REAPPEARING
After ringing the bell of the house, Herbert waited for a long time,
but there was no response. Instantly his whole being was thrown into
a fever of impatience and unrest. He imagined all sorts of terrible
things. His mind was filled with terror. What if he had arrived on the
scene too late? What if some crime had been committed in the dead of
the night? Curiously enough, during that mental review he never thought
of John Black or his wife. The one person constantly in his mind was
Mary Black.
He rang the bell a second time. This time it was done fiercely,
angrily. He listened eagerly, but received no immediate response, and
then consulted with the policeman upon the advisability of going to the
rear of the house and breaking in. While they were talking a sound was
heard at the parlor window, and the next moment it was thrown open. A
head was pushed cautiously out of the window. Herbert recognized it at
a glance. It was Mary Black. He was on the top step now, and leaning
over, said quietly so as not to alarm the girl:
“Mary.”
She started at the sound of a familiar voice, and peering out into the
gloom, exclaimed in genuine surprise:
“Herbert Harkins!”
“Yes, Mary,” he answered; “what is the difficulty?”
“Oh, I’m terribly frightened,” she cried, “someone has broken into the
house. I don’t know who it is, except that it is a man. I was reading
in my room when I heard a grating sound at the kitchen door. Presently
it was opened, and footsteps could be heard going into the dining room.
Then all was silent for awhile. I came down the front stairway about
half way, and leaning over the banister, looked in the dining room. The
fellow’s back was to me. He was seated at the table calmly eating some
cold meat that he had taken out of the refrigerator. He had a couple of
bottles of papa’s wine, also, and was drinking that with great relish.
Scarcely knowing what to do, I crept back to my room. Both papa and
mamma had gone out for the evening, and I had no idea when they would
return home. While I was in my room, in an agony of fear, I heard the
fellow come upstairs. He went back into the library, and securing a
large tablecloth, filled it with the silverware and other valuable
things that he had carried from the dining room. Then he sank back
into a large arm chair and calmly went to sleep. It was then that I
conceived the idea of sounding the alarm. I pulled the doors of the
library to and locking them securely, came down to the hall, where we
have a telephone, and notified the police.”
“Good!” exclaimed Herbert at the conclusion of this narrative, “you
have acted very discreetly. Is the fellow still asleep?”
“No,” she replied; “he evidently awakened a few minutes ago, because I
hear him in the room. He has discovered the fact that he is a prisoner,
and I am sure will either jump through one of the back windows or break
open the door.”
Herbert immediately sent the policeman to the rear of the house, with
instructions to arrest anybody who might attempt to escape from that
part of the property. Another patrolman fortunately passing by at this
time, volunteered to guard the front of the house, while Herbert went
in to grapple with the intruder.
Mary was quite solicitous for Herbert’s safety, as was only natural.
“Please be careful,” she said; “he may be a dangerous character. Don’t
you think you had better send one of the officers up?”
“No,” said Herbert, “I think I’ll tackle this job myself.”
He felt some apprehension, but being a man, did not propose to display
it before a girl for whom he had so much regard as Mary Black.
He crept up the stairs silently, armed with a pistol which Tomlin had
thoughtfully provided. He heard a great knocking on the doors of the
library, and going there immediately, turned the key and threw them
open. The man within, surprised at this bold movement, retreated to the
rear of the room. There was no light, but Herbert could see his figure
dimly moving in the gloom.
“Surrender or you will be shot!” he shouted sternly.
For answer the burglar drew a pistol from his pocket, and aiming at
Herbert, pulled the trigger. There was a flash of light and then all
was silence. Herbert felt a tickling sensation like a pin prick on the
back of his right hand. He lifted it, and noticed that the bullet had
just grazed the top of his hand, which was already bleeding. Smarting
with anger, he raised his own pistol and fired. It went far of the
mark, but it produced results, for a heavy bass voice coming out of the
darkness shouted:
“Stop shooting, and I’ll surrender.”
Herbert put his pistol away, and striking a match, lit the gas. The
burglar was crouching in a corner of the room back of a book-case. His
clothing seemed to be in tatters. Herbert strode over to where he was
and grabbing him by the arm, pulled him out. The man turned round with
a whine:
“You’re not going to hurt me, are you?” he said.
Something in the voice attracted Herbert at once. He scrutinized the
bleared face and recognized in it the countenance of Harry Adler. The
discovery aroused his indignation.
“You scoundrel!” he shouted, raising his voice in his anger. “What do
you mean by coming here and trying to rob these people. Aren’t you
satisfied with the injury you have already done to this family? You
have taken their boy away from them, and now to cap the climax, you are
low enough and despicable enough to come and try to rob them of their
property.”
“What family?” asked Adler, looking up at the young man with a sullen
gaze.
“What family?” ejaculated Herbert, “do you mean to say that you did not
know that this was John Black’s house?”
“No,” was the reply with an ugly leer. “I didn’t know it was John
Black’s house. I was hard up; I had to get something; I needed money.
This looked like an easy thing. How could I tell whose crib I was
trying to crack?”
“Well,” said Herbert bitterly, “you put your head in the noose this
time all right You’ve been caught red-handed, and you’ll go to jail
without doubt.”
“How do you know this?” asked Adler, with sudden defiance.
“Because the house is guarded back and front,” was the reply; “because
I have caught you in the act and you are my prisoner now, and I don’t
propose to permit you to escape.”
The burglar looked at his antagonist in a blank sort of way for a
moment, then a glitter of intelligence and cunning suddenly illumined
the fishy eyes and the sodden face.
“If you permit the police to take me up to-night you’ll regret it to
the very end of your life.”
Something in the man’s manner and in the tone of his voice arrested
Herbert’s attention. Some instinctive feeling seemed to tell him that
these words were not mere bravado. He turned to the culprit:
“Why? Why do you say this?”
“Because,” exclaimed Adler, in a shrill voice, “if you have me arrested
I’ll squeal. I’ll tell the truth and the whole truth about young Arthur
Black. He came to New York with me as my partner. He was concerned in
that dirty get-rich-quick business. I’ll turn State’s evidence, and if
I go to jail he’ll go with me, and you can bet your sweet life that
the Black family will be mighty unhappy before I get through with them.”
Herbert was the picture of distress. The man watched him with a leer.
With all his defects, Adler possessed acute intelligence and he
realized that Herbert was more deeply interested in Mary Black than he
was willing to acknowledge. Knowing this, he felt that he had struck
his captor in his weakest spot. It did not take Herbert long to decide.
Turning to the unfortunate man, he said:
“Suppose you are released, what then?”
“Then mum’s the word,” replied the burglar, “I’ll not squeal; I’ll go
about my business and let you and your friends go about yours.”
“Wait a minute,” was Herbert’s comment. Going to the foot of the
stairs, he called for Mary Black. She came up very much agitated. She
peeped in at the burglar, who still lay in a heap on the floor, and
shuddered at the sight. Herbert whispered to her.
“Mary, this man deserves to be arrested and imprisoned; but I have
a great notion to let him go. He is an old Cleverly boy. It’s Harry
Adler. He never did amount to much, but it might be an act of charity
to permit him to go in peace this time.”
Her eyes brightened and the color returned to her face. In her
enthusiasm she took Herbert by both hands, exclaiming:
“I agree with you thoroughly, and I think you’re simply great to act so
generously with a man who is at your mercy.”
While this conversation was going on the policemen who had been
patiently waiting in the front and rear of the house, tiring of their
long watch, came inside and walked up the stairway. As they joined the
group, Herbert turned to the man who had accompanied him, and said:
“Gentlemen, this is all a deplorable error. This gentleman is a distant
relative of the family. In the confusion he was taken for an intruder.
The family is very much mortified, and hopes that nothing more will be
said about the matter.”
The policemen smiled at this and bowing their heads in acquiescence
left the house, chuckling in audible tones. Such scenes were not
unfamiliar to the members of the metropolitan police force. As soon as
they had gotten out of sight, Herbert turned to Adler, and in a tone
freighted with anger and contempt, exclaimed:
“Go!”
The man looked up out of the corner of his eye as if to assure himself
that there was no treachery intended, and then slunk downstairs and out
into the street.
As he withdrew Mary turned to Herbert and then suddenly gave a terrible
scream.
“Why, what’s the matter, Mary?” he cried anxiously, rushing over to her.
“Oh that, that!” she exclaimed, pointing to his right hand, which was
now almost covered with blood; “you have been shot. You are wounded.”
Herbert, who had forgotten his slight injury, looked down at his
discolored hand and gave a laugh.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” he cried; “if you will get me a little hot water
and a bandage, I think we can straighten that out in short order.”
She proceeded to do this, bustling about with much intelligence and
vivacity. The wound was dressed and she was in the act of binding it
up when Mr. and Mrs. Black returned. They were amazed to see Herbert
Harkins there, and still more thunderstruck when they learned the story
of the attempted robbery. John Black was grateful, but he shook his
head as he said to Herbert:
“You should not have released the man. He is a menace to society, and
may attempt the same crime against other citizens.”
Mary spoke up at this point, saying:
“I disagree with you, father. Herbert was right. He might have been
mistaken, but he was merciful and that after all means much in this
unfeeling world.”
Herbert was delighted at such praise, and bidding her good-night
stooped down and kissed her hand in the chivalrous manner of a
gentleman of the old school.
The act appeared to please the girl, for her face crimsoned and
stooping down, she picked up his wounded hand and gave it a kiss.
“You deserve it,” she said impulsively, “because you have acted the
part of a hero.”