A BARGAIN
Carlton Conne took the letter in his hand and manoeuvered the cigar
back and forth in his mouth. At length he said, "Don't be scared, kid.
I want you to go, but not for anything _you've_ done--it's for me!"
Skippy gasped. "Gee, you mean you're gonna lemme be a detec----"
"Listen, kid," the man interposed kindly, "get that detective idea out
of your head until you're--well say, twenty-four years old anyhow. You
have to learn, kid, and it takes long, hard years--it's just another
kind of school. But right now I can use a kid like you--you can be of
some use to me. If you do your work right--keep your eyes open, your
mouth shut and remember everything, I might consider you for the job as
office boy at fifteen dollars a week. In the mean time, I'm to have you
sent to the Delafield Reformatory where you're going to play the part
you almost had in real life--a boy unjustly sent there and a boy who'd
make a break for freedom at the first opportunity."
"Then--then you ain't gonna send me for real!" Skippy stammered
joyfully. "I'm just sorta gonna play de--_detective_?"
"You're going to help _me_!" answered Conne with the hint of a smile on
his face. "You're going to play the part of a reform school kid as I
told you before. And I'm counting on you to play it with the same kind
of energy that made you sling up your arm so that you could get in here
to see me. That's why I'm going to trust you to do this thing for me!
You've got ingenuity--know what that means, kid?"
"Yeah," Skippy smiled, "it means havin' swell ideas that go through."
"In a measure, yes. Anyway, you've the idea and you have ingenuity,
whether or not you know what it means. But the question is, can I count
on you not to let anyone know (except those whom I authorize to keep in
touch with you) who you are, nor the part you're playing? You may have
to play it a month, perhaps longer--I can't tell you how long, kid.
Think you could play it without betraying your game by a look or a
word?"
"Gee, Mr. Conne--gee, is it sorta dangerous like? I mean I can do that
about keepin' my mouth shut an' all--I learned that when my father got
in trouble--nobody could make me tell a thing. I mean will it be
dangerous if I _did_ tell? Not that I would--honest, Mr. Conne!"
"That's what I thought, kid. I wouldn't have asked you otherwise. And
as for its being dangerous," said Mr. Conne tipping his cigar so that
the lighted end stood dangerously near his nose, "I wouldn't allow you
to do it if it was. Of course there's bound to be a minimum of danger
in anything of this kind, but we'll prepare you for that. If you stick
and keep your mouth shut there's nothing to be feared. One of my men
will be on hand as soon as the conditions warrant it. If your aunt
consents, I'll assume full responsibility for you."
"Aw, my aunt don't care so long's I ain't no expense to her. I gotta
terrible appetite, Mr. Conne, an' she says I eat her out of house an'
home an' besides she wants back the six dollars she paid out for my
suit. She wants it to pay on insurance, she says."
"Very well, kid--she'll have it. After I get through telling you a
little more of this job, you can go home and get her and bring her down
here to me. I'll talk to her and if she's agreeable, I'll give her your
first week's salary. She knows your needs better than you do, I guess."
"Yeah," said Skippy amiably. "Aunt Min'll save for me, she says, so's
I'll have some money in bank when I grow up. She said if I got a job
she'd give me money for carfare an' for a little spendin' money."
"She can do that after you've done this work and are working regularly
in this office. Just now, while you're temporary, I'll pay you your
expenses and give your aunt your salary. How's that?"
"Sure, whatever you say, Mr. Conne," Skippy answered happily. "You pay
me more when it's sorta extra work, huh?"
"That's the basis on which all our men work here, kid," the detective
grinned. "When your time is on the company, naturally your expenses are
too. But leave that to me--I'll see that you have enough to eat in the
way of chocolate even if you do leave half of it on your chin."
Skippy grinned and reached for his handkerchief. When he had rubbed off
the smear, he looked up. "Will you tell me some more about this job?"
Carlton Conne nodded and smoothed out the letter on his desk. "This is
a report from one of my men who was on a case in Chicago," he was
saying. "To let you know more fully about this job I'll read part of
this report: 'Ran across O'Reilly here in Chi,' he says, 'and he tells
me that Dean Devlin is suspected of helping to spring a kid by the name
of Tucker from the South End Reform School here. They picked the kid up
in Wheaton and when brought back to Chi he told, under pressure, that a
reverend-looking gentleman whose description fits the Dean to a "T"
visited the South End Reform a little more than a month ago and
propositioned him. The kid was bent to beat it and the Dean gave him
some dough for a getaway.
"'Anyway, out of this money, Tucker was told to bribe a guard and the
Dean arranged the night of the escape, etc. Tucker said it was
soft--the Dean was on the job in a closed car and took him to a house
in what looked to be a nice part of the city. It was a pretty swell
flat and the kid got everything he wanted in the way of eats, but he
was kept a prisoner along with two other kids his own age who, it
seemed, were also under the Dean's protection. They too had crashed out
of different reform schools under the reverend-looking gentleman's
expert supervision.
"'Now it seems that Devlin's idea was this: each kid was kept on at the
flat till he found a job for them in some distant city. Then he saw to
it that the kid got there. And so within a month, Tucker saw the other
kids go. Then Devlin told Tucker that he had a job for him out in
Montana, and that very night he was going to drive him as far as Alton
where he could board a train absolutely safe from suspicion.
"'They started after dark and Tucker said it wasn't long before he got
drowsy. He thinks he must have fallen asleep for the next thing he knew
he felt himself falling against something and then he seemed to fall
right out of the car and whirl through the air. Next thing he knew he
was in the water. The car had gone down and he knew that he'd go down
too, not being able to swim. He paddled furiously with his hands and
looking up on the bank he saw the Dean standing there looking down.
Tucker was just about to call to him when a car drove up and Devlin got
in it and was driven away.
"'Evidently, the Dean was afraid that Tucker hadn't survived the
accident and being himself confessedly nervous of the police (that
being the reason for his generous interest in reform school boys) he
thought it best to get away as quickly as possible by hailing the first
car that came along.'"
"Gee, an' what did poor Tucker do then, huh?" Skippy asked excitedly.
Carlton Conne smiled. "Fortunately for him, he had been thrown clear of
the car and into shallow water. Just when he had resigned himself to a
watery grave, he thrust his legs out and found that his feet touched
bottom. You can bet that he didn't lose any time in scrambling up the
high embankment to safety."
"An' did he let that Devlin know that, huh?"
Carlton Conne studied the letter before him and shook his round head.
"No, he couldn't. You see he had only seen the street and the house
itself at night. After all, he had been imprisoned for a month and both
the street and the house looked just like a hundred others in Chicago.
Devlin had driven him to and from the house in such a hurry that he
never had the chance to see where he had been living. He decided to get
as far away from Chicago and the police as he could. But he was picked
up in a place called Wheaton, anyway."
"Boy, what luck!" was Skippy's sympathetic exclamation.
"Seeing it from your point of view--yes. From my point of view, it's
fortunate that Tucker lost out, for it has warmed up a trail that's
been cold too long. Devlin has been under cover a couple of years now.
O'Reilly, who is an inspector on the Chicago force, said they're
anxious to find out where the other two kids are that the Dean helped
to crash out of reform schools. Well, Dick Hallam knows that I'll be
interested to know why, for I got some old scores to settle with the
Dean and like a good detective he got the Dean's scent and has trailed
him to New York. This morning he learned that our reverend-looking
friend has applied for a permit to visit the Delafield Reform School
next Friday. That's the reason, kid, that I want you to be there when
he shows up."
"Hot dog, Mr. Conne! I been dumb not to see what you meant before. Gee
whiz, you want me there to trap him like, huh?"
"I want you to be there to help me to prepare the trap, kid. None of my
men can palm themselves off as kids and it seems that Devlin has been
playing up to kids only. That's why you're going to Delafield. You're
going to help me find out why he's been acting so generous when I know
that he isn't the type of man to do anything like that without there
being money in it somewhere. Dean Devlin never did anything for
nothing. And so you're going to put yourself in his way when he makes
that visit on Friday--I'll see to it that you have every opportunity.
What's more, you're going to fall in with any plans he may make for
you."
"Boy, it sounds terrible excitin', Mr. Conne!"
"Not dangerously so," the detective assured him. "One of our men,
Dorcas is his name, will either go up with you or be up there on Friday
and so be on hand if you need him. You'll have no cause to worry--you
won't be alone at any time if you do just as you're told. But there
won't be any real danger, kid--I wouldn't let you into this if there
was. Dean Devlin is a notorious swindler and blackmailer and though he
can cause plenty of excitement when he's on the trail, I've never heard
of him laying a hand on anybody. He's after money, not people."
"Gee whiz," Skippy said stoutly, "I wouldn't be afraid anyhow!"
"That's why I've taken an interest in you, kid. All you want is
nerve--courage enough to go through with your part, and keep your mind
and eyes on all that Dean Devlin does and says. You've got a job and I
might as well warn you that how well you do it will determine your
permanent employment by this company. In other words, it's to be your
entrance exam, so you better try to pass it!"
"Gee, will I pass it!" Skippy cried exultantly. "You'll see how I'm
gonna pass it, Mr. Conne!"
"That's the talk, kid," the detective said with a half-smile. "And when
Dean Devlin is where he can't take any more money from my clients or
anybody else, I'll talk to you about staying on for a regular job."