A STARTLING OCCURRENCE
Mr. Wagstaff, on receiving word at the Town Hall from the janitor who
brought the message of the terrified servant to him, forgot, in his
excitement, to tell his wife of the fearful news, and rushed
out-of-doors without a word.
Mrs. Wagstaff knew it must be something awful that had called him away
in that style, and she lost no time in following, while the children
scrambled after them at varying distances.
The husband entered the door through which several of the neighbors
had timidly passed, only a few paces ahead of his wife, who was
upstairs almost as soon as he.
“Oh! my dear Tommy,” she wailed, as she caught sight of the silent
figure fastened at the foot of the bed; “have they killed you?”
The sight was enough to startle any parent. The father had just jerked
the handkerchief loose and flung it to the floor, and the lad’s head
was drooping over on one shoulder, his eyes half-closed, and his
tongue protruding. The parent caught up a pitcher of water and dashed
it in his face, while the mother frantically strove to unfasten the
cruel thongs at the wrists and ankles.
The unexpected shock of the water startled Tommy into gasping and
opening his eyes, but his look was dazed and aimless. His father
whipped out his pocket-knife and quickly cut the thongs. The released
boy would have fallen had not both parents seized and laid him on the
bed, where he moaned as if suffering greatly.
“Send for the doctor at once,” said the mother.
“And call in the police,” added the father; “a dastardly outrage has
been committed; it may prove murder.”
By this time the room was filled with horrified and sympathizing
neighbors. The solicitude of the parents for their child caused them
to pay no heed to the visitors until the father, seeing a friend at
his elbow, begged him to clear the house of intruders, and to admit no
one except the physician or an officer of the law.
It took but a few minutes to comply with this request, and the parents
were left to give undivided attention to their suffering child, who
continued to moan and roll his eyes as if he were at his last gasp.
The father was anxious, silent, and watchful; the mother demonstrative
and weeping. She rubbed her boy’s hands, chafed his limbs, gazing
lovingly the meanwhile in his face, and begging him to speak to her.
Maggie, the servant, had regained her senses, now that she was sure
she was alive and the precious heir had not been killed. She took upon
herself to fasten the doors and keep out intruders, finding time to
make a search up-stairs, which needed to be extended only a few
minutes to learn that an extensive robbery had been committed.
“Of course,” remarked Mr. Wagstaff, when the amount of his loss, as
well as that of his wife, was reported to him, “I knew what had been
done the moment I saw my poor boy.”
“Don’t tell me,” said the mother, waving the servant away, “I don’t
care if they have taken everything in the house, so long as my darling
Tommy lives.”
Her heart was kept in a state of torture by the alarming symptoms of
her heir. At times he seemed about to revive, a look of intelligence
coming into his eyes, but, after several gasping efforts to speak, he
sank back on his pillow and gave it up as a failure.
By and by, in the midst of the trying scene, the physician arrived and
took charge of the patient. He was a wise old gentleman of wide
experience, and his cheerful words did much to awaken hope in the
parents, who hung on his words and watched his manner.
It required but a few minutes for him to make known that their child
was not seriously hurt. During his examination he gleaned the
particulars of the outrage, and succeeded in getting Tommy into a
sitting posture. Then he expressed the belief that if the boy’s senses
did not come to him very soon he would have to bore a hole through his
crown with a large auger.
This astounding declaration was meant for the benefit of Tommy alone,
a sly wink at the parents preventing them from taking alarm. It was
noteworthy that the boy began to pick up at once, and in the course of
a few minutes was entirely himself.
When the chief of police arrived the urchin was able to talk with
something of his usual facility, and imparted to his awed listeners
his account of the daring outrage and crime.
He said he did not feel very well after his folks left for the
concert, and he went up-stairs to lie down on his parents’ bed. He
thought it strange that the gas was lit, though it was turned down,
but he supposed it had been done by Maggie.
Just as he lay down he fancied he heard a man moving softly about the
room. He rose from the bed and was about to call out, when he became
sure that there were two persons near him. Before he could give the
alarm he was seized and told that if he made any noise he would be
instantly killed.
Still the brave boy tried to shout, when he was gagged, bound, and
tied to the bed-post, where he remained while the robbery went on
around him.
The doctor having pronounced Tommy out of danger, his parents became
more composed, and listened quietly to the questioning of the chief of
police, who was one of the shrewdest members of his profession.
He listened gravely until the questions of the others were finished,
when he asked Tommy to describe the appearance of the criminals so far
as he could. The lad did so quite glibly. Both of the intruders were
masked, wore soft, slouch hats, long dark coats buttoned to their
chins, had gruff voices, and one of them took a dreadful-looking
revolver from his side pocket, and seemed to be on the point of
discharging several of the chambers at the captive.
Chief Hungerford asked the latter about the shots that had broken the
glass down-stairs, and given the servant such a fright. At first Tommy
declared he did not hear them, but upon being questioned further,
recalled that he did hear something of the kind just after he was
bound.
“Is this the handkerchief with which he was gagged?” asked the
officer, picking up the article from the floor.
“Yes, that’s it,” replied the father, who had snatched it from the
head of his son the instant he reached the room.
The chief continued talking without looking further at the linen, but
when the attention of the couple was diverted he slipped it into his
pocket. Then he asked liberty to make an examination of the house.
Permission was cheerfully accorded, and he spent a half-hour in going
through the lower story in his own peculiar but thorough manner.
At the end of that period he came back to the room where the parents,
brothers, and sisters were coddling poor Tommy, who was muffled up in
a rocking-chair, sipping lemonade, sucking oranges, and nibbling the
choicest candy. Now and then he would start convulsively and beg them
to take away those bad men, and not let them hurt him. Then, when he
was reassured by the kind words of the loving ones around him, he
complained of his throat, and found it helpful to swallow more
lemonade and take an additional suck or two at one of the oranges
pressed upon him.
Chief Hungerford stood in the door of the room, hat in hand, and
looked fixedly at the lad for a minute or two before speaking. Even
then it was only in answer to the question of Mr. Wagstaff.
“What have you found?”
“Nothing special, sir; there have been so many people in the house
tramping back and forth, that they have destroyed what clews we might
have discovered. Then, too, the job was so easy that there was no need
of leaving any traces.”
“How was that?”
“Why the doors were unlocked, so that they had only to open and enter
without forcing a window or fastening anywhere. After they got inside
they found you were kind enough to leave keys wherever they were
needed, and consequently no violence was required up-stairs.”
“But why did they fire those shots through the window down-stairs?”
“That was to frighten away the servant.”
“It seems a strange proceeding when the reports were sure to be heard
and bring people here, while the servant herself was certain to raise
the alarm. They might have bound and scared her into quiescence.”
The chief of police had thought of all this before, and looked upon it
as one of the peculiar features of the business; but he smiled, and
said, in his off-hand fashion:
“It may strike us both as a little odd, but the best proof of the
wisdom of what the scamps did is the fact that they got off with the
plunder and have not left the first clew behind. Well, good-evening
all; I will report as soon as I pick up anything worth telling.”
And courteously saluting the family he descended the stairs and passed
out of the door. Before doing so he questioned the servant on what
seemed unimportant points. Finally he entered the street and was
obliged to answer the innumerable questions that were asked him at
every turn. He had found it necessary to station a couple of his men
on the premises to keep away the curious people, who persisted in
crowding forward through the grounds and even into the house itself.
The rumors on the streets did not astonish him, even though they were
to the effect that Tommy (everybody called him “Tommy” since his
mishap) had been strangled to death, his last breath leaving him just
as he was caught in his mother’s arms, and that Maggie the servant had
been attacked and badly wounded, but escaped by leaping from the
second story window and running to the Town Hall, where the family
were attending a concert.
When the chief entered his private room he drew the handkerchief from
his pocket, spread it out on his desk under a strong gaslight and
carefully examined it.
He had little hope of finding anything worth knowing, but he was too
wise to neglect the least step. He carefully went over the somewhat
soiled piece of linen and smiled to himself when he observed that a
name was written in the corner in indelible ink.
“Burglars aint apt to carry handkerchiefs around even with their
initials written on them, but one of these gentry has been kind enough
to give us his whole name. It is written so legibly, too, that I can
read it without my glasses. Ah, ‘_William Waylett_!’ there it is
as plain as print.
“It strikes me,” continued the chief, following the train of thought,
“that I’ve heard that name before. Jim Waylett was my classmate in
college, and he has three daughters and one boy. The name of the
youngster is William, generally called Billy. That chap is the owner
of this handkerchief as sure as a gun.”
By this time, as the reader will perceive, the sagacious officer was
not only on the right trail, but advancing rapidly to the correct
conclusion. He had not heard all of Tommy Wagstaff’s story before he
began to grow suspicious. His experience enabled him to detect more
than one inconsistency despite the skill of the tremendous falsifier
who built up the structure.
Investigation and further questioning confirmed this suspicion until,
when he left the house, all doubt was gone. He knew that no man had
visited the Wagstaff home that night or taken any part in the
indignities to which Master Tommy was subjected.
But it was equally clear that the young rogue had had partners in his
shameless trick, and the chief meant to learn who they were.
He was confident that he could find them out from Tommy himself, whom
he could handle in such a way as to force a confession, but while the
parents, especially the mother, were in such a state of excitement,
they would be indignant at the first hint of the boy’s trickery, and
would defeat what advantage he might gain if left alone with him.
“They will come to it in the course of a few days,” reflected the
officer, who had seen similar scenes before, “and it won’t do any harm
to wait until then. I will get a chance at the boy before long, and,
if I don’t force it out of him, then I’ll resign my office and take to
the woods.”
The chief was desirous also of sparing the feelings of the parents of
the boy, whom he liked. They would feel much worse if compelled to
admit the truth after first refusing to listen to his suggestion.
Then, too, he had another boy to work upon. Billy Waylett must know
something of the affair. At any rate, he could tell how it was his
handkerchief came to be used to gag one of his playmates, and
_that_ little piece of information was likely to give him just
the clew that was needed.
“I’ll wait until things get cool,” concluded the chief, who happened
to have other matters pressing upon his attention just then.
Accordingly he gave his whole energies to the business which took him
out of Ashton for a part of two days. When he returned it was with the
resolve to take hold of the matter in earnest, but to his dismay, when
he came to make inquiry, he was told that Tommy Wagstaff, Jimmy
McGovern, and Billy Waylett had disappeared.