Part 25 (1/2)
”Is there no one who knows the gentleman?” said the philanthropist before referred to. ”Is there no one to speak up for him?”
Herbert pressed forward, and said, quietly:
”I know something of him; I pa.s.sed the morning in his company.”
The thief turned quickly, but he didn't seem gratified to see Herbert.
”The boy is mistaken,” he said, hurriedly; ”I never saw him before.”
”But I have seen you, sir,” retorted our hero. ”You saw me draw some money from a bank in State Street, sc.r.a.ped acquaintance with me, and tried to rob me of it on Bunker Hill.”
”It's a lie!” said the prisoner, hoa.r.s.ely.
”Do you wish to make a charge to that effect?” asked the policeman.
”No, sir; I only mentioned what I knew of him to support the charge of this gentleman,” indicating the jeweler's clerk.
The old gentleman appeared to lose his interest in the prisoner after Herbert's statement, and he was escorted without further delay to the station house, where a gold watch and the diamond ring were both found on his person. It is scarcely needful to add that he was tried and sentenced to a term of imprisonment in the very city--Charlestown--where he had attempted to rob Herbert.
”It is not always that retribution so quickly overtakes the wrongdoer,”
said Melville. ”St. Louis will hardly be proud of the man who claims her citizens.h.i.+p.”
”Dishonesty doesn't seem to pay in his case,” said Herbert, thoughtfully.
”It never pays in any case, Herbert,” said George Melville, emphatically. ”Even if a man could steal enough to live upon, and were sure not to be found out, he would not enjoy his ill-gotten gain, as an honest man enjoys the money he works hard for. But when we add the risk of detection and the severe penalty of imprisonment, it seems a fatal mistake for any man to overstep the bounds of honesty and enroll himself as a criminal.”
”I agree with you, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, thoughtfully. ”I don't think I shall ever be tempted, but if I am, I will think of this man and his quick detection.”
When they reached the depot, a little before four o'clock, George Melville sent Herbert to the ticket office to purchase tickets, while he remained in the waiting room.
”I might as well accustom you to the duties that are likely to devolve upon you,” he said, with a smile.
Herbert had purchased the tickets and was turning away, when to his surprise he saw Ebenezer Graham enter the depot, laboring evidently under considerable excitement. He did not see Herbert, so occupied was he with thoughts of an unpleasant nature, till the boy greeted him respectfully.
”Herbert Carr!” he said; ”when did you come into Boston?”
”This morning, sir.”
”Have you seen anything of my son, Eben, here?” gasped Mr. Graham.
”Yes, sir; he was on the same train, but I did not see him to speak to him till after I reached the city.”
”Do you know what he has been doing here?” asked Ebenezer, his face haggard with anxiety.
”I only saw him for five minutes,” answered Herbert, reluctant to tell the father what he knew would confirm any suspicion he might entertain.
”Where did you see him?” demanded Ebenezer, quickly.