Part 35 (1/2)
The cry burst involuntarily from Jerry's lips, and for the moment his heart seemed to stop beating. The precious papers were missing.
What had become of them? With great haste he hunted all of his pockets, not once but a dozen times. Then he felt in the linings, and in fact in all places where the packet might have become concealed.
It was useless; they were gone; that was all there was to it.
Had he dropped them in Sloc.u.m's office, or during his hasty flight to the alleyway?
Our hero retraced his steps, with eyes bent to the ground, in hopes that they would be found lying on the walk. In doing this he ran into half a dozen folks, many of whom did not take kindly to the collision.
”Look where you are going, boy.”
”Hunting for a pin or gold dollars?”
Jerry paid no attention to the remarks. Reaching the alleyway, he turned into it and continued the search, but without success.
”Say, wot yer doin' in here?”
The question was asked by a youth in the tin-shop. He was red-headed and had a freckled face, but not an unpleasant one.
”I was looking for something I lost,” said the young oarsman. ”Have you seen anything in here of a flat, white package with a black shoestring tied around it?”
”Why, yes, I did,” he answered.
”And where is it?”
”A tramp had it. I saw him walk out of der alley wid it not five minutes ago.”
”A tramp? What kind of a looking man?”
”Tall and thin, with a grizzly beard. Oh, he was a regular b.u.m.”
”Where did he go?”
”Up the street, I think. Was the bundle valuable?”
”Indeed it was, to me,” replied Jerry, and hurried off.
He could see nothing of any tramp, and, after dodging around among the trucks for several minutes, returned to the youth.
”Please describe that tramp to me, will you?” asked Jerry, and the tinner's boy did so, as well as he was able.
”I think da call him Crazy Jim,” he concluded. ”He don't come down here very often. He belongs uptown somewhere.”
”Well, if you ever see him again, please let me know. My name is Jerry Upton, and here is my address,” and our hero handed it over.
”All right, I will. My name is Jerry Martin. Wot was in de package?”
”Some papers belonging to my father.”
The boy wanted to question Jerry for further particulars, but the young oarsman did not care to say too much, and hurried off, to seek the tramp again.