THE TIN BOX.
"I met my dootiful son this mornin'," remarked Martin to his employer,
at their next interview.
"Did you?" said Smith, carelessly, for he felt little interest in
Martin's relations.
"Yes; he's in business in Wall Street."
"How's that?" asked Smith, his attention arrested by this statement.
"He's with Turner, the banker. He was going to the bank, with a tin box
under his arm. I'd like to have the money there was in it."
"Did he tell you there was money in it?"
"No; but I'll bet there was enough in it to make a poor man rich."
"Perhaps so," said Smith, thoughtfully.
"How old is your son?" he inquired, after a pause.
"Fifteen or sixteen, I've forgotten which. You see he isn't my own son;
I married his mother, who was a widder with two children; that's the way
of it."
"I suppose he doesn't live with you."
"No; he's an undootiful boy. He haint no gratitude for all I've done for
him. He wouldn't care if I starved in the street."
"That shows a bad disposition," said Smith, who seemed disposed to
protract the conversation for some purposes of his own.
"Yes," said Martin, wiping his eyes pathetically with a red
handkerchief; "he's an ungrateful young scamp. He's set my little
daughter Rose ag'inst me,--she that set everything by me till he made
her believe all sorts of lies about me."
"Why don't you come up with him?"
"I don't know how."
"I suppose you would have no objections if I should tell you."
"No," said Martin, hesitating; "that is, if it aint dangerous. If I
should give him a lickin' in the street, he'd call the police, and swear
I wasn't his father."
"That isn't what I mean. I'll think it over, and tell you by and by. Now
we'll talk about business."
It was not until the next day that Smith unfolded to Martin his plan of
"coming up with" Rufus. It was of so bold a character that Martin was
startled, and at first refused to have any part in it, not from any
conscientious scruples,--for Martin's conscience was both tough and
elastic,--but solely because he was a coward, and had a wholesome dread
of the law. But Smith set before him the advantages which would accrue
to him personally, in so attractive a manner, that at length he
consented, and the two began at once to concoct arrangements for
successfully carrying out the little plan agreed upon.
Not to keep the reader in suspense, it was no less than forcibly
depriving Rufus of the tin box, some morning on his way home from the
bank. This might bring Rufus into trouble, while Martin and Smith were
to share the contents, which, judging from the wealth of Mr. Turner,
were likely to be of considerable value.
"There may be enough to make your fortune," suggested Smith.
"If I don't get nabbed."
"Oh, there'll be no danger, if you will manage things as I direct you."
"I'll have all the danger, and you'll share the profits," grumbled
Martin.
"Isn't the idea mine?" retorted Smith. "Is it the soldiers who get all
the credit for a victory, or doesn't the general who plans the campaign
receive his share? Besides, I may have to manage converting the
securities into cash. There isn't one chance in a hundred of your
getting into trouble if you do as I tell you; but if you do, remember
your oath."
With this Martin was forced to be contented. He was only a common
rascal, while Smith was one of a higher order, and used him as a tool.
In the present instance, despite his assurances, Smith acknowledged to
himself that the plan he had proposed was really attended with
considerable danger, but this he ingloriously managed that Martin should
incur, while he lay back, and was ready to profit by it if it should
prove successful.
Meanwhile Rufus was at work as usual, quite unconscious of the danger
which menaced him. His encounter with Martin gave him a little
uneasiness, for he feared that the latter might renew his attempts to
gain possession of Rose. Farther than this he had no fears. He wondered
at the sudden improvement in Martin's fortunes, and could not conjecture
what business he could have engaged in which would give him a hundred
dollars a month. He might have doubted his assertion, but that his
unusually respectable appearance, and the roll of bills which he had
displayed, seemed to corroborate his statement. He was glad that his
step-father was doing well, having no spite against him, provided he
would not molest him and Rose.
He decided not to mention to Rose or Miss Manning that he had met
Martin, as it might occasion them anxiety. He contented himself by
warning them to be careful, as Martin was no doubt still in the city,
and very likely prowling round in the hopes of finding out where they
lived.
It was towards the close of business hours that Mr. Marston, the head
clerk, handed Rufus a tin box, saying, "Rufus, you may carry this round
to the Bank of the Commonwealth."
"Yes, sir," said Rufus.
It was one of his daily duties, and he took the box as a matter of
course, and started on his errand. When he first entered the office, the
feeling that property of value was committed to his charge gave him a
feeling of anxious responsibility; but now he had become used to it, and
ceased to think of danger. Probably he would have felt less security,
had he seen Mr. Martin prowling about on the opposite side of the
street, his eyes attentively fixed on the entrance to Mr. Turner's
office. When Martin saw Rufus depart on his errand, he threw away the
cigar he had in his mouth, and crossed the street. He followed Rufus
closely, unobserved by our hero, to whom it did not occur to look back.
"It's a risky business," thought Martin, rather nervously. "I wish I
hadn't undertaken it. Ten to one I'll get nabbed."
He was more than half inclined to give up his project; but if he should
do so he knew he would get into disgrace with his employers. Besides,
the inducements held out to him were not small. He looked covetously at
the tin box under the arm of Rufus, and speculated as to the value of
the contents. Half of it would perhaps make him a rich man. The stake
was worth playing for, and he plucked up courage and determined to
proceed.
Circumstances favored his design.
Before going to the bank, Rufus was obliged to carry a message to an
office on the second floor of a building on Wall Street.
"This is my opportunity," thought Martin.
He quickened his steps, and as Rufus placed his foot on the lower step
of the staircase, he was close upon him. Hearing the step behind him,
our hero turned, only in time to receive a violent blow in the face,
which caused him to fall forward. He dropped the box as he fell, which
was instantly snatched by Mr. Martin, who lost no time in making his
escape.
The blow was so violent that Rufus was for the moment stunned. It was
only for a moment, however. He quickly recovered himself, and at once
realized his position. He knew, also, that it was Martin who had
snatched the box, for he had recognized him during the instant of time
that preceded the blow.
He sprang to his feet, and dashed into the street, looking eagerly on
either side for the thief. But Martin, apprehending immediate pursuit,
had slipped into a neighboring door-way, and, making his way upstairs,
remained in concealment for ten minutes. Not suspecting this, Rufus
hastened to Nassau Street, and ran toward the bank, looking about him
eagerly for Martin. The latter, in the mean while, slipped out of the
door-way, and hurried by a circuitous course to Fulton Ferry, where
Smith had arranged to meet him and relieve him of the tin box.
"Have you got it?" asked Smith, who had been waiting anxiously for over
an hour.
"Here it is," said Martin, "and I'm glad to be rid of it. I wouldn't do
it again for a thousand dollars."
"I hope you'll get more than that out of it," said Smith, cheerfully.
"You've done well. Did you have much trouble?"
"Not much; but I had to work quick. I followed him into a door-way, and
then grabbed it. When'll you divide?"
"Come round to the house this evening, and we'll attend to it."
"Honor bright?"
"Of course."
Meanwhile Rufus, in a painful state of excitement, ran this way and
that, in the faint hope of setting eyes upon the thief. He knew very
well that however innocent he had been in the matter, and however
impossible it was for him to foresee and prevent the attack, the loss
would subject him to suspicion, and it might be supposed that he had
connived at the theft. His good character was at stake, and all his
bright prospects were imperilled.
Meeting a policeman, he hurriedly imparted to him the particulars of the
theft, and described Martin.
"A tall man with a blue coat and slouched hat," repeated the officer. "I
think I saw him turn into Wall Street half an hour ago. Was his nose
red?"
"Yes," said Rufus.
"He hasn't come back this way, or I should have seen him. He must have
gone the other way, or else dodged into some side street or door-way.
I'll go back with you."
The two went back together, but it was too late. Martin was by this time
at some distance, hurrying towards Fulton Ferry.
Rufus felt that the matter was too serious for him to manage alone, and
with reluctant step went back to the office to communicate his loss. A
formidable task was before him, and he tried to prepare himself for it.
It would naturally be inferred that he had been careless, if not
dishonest, and he knew that his formerly having been a street boy would
weigh against him. But, whatever might be the consequences, he knew that
it was his duty to report the loss instantly.