Part 49 (1/2)
”Probably,” rejoined Colonel Dartwell, sarcastically. ”Take us to that place without delay. But stop--drive to police headquarters first.”
Very unwillingly the fellow complied. At the headquarters help was procured in the shape of two ward detectives. All four of the party entered the carriage and were driven off to effect Nellie Ardell's rescue.
It was with deep interest that Jerry accompanied Colonel Dartwell and the officers of the law in the search for the missing young lady.
On through the crowded streets of Brooklyn drove the carriage, the driver now apparently as willing to help the law as he had before wished to evade it.
The carriage was turning into one of the fine thoroughfares when Jerry caught sight of a figure which instantly arrested his attention. The figure was that of Mr. Wakefield Smith.
”Stop!” cried the young oarsman to the driver of the carriage.
”What's up?” demanded the colonel.
”Do you see that man over there by the paper stand?”
”Yes.”
”That is Wakefield Smith, the pickpocket.”
”Indeed! He ought to be arrested.”
”You know him to be a pickpocket?” questioned one of the detectives.
”I do. He robbed me of over twenty dollars. I got back ten dollars. He's a very smooth and slick worker.”
”I think I know that chap,” returned the detective. ”Don't he look like Charley the Dude?” he asked of his companion.
”By Jove! that's our man!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the second detective. ”I would know him anywhere by that peculiar walk. He has grown a heavy mustache since I saw him last.”
”Will you stop and arrest him?” asked Jerry. ”He ought to be locked up.”
”We can get the policeman on the beat to attend to him. There is an officer on the next corner. Just call him, Harrity.”
The carriage was brought up to the curb and our hero and the officers alighted, the Colonel remaining behind to keep an eye on the driver.
Mr. Wakefield Smith was strolling down the street in a lordly way when Jerry tapped him on the shoulder.
”So I've met you again,” he said.
The pickpocket turned and his face fell. But only for a moment; then he gazed at the youth brazenly.
”I don't know you, me boy,” he drawled in an a.s.sumed voice.
”But I know you, Mr. Smith,” rejoined Jerry. ”I want the balance of my money. I got ten dollars the night you were intoxicated, but that is not enough.”
”Boy, you are talking riddles. I never saw you before.”
”I can easily prove it, I fancy.”