The Man on the Box

by Harold MacGrath

  VII

  A POLICE AFFAIR

  "Officers, arrest this fellow!" commanded the young woman. Her gesturewas Didoesque in its wrath.

  "That we will, ma'am!" cried one of the policemen, flinging himselffrom his horse. "So it's you, me gay buck? Thirty days fer you, an'mebbe more. I didn't like yer looks from th' start. You're working somekind of a trick. What complaint, ma'am?"

  "Drunkenness and abduction,"--rubbing the burning spot on her cheek.

  "That'll be rather serious. Ye'll have to appear against him in th'mornin', ma'am."

  "I certainly shall do so." She promptly gave her name, address andtelephone number.

  "Bill, you drive th' ladies home an' I'll see this bucko to th'station. Here, you!"--to Warburton, who was still dumb withastonishment at the extraordinary denouement to his innocent joke. "Giton that horse, an' lively, too, or I'll rap ye with th' club."

  "It's all a mistake, officer--"

  "Close yer face an' git on that horse. Y' can tell th' judge all thatin th' mornin'. _I_ ain't got no time t' listen. Bill, report just assoon as ye see th' ladies home. Now, off with ye. Th' ladies'll bewantin' somethin' t' quiet their nerves. Git on that horse, me friskygroom; hustle!" Warburton mechanically climbed into the saddle. Itnever occurred to him to parley, to say that he couldn't ride a horse.The inventive cells of his usually fertile brain lay passive. "Now,"went on the officer, mounting his own nag, "will ye go quietly? If yedon't I'll plug ye in th' leg with a chunk o' lead. I won't stan' nononsense."

  "What are you going to do with me?" asked Warburton, with a desperateeffort to collect his energies.

  "Lock ye up; mebbe throw a pail of water on that overheated cocoanut ofyours."

  "But if you'll only let me explain to you! It's all a joke; I got thewrong carriage--"

  "Marines, marines! D' ye think I was born yestiddy? Ye wanted th'ladies' sparklers, or I'm a doughhead." The police are the same allover the world; the original idea sticks to them, and truth in voice orpresence is but sign of deeper cunning and villainy. "Anyhow, ye can'trun around Washington like ye do in England, me cockney. Ye can't drivemore'n a hundred miles an hour on these pavements."

  "But, I tell you--" Warburton, realizing where his escapade was aboutto lead him, grew desperate. The ignominy of it! He would be thelaughing-stock of all the town on the morrow. The papers would teemwith it. "You'll find that you are making a great mistake. If you willonly take me to--Scott Circle--"

  "Where ye have a pal with a gun, eh? Git ahead!" And the two made offtoward the west.

  Once or twice the officer found himself admiring the easy seat of hisprisoner; and if the horse had been anything but a trained animal, hewould have worried some regarding the ultimate arrival at thethird-precinct.

  Half a dozen times Warburton was of a mind to make a bolt for it, buthe did not dare trust the horse or his knowledge of the streets. He hadalready two counts against him, disorderly conduct and abduction, andhe had no desire to add uselessly a third, that of resisting anofficer, which seems the greatest possible crime a man can commit andescape hanging. Oh, for a mettlesome nag! There would be nopolice-station for him, then. Police-station! Heavens, what should hedo? His brother, his sister; their dismay, their shame; not countingthat he himself would be laughed at from one end of the continent tothe other. What an ass he had made of himself! He wondered how muchmoney it would take to clear himself, and at the same momentrecollected that he hadn't a cent in his clothes. A sweat of terrormoistened his brow.

  "What were ye up to, anyway?" asked the policeman. "What kind of boozehave ye been samplin'?"

  "I've nothing to say."

  "Ye speak clear enough. So much th' worse, if ye ain't drunk. Was yecrazy t' ride like that? Ye might have killed th' women an' had a billof manslaughter brought against ye."

  "I have nothing to say; it is all a mistake. I got the wrong number andthe wrong carriage."

  "Th' devil ye did! An' where was ye goin' t' drive th' other carriageat that thunderin' rate? It won't wash. His honor'll be stone-deaf whenye tell him that. You're drunk, or have been."

  "Not to-night."

  "Well, I'd give me night off t' know what ye were up to. Don't ye knownothin' about ordinances an' laws? An' I wouldn't mind havin' ye tellme why ye threw yer arms around th' lady an' kissed her,"--shrewdly.

  Warburton started in his saddle. He had forgotten all about that partof the episode. His blood warmed suddenly and his cheeks burned. He hadkissed her, kissed her soundly, too, the most radiantly beautiful womanin all the world. Why, come to think of it, it was easily worth a nightin jail. Yes, by George, he _had_ kissed her, kissed that bloomingcheek, and but for this policeman, would have forgotten! Whateverhappened to him, she wouldn't forget in a hurry. He laughed. Thepoliceman gazed at him in pained surprise.

  "Well, ye seem t' take it good an' hearty."

  "If you could only see the humor in it, my friend, you'd laugh, too."

  "Oh, I would, hey? All I got t' say is that yer nerve gits me. An' yestand a pretty good show of bein' rounded up for more'n thirty days,too. Well, ye've had yer joke; mebbe ye have th' price t' pay th'fiddler. Turn here."

  The rest of the ride was in silence, Warburton gazing callously aheadand the officer watching him with a wary eye to observe any suggestivemovement. He couldn't make out this chap. There was something wrong,some deep-dyed villainy--of this he hadn't the slightest doubt. It wasthem high-toned swells that was the craftiest an' most daring. Handsomeis that handsome does. A quarter of an hour later they arrived at thethird precinct, where our jehu was registered for the night under thename of James Osborne. He was hustled into a small cell and left tohimself.

  He had kissed her! Glory of glories! He had pressed her to his veryheart, besides. After all, they couldn't do anything very serious tohim. They could not prove the charge of abduction. He stretched himselfon the cot, smiled, arranged his legs comfortably, wondered what shewas thinking of at this moment, and fell asleep. It was a sign of agood constitution and a decently white conscience. And thus they foundhim in the morning. They touched his arm, and he awoke with a smile,the truest indication of a man's amiability. At first he was puzzled ashe looked blinkingly from his jailers to his surroundings and then backat his jailers. Then it all returned to him, and he laughed. Now thelaw, as represented and upheld by its petty officers, possesses adignity that is instantly ruffled by the sound of laughter from aprisoner; and Mr. Robert was roughly told to shut up, and that he'dsoon laugh on the other side of his mouth.

  "All right, officers, all right; only make allowances for a man whosees the funny side of things." Warburton stood up and shook himself,and picked up his white hat. They eyed him intelligently. In themorning light the young fellow didn't appear to be such a rascal. Itwas plainly evident that he had _not_ been drunk the preceding night;for his eyes were not shot with red veins nor did his lips lack theirusual healthy moisture. The officer who had taken him in charge, beinga shrewd and trained observer, noted the white hands, soft andwell-kept. He shook his head.

  "Look here, me lad, you're no groom, not by several years. Now, whatth' devil was ye up to, anyway?"

  "I'm not saying a word, sir," smiled Warburton. "All I want to know is,am I to have any breakfast? I shouldn't mind some peaches and cream orgrapes to start with, and a small steak and coffee."

  "Ye wouldn't mind, hey?" mimicked the officer. "What d'ye think thisplace is, th' Metropolitan Club? Ye'll have yer bacon an' coffee, an'be glad t' git it. They'll feed ye in th' mess-room. Come along."

  Warburton took his time over the coffee and bacon. He wanted to thinkout a reasonable defense without unmasking himself. He was thinking howhe could get word to me, too. The "duffer" might prove a friend in need.

  "Now where?" asked Warburton, wiping his mouth.

  "T' th' court. It'll go hard with ye if ye're handed over t' th' grandjury on th' charge of abduction. Ye'd better make a clean breast of it.I'll speak a word for yer behavior."

  "Aren't yo
u a little curious?"

  "It's a part of me business,"--gruffly.

  "I'll have my say to the judge," said Warburton.

  "That's yer own affair. Come."

  Once outside, Warburton lost color and a large part of his nonchalance;for an open patrol stood at the curb.

  "Have I got to ride in that?"--disgustedly.

  "As true as life; an' if ye make any disturbance, so much th' worse."

  Warburton climbed in, his face red with shame and anger. He tied hishandkerchief around his chin and tilted his hat far down over his eyes.

  "'Fraid of meetin' some of yer swell friends, hey? Ten t' one, yer aswell an' was runnin' away with th' wrong woman. Mind, I have an eye onye."

  The patrol rumbled over the asphalt on the way down-town. Warburtonburied his face in his hands. Several times they passed a cigar-store,and his mouth watered for a good cigar, the taste of a clear Havana.

  He entered the police-court, not lacking in curiosity. It was his firstexperience with this arm of the civil law. He wasn't sure that he likedit. It wasn't an inviting place with its bare benches and its motley,tawdry throng. He was plumped into a seat between some ladies ofirregular habits, and the stale odor of intoxicants, mingling withcheap perfumery, took away the edge of his curiosity.

  "Hello, pretty boy; jag?" asked one of these faded beauties, in anundertone. She nudged him with her elbow.

  "No, sweetheart," he replied, smiling in spite of himself.

  "Ah gowan! Been pinching some one's wad?"

  "Nope!"

  "What are you here for, then?"

  "Having a good time without anybody's consent. If you will listen, youwill soon hear all about it."

  "Silence there, on the bench!" bawled the clerk, whacking the desk.

  "Say, Marie," whispered the woman to her nearest neighbor, "here's aboy been selling his master's harness and got pinched."

  "But look at the sweet things coming in, will you! Ain't they swell,though?" whispered Marie, nodding a skinny feather toward the door.

  Warburton glanced indifferently in the direction indicated, andreceived a shock. Two women--and both wore very heavy black veils. Thesmaller of the two inclined her body, and he was sure that her scrutinywas for him. He saw her say something into the ear of the companion,and repeat it to one of the court lawyers. The lawyer approached thedesk, and in his turn whispered a few words into the judge's ear. Themagistrate nodded. Warburton was conscious of a blush of shame. Thiswas a nice position for any respectable woman to see him in!

  "James Osborne!" called the clerk.

  An officer beckoned to James, and he made his way to the prisoner'sbox. His honor looked him over coldly.

  "Name?"

  "James Osborne."

  "Born here?"

  "No."

  "Say 'sir'."

  "No, sir."

  "Where were you born?"

  "In New York State."

  "How old are you? And don't forget to say 'sir' when you reply to myquestions."

  "I am twenty-eight, sir."

  "Married?"

  "No, sir."

  "How long have you been engaged as a groom?"

  "Not very long, sir."

  "How long?"

  "Less than twenty-four hours, sir."

  Surprise rippled over the faces of the audience on the benches.

  "Humph! You are charged with disorderly conduct, reckless driving, andattempted abduction. The last charge has been withdrawn, fortunatelyfor you, sir. Have you ever been up before?"

  "Up, sir?"

  "A prisoner in a police-court."

  "No, sir."

  "Twenty-five for reckless driving and ten for disorderly conduct; orthirty days."

  "Your Honor, the horses ran away."

  "Yes, urged by your whip."

  "I was not disorderly, sir."

  "The officer declares that you had been drinking."

  "Your Honor, I got the wrong carriage. My number was seventeen and Ianswered to number seventy-one." He wondered if _she_ would believethis statement.

  "I suppose that fully explains why you made a race-track of one of ourmain thoroughfares?"--sarcastically. "You were on the wrong carriage tobegin with."

  "All I can say, sir, is that it was a mistake."

  "The mistake came in when you left your carriage to get a drink. Youbroke the law right then. Well, if a man makes mistakes, he must payfor them, here or elsewhere. This mistake will cost you thirty-five."

  "I haven't a penny in my clothes, sir."

  "Officer, lock him up, and keep him locked up till the fine is paid. Ican not see my way to remit it Not another word,"--as Warburton startedto protest.

  "Marie Johnson, Mabel Tynner, Belle Lisle!" cried the clerk.

  The two veiled ladies left the court precipitately.

  James, having been ushered into a cell, hurriedly called for pen andink and paper. At half after ten that morning the following notereached me:

  "Dear Chuck: Am in a devil of a scrape at the police-court. Tried toplay a joke on the girls last night by dressing up in the groom'sclothes. Got the wrong outfit, and was arrested. Bring thirty-five anda suit of clothes the quickest ever. And, for mercy's sake, say nothingto any one, least of all the folks. I have given the name of JamesOsborne. Now, hustle. Bob."

  I hustled.