WHO MR. ALLEN PRICE WAS
I will not deny that I was considerably taken aback by my unexpected
meeting with the man who had been following me. I had been firmly
under the impression that he was still lolling around Smalleyville,
waiting for a chance to continue his journey.
But if I was surprised, so was Mr. Allen Price. Every indication
showed that he had not missed me at my departure, and that he was
under the belief that I had been left behind.
He stopped short and gazed at me in blank astonishment.
"Why--why--where did you come from?" he stammered.
"From Smalleyville," I returned as coolly as I could. "And that's
where you came from, too," I added.
"I didn't see you on the train," he went on, ignoring my last remark.
"I didn't come up by train."
"Maybe you walked," he went on, with some anxiety.
"Oh no; I rode in a carriage."
"Humph! It seems to me you must have been in a tremendous hurry."
"Perhaps I was."
"Why, you excite my curiosity. May I ask the cause of your sudden
impatience?"
He put the question in an apparently careless fashion, but his sharp
eyes betrayed his keen interest.
"You may."
"And what, was it?"
I looked at him for a moment in silence.
"I came to see a man."
"Ah! A friend? Perhaps he is seriously sick."
"I don't know if he is sick or not."
"And yet you hurried to see him?"
"Yes."
"Well, that--that is out of the ordinary." He hesitated for a moment.
"Of course it is none of my business, but I am interested. Perhaps I
know the party and can help you. May I ask his name?"
"It's the same man you telegraphed to," I returned.
Mr. Allen Price stopped short and nearly dropped his handbag. My
unexpected reply had taken the "wind out of his sails."
"I telegraphed to?" he repeated.
"Exactly."
"But--but I telegraphed to no one."
"Yes, you did."
"Why, my dear young friend, you are mistaken."
"I'm not your dear friend," I returned with spirit. "You telegraphed
to Chris Holtzmann to beware of me. Why did you do it?"
The man's face fell considerably, and he did not answer. I went on:--
"You are following me and trying to defeat the object of my trip to
Chicago. But you shall not do it. You pretend to be an ordinary
traveller, but you are nothing more than a spy sent on by Mr. Aaron
Woodward to stop me. But I have found you out, and now you can go back
to him and tell him that his little plan didn't work."
The man's brow grew black with anger. He was very angry, and I could
see that it was with difficulty he kept his hands off me.
"Think you're smart, don't you?" he sneered.
"I was too smart for you."
"But you don't know it all," he went on. "You don't know it all--not
by a jugful."
"I know enough to steer clear of you."
"Maybe you do."
The man evidently did not know what to say, and as a matter of fact,
neither did I. I had told him some plain truths, and now I was anxious
to get away from him and think out my future course of action.
"What's your idea of calling on Chris Holtzmann?" he went an after a
long pause.
"That's my business."
"It won't do you any good."
"Perhaps it may."
"I know it won't," he replied in decided tones.
"What do you know about it?" I said sharply. "A moment ago you denied
knowing anything about me. Now I've done with you, and I want you to
leave me alone."
"You needn't get mad about it."
"I'll do as I please."
"No, you won't," he growled. "If you don't do as I want you to, I'll
have you arrested."
This was strong language, and I hardly knew what to say in reply. Not
that I was frightened by his threat, but what made the man take such a
strong personal interest in the matter?
As I have said, I was almost certain I had seen the fellow before,
though where and when was more than I could determine. Perhaps he was
disguised.
"Perhaps you don't think I know who you are," I said quickly.
My words were a perfect shock to Mr. Allen Price. In spite of his
bronzed face he turned pale.
"You know who I am? Why, I am as I tell you,--Allen Price," he
faltered.
"Really," I replied, with assumed sarcasm.
"Yes, really."
"I know better," I returned boldly.
I was hardly prepared for what was to follow. The man caught me by the
arm.
"Then what you know shall cost you dear," he cried. "I'm not to be
outwitted by a country boy. Help! Police! Police!"
As he uttered his call for assistance he let drop his handbag and drew
his purse from his pocket.
"I've got you, you young thief!" he cried, letting the purse fall to
the sidewalk. "You didn't think to be caught as easily, did you? Help!
Po--Oh, officer, I'm glad you've come!" the last to a policeman who
had just hurried to the scene.
"What's the matter here?" demanded the minion of the law.
"I just caught this young fellow picking my pocket," exclaimed Mr.
Allen. "Where's my pocketbook?"
"There's a pocketbook on the sidewalk," put in a man in the crowd that
had quickly gathered.
"So it is." He picked it up. "You rascal! You thought to get away in
fine style, didn't you?" he continued to me.
For a moment I was too stunned to speak. The un-looked-for turn of
affairs took away my breath.
"I didn't pick his pocket," I burst out.
"Yes, you did."
"It isn't so. He's a swindler and is trying to get me into trouble."
"Here! here! none of that!" broke in the officer. "Tell me your
story," he said to Mr. Allen Price.
"I was coming along looking in the shop windows," began my accuser,
"when I felt a hand in my pocket. I turned quickly and just in time to
catch this fellow trying to make off with my pocketbook."
"It is a falsehood, every word of it," I declared.
"Shut up!" said the officer, sternly. "Please go on."
"He is evidently a smart thief," continued Mr. Allen Price. "I must
see if I have lost anything else."
He began a pretended examination of his clothes. In the meantime the
crowd began to grow larger and larger.
"We can't stay here all day," said the policeman, roughly. "What have
you got to say to the charge?"
"I say it isn't true," I replied. "This man is a humbug. He is
following me for a purpose, and is trying to get me into trouble."
"Ridiculous!" cried my accuser. "Why, I never heard of such a thing
before!"
"That story won't wash," said the officer to me. "Do you make a
charge?" he continued to Mr. Allen Price.
My accuser hesitated. "I will, if it is not necessary for me to go
along," he said. "I am pressed for time. My name is Sylvester Manners.
I am a partner in the Manners Clothing Company. You know the firm, I
presume."
"Oh, yes, sir," replied the officer. He knew the Manners Clothing
Company to be a rich concern.
"I will stop at the station house to-morrow morning and make a
complaint," continued Mr. Allen Price. "Don't let the young rascal
escape."
"No fear, sir. Come on!" the last to me.
"I've done no wrong. I want that man arrested!" I cried. "He is no
more a merchant here in Chicago than I am. He--"
But the officer would not listen. He took a strong hold upon my collar
and began to march me off. Mr. Allen Price walked beside us until we
reached the corner.
"I will leave you here, officer," he said. "I'll be down in the
morning, sure. As for you," he continued to me, "I trust you will soon
see the error of your ways and try to mend them, and--" he continued
in a whisper, as the officer's attention was distracted for a moment,
"never try to outwit John Stumpy again!"