Part 28 (1/2)

”Yes,” said Tim, in surprise. ”Do you know him?”

”I have seen him this morning,” said Mr. Murdock. ”Wait a minute, and I will give you a line to d.i.c.k; or rather it will not be necessary. If you can get a chance, let him know that I am going to call on him this afternoon. Will you be at the station-house, or near it, at six o'clock?”

”Yes, sir.”

”Then we can arrange about your appearing as a witness at the trial.

Here is half a dollar for your trouble in bringing the note.”

”I don't want it, sir,” said Tim. ”I don't want to take anything for doing a good turn to d.i.c.k.”

”But you have been prevented from earning money. You had better take it.”

But Tim, who was a warm-hearted Irish boy, steadfastly refused, and left the store in quest of Henderson's hat and cap store, having also a note to deliver to Fosd.i.c.k.

”So that was Micky Maguire who was here a little while since,” said Mr.

Murdock to himself. ”It seems singular that immediately after getting Richard into trouble, he should have come here where he was employed.

Can it be that Gilbert had a previous acquaintance with him?”

The more Mr. Murdock reflected, the more perplexed he became. It did cross his mind that the two might be in league against d.i.c.k; but then, on the other hand, they evidently parted on bad terms, and this seemed to make such a combination improbable. So he gave up puzzling himself about it, reflecting that time would clear up what seemed mysterious about the affair.

Gilbert, on his part, could not help wondering on what errand Tim Ryan came to Mr. Murdock. He suspected he might be a messenger from d.i.c.k, but thought it best not to inquire, and Mr. Murdock did not volunteer any information. When the store closed, the head clerk bent his steps towards the station-house.

CHAPTER XV.

THE FRANKLIN STREET STATION-HOUSE.

The station-house to which d.i.c.k had been conveyed is situated in that part of Franklin Street which lies between Centre and Baxter Streets.

The last is one of the most wretched streets in the city, lined with miserable tenement houses, policy shops, and second-hand clothing stores. Whoever pa.s.ses through it in the evening, will do well to look to the safety of his pocket-book and watch, if he is imprudent enough to carry either in a district where the Ten Commandments are unknown, or unregarded.

The station-house is an exception to the prevailing squalidness, being kept with great neatness. Mr. Murdock ascended the steps, and found himself in a large room, one side of which was fenced off by a railing.

Behind this was a desk, at which sat the officer in charge. To him, Mr.

Murdock directed himself.

”Have you a boy, named Richard Hunter, in the house?”

”Yes,” said the sergeant, referring to his minutes. ”He was brought in this afternoon, charged with picking a gentleman's pocket.”

”There is some mistake about this. He is as honest as I am.”

”I have nothing to do with that. He will have a fair trial to-morrow morning. All I have to do is to keep him in safe custody till then.”

”Of course. Where is he?”

”In a cell below.”

”Can I see him?”