WHERE WAS PURT?
The police examination of Purt Sweet was no light matter. Two of
Centerport's detective force had been working on the case ever since the
stranger had been knocked down on Market Street, and, like Chet Belding and
his friends, the detectives finally had come to the conclusion that
Prettyman Sweet's automobile was the only Perriton car in the city that had
not been in storage on that night.
The detectives' visit to the Sweet residence, and Purt's later call upon
the Chief of Police at his command, were dreadfully shocking to the boy's
mother. Purt had to reassure her and insist that he was not going to be
arrested and sent to jail at once; so he had not much time to be frightened
himself. Indeed, he came out in rather good colors on this particular
occasion.
The boy's father had long since died. Purt had been indulged by his mother
to a ridiculous degree, and as a usual thing Purt's conversation and his
activities were ridiculed by his schoolmates.
"This disgrace will kill me, Prettyman!" wailed Mrs. Sweet.
"Where does the disgrace come in," pleaded poor Purt, "when I haven't
really done anything?"
"But they say you have!"
"I can't help what they say."
"You were out that evening with the car. I remember it very well," his
mother declared.
"What of it? I wasn't on Market Street the whole evening," grumbled the
boy.
"Where were you then?" she demanded.
It seemed as though everybody else asked Purt Sweet that question, from the
Chief of Police down; and it was the one question the boy would not answer.
He grew red, and sputtered, and begged the question, every time anybody
sought to discover just where he was with the automobile on that Saturday
evening after dinner. Even when Chief Donovan threatened him with arrest,
Purt said:
"If I should tell you it wouldn't do any good. It would not relieve me of
suspicion and would maybe only make trouble for other people. I was out
with our car, and that is all there is to it. But I did not run that man
down. I was not on Market Street."
He stuck to this. And his honest manner impressed the head of the police
force. Besides, Mrs. Sweet was very wealthy, and if Purt was arrested she
would immediately bail him and would engage the best counsel in the county
to defend her son. It is one thing to accuse a person of a fault. As Chief
Donovan very well knew, it is an entirely different matter to prove such
accusation.
The news of Purt's trouble was not long in getting to Short and Long in the
hospital. Chet and Lance really thought the smaller boy would express some
satisfaction over Purt's trouble. But to their surprise Billy took up
cudgels for the dandy as soon as he was told that the police suspected him
of the offense.
"What's the matter with you, Short?" demanded the big fellow. "You've been
sure Purt was guilty all the time."
"I don't care!" declared Billy. "He's one of us fellows, isn't he?"
"Admitted he goes to Central High," Chet said.
"But he isn't one of our gang," Lance added.
"I don't care! The police are always too fresh," said Billy, who had reason
for believing that the Centerport police sometimes made serious mistakes.
Billy had had his own experience, as related in "The Girls of Central High
on Lake Luna."
"Then you don't believe Purt did it?" demanded Lance.
"No, I don't. I was mistaken," declared Short and Long. "Purt's all right"
"Wow! Wow!" murmured Chet.
"See how he brought me here in his car when I was hurt. And look at the
stuff Purt's given me while I've been here," said Billy excitedly. "He'd
never have hurt that man and run away without seeing what he'd done. No,
sir!"
"Crackey, Billy!" said Chet, "you've turned square around."
"I know I have. And I ought to be ashamed of myself for ever distrusting
Purt," said the invalid vigorously.
"Then why won't Purt tell where he was?" demanded Lance doubtfully.
"I don't care where he was," said Billy. "If he says he didn't hit the man,
he didn't. That's all. And we've got to prove it, boys."
"Some job you suggest," said Chet slowly. "It looks to me as though Pretty
Sweet was in a bad hole, and no mistake."
Even the most charitable of his schoolmates took this view of Purt Sweet's
trouble. His denial of guilt did not establish the fact of his innocence.
His inability, or refusal, to explain where he was at the time of the
accident on Market Street in front of Mr. Belding's jewelry store made the
situation very difficult indeed.
"If he could only put forward an alibi," Lance Darby said, when the Hill
crowd of Central High boys and girls discussed the matter.
"But he won't say a word!" cried Nellie. "I believe he is innocent."
"Then why doesn't he tell where he was at the time?" demanded Laura
sternly.
"Is he scared to tell the truth?" asked Jess.
"I don't think he is," Chet observed thoughtfully. "Somehow he acts
differently from usual."
"You're right," Bobby declared, with frank approval of one of whom she had
never approved before. "I believe there's a big change in old Purt."
"Well, it's strange," Laura remarked. "He never showed such obstinacy
before."
"He's never shown any particular courage before, either," said her brother.
"That's what gets me!"
"Where does the courage come in?" demanded Lance.
"I believe Chet is right," Jess said. "Purt is trying to shield somebody."
"From what?" and "Who?" were the chorused demands.
"I don't know," Jess told them. "There is somebody else mixed up in this
trouble. It stands to reason Purt would not be so obstinate if he had
nothing to hide. And we are pretty much of the opinion--all of us--that he
really did not run that man down. Therefore, if he is not shielding some
other person, what is he about?"
"I've asked him frankly," Chet said, "and all I could get out of him was
that he 'couldn't tell.' No sense to that," growled the big fellow.
It seemed that Purt Sweet had pretty well succeeded in puzzling his friends
as well as the police. The latter were evidently waiting to get something
provable on poor Purt. Then a warrant would be issued for his arrest.
By this time the stranger who had been the start of all the trouble and
mystery--the man from Alaska, as the hospital force called him--was able to
be up and wheeled in a chair, although his leg was not yet out of plaster.
Billy Long heard of this, and he grew very anxious to see the man whose
accident was the beginning of Purt's trouble. Billy had quickly become a
favorite with both the nurses and doctors of the Centerport Hospital. He
was brave in bearing pain, and he was as generous as he could be with the
goodies and fruit and flowers that were brought to him. He divided these
with the other patients in his ward, and cheered his mates with his lively
chatter.
At first, however, there had been an hour or so every other day when a
screen was placed about Billy's bed and the doctor and nurse had a very bad
time, indeed, dressing the dreadful burns the boy had sustained.
Short and Long could not help screaming at times, and when he did not
really scream the others in the ward could hear his half-stifled moans and
sobs. These experiences were hard to bear.
When the dressings were over and his courage was restored the screen was
removed from about Billy's cot and he would grin ruefully enough at his
nearer neighbors.
"I'm an awful baby. Too tender-hearted--that's me all over," he said once.
"I never could stand seeing anybody hurt--and I can see just what they are
doing to me all the time!"
Billy knew that the man from Alaska was being wheeled up and down the
corridor, and he begged so hard to speak with him that the nurse went out
and asked the orderly to wheel the chair in to Billy's cot.
"So you are the brave boy I've heard about, are you?" said the stranger,
smiling at the bandaged boy from Central High.
"I know how brave you've heard me," said Billy soberly. "I do a lot of
hollering when they are plastering me up."
The man laughed and said: "Just the same I am glad to know you. My name
seems to have got away from me for the time being. My mind's slipped a cog,
as you might say. What do they call you, son?"
Billy told him his name. "And," he added, "I was right there in front of
Chet Belding's father's jewelry store when that automobile knocked you
down."
"You don't mean it?"
"Yes, sir. I saw the machine. It was a Perriton car all right. It might
even have been Pretty Sweet's car. But it wasn't Pretty Sweet driving it, I
am sure."
The boy's earnestness caught the man's full attention. "I guess this Sweet
boy they tell about is a friend of yours, son?" he said.
"He is a friend all right, all right," said Billy Long. "And I never knew
it till right here when I got hurt. Purt--that's what we call him--is a
good fellow. And I am sure he wouldn't do such a thing as to knock you down
and then run away without finding out if he had hurt you."
"I don't know how that may be," said the man seriously. "But whoever it was
that ran me down did me a bad turn. I can't find my name--or who I am--or
where I belong. I tell you what it is, Billy Long, that is a serious
condition for anybody to be in."
"I guess that's so," admitted the boy. "And you got your leg broken, too,
in two places."
"I don't mind much about the broken leg," said the man who had lost his
name. "What I am sore about, Billy Long, is not having any name to use.
It--it is awfully embarrassing."
"Yes, sir, I guess it is."
"So, you see, I don't feel very kindly toward this Sweet boy, if he was the
one who knocked me down."
"Oh, but I'm sure he isn't the one."
"Why are you so sure?"
"Because he wouldn't be so mean about it, and lie, and all, if he had done
it. You see, a boy who has been so nice to me as he has, couldn't really be
so mean as all that to anybody else."
"Not conclusive," said the man. "You only make a statement. You don't offer
proof."
"But I--Well!" ejaculated Billy, "I'd do most anything to make you see that
Purt _couldn't_ be guilty of knocking you down."
"I'll tell you," said the man without a name, smiling again, "I haven't any
particular hard feelings against your friend. Or I wouldn't have if I could
get my name and memory back. So you find out some way of helping me recover
my memory--you and your young friends, Billy Long--and I'll forgive the
Sweet boy, whether he hurt me or not."
"Suppose the cops arrest him?" asked Billy worriedly.
"I'll do all I can to keep them from annoying Sweet if you boys and girls
can find out who I am and where I belong," declared the man, laughing
somewhat ruefully.
And Billy shook hands on that To his mind the task was not impossible.