A CLEVER CAPTURE—CONCLUSION
LESS than half an hour later the cab was on its way to the Planters’
House, a well-known hotel in Charleston. It contained Frank and Mark,
and two officers of the law who were dressed in plain clothes. The
officers had heard the boys’ story and were prepared to do their duty
should the man Mark had spoken about prove to be the absconding rascal
from Philadelphia.
“But, mind you, there must be no mistake in this affair,” said one of
the officers. “It is a serious matter to arrest an innocent man.”
“I know the Jabez Garrison I am after,” answered Frank. “Just let me get
one square look at this man here, and I’ll tell you if he is the right
fellow or not.”
When the hotel was reached Mark went in first, to make certain that
Garrison was not hanging around the lobby or reading room. But as it was
after midnight the lower floor of the hotel was practically deserted.
“We want to find Mr. Jabez Garrison,” said Frank, to the clerk.
“No such party stopping here,” was the prompt answer.
“Will you let me look at the register?” continued our hero.
“Certainly. But we haven’t anybody by that name.”
“I may be mistaken in the name.”
The hotel register was produced, and the young book agent went over the
list with care. He knew Jabez Garrison’s handwriting fairly well.
“The man we are after is a great criminal,” said Frank, to the clerk.
“Here are three names that may belong to the fellow we are after. Can
you tell me anything about the persons?”
“I know Mr. Dale and Mr. Kussuth well,” said the clerk. “They are
well-to-do business men. One comes from Savannah and the other from
Raleigh.”
“What about this man who is registered as George Paradoe?”
“He is a stranger here.”
“I see by the register that he came less than two weeks ago.”
“That is correct.”
“Can you describe the man?”
As well as he was able the clerk did so.
“He is our man, I am quite sure,” said Frank. “How can I see him?”
“This is no game?”
“No,” came from one of the police officers. “This young man is really
after a great criminal. If he identifies his man we are to arrest him.”
“Well, you might go up and tell Mr. Paradoe, or whatever his real name
is, that you have a message for him. Shove your way into the room when
he opens the door, telling him he must sign in a book for the message.
I’ll write out something for you.”
The bogus message was written out and placed in an envelope, and Frank
went upstairs, followed by Mark and the officers. George Paradoe, as he
styled himself, had Room 134, and upon the door of this our hero knocked
sharply.
“What’s wanted?” came sleepily from within.
“A message for you, Mr. Paradoe,” answered Frank, in an assumed voice.
“Oh, all right. Wait till I get up.”
There was a movement within the room, as the man inside leaped up and
slipped on a robe. Then the door was unlocked.
Frank was on the watch and as soon as the door was opened he shoved his
way into the room. The electric light had been turned on, so he could
see the face of the man plainly.
“Hi, don’t shove into here!” cried the man, and then looked at our hero
sharply. “What—er——”
“Jabez Garrison!” shouted Frank. “Come in here!” he called to those in
the hallway.
“Not much! This is my room!” hissed Jabez Garrison, and hurling Frank to
one side, he closed the door and locked it. “Now, who have you outside,
boy?” he demanded.
“Two officers of the law,” answered our hero. “Mr. Garrison, your game
has come to an end.”
“Has it?” sneered the man. “Not much! Take that!”
He aimed a savage blow at Frank’s face. It was unexpected, and our hero
dropped to the floor like a log. Then Jabez Garrison caught up his
valise and a bundle of clothing and made for one of the windows, outside
of which was a fire escape leading to an alleyway.
Dazed and bewildered, our hero staggered to his feet. He was just in
time to see Jabez Garrison descending the fire escape.
“Stop him!” he called out. “He is running down the fire escape! Go after
him!”
“I will!” answered one of the officers, and hurried through the hallway
with all speed.
Still smarting from the blow received, our hero staggered to the door
and unlocked it. At once Mark and the remaining officer came into the
room. The officer rushed to the window while Mark ran to Frank’s
assistance.
“Are you hurt, Frank?”
“Not much. But he gave me a hard blow, I can tell you!”
“If you are all right, I’ll help run him down,” continued Mark.
In a moment he was out on the fire escape, and Frank followed. In the
meantime Jabez Garrison had reached the ground and was running through
the alleyway with all speed.
But the rascal had taken less than a dozen steps when he ran straight
into the officer who had gone below. This officer grabbed him by both
arms.
“Let me go!”
“What are you running for?” asked the officer,
“That is none of your business! Let me go, I say!” gasped Jabez
Garrison.
He began to struggle and might have gotten away, but the other officer
came up, quickly followed by Mark and Frank. Then the rascal was
handcuffed.
“This is all a mistake,” said Jabez Garrison. “I insist upon it,
gentlemen, I have done nothing wrong.”
“Then what did you run away for?” sneered one of the officers.
“I—have—er—been feeling very bad for months. In fact, I sometimes think
I am going crazy, I have such pains in the head.”
“You must have been crazy when you walked off from Philadelphia,” said
Frank. “Where is all the money you took with you?”
“I—er—I don’t know anything about any money. I am a poor man. Oh, my
head!” and Jabez Garrison put his hand to his temple. “Yes, I must be
going crazy!” he moaned.
“I guess he is putting on,” said Mark. “I think his valise ought to be
searched.”
“No! no!” cried the swindler, in fresh alarm.
“We’ll take it to the station house,” said one of the officers.
Despite his protestations that he was innocent of all wrongdoing, and
his declaration that he must be going crazy, Jabez Garrison was taken to
the station house. There his valise was searched, and much to Frank’s
satisfaction it was found to contain bank notes to the amount of
fourteen thousand dollars.
“This is the best find yet!” cried our hero. “Now, father can have his
money back—or at least some part of it.”
Jabez Garrison had left some of his clothing at the hotel and, later on,
in one of the coats were found some time-tables of trains for the West,
and a flat pocketbook containing a money-order for ten thousand dollars.
“This is another grand find,” said Frank. “Now father will surely get
his money back.”
“Oh, I am crazy! crazy!” groaned Jabez Garrison, when he saw how
completely he had been exposed.
“That will be for a court to decide,” said one of the officers. “For the
present you will remain in the lock-up.”
“This is certainly a grand capture,” said Mark, as he and Frank were
walking to a telegraph office, to send the news home. “Frank, you are a
smart boy. I am proud of you for a brother.”
“Some of the credit is yours, Mark. If you hadn’t sent that letter in
the first place, it is likely Garrison would have gotten away.”
“Well, it proves the old saying, ‘Murder will out’ sooner or later. I
suppose he felt sure he would never be captured and that he could live
like a prince on what he stole. Now, he will most likely spend a good
many years in prison,” replied Mark.
“Well, he should learn the truth of the old saying, ‘Honesty is the best
policy,’” replied our hero.
Let me add a few words more before drawing to a close this story of
Frank Hardy, the young book agent.
In due course of time Jabez Garrison was tried for his crime and sent to
prison for eight years. Gabe Flecker was also brought to the bar of
justice and sent to prison for two years. For the capture of Flecker,
Sinclair Basswood paid Frank the reward of fifty dollars.
After a good deal of delay Mr. Hardy received from the benevolent
society in Philadelphia the money he had had to pay when Garrison ran
away. Frank’s father also received from the railroad company the sum of
two thousand dollars for the accident on the road, and these combined
sums gave him a sufficient capital with which to start life anew.
“I feel like a rich man,” said Mr. Hardy. “I shall take good care not to
let my money slip through my fingers again.”
“What business will you go into, father?” asked Frank.
“I will see about that later. I shall jump at nothing hastily,” was the
parent’s answer.
When all the matters in court had been settled, Mark tried his luck at
selling books. But he could not make a living at it and at the end of a
month gave it up.
“You have all the talent in the family in that direction,” he said to
Frank. “I am going into some regular line of business.”
Early in the spring Mr. Hardy had a good chance to buy a flour and feed
business in Philadelphia, and closed the deal after he and Frank and
Mark had made a thorough investigation. He took Mark in with him, and
the business proved to be highly successful from the start.
Frank continued to sell books until Christmas. After the holidays he
entered high school and gave all his time to his studies.
“I am going to get a good education first, and then go into the
publishing business,” he said.
“You are wise,” said Mr. Vincent, to whom he had made the speech. “An
education is worth much to every man.”
The years passed and Frank graduated from high school at the top of his
class. Then he entered Princeton College; and here we will leave him,
wishing him well.
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Transcriber’s note:
○ Missing or obscured punctuation was corrected.
○ Unpaired quotation marks were left as the author intended.
○ Typographical errors were silently corrected.
○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only
when a predominant form was found in this book.