THE RACE ACROSS FIELDS.
It so happened that Professor Riccabocca had once before visited
Knoxville, and remembered the location of the railroad station.
Moreover, at the hotel, before the arrival of Philip, he had consulted
a schedule of trains posted up in the office, and knew that one would
leave precisely at ten o’clock.
The impulse to leave town by this train was sudden. He had in his
pocket the wallet containing the hundred and fifty dollars, of which a
large part belonged to Philip, and could have settled at once, without
the trouble of going upstairs to his room.
He only asked leave to go up there in order to gain time for thought.
At the head of the staircase he saw another narrower flight of stairs
descending to the back of the house. That gave him the idea of eluding
his two creditors by flight.
I have said before that Professor Riccabocca was not a wise man, or he
would have reflected that he was only postponing the inevitable
reckoning. Moreover, it would destroy the last chance of making an
arrangement with Philip to continue the combination, which thus far had
proved so profitable.
The professor did not take this into consideration, but dashed down the
back stairs, and opened the back door into the yard.
“Do you want anything, sir?” asked a maidservant, eyeing the professor
suspiciously.
“Nothing at all, my good girl,” returned the professor.
“You seem to be in a hurry,” she continued, with renewed suspicion.
“So I am. I am in a great hurry to meet an engagement.”
“Why didn’t you go out the front door?” asked the girl.
“Oh, bother! What business is it of yours?” demanded the professor
impatiently.
And, not stopping for further inquiries, he vaulted over a fence and
took his way across the fields to the station.
“Here, Sam,” called the girl, her suspicions confirmed that something
was wrong, “go after that man as fast as you can!”
This was addressed to a boy who was employed at the hotel to go on
errands and do odd jobs.
“What’s he done?” asked Sam.
“I don’t know; but he’s either run off without paying his bill, or he’s
stolen something.”
“What good’ll it do me to chase him?” asked Sam.
“If he’s cheated master, he’ll pay you for catching the man.”
“That’s so,” thought Sam. “Besides, I’ll be a detective, just like that
boy I read about in the paper. I’m off!”
Fired by youthful ambition, Sam also vaulted the fence, and ran along
the foot-path in pursuit of the professor.
Lorenzo Riccabocca did not know he was pursued. He felt himself so safe
from this, on account of the secrecy of his departure, that he never
took the trouble to look behind him. He knew the way well enough, for
the fields he was crossing were level, and half a mile away, perhaps a
little more, he could see the roof of the brown-painted depot, which
was his destination. Once there, he would buy a ticket, get on the
train, and get started away from Knoxville before the troublesome
acquaintances who were waiting for him to come down-stairs had any idea
where he was gone.
The professor ran at a steady, even pace, looking straight before him.
His eyes were fixed on the haven of his hopes, and he did not notice a
stone, of considerable size, which lay in his path. The result was that
he stumbled over it, and fell forward with considerable force. He rose,
jarred and sore, but there was no time to take account of his physical
damages. He must wait till he got on the train.
The force with which he was thrown forward was such that the wallet was
thrown from his pocket, and fell in the grass beside the path. The
professor went on his way, quite unconscious of his loss, but there
were other eyes that did not overlook it.
Sam, who was thirty rods behind, noticed Professor Riccabocca’s fall,
and he likewise noticed the wallet when he reached the spot of the
catastrophe.
“My eyes!” he exclaimed, opening those organs wide in delight; “here’s
luck! The old gentleman has dropped his pocketbook. Most likely it’s
stolen. I’ll carry it back and give it to Mr. Perry.”
Sam very sensibly decided that it wasn’t worth while to continue the
pursuit, now that the thief, as he supposed Riccabocca to be, had
dropped his booty.
Sam was led by curiosity to open the wallet. When he saw the thick roll
of bills, he was filled with amazement and delight.
“Oh, what a rascal he was!” ejaculated the boy. “I guess he’s been
robbing a safe. I wonder how much is here?”
He was tempted to sit down on the grass and count the bills, but he was
prevented by the thought that the professor might discover his loss,
and returning upon his track, question him as to whether he had found
it. Sam determined that he wouldn’t give it up, at any rate.
“I guess I could wrastle with him,” he thought. “He looks rather
spindlin’, but then he’s bigger than I am, and he might lick me, after
all.”
I desire to say emphatically that Sam was strictly honest, and never
for a moment thought of appropriating any of the money to his own use.
He felt that as a detective he had been successful, and this made him
feel proud and happy.
“I may as well go home,” he said. “If he’s stolen this money from Mr.
Perry, I’ll come in for a reward.”
Sam did not hurry, however. He was not now in pursuit of any one, and
could afford to loiter and recover his breath.
Meanwhile, Professor Riccabocca, in happy unconsciousness of his loss,
continued his run to the station. He arrived there breathless, and
hurried to the ticket-office.
“Give me a ticket to Chambersburg,” he said.
“All right, sir. Ninety cents.”
If Riccabocca had been compelled to take out his wallet, he would at
once have discovered his loss, and the ticket would not have been
bought. But he had a two-dollar bill in his vest, and it was out of
this that he paid for the ticket to Chambersburg. Armed with the
ticket, he waited anxiously for the train. He had five minutes to
wait—five anxious moments in which his flight might be discovered. He
paced the platform, looking out anxiously for the train.
At length he heard the welcome sound of the approaching locomotive. The
train came to a stop, and among the first to enter it was the eminent
elocutionist. He took a seat beside the window looking out toward the
village. What did he see that brought such an anxious look in his face?
A buggy was approaching the depot at breakneck speed. It contained Mr.
Gates, the landlord, and the young musician. Mr. Gates was lashing the
horse, and evidently was exceedingly anxious to arrive at the depot
before the train started.
Beads of perspiration stood on the anxious brow of the professor. His
heart was filled with panic terror.
“The girl must have told them of my flight,” he said to himself. “Oh,
why didn’t I think to give her a quarter to keep her lips closed? Why
doesn’t the train start?”
The buggy was only about ten rods away. It looked as if Philip and his
companion would be able to intercept the fugitive.
Just then the scream of the locomotive was heard. The train began to
move. Professor Riccabocca gave a sigh of relief.
“I shall escape them after all,” he said triumphantly, to himself.
He opened the window, and, with laughing face, nodded to his pursuers.
“We’ve lost him!” said Philip, in a tone of disappointment. “What can
we do?”
“Find out where he is going, and telegraph to have him stopped,” said
Mr. Gates. “That will put a spoke in his wheel.”