A Midnight Ride.
Curtis Waring had entrapped Dodger for a double purpose.
It was not merely that he thought it possible the boy had the will, or
knew where it was. He had begun to think of the boy's presence in New
York as dangerous to his plans.
John Linden might at any time learn that the son, for whose appearance
he had grieved so bitterly, was still living in the person of this
street boy. Then there would be an end of his hopes of inheriting the
estate.
Only a few months more and the danger would be over, for he felt
convinced that his uncle's tenure of life would be brief. The one
essential thing, then, seemed to be to get Dodger out of the city.
The first step had already been taken; what the next was will soon
appear.
Scarcely had Dodger failed in his attempt to obtain outside assistance
when an unaccountable drowsiness overcame him, considerably to his
surprise.
"I don't know what's come to me," he said to himself. "It can't be
more than seven or eight o'clock, and yet I feel so sleepy I can
hardly keep my eyes open. I haven't worked any harder than usual
to-day, and I can't understand it."
Dodger had reason to be surprised, for he didn't usually retire till
eleven o'clock.
In a city like New York, where many of the streets are tolerably well
filled even at midnight, people get in the way of sitting up much
later than in the country, and Dodger was no exception to this rule.
Yet here he was ready to drop off to sleep before eight o'clock. To
him it was a mystery, for he did not know that the cup of tea which he
had drunk at supper had been drugged by direction of Curtis Waring,
with an ulterior purpose, which will soon appear.
"I may as well lie down, as there is nothing else to do," thought
Dodger. "There isn't much fun sitting in the dark. If I can sleep, so
much the better."
Five minutes had scarcely passed after his head struck the pillow,
when our hero was fast asleep.
At eleven o'clock a hack stopped in front of the house, and Curtis
Waring descended from it.
"Stay here," he said to the driver. "There will be another passenger.
If you are detained I will make it right when I come to pay you."
"All right, sir," said the hackman. "I don't care how long it is if I
am paid for my time."
Curtis opened the door with a pass-key, and found Julius dozing in a
chair in the hall.
"Wake up, you sleepy-head," he said. "Has anything happened since I
left here?"
"Yes, sir; the boy tried to get away."
"Did he? I don't see how he could do that. You kept the door bolted,
didn't you?"
"Yes, sir; but he throwed a piece of paper out'n de window, sayin' he
was kep' a prisoner here. A young man picked it up, and came to de
house to ax about it."
Curtis looked alarmed.
"What did you say?" he inquired, apprehensively.
"Told him de boy was crazy as a loon--dat he tried to kill his mother
las' week, and had a carvin'-knife hid in his room."
"Good, Julius! I didn't give you credit for such a fertile
imagination.
"What's dat, massa?" asked Julius, looking puzzled.
"I didn't know you were such a skillful liar."
"Yah! yah!" laughed Julius, quite comprehending this compliment. "I
reckon I can twis' de trufe pretty well, Massa Curtis!"
"You have done well, Julius," said Curtis, approvingly. "Here's a
dollar!"
The negro was quite effusive in his gratitude.
"What did the young man say?"
"He looked scared. I tol' him he could go up and see de boy if he
wasn't afeared of the carvin'-knife, but he said he guessed he
wouldn't--he didn't like crazy folks."
Curtis laughed heartily.
"So it all ended as it should. Did the boy make any more trouble?"
"Yes; he pounded and kicked till I had to go up and see what was the
matter. I didn't give him no satisfaction, and I guess he went to
bed."
"He ought to be in a deep sleep by this time. I will go up and see. Go
up with me, Julius, for I may have to ask you to help me bring him
down."
Though Julius was naturally a coward, he felt quite brave when he had
company, and he at once went upstairs with Curtis Waring.
Curtis drew the bolt, and, entering the chamber, his glance fell upon
Dodger, fast asleep on the bed.
"I am glad the boy did not undress," he said. "It will save me a great
deal of trouble. Now, Julius, you can take his feet and I will lift
his head, and we will take him downstairs."
"S'pos'n he wakes up, Massa Curtis?"
"He won't wake up. I took care the sleeping potion should be strong
enough to produce profound slumber for eighteen hours."
"Seems as if he was dead," said Julius, nervously.
"Tush, you fool! He's no more dead than you or I."
The hackman looked curious when the two men appeared with their
sleeping burden, and Curtis felt that some explanation was required.
"The boy has a very painful disease," he said, "and the doctor gave
him a sleeping draught. He is going abroad for his health, and, under
the circumstances, I think it best not to wake him up. Drive slowly
and carefully to Pier No. --, as I don't want the boy aroused if it
can be helped."
"All right, sir."
"Julius, you may lock the door and come with me. I shall need your
help to get him on board the ship."
"All right, Massa Curtis."
"And, mind you, don't go to sleep in the carriage, you black rascal!"
added Curtis, as he saw that the negro found it hard to keep his eyes
open.
"All right, massa, I'll keep awake. How am I to get home?"
"I will instruct the hackman to take you home."
"Yah, yah; I'll be ridin' like a gentleman!"
The journey was successfully accomplished, but it took an hour, for,
according to directions, the hackman did not force his pace, but drove
slowly, till he reached the North River pier indicated.
At the pier was a large, stanch vessel--the _Columbia_--bound for San
Francisco, around Cape Horn.
All was dark, but the second officer was pacing the deck.
Curtis Waring hailed him.
"What time do you get off?"
"Early to-morrow morning."
"So the captain told me. I have brought you a passenger."
"The captain told me about him."
"Is his stateroom ready?"
"Yes, sir. You are rather late."
"True; and the boy is asleep, as you will see. He is going to make the
voyage for his health, and, as he has been suffering some pain, I
thought I would not wake him up. Who will direct me to his stateroom?"
The mate summoned the steward, and Dodger, still unconscious, was
brought on board and quietly transferred to the bunk that had been
prepared for him.
It was a critical moment for poor Dodger, but he was quite unconscious
of it.
"What is the boy's name?" asked the mate.
"Arthur Grant. The captain has it on his list. Is he on board?"
"Yes; but he is asleep."
"I do not need to see him. I have transacted all necessary business
with him--and paid the passage money. Julius, bring the valise."
Julius did so.
"This contains the boy's clothing. Take it to the stateroom, Julius."
"All right, Massa Curtis."
"What is your usual time between New York and San Francisco?" asked
Curtis, addressing the mate.
"From four to six months. Four months is very short, six months very
long. We ought to get there in five months, or perhaps a little
sooner, with average weather."
"Very well. I believe there is no more to be said. Good-night!"
"Good-night, sir."
"So he is well out of the way for five months!" soliloquized Curtis.
"In five months much may happen. Before that time I hope to be in
possession of my uncle's property. Then I can snap my fingers at
fate."