Part 1 (2/2)
”I should tell you one thing before you become too sanguine.”
”Well, what is it?”
”Hobo Harry is largely a mystery. There are those--detectives, I mean--who insist that he does not exist at all, save in imagination.”
Nick nodded.
”They say that he is only a figurehead; that he is only a name; that he is in reality an imperceptible, intangible idol, whom hoboes wors.h.i.+p, and to whom they refer as their common leader, while, in reality, there is no real leader at all.”
”It is possible that they are correct in that idea,” said the detective slowly.
”It is possible, but it is not likely. There is too much system about their operations. I am at the head of a great system, and I know how such things are done. I am confident that the operations of these thieves--these yeggmen--could not have been carried on so successfully, and so systematically, without a head--a chief; and so I, for one, believe thoroughly in the existence of Hobo Harry.”
”Well?” asked the detective. ”What does all this lead to?”
”I am coming to that. I have had every railroad detective in my employ searching for Hobo Harry for months--I might say for almost a year, and without success. I have employed two of the largest and best--so called--detective agencies in the country to a.s.sist me. The result has in every case been the same.”
”What were the results?”
”There have been any number of hoboes and yeggmen arrested; many of them have been sent to prison; some of them have gone up for long terms; we have proved the cases of robberies against them often enough--but the point is, that the robberies have gone merrily on afterward, just the same.”
”Go on,” said the detective, nodding his head.
”Eight separate times we have had, as we supposed, Hobo Harry himself in our clutches. Each of those eight separate times the prisoner who was supposed to be Hobo Harry has confessed that he was that individual, and----”
”And so you have arrested eight Hobo Harrys, eh?”
”That is about the size of it. But the point is----”
”The point is that not one of the eight was really Hobo Harry.”
”Exactly.”
”Very good. Go ahead with your story.”
”In each case, after the arrest, as we supposed, of Hobo Harry himself, the robberies and thefts along the line have received an impetus; they have increased in number, and in volume--and also in seriousness. These yeggmen do not confine themselves to breaking into freight cars and stations along the line of the road. They burglarize post offices, and even country banks. They pillage houses. They turn their hands and their talents to anything and everything where there is hope of reward for them. The thing has got beyond endurance.”
”Well?”
”We want you, Carter, to find Hobo Harry himself--if you can.”
”Well?”
”The matter was discussed thoroughly at a meeting of our board of directors yesterday, and it was determined at that meeting that if you could find Hobo Harry and arrest him, and, having arrested him, could convict him and send him to prison, and, having done that, could prove to our entire satisfaction that the man is Hobo Harry, your reward will be fifty thousand dollars, spot cash. Only, you must understand, we must be certain that your man is the real article.”
”Hobo Harry, the King of the Beggars, eh?”
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