop if you'll give up. Why look
here, kid, they'll search you and find it on you. You haven't had time
to hide it, and, besides, there's no place in this room. You must have
it on you. Give it up and save trouble."
"I haven't your money," Ned said boldly. "Those bills you took from
under the pillow were mine. You can search me now if you want to. That
is all the money I have except a little change in my overcoat pocket,"
and he showed the man.
"That don't go with me. I'm sure you robbed me. I'll not search you or
you'd say I was up to some game, and nobody ever said but what Jim
Cassidy was honest, though he does keep a cheap lodging house. No, sir,
the cop'll search you."
Ned knew the officer would find nothing--except the stock certificate.
There was the trouble. Ned thought every officer in New York had a
description of it and was looking for the boy who carried it. No, he
couldn't allow himself to be searched.
"It's cold!" exclaimed Cassidy suddenly, as he shivered in his long
nightrobe. "I'm goin' to get dressed. Better not try to run or I'll nab
you. I'll be in the next room."
He went into his own apartment and Ned could hear him putting on his
clothes. By the grunts and puffs that ensued he judged Cassidy was
having hard work, as he was a large man, and putting on a shirt was no
easy matter.
Then a daring plan came into Ned's mind. In spite of the excitement
caused by the proprietor's entrance into his room and the loud talking
that followed the accusation, none of the other lodgers had gotten up.
Even sending the porter for a policeman had not excited any curiosity.
Ned resolved to make his escape if possible. He thought he could slip
past Cassidy's door and down the stairs before Bill would return with a
policeman. He got upon the bed and looked over the partition into
Cassidy's room. The proprietor was putting on his shoes and had his back
to the door. There was a light at the far end of the corridor,
illuminating it dimly.
Ned took off his own shoes, and, carrying them in his hand stepped to
the door of his room. He stole softly into the corridor and was about to
slip past Cassidy's room when the door of the apartment opposite his
opened just a crack and a hoarse voice whispered:
"Hey, cully! If youse wants t' make a git-away, go de other way an' down
de back stairs. Youse kin slip around through de alley an' inter de
street 'fore de cop comes. I heard what youse said and ye sounds honest,
an' dat's more'n ye kin say fer a lot in dis joint. Quick, some one's
comin' up de front stairs!"
Then, before Ned could thank his unknown friend, the door was shut. Ned
could hear Cassidy getting up from the chair on which he had seated
himself to lace his shoes. There was not a moment to spare.
Making no sound in his stocking feet, Ned hurried down the dark corridor,
away from the front of the building. He had to trust almost entirely to
feeling, as the gleam from the single lamp farther toward the front
stairs did not penetrate thus far. He did not even know where the rear
flight was, but trusted to luck to find them. With his hand stretched out
in front of him, to avoid running into any obstructions he went on as
fast as he could. Suddenly he turned a corner in the passage and saw a
dim light. Then he observed a flight of stairs leading downward. He
listened a moment. Behind him he could hear the tramp of heavy feet, and
guessed that Bill had returned with the policeman.
Ned hurried down the stairs. He stopped only long enough, when he
reached the bottom, to put his shoes on, but did not lace them. He only
tucked the ends of the strings into the tops so they would not dangle
and trip him if he had to run. Then Ned stepped from the hallway into
the dark and deserted street. Once more, though entirely innocent, he
had been obliged to flee from officers of the law.
"It's getting to be a habit with me," he said grimly, as he hurried
along.
What happened back in the lodging house he did not know and he cared
less. That his flight would seem a confession of guilt he was sure; but
what did it matter?
It was cold and dark and cheerless in the streets. He was a night
wanderer, with no place to go, and, as far as he knew, not a friend in
the big city.
"I guess I'll have to walk the streets all night," poor Ned thought. "I
haven't much money left." He felt in the pocket of his overcoat, and
counted the change. There was less than a dollar.
"Have to take fifteen cent beds after this," he remarked to himself. "As
for eating I guess I'll have to cut that out altogether."
He walked through several thoroughfares. Not a soul did he meet save
once as he passed a policeman the officer stared at him suspiciously.
But Ned still had his good clothes with him, and his overcoat though
crumpled from being used as a bed-spread, made him look decent enough to
pass muster in the neighborhood where he was.
"I think I'll find another lodging house and get a bed," he said to
himself. "I must get a little rest if I am to look for work to-morrow."
He had no difficulty in finding a place, for there were many such
nearby. He got a fifteen cent bed, in a room where scores of other men
and youths were sleeping. His entrance excited no comment, and, in fact,
few were awake to notice his arrival.
Ned was so tired he fell asleep with most of his clothes on. He had
little fear of being robbed for he had little left to take. He got a
frugal breakfast the next morning and started out to search for work.
But New York seemed to be overflowing with men and boys on the same
errand. Every place where Ned applied, either from seeing a sign "Boy
Wanted," or by getting the address from a newspaper he bought, had been
taken or else he would not fill the bill. All day long he tramped,
spending a few cents for some buns and coffee at a lunch stand. At
night, tired and discouraged, he went back to the lodging house where he
had last stayed, and again got a fifteen cent bed.
"To-morrow's Thursday," thought Ned, as he crawled under his overcoat,
which he once more used as a blanket. "I wonder if the boys arrived
to-day? What could they have thought when they saw the house closed?
Oh, I wish I could find them. If this keeps on I'll have to pawn my
overcoat for something to eat, and it looks as if it would snow
to-morrow. What a pickle I'm in!"
Then, in spite of his troubles he fell asleep, for he was very tired.