CHAPTER XXIV
CAUGHT
Joe did not know what to do. He could not very well run away through that crowd. To do so would be such a confession of guilt that almost any officer would arrest him. And Hen Sylvester certainly would take after him, creating a scene.
On the other hand, if Joe was delayed the men would get away. And he wanted to know more about them. He looked hurriedly around but did not see them. The deacon misinterpreted this look, for he cried in angry tones.
“Look out for him, Hen! He’s trying to escape. Grab him!”
“Oh, I’ll grab him all right!” cried the constable. “He got away from me once, on the freight, but he won’t now.”
The officer made a grab for Joe and an excited crowd gathered about. Joe made up his mind quickly.
“Look here, Dad,” he said, giving his foster-parent the name he often used. “Don’t make a scene here. There’s no use using violence. I’ll go with you quietly. You’re making a big mistake, for I can explain everything.”
“You can’t explain away about my——”
“Hush,” cautioned Hen. For he liked Joe, and did not want it published to the crowd that the lad was suspected of theft.
“Gentlemen, will you come with me?” interrupted Professor Rosello, who had followed Joe to the lobby. “Come to my dressing room, where we can talk matters over quietly,” he went on. “It’s all right,” he said to the crowd and to the theatrical employees who had gathered about. “Just a mistake, that’s all. This way, gentlemen.”
“But those men!” exclaimed Joe. “They’ll get away!”
“We’ll have to take chances on that,” the professor whispered to him. “Maybe they’ll stay at the hotel all night. But you must take the deacon and the officer out of this. We’ll talk to them in my room.”
Joe saw the wisdom of this, and a little later he was facing the angry dealer and the constable.
“Now then,” began the professor, “what’s it all about?”
“It’s about this boy,” said the deacon, sternly. “He robbed me of considerable money. He robbed my wife, too, and set fire to the place, but I put it out. That’s what the matter is!”
“And I have a warrant for his arrest,” went on Hen Sylvester. “He is charged with robbery.”
“I never took a cent of yours, nor Mrs. Blackford’s either!” cried Joe, “and I don’t know anything about a fire. I did run away from your house, because I could stand it no longer.”
Then, in impassioned tones, he told the story of that eventful night—how he had caught the freight and met the professor. He spoke briefly of his work as a magician.
“What makes you think he robbed you?” asked the magician of the deacon.
“Why, I saw him leaving by the window, and right after that I missed the papers and the money.”
“Did you see Joe’s face?”
“No. But I know it was him.”
“It wasn’t,” said Joe. “I never stole in my life. Listen, Deacon Blackford. You were robbed—of that there’s no doubt—but it was by some one else. When you stopped me just now, I was on the trail of some men who undoubtedly know something about the crime.”
Rapidly, earnestly, Joe told about the two men—the men who had joked about the deacon’s loss, the men he had tried to follow from the theatre.
“Their names were Burke and Jake,” he said. “Do you know who they were?” and he turned to his foster-father.
“Burke and Jake! Burke Denton and Jake Harrison!” murmured the deacon. “I—I never thought of them! The papers—the investment papers—they were taken with the money—why—why——”
He seemed lost in thought for a moment.
“Look here!” he finally said. “I’m not saying you didn’t rob me, Joe, but I’m a Christian, and I don’t want to accuse anybody unjustly. It is true that the men you speak of might have done it. Where can they be found?”
“I don’t know—now,” answered Joe.
Joe pleaded his case earnestly. He went over every detail of his escape from the deacon’s house that night, and described every movement so minutely that an unprejudiced listener could not help believing him.
“You and Jim chased me,” he said to Hem Sylvester. “I didn’t want to stop for fear of missing the train. I suppose that did look sort of guilty.”
“It sure did,” agreed Hen.
“But you know what time the train left. You saw me jump in the box car,” went on Joe. “And you,” turning to the deacon, “know what time it was when you saw some one getting out of the window. Now could I have gotten from the house to the train in that difference of time?”
The deacon and the constable thought a moment. The deacon mentioned the time he had seen the robber escaping, and it was evident that Joe could not have been in two places at once.
“Well, I guess that practically clears you,” admitted Sylvester. “I don’t see as we have any use for this warrant, Deacon,” and he produced the paper.
“Save it,” said Joe with a smile. “Maybe you can change the names and use it on those two men. We’ll see if we can catch them. What kind of investment papers did they take from you?” he asked the deacon.
“Some like this,” and the deacon produced a bond. “It’s the only one they overlooked.”
“May I borrow it?” asked Joe.
The deacon let him take it, and then all four of them left the theatre, it not being necessary to take away any of the “props,” as another performance was to be given the next night.
“We’ll go to the hotel,” suggested Joe. “It’s just possible the men may be there. They haven’t anything to suspect unless they saw you,” he said to the deacon.
“No, I don’t believe they saw us,” said Hen. “We didn’t get here until after dark. The deacon read in the paper that your show was here, so he got me, and we took the late afternoon train from Bedford.”
A glance in the hotel lobby did not disclose the two men, but in the cafe they were seen sitting at a table. A look through the swinging doors showed this.
“Have you authority to make arrests here?” asked Joe of the constable.
“Yes, this is in the same county as Bedford.”
“Then go in and arrest those two men. I’m sure they’re guilty.”
“And I am too,” said the deacon. “Take ’em in, Hen. I’ll swear out a warrant against ’em!”
That was all the constable needed. He had authority for his act now. He marched into the cafe, the deacon, Joe and the professor fallowing.
“I arrest you in the name of the law!” exclaimed Sylvester, laying a hand each on the two men’s shoulders. “You’re caught and you’ve got to come with me!”
Denton and Harrison started up, but at the sight of the deacon sank back in their chairs. Before they could move the constable had snapped handcuffs on them.