AN UNEXPECTED ALLY.
For a moment no one spoke.
The kneeling boy wept by the side of the woman's body upon the floor,
the crowd falling back to make way for him of their own accord.
"Come, my boy," said Detective Hook, at length, laying his hand with
womanly tenderness upon Frank's shoulder, "this is no place for you.
The coroner has a duty here; meanwhile you had better come with me."
The boy arose obediently.
Forcing back the crowd, the detective closed the door of the little
room behind him, and taking Frank by the arm, he led him to the street
without speaking a word.
To Jerry Buck, who had followed them through the alley and now
stood with his bundle of newspapers under his arm staring at them
wonderingly, he paid no attention at all.
At this moment the policeman who, at the detective's orders, had taken
the stolen dollars to the Oak Street station, came hurrying up.
Releasing his hold on Frank's arm, Caleb Hook drew the man aside and
whispered a few hurried words in his ear.
The policeman turned abruptly and hurried back in the direction from
which he had come.
"That man will see that all proper steps are taken for the care of
the remains of your unfortunate mother," said the detective, quietly,
"which leaves me free to attend to you."
"Now, my boy, I want to talk with you. I know you to be the same
person who has twice given me the slip to-night, and by right ought to
handcuff you and take you to the station at once. But, although it may
surprise you, I don't propose to do anything of the sort, for I think
it unnecessary to resort to such means."
"I'll go with you now, sir," replied Frank, in a broken voice. "I was
just going to give myself up. I shall not try to escape again."
"Good!" replied the man, putting his arm through that of the boy and
moving up Catherine street as he spoke. "I flatter myself I can read
men's faces as well as the next, and that is why I have determined to
place confidence in you. I may deem it my duty to arrest you yet. Very
likely I shall; but before I do so I am going to have a quiet talk with
you, when I'm certain you'll see the advantage of telling me the whole
truth about this bank affair, and in order that we may be undisturbed I
propose to take you to my own room, which, fortunately, is not far off."
Now the room occupied by Caleb Hook--for he was a bachelor, and
had no one to care for but himself--was situated in a respectable
lodging-house in Madison street, between Montgomery and Clinton.
Ten minutes later the detective himself entered the apartment, followed
by the youthful assistant cashier of the Webster National Bank.
It was a large room on the second floor of the house.
The furniture was modern and abundant, giving to the interior a
thoroughly comfortable air.
Locking the door behind him and lighting a handsome drop-light,
Detective Hook touched a match to a fire already laid in the open
grate, which in a moment broke into a cheerful blaze.
"Now then, young man," he said, pulling off his overcoat, and drawing
up a comfortable easy chair, "you are my guest for the present, whether
I conclude to turn you over to the authorities later on or not. Sit
down there, and make yourself at home."
Frank seated himself wearily and remained gazing at the fire without
reply.
Meanwhile, Caleb Hook studied his face in silence.
"Was that woman really your mother?" he said at length.
"Yes."
The boy had burst into tears, burying his face in his hands.
"Poor fellow!" said the detective, sympathizingly, putting his hand
gently upon his shoulder, "I had a mother once, whom I loved better
than any one in the world. Dear me! she died a dozen years ago.
"You've had a great deal of trouble," he added, after a short pause. "I
can see that at a glance. Now, do you know, Frank, that two-thirds of
the scrapes people get themselves into come from lying? Suppose your
mother were to speak to you now? Don't you think she would advise you
to tell me all you know about this bank affair? Come, now, I'm sure she
would."
"She would as she once was," replied Frank, bitterly; "but my mother
has been insane for the last five years, and in an asylum. God only
knows how she came to escape to meet her death to-night."
"Tell me all about it, my boy, tell me all about it," said Hook,
familiarly, and in the most sympathizing tones. "If there is any way in
the world to help you, count on me every time."
It was the favorite motto of this famous man that to understand the
motive of a criminal it was only necessary to lead him to believe that
your sympathy lay wholly with himself.
Personally, he fully believed the boy before him to have had a hand in
the bank robbery.
Nor was this strange.
Had he not caught him almost in the act?
If he could, by working upon his feelings in these, the first moments
of his bitter sorrow, bring him to confess, much trouble to himself and
much expense to the police in working out a troublesome case might thus
be saved.
It was with this end in view that he had adopted this unusual course.
Nor were his efforts unrewarded.
Frank opened his heart without further pressure, and related truthfully
all that had occurred.
One thing only he concealed--the secret of the "Bats in the Wall."
The boys had befriended him in his moment of need.
He was firmly resolved that no amount of pressure should draw from
him the secret of their hiding-place, which through their kindness to
himself he had learned.
"Upon my word, this is a most remarkable story," exclaimed the
detective, gazing at Frank with a puzzled air as he completed his tale.
"But you have omitted to tell me how it is that having handcuffed you
myself, and delivered you into the charge of an officer, you managed to
escape as you did."
"I can't tell you that, sir," replied the boy, firmly. "It would not
help you any so far as tracing the bank-robbers are concerned to know."
"You say you met some boys who saw the burglars, who showed you a box
of papers, which they had dropped in their flight, from which you took
this will of which you have given me so strange an account. Did these
boys have anything to do with your escape?"
"Perhaps they did and perhaps they didn't--they proved my friends, and
I shan't give them away."
"That's right, never go back on your friends. Now, then, Frank
Mansfield, do you know who I am?"
"I know you are a detective."
"So I am. My name is Caleb Hook."
"I've often heard of you," said Frank, regarding him with some
curiosity.
And who has not!
The name of Caleb Hook has for years been the most famous of the New
York force.
"No doubt," replied that individual, quietly. "But to return to our
subject in which I am becoming more interested every moment. I see
deeper into things than you can expect to, my boy, and let me tell you
in what you have related I see evidences of a deep and carefully laid
scheme, of which this bank robbery forms only a part. Let me see that
will you found in the box."
Frank took the document from his pocket and placed it in his hands.
"I've had no time to read it through," he said.
The detective opened the paper, the seals of which had already been
broken when Frank first found it, and perused it in silence.
"My boy," said he, as he came to the end, "let me tell you that this
document is likely to prove of the greatest value to you. In it
the testator--your grandfather, you say he is--relates that he has
converted all his property, valued at over half a million, into gold
and gems and has buried it in a place described in a sealed parchment
which ought to accompany this will. All of this is to be yours at the
age of twenty-two, under certain conditions; until then the document
is to be secret, and its contents remain unknown. Now, where is that
sealed parchment? That's the question before the house!"
"I'm sure I can't tell," replied Frank, in astonishment. "It may be
with the other papers in the box. Half a million! and all for me! And
we all thought my grandfather died poor!"
"It is very evident he did nothing of the sort. Jeremiah
Mansfield--Jeremiah Mansfield--let me see--wasn't that the miserly old
fellow who was murdered in Harlem some five years ago?"
"Yes: his house was entered by burglars in the night. They killed him,
and no property except the old house was ever found, although until
then my father thought him to be rich."
"And it seems he was right," replied Hook, musingly. "Then your father
was Francis Mansfield, the foreign importer, who was said--who----"
"They said he stole one hundred thousand dollars of the funds of a
European house intrusted to his keeping!" cried Frank, with deeply
flushed face, "but it was false. The money arrived too late for
deposit, father put it over night in his safe. Burglars entered the
store that night, blew up the safe and stole every cent. It killed my
father to be thought a defaulter, drove my mother mad, and ruined us
all."
"Just so," answered the detective; "I remember it all perfectly well.
It was a sad case, indeed."
For a few moments he remained silently musing, still holding the open
paper in his hand.
"Who is this man Callister?" he asked, at length. "Is it the Wall
street speculator of that name?"
"Yes. He was my father's best friend."
"And it was he whom you saw coming out of that alley with the other man
that Jerry Buck, the newsboy, told you was one of the burglars?"
"Yes, I'm sure of it. I know him too well to make a mistake."
"And I know him, too," muttered Hook, "and I propose to know him
better by and by. You observe that he is one of the witnesses to your
grandfather's will!" he added, aloud.
"Yes."
"Now, Frank, let me tell you something you don't know, but might have
known if you had taken the trouble to read this document carefully.
Listen to this clause in your grandfather's will, which has a most
important bearing on this case:
"'And if, at the age of twenty-two, my grandson, the said Frank
Mansfield, shall be found to be honest and upright, and in every way a
reputable member of society, the sealed parchment, together with the
buried treasure which it represents, which I deem unsafe, in these days
of fraud, to intrust to the keeping of any bank, shall be delivered to
him, and shall become his sole property by virtue of this my last will.
If, however, the said Frank Mansfield shall have become deceased, or
if he shall have been at any time proven guilty of any unlawful act,
then this, my last will and testament, together with the accompanying
parchment and the buried treasure it represents, shall be given to my
good friend, Elijah Callister, of the City of New York, to become his
sole property, under the provisions of this will.'"
"And knowing this, Mr. Callister tried to have me convicted of crime!"
cried Frank, springing to his feet in great excitement. "Can it be
possible that the man is so base?"
"Young man, it looks tremendously like it," said Caleb Hook, decidedly,
folding up the will and putting it in his own pocket.
"You tell me that Cutts led you into this affair--and I want you to
understand for what you proposed to do you are most decidedly to
blame--that he agreed to pay these boys, Ed Wilson and Jim Morrow,
who, according to the story told by them to that boy Barney, have
undoubtedly left already in the early morning train for California,
where, had the plot succeeded, they could never have been reached to
prove your innocence, even had they been so disposed.
"Now, if Cutts paid them--and Cutts is crooked, if he is a detective;
I've known that this long while--the question is who was to pay Cutts?
My answer would be this man Callister, whose direct interest it is to
have you convicted of crime."
"Mr. Hook," exclaimed the boy, lost in astonishment, "I am completely
bewildered. What would you advise me to do?"
"To place yourself in my hands, if you will," answered the detective,
decidedly. "I will take up your case if you wish me to do so, for it is
just the sort of an affair I like.
"I now fully believe your story, my boy, and shall not place you under
arrest. In working for your interests I shall also be doing my duty in
unearthing the robbers of the Webster Bank."
"Of course I shall be only too glad of your help," said Frank, eagerly.
"I have been foolish--I see it now. Whatever you say I'll do."
"Then, inasmuch as you have mysteriously disappeared, remain so. I've
reported your disappearance to the police; let it be your care not to
reappear until I say the word.
"Disguise yourself, watch Callister, see your bootblacks and newsboys,
and procure from them the tin box and all it contains. I will do for
your unfortunate mother all that can be done. When you want money come
to me. We will work together, Frank, and as I don't work for nothing,
you can repay me when you come into your own."
"I can never repay you, sir!" cried the boy, with tears in his eyes,
grasping the detective's outstretched hand.
"Yes, you can, and I'm sure you will. Here are a few dollars now. When
you need it you shall have more. Now go, and don't be seen in the
streets so dressed that any one will recognize you again. You can meet
me--let me see--I've got to go out of town this afternoon on important
business, and won't return until late to-night. Meet me where I saw you
first--on the corner of Rector street and Broadway--to-night, as the
clock of old Trinity strikes twelve."