WHICH IS THE GUILTY PARTY?
It was an exciting moment for Ben. He felt that his character for
honesty was at stake. In case the pickpocket succeeded in getting off
with the letter and money, Mr. Sampson would no doubt come to the
conclusion that he had appropriated the fifty dollars to his own use,
while his story of the robbery would be regarded as an impudent
fabrication. He might even be arrested, and sentenced to the Island for
theft. If this should happen, though he were innocent, Ben felt that he
should not be willing to make himself known to his sister or his
parents. But there was a chance of getting back the money, and he
resolved to do his best.
The pickpocket turned down a side street, his object being to get out of
the range of observation as soon as possible. But one thing he did not
anticipate, and this was Ben's immediate discovery of his loss. On this
subject he was soon enlightened. He saw Ben jump from the horse-car, and
his first impulse was to run. He made a quick movement in advance, and
then paused. It occurred to him that he occupied a position of advantage
with regard to his accuser, being respectably dressed, while Ben was
merely a ragged street boy, whose word probably would not inspire much
confidence. This vantage ground he would give up by having recourse to
flight, as this would be a virtual acknowledgment of guilt. He resolved
instantaneously to assume an attitude of conscious integrity, and frown
down upon Ben from the heights of assumed respectability. There was one
danger, however, that he was known to some of the police force in his
true character. But he must take the risk of recognition.
On landing in the middle of the street, Ben lost no time; but, running
up to the pickpocket, caught him by the arm.
"What do you want, boy?" he demanded, in a tone of indifference.
"I want my money," said Ben.
"I don't understand you," said the pickpocket loftily.
"Look here, mister," said Ben, impatiently; "you know well enough what I
mean. You took a letter with money in it out of my pocket. Just hand it
back, and I won't say anything about it."
"You're an impudent young rascal," returned the "gentleman," affecting
to be outraged by such a charge. "Do you dare to accuse a gentleman like
me of robbing a ragmuffin like you?"
"Yes, I do," said Ben, boldly.
"Then you're either crazy or impudent, I don't know which."
"Call me what you please; but give me back my money."
"I don't believe you ever had five dollars in your possession. How much
do you mean to say there was in this letter?"
"Fifty dollars," answered Ben.
The pickpocket had an object in asking this question. He wanted to learn
whether the sum of money was sufficient to make it worth his while to
keep it. Had it been three or four dollars, he might have given it up,
to avoid risk and trouble. But on finding that it was fifty dollars he
determined to hold on to it at all hazards.
"Clear out, boy," he said, fiercely. "I shan't stand any of your
impudence."
"Give me my money, then."
"If you don't stop that, I'll knock you down," repeated the pickpocket,
shaking off Ben's grasp, and moving forward rapidly.
If he expected to frighten our hero away thus easily, he was very much
mistaken. Ben had too much at stake to give up the attempt to recover
the letter. He ran forward, and, seizing the man by the arm, he
reiterated, in a tone of firm determination, "Give me my money, or I'll
call a copp."
"Take that, you young villain!" exclaimed the badgered thief, bringing
his fist in contact with Ben's face in such a manner as to cause the
blood to flow.
In a physical contest it was clear that Ben would get the worst of it.
He was but a boy of sixteen, strong, indeed, of his age; but still what
could he expect to accomplish against a tall man of mature age? He saw
that he needed help, and he called out at the top of his lungs, "Help!
Police!"
His antagonist was adroit, and a life spent in eluding the law had made
him quick-witted. He turned the tables upon Ben by turning round,
grasping him firmly by the arm, and repeating in a voice louder than
Ben's, "Help! Police!"
Contrary to the usual custom in such cases, a policeman happened to be
near, and hurried to the spot where he was apparently wanted.
"What's the row?" he asked.
Before Ben had time to prefer his charge, the pickpocket said glibly:--
"Policeman, I give this boy in charge."
"What's he been doing?"
"I caught him with his hand in my pocket," said the man. "He's a
thieving young vagabond."
"That's a lie!" exclaimed Ben, rather startled at the unexpected turn
which affairs had taken. "He's a pickpocket."
The real culprit shrugged his shoulders. "You aint quite smart enough,
boy," he said.
"Has he taken anything of yours?" asked the policeman, who supposed Ben
to be what he was represented.
"No," said the pickpocket; "but he came near taking a money letter which
I have in my pocket."
Here, with astonishing effrontery, he displayed the letter which he had
stolen from Ben.
"That's _my_ letter," said Ben. "He took it from my pocket."
"A likely story," smiled the pickpocket, in serene superiority. "The
letter is for Mrs. Abercrombie, a friend of mine, and contains fifty
dollars. I incautiously wrote upon the envelope 'Money enclosed,' which
attracted the attention of this young vagabond, as I held it in my hand.
On replacing it in my pocket, he tried to get possession of it."
"That's a lie from beginning to end," exclaimed Ben, impetuously. "He's
tryin' to make me out a thief, when he's one himself."
"Well, what is your story?" asked the policeman, who, however, had
already decided in his own mind that Ben was the guilty party.
"I was ridin' in the Fourth Avenue cars along side of this man," said
Ben, "when he put his hand in my pocket, and took out the letter that
he's just showed you. I jumped out after him, and asked him to give it
back, when he fetched me a lick in the face."
"Do you mean to say that a ragamuffin like you had fifty dollars?"
demanded the thief.
"No," said Ben, "the money wasn't mine. I was carryin' it up to Mrs.
Abercrombie, who lives on Madison Avenue."
"It's a likely story that a ragamuffin like you would be trusted with so
much money."
"If you don't believe it," said Ben, "go to Mr. Abercrombie's office in
Wall Street. Mr. Sampson gave it to me only a few minutes ago. If he
says he didn't, just carry me to the station-house as quick as you want
to."
This confident assertion of Ben's put matters in rather a different
light. It seemed straightforward, and the reference might easily prove
which was the real culprit. The pickpocket saw that the officer wavered,
and rejoined hastily, "You must expect the officer's a fool to believe
your ridiculous story."
"It's not so ridiculous," answered the policeman, scrutinizing the
speaker with sudden suspicion. "I am not sure but the boy is right."
"I'm willing to let the matter drop," said the pickpocket,
magnanimously; "as he didn't succeed in getting my money, I will not
prosecute. You may let him go, Mr. Officer."
"Not so fast," said the policeman, his suspicions of the other party
getting stronger and more clearly defined. "I haven't any authority to
do as you say."
"Very well, take him along then. I suppose the law must take its
course."
"Yes, it must."
"Very well, boy, I'm sorry you've got into such a scrape; but it's your
own fault. Good morning, officer."
"You're in too much of a hurry," said the policeman, coolly; "you must
go along with me too."
"Really," said the thief, nervously, "I hope you'll excuse me. I've got
an important engagement this morning, and--I--in fact it will be
excessively inconvenient."
"I'm sorry to put you to inconvenience, but it can't be helped."
"Really, Mr. Officer--"
"It's no use. I shall need you. Oblige me by handing me that letter."
"Here it is," said the thief, unwillingly surrendering it. "Really, it's
excessively provoking. I'd rather lose the money than break my
engagement. I'll promise to be on hand at the trial, whenever it comes
off; if you keep the money it will be a guaranty of my appearance."
"I don't know about that," answered the officer "As to being present at
the trial, I mean that you shall be."
"Of course, I promised that."
"There's one little matter you seem to forget," said the officer; "your
appearance may be quite as necessary as the boy's. It may be your trial
and not his."
"Do you mean to insult me?" demanded the pickpocket, haughtily.
"Not by no manner of means. I aint the judge, you know. If your story is
all right, it'll appear so."
"Of course; but I shall have to break my engagement."
"Well, that can't be helped as I see. Come along, if _you_ please."
He tucked one arm in that of the man, and the other in Ben's, and moved
towards the station-house. Of the two Ben seemed to be much the more
unconcerned. He was confident that his innocence would be proclaimed,
while the other was equally convinced that trouble awaited him.
"Well, boy, how do you like going to the station-house?" asked the
policeman.
"I don't mind as long as he goes with me," answered Ben. "What I was
most afraid of was that I'd lose the money, and then Mr. Sampson would
have taken me for a thief."
Meanwhile the other party was rapidly getting more and more nervous. He
felt that he was marching to his fate, and that the only way of escape
was by flight, and that immediate; for they were very near the
station-house. Just as Ben pronounced the last words, the thief gathered
all his strength, and broke from the grasp of the officer, whose hold
was momentarily relaxed. Once free he showed an astonishing rapidity.
The officer hesitated for an instant, for he had another prisoner to
guard.
"Go after him," exclaimed Ben, eagerly. "Don't let him escape. I'll stay
where I am."
The conviction that the escaped party was the real thief determined the
policeman to follow Ben's advice. He let him go, and started in rapid
pursuit of the fugitive.
Ben sat down on a doorstep, and awaited anxiously the result of the
chase.