The Erie Train Boy

CHAPTER XI.

FRED FALLS UNDER A TERRIBLE SUSPICION

About ten minutes before the arrival of the detective Fred woke up. He generally awoke earlier, but his long ride of the day before had fatigued him more than usual. It was natural for him to glance over to the opposite bed, occupied by his traveling companion. He was surprised to find it empty.

"He must have got up early," thought Fred. "I wonder if he has gone for good."

This seemed likely, for the stranger's valise had disappeared also.

"I wonder he didn't wake me up and bid me good-by," thought the train boy.

Then a momentary suspicion led him to search for the hundred dollars in gold which he had carefully concealed in his inside vest pocket. If that were taken, he would be in a quandary, for there would be little chance of his being able to make up the loss to his friend, the Western miner.

He found, to his relief, that the gold had not been touched, and he reproached himself for the injustice he had in his thoughts, done his late room-mate.

"Well," soliloquized Fred, as he lazily got out of bed and drew on his clothes, "I am not sorry to have the room alone. If I could have a friend from home with me I should like it, but I don't care for the company of a stranger."

Fred reflected that he had all the day to himself. He could hear the roar of the famous cataract, which he had not yet seen on account of his late arrival the night before, and he determined to go there immediately after breakfast, or even before breakfast if he found that it was quite near. He went to the window and looked out, but it was not in sight.

"I may as well put on a clean shirt," thought Fred, and he went to the table to open the bundle which he had brought from Jersey City. He had just unfastened the string when a quick, imperative knock was heard at the door of his room.

"Come in!" said Fred, with some surprise.

He turned his face to the door, and his wonder increased as it opened and he saw the clerk and a stranger standing on the threshold. They entered the room and closed the door behind them.

"What is the matter?" asked the train boy. "Has anything happened?"

"When did your room-mate leave?" asked the detective, not answering his question.

"I don't know; I only just woke up."

"Did you rest well?"

"That's a very queer question to ask me," thought Fred. "Yes," he answered, "I rested very well."

The detective and the clerk exchanged glances. This statement did not accord with what Fred's room-mate had said down-stairs.

"The bed was very comfortable," added Fred by way of compliment to the house.

"I am glad you found it so," said the detective dryly.

"Did you come upstairs to ask how I rested?' asked Fred, with a smile.

"You are sharp, my young friend," said the detective, "and I think I may say wonderfully cool under the circumstances."

"Under what circumstances?" asked Fred, his attention drawn to the last part of the detective's speech.

"There was a burglary committed yesterday afternoon in Elmira," said the detective, fastening his eyes keenly on the face of the train boy.

"Was there?" asked Fred, not seeing in what way this information was likely to affect him. "I thought most burglaries were committed in the night."

"They are, generally, but this was an exception. There was no one in the house except old Mr. Carver, who is quite hard of hearing. The burglary probably took place about five o'clock, and the burglar is supposed to have taken the 5:51 train from Elmira."

"Why, that is the train I was on," said Fred in surprise.

"By a curious coincidence," said the detective with a queer smile, "it was by your train that the burglar probably traveled."

His tone was so significant that Fred asked quickly, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, my young friend," said the detective, "that you are suspected to know something of this affair."

"If you are a detective," retorted Fred, "I don think much of your sharpness. I have never been in Elmira in my life."

"Probably not," said Ferguson, the detective, with a provoking smile.

"I passed through there yesterday on my way from New York. With that exception, I never saw the place."

"That may be true," said the detective cautiously, "or it may not. I will take the liberty of examining your luggage to see if I can find any of the stolen articles."

"You are welcome to do it," said Fred.

"Bring it out then. Where have you put it – under the bed?"

"All the luggage I have is in this bundle," said the train boy. "You can open that if you think it will do you any good."

"You are sure you have no valise?"

Ferguson, who, like most of his class, was suspicious, peeped under each bed, but found nothing to reward his search. Somewhat disappointed, he went to the table and opened the newspaper bundle. He did so listlessly, not really expecting to find anything, but as he unrolled Fred's shirt there was a triumphant look in his eyes when he uncovered the gold watch and chain.

"Just as I thought," he said, with a nod to the clerk.

"What is that?' gasped Fred.

"It appears to be a watch and chain," answered Ferguson coolly.

"Possibly you can tell me how it came there."

"I know nothing about it," said Fred in dire amazement.

"You do not claim it as yours, then?"

"Certainly not. I never saw it before in my life."

"Is this shirt yours?"

"Yes."

"You brought it with you?"

"Yes."

"Let me open the watch. Do you see this inscription?"

Fred and the clerk approached, and on the inside of the case read the name, "Philo Carver, Elmira, 1865."

"You see? This is one of the articles stolen from Mr. Carver's house yesterday afternoon. It is a little odd that this young man in whose bundle I find it cannot explain its presence."

"You may believe me or not," said Fred desperately, "but it is true all the same. I know nothing of this watch or chain, and I never saw either before. Can you tell me what other articles were taken by the burglar?"

"Some government bonds, and a small sum of bank bills."

"Then you had better search for them also here: I will help you all I can."

"Well, you are a cool hand."

"No; I am innocent, that is all."

"It is pretty clear you have nothing else with you, or you wouldn't be so willing. However, I consider it my duty to do as you suggest."

He hunted under the mattresses, and finally examined Fred's pockets. At last he felt in the inside vest pocket and drew out the gold coins.

"Ha, we have something here!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," answered Fred, "but those happen to belong to me."

"Where did you get them?"

"From a friend in New York. He intrusted them to me to use if I needed.

Meanwhile I was to put them in the savings bank."

"Not a very likely story," said the detective suspiciously.

"Likely or not, it is a true story. Does this man Carver claim to have lost any gold coins?"

"No."

"I thought not."

"However, we come back to the inquiry – where did you get the watch?"

"The man who slept in the room with me must have left it here to throw suspicion on me," said Fred, with sudden inspiration.

"That is possible," said the clerk, who was favorably impressed by Fred's manner.

"We must not jump at conclusions," said the detective warily. "I shall feel justified in detaining the boy after what I have found."

"You won't take me to the station house?" said Fred nervously.

"No; it will answer the purpose if you are locked up in this room – for the present."

"Then," said Fred, turning to the clerk, "I shall be much obliged if you will send me up some breakfast."

"It shall be done."

Within half an hour Fred was discussing a beefsteak and fried potatoes with hearty enjoyment. It takes a good deal to spoil the appetite of a healthy boy of seventeen.

CHAPTER XII.

FRED AS A PRISONER

After breakfast Fred became restless. It was tantalizing to be so near the Falls, and yet to be locked up, and prevented from seeing them. Of course it would all come right in time, but it was hard to bear the suspense and confinement. Hunting round the room he found a juvenile book, and sitting down at the window read it. It helped to while away the time till twelve o'clock. He had scarcely read the last page when he heard the key turning in the lock outside. The door opened and two persons appeared at the entrance. One was the clerk the other a boy, rather short, with a bright, attractive face.

"I thought you might like company," said the clerk in a friendly manner. "This is my young cousin, Frank Hamblin, who will remain with yon for a while."

"I am glad to see you, Frank," said Fred offering his hand. "You are very kind to come and see a bold, bad burglar."

"You don't look much like it," said Frank, laughing. "Still appearances are deceitful."

"I don't think I look wicked," said Fred meditatively, as he glanced at his reflection in a small mirror that hung over the washstand. "Yet it appears that I have broken into a gentleman's house in Elmira, and stolen a gold watch and chain and some government bonds."

"How could you do it?" asked Frank with much seriousness. "So young and yet so wicked!"

"That's the question that puzzles me," said Fred. "How could I do it when at the time the burglary was committed I was speeding over the Erie road at the rate of thirty miles an hour?"

"Can you prove this?" asked Frank eagerly.

"Certainly I could, if the conductor or brakeman of my car were here."

"Where are they?"

"Probably on their way back to New York."

"Do you live there?"

"Yes."

"I have always wanted to see the city of New York. It must be a gay place."

"You are right there, Frank. Whenever you do come, just inquire for Fred Fenton, and I will show you round. There is my address."

"Thank you! I should like it ever so much. Have you ever been here before?"

"No. I wanted very much to see the Falls, but here I am locked up in a hotel chamber. I wish the Falls were visible from the window."

"They are on the other side of the house."

"Do you know this detective – the one that searched me?"

"Yes, I have seen him. I heard him tell my cousin that he did not believe you guilty, but that finding the watch and chain in your bundle was a suspicious circumstance."

"I suppose it is. Now I can understand how innocent people get into trouble. Do you live here?"

"No, I am only visiting some friends here. I live in Auburn."

"That's where the State's prison is, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then I hope I shan't go to Auburn to live. Have you any idea how long I shall have to stay here?"

"Till evening, I suppose. You will probably be brought before a justice in the morning," was Frank's reply.

Fred sighed.

"How differently things have turned out from what I anticipated," he said. "I expected to be walking round, and looking at the Falls to-day."

"Hold on a minute!" said Frank. "Mr. Ferguson boards here, and he may be down-stairs now. I'll ask him if you can't go out under my charge if you'll promise not to run away.

"I'll promise that fast enough. You can knock me down if I attempt to escape."

"I am afraid I might find that difficult, as you are at least two inches taller than I."

"I will be very gentle and submissive. I wouldn't be willing to run away with such a suspicion hanging over me."

"Excuse me a minute! I'll do what I can for you."

Frank went to the door and attempted to open it, but it was locked on the outside and resisted his efforts.

"I forgot," he said, laughing, "that I am a prisoner too. Really it makes a fellow feel queer to be locked up."

"That's the way I feel. You can ring the bell, can't you?"

"A good thought!"

Frank rang the bell, and presently a hall boy opened the door about an inch, and looked in.

"Is anything wanted?" he asked.

"Is Mr. Ferguson down-stairs?" said Frank.

"He has just come in."

"Won't you ask him to step up here a minute?"

"All right, sir."

The door was relocked, but two minutes later it was opened and the detective walked in.

"Ha!" he said. "So we have two burglars instead of one."

"I am just as much a burglar as Fred is," said Frank.

"Then," said the detective with a smile, "I may feel it my duty to search you. You do have rather a hardened expression."

"Do you think I have?" asked Fred smiling.

"Well, no. I wouldn't pick you out for a professional criminal, and to be honest with you, I doubt whether you know anything of the burglary."

"Thank you! I am glad you have a better opinion of me than that."

"But what is it you want of me, Frank?"

"I want Fred to have a chance to see the Falls. He has never been here before, and it will be a great disappointment to him if he has to go away without seeing them."

"To be sure, to be sure!" said the detective thoughtfully.

"I thought you might let him go out under my escort."

Mr. Ferguson smiled.

"What could you do if he took it into his head to escape?"

"You couldn't lend me a club, could you?"

"I don't carry any. That is for policemen, and I have never acted in that capacity."

"But he won't run away, will you, Fred?"

"No, I prefer to stay here till I am cleared of suspicion."

"You see, Mr. Ferguson," said Frank, eagerly, "there will be no risk about it. He can give you his parole– that's the word, isn't it?"

"Yes; but this privilege is never accorded to those who are arrested for burglary."

"It is certainly inconvenient to be a burglar," said Fred, smiling in spite of his secret anxiety.

"Then you can't let him go?" questioned Frank, regretfully.

"Well, there is one way. I should not consider it safe to let him go with you, but I might accompany you."

"That will be capital! You will, won't you?"

"Yes, I will," said Ferguson, after a momentary pause. "I have a boy of my own about the age of – the young burglar – and that perhaps inclines me to be more indulgent. But you must wait till after dinner."

"Will dinner be sent up here?" asked Frank.

"Yes, for him; but you are not staying at the house."

"I forgot; and I haven't got money enough to pay for a hotel dinner."

"That's all right, Frank," said Fred. "I invite you to dine with me, and it shall be charged on my bill. I shall enjoy dinner better if I have company."

"Thank you. I accept the invitation, but I don't like to be an expense to you."

"Never mind."

Dinner was sent up in the course of half an hour, and the two boys enjoyed it.

"Are you still attending school, Frank?" asked Fred.

"Yes."

"I should like to, but poor boys like me have to work for a living."

"If you won't tell I will let you into a secret."

"What is it?"

"I am writing a long story. I want to be an author some time. I've written twenty chapters already."

"You must be smart," said Fred in surprise. "Why, I couldn't write as much in a whole year."

"Of course I can't tell whether it is good for anything, but some time I mean to write well."

"Well, Frank, I wish you success, I am sure. Some day I may be proud to know you."

"Now I might write a story about you, and call it 'The Boy Burglar.'"

"Don't! I have no wish to figure in that character."

Half an hour later the door opened, and the detective entered, dressed for a walk.

"Now, if you two burglars are ready," he said, "we will take a stroll."

CHAPTER XIII.

THE HOTEL CLERK'S MISTAKE

"What was the name of your room-mate, Fred?" asked Frank Hamblin, as they went down-stairs.

"I didn't notice. He registered before me."

"Suppose we look and see. It may be well to know."

They opened the hotel register, and saw written in a bold, free hand:

"F. GRANT PALMER, CHICAGO."

"It may be another Fred," suggested Frank.

"Or Frank. Either name would do for a burglar," said Mr. Ferguson, smiling. "But it is hardly consistent with professional etiquette to joke on such a subject. I will endeavor to forget while we are walking together that one of the party is an offender against the laws, or under suspicion as such."

"I want to forget it myself," said Fred, "or it will spoil my enjoyment of Niagara."

"I wonder where Mr. F. Grant Palmer is now," said Frank. "I feel sure he is the real burglar."

"Then he has probably gone over into Canada," returned Fred. "It is unlucky for me that he left the watch and chain, but lucky for Mr. Carver, who will now recover them."

Meanwhile let us follow Mr. Palmer, whose movements are of interest to us in connection with the suspicion he has managed to throw on Fred. When he left the Lynch House he proposed, as a measure of safety, to go over to the Canada side, and indeed he did so. He made his way to the Clifton House, and registered there, depositing his valise at the office while he went in to breakfast.

"We have no room at present," said the clerk, politely, "but by the middle of the forenoon we shall undoubtedly have a few vacancies. Will that answer?"

"Oh, yes," said Palmer easily. "I am in no special hurry for a room, but will take breakfast and go out for a walk."

It did occur to Mr. Palmer that the valise, containing as it did the bonds stolen from Mr. Carver in Elmira, should be carefully guarded. However, it would surely be as safe in the care of the hotel clerk of the Clifton as in any hotel room, and probably even safer. So he ate breakfast with an easy mind, and then, purchasing a cigar, took a walk along the road which presents the best views of the Falls.

Mr. Palmer felt very complacent.

"It is a blessing to gentlemen in my profession," he soliloquized, "that Canada is so conveniently near. Here the minions of the law cannot touch us for any little indiscretion committed under the stars and stripes. I hear people talking of annexing Canada to the States, but to that I am unalterably opposed. I should have to retire from business, and I am not able to do that at present."

He was standing at a convenient point surveying the Falls, when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. Such was the force of habit that Mr. Palmer started violently, and turned round nervously.

It was a stout man with a smiling face that confronted him.

"Ha, Palmer!" said the new arrival. "Did you mistake me for – "

"How are you, Wellington? I am glad to see you."

"Instead of – "

"Oh, pshaw! A man naturally starts when he is tapped on the shoulder unexpectedly."

"I see. You were admiring the Falls."

"Yes."

"There is a good deal of romance in your composition, my dear Palmer," said his friend banteringly. "Anything new?"

"Well, yes," said Palmer, glancing around him cautiously.

"Made a strike, eh?"

"Well, something of the sort."

"What is it?"

"I managed to have a stroke of luck at Elmira, yesterday afternoon."

"How much did you get away with?"

"Hush! don't speak so plainly. Suppose any one should hear you?"

"My dear fellow, there is no one within two hundred yards."

"Well, there must be five thousand dollars in bonds and money."

"Very neat, upon my word! You are in luck!"

"How about you?"

"I made a small raise at Buffalo – a paltry three hundred dollars' worth. It was hardly worth the trouble of taking. Still, a man must live."

"To be sure!"

"Now with what you picked up you can live a year or two in comfort.

Upon my soul, I envy you. Are you suspected?"

"I have managed to divert suspicion, I think;" and Palmer told his friend the story of his secreting the gold watch and chain in Fred's luggage.

"Very shrewd!" said his friend approvingly. "Palmer, you are a credit to our profession. I shall be content to take lessons of you."

"Oh, you are only joking," said Palmer, his expression showing, however, that he felt proud of the compliment.

They took a long and leisurely walk together, talking over their mutual experiences. They had known each other for ten years, having been fellow boarders together as far back as that at Sing Sing, since then neither had been caught, though both had been engaged in violating the laws. Their similar professions had given them a common bond of sympathy, and they found so much satisfaction in each other's company that the time slipped by insensibly, and it was half-past twelve before they found their way back to the Clifton.

Mr. Palmer stepped up to the desk.

"Have you a room for me yet?" he inquired.

"Yes, sir; I can give you No. 67. Here, front!"

A hall boy answered the summons.

"Take the gentleman up to 67," said the clerk.

"Any luggage, sir?"

"You may hand me my valise, if you please."

"Beg pardon; here it is."

"Come up with me, Wellington. We'll continue our talk up stairs."

Palmer merely glanced at the valise, and continued talking with his friend. The hall boy unlocked the door of No. 67 and led the way inside.

It was a pleasant room, and Palmer looked about him approvingly.

"I shall be very comfortable here," he said.

"Is everything right?" asked the hall boy, lingering.

Palmer smiled, drew a quarter from his pocket and put it into the ready hand of the young man.

"You take American coins, don't you?" he asked with a smile.

"Oh, dear, yes, sir. Thank you!"

"That is all for the present. If I want anything I will ring."

Wellington scanned the valise with an eye of interest.

"So that holds the swag, does it?" he asked.

"My dear friend, don't use such vulgar terms!" said Palmer reproachfully. "It's not only inelegant, but it's imprudent. Suppose anybody heard you?"

"Your reproof is just, Palmer. I am rather a blunderer, I admit. I see you are traveling under a false name."

"What do you mean?"