LITTLE DETECTIVES.
THE plot, part of which Alf Oliver had overheard, ripened so quickly
that events followed each other closely. First, the English governess
took fright and left in a hurry for St. Petersburg, where she had
friends.
In the factory there was a spirit of rebellion and defiance, and the
men, instead of doing their work, were constantly gathering in little
groups, muttering and scowling when the manager passed them.
At last things came to such a point that next to no work was done.
The oil barrels remained unfilled, the cart-horses stood idle in the
stables, and the great sledge-carts, which should have been carrying
casks of oil to the railway station in the town fifteen miles off, were
hauled up close together, lumbering the loading yard.
At length, Mr. Oliver resolved to take a bold step and meet the
so-called strike half-way. He gave orders that the men should come
together into one of the buildings, and he met them there.
But he had no idea that Alf and Bert, who were like their father's
shadows, had followed him in and now stood behind him on a platform
made of a few planks laid upon barrels.
"My men," said Mr. Oliver in a loud, clear voice, "something is wrong
with you; anyone can see it! You won't work, and I am running the
factory at a loss. Well, now! Let us say you are tired, and this being
so, I am going to give you all a holiday. To-morrow this factory will
be closed, your wages paid, and you will all be discharged.
"Those of you who wish to return to your duty, and do it properly, may
come back in a week's time, when the works will open again. But any men
who return later than that will find their places filled by new hands.
"Now, foremen of the various departments, see that my orders are
carried out. Put out the fires, pile up the empty barrels tidily, put
away the tools, lock up everything, and bring the keys to me. I have no
more to say—the matter now lies with you. Good-night, my men."
Only one or two loyal voices made response; the rest of the workmen
kept silence. Two and two they filed past the manager, some looking
nervous and frightened, others sullen, evil and threatening.
Alf pulled Bert's sleeve.
"Look at that squinting pudding of an Anton," said he. "Doesn't he look
as if he meant mischief?"
"What can he do?" replied Bert. "Isn't the place to be closed for a
week? And perhaps he's one of those who won't come back."
"I don't know; I fancy he's one of the worst of them, and now dad's
nipped their little plot in the bud, that villain will think of
something else to do. I'm sure of it."
"Well, we must be dad's detectives and keep a sharp look-out, Alf,"
said little Bert with pride, and his brother assented.
The next day or two passed quietly enough, but on the third night
something happened.
The two boys were awakened about eleven o'clock by the sound of men's
voices, loud and angry. Their bedroom was over the office, and it was
from the office that the sounds came.
Always now on the alert, Alf and Bert quickly got into their
dressing-gowns and soft slippers and stole down the wide staircase of
the big, two-storeyed house. The office door stood open, the lights
were burning, and peering in unperceived from the dark hall, the boys
saw Anton Griboff, his friend Stepan the fitter, and a third man,
a fierce, rough-looking fellow, with a broken nose and a large red
scar that cut across both cheeks on a line with the mouth, giving the
appearance of a hideous grin from ear to ear.
The three ruffians were standing before the manager, and the boys heard
Anton say: "We have come for the key of that safe, and we mean to have
it. Give it up."
"The money in the safe is not mine, and I hold the key in trust,"
replied Mr. Oliver firmly. "You shall not have it."
Anton made a sign, and the other men suddenly sprang upon Mr. Oliver
and held him, while Griboff searched the pockets for the key. In a
moment, with a cry of triumph, he held it up.
But the next instant, he suddenly fell violently forward, struck his
head sharply against the big open desk, and lay still, the cause of
this being that Alf and Bert, creeping in on their hands and knees
behind Griboff, just as he found the key, each seized a leg and pulled
back with all their might. As the man's burly form came crashing down,
the key of the safe dropped from his hand, and Alf pounced upon it and
passed it on to Bert.
"Run and hide it," he whispered, "while I try to help dad."
The struggles of the manager were vain. The two rascals, taking no heed
of their fallen comrade, proceeded to tie Mr. Oliver's arms to his
side, and his ankles together. Alf, behind them in the dark doorway,
and unseen by the ruffians, dared not speak, but his father saw him,
and gave him a look which the boy rightly understood to mean that he
was to go and get help.
For a long minute he stood in the dark corridor, wondering what he
should do.
Two of the men belonging to the factory—Oscar Kleinweh, a German, and
Samuel Levi, a little Jewish engineer—were true men and loyal to his
father, but they had gone away when the factory was closed.
Alf's thoughts turned to his mother, who had gone to bed with a bad
headache. Her room was in the next wing, and she would probably have
heard nothing; he would not go to her.
There was no one of whom he could ask advice. Well, then, he must judge
for himself.
"There's no help to be had nearer than the town," said he to himself,
"and that's fifteen miles away."
Alf scampered upstairs.
"Quick, Niania, my clothes!" he said. "I'm the only one to go and get
help, and I must start at once."
The nurse did not try to prevent him. She saw that the situation was
desperate. The man-servant and coachman had joined the strikers,
and would not have helped had they been on the spot. Everything now
depended upon this boy, who was hardly more than a child.
"The key, Bert!" said Alf. "What have you done with it?"
"It is here," said nurse, "on a string round my neck, under my dress.
It shall be quite safe; have no fear for that! Nor for your father. I
am going to lock Bert into this room to keep him safer, while I go down
and see if I cannot be of use to the master. But the villains will not
dare to harm him. It is the money they want. But now how wilt thou go
on thy quest, my pigeon? If thou take the sledge and horse, the men
will be sure to see thee."
"Yes," replied Alf, "I must ride the pony, for I can saddle him
myself in the stable, and watch my time for getting out. I've got the
duplicate key of the stable door. Now, nurse, my short fur coat, my fur
cap, and big felt boots! So! Now I'm ready!"
And giving the old woman and Bert each a kiss, Alf left the nursery and
slipped noiselessly down the back stairs, meeting no one.
The women servants were asleep in the further wing of the big house,
and none of the ordinary working household were about at this time of
night.
Alf did not dare to return even for a moment to the front of the
building, for fear of being caught. Softly he crept out the back way,
and in a moment was inside the stable, and had bolted himself in and
lighted a lantern.
Sharik (ball), the pony, was a plump, round, sturdy little creature,
a great pet with the boys; and now he rubbed his rough head fondly
against Alf's shoulder, as the saddle and bridle were being adjusted.
Then, softly undoing the door, Alf peeped out. There was no one in
sight; all was clear. He led Sharik out, locked the door, and was soon
in the saddle.
The direct road to the town passed the front of the house, and took a
straight line for some distance, but Alf dared not risk going to the
front. He made for the frozen river at the back, and only joined the
road when he felt it safe to do so. Then, however, he put the pony to
its full speed. For such a sturdy little beast, Sharik was very swift,
and he was also docile, strong and sure-footed.
The night was fine, and but for the burden of care on his young heart,
Alf would quite have enjoyed his ride. In little more than an hour the
lad reached the town, and at full gallop arrived at the police-station.
The head constable was well-known to the Olivers, and he at once
promised to send help.
A sotnia (hundred) of Cossacks, too, were in the town for a day or two,
and the sergeant thought that their lieutenant would allow some of his
men to accompany the police to the factory.
"Will you wait and go with us, little gentleman?" asked the sergeant.
"No, thank you, Yakov Ivanitch, I must get home quickly; I am so
anxious."
The constable eyed the gallant little figure of the boy, who had
mounted again.
"You are young to ride out alone so far, at dead of night," said he.
"I was not alone, Yakov Ivanitch," replied Alf, his fearless dark eyes
meeting the man's frankly.
"How not?" exclaimed the sergeant.
"God was with me," said the boy. "I felt Him there every step of the
way." And with a wave of his small hand, he galloped away.
Sharik needed no urging on the homeward journey, and even Alf's
impatience could find no fault with his good little steed.
When within a quarter of a mile of the house, he left the high road and
again took the way by the river, coming up at the back of the house.
He could see no lights in any of the windows as he dismounted and led
his pony into the stable. The kitchen door was unlocked, as he had left
it, and when once inside, he soon had the gas alight. But what was his
surprise to see the long pinewood table loaded up with dirty plates and
dishes with remnants of food; glasses, cups and empty bottles added to
the disorder. The place looked like some low tap-room.
Full of forebodings, the boy took a candle from the shelf, and went
down the long corridor that ran from the back to the front of the house.