“Knowin’ you stole money led me to checkin’ my drawer you and your ma was told to keep your noses out o’. And guess what I found out? You been thievin’ in there too. And I supposed as how you believed I was never goin’ to track you down. Ain’t that a fact? Come on, answer me. Ain’t it?”
As this was an impossible question for Robin to answer, he did not answer it. For that he was shaken so hard by the collar that his teeth rattled.
“Thanks for your help, Slyke,” Hawker said. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll be back to settle my account with you later. Right now I got to be goin’, because I got more business with this little thief.”
“Before you go,” said Mr. Slyke, “you wouldn’t like to check his pockets, would you? I had to leave him here alone while I went for you, if you get my meaning.”
“I get it, all right,” said Hawker. He started shoving his hand roughly into one pocket after another of Robin’s jacket. “So what’ve we got here?” he said, holding up Robin’s watch. “Where’d you steal this from, you bloody little thief?”
“I … I … I didn’t steal it,” Robin blurted out.
“So you didn’t steal it, eh?” Hawker said, sneering. “Then where did you get it?”
“It was my papa’s,” said Robin.
“Funny, I never seen it,” Hawker said. “Hidin’ it from me, eh? Well, you just gave it to me, boy. And here’s what I’m goin’ to do with it.” He threw the watch on the counter in front of Mr. Slyke. “What’ll you give me for it, Slyke?”
Mr. Slyke picked up the watch and examined it as if he had never seen it before. “Fifteen cents,” he said, without so much as the flicker of an eyelash.
“I’ll take it,” said Hawker, holding out his hand.
Mr. Slyke handed him some coins from his drawer, and Hawker jammed them into his pocket without even looking at them. “Now you just come with me, boy.”
Dragged by the collar, Robin stumbled with Hawker from the pawnshop into the street. As soon as they were out of the sight of Mr. Slyke behind his pawnshop window, Hawker slammed Robin against a brick wall.
“All right, boy,” Hawker said from between clenched teeth. “Now you’re goin’ to take me to where you been holed up all this time with the little brat. You got that?”
“But … but I don’t have him with me,” said Robin, his voice trembling.
“Don’t try to make a fool out o’ me, boy, or you’ll come to wish you’d never been born,” said Hawker. “You can’t tell me you never took him with you when you run off.”
“Oh, I … I did take him, Hawker,” said Robin. “Remember how he was crying the night I left? You told me to keep him quiet or get him out of there. So I took him for a walk.”
This honesty stopped Hawker for a moment. Then he pulled Robin away from the wall by the shoulders, and slammed him back again.
“I told you not to make a fool o’ me, boy. Think I’m stupid, do you? Well, here’s stupid for you. Stupid is tryin’ to tell me you took the brat for a walk when all his stuff was missin’ with him. You think I’ll buy that?”
“All right,” said Robin. “I … I guess I have to tell you. I was running away with Danny. I … I saw how you were going to hit him, and I thought … I thought you didn’t want us around any more.”
“You’re breakin’ my heart,” said Hawker. “But snivelin’ ain’t goin’ to get you anywhere, boy. And so far you ain’t answered my first question. Where you hidin’ the little brat?”
For this question, Robin needed another St. Something miracle. Did miracles extend to providing someone with a lie? Well, for this kind of lie, apparently yes!
“I … I walked a long time because I didn’t know where I was going,” said Robin. “Then I began thinking maybe I was wrong about everything, and I’d better just go home. But by then I was so tired I sat down on a step in front of a building to rest. Danny was asleep by then, and I … I must have gone off to sleep for a while too. When I woke up, Danny and all this things were gone. I was so scared, I went on walking away, and never came home. It’s what happened, Hawker, honest.”
“You’re lyin’,” said Hawker.
Some moments passed as they stared at one another, Hawker menacing, Robin quaking.
“I’d kill you, boy,” said Hawker. “But I expect you know somethin’ you’re not teilin’. And dead you ain’t any use. So your life is now spared. But one thing you’ll be showin’ me, and that’s where you’re holed up. And you’ll be showin’ me right now.”
“Now?” Robin felt as if he had been slammed against the wall again.
“Now,” said Hawker, grabbing him by the collar once more and marching him down the street. “You lead the way, boy.”
And just where was Robin going to lead him? The only place he knew he was not going to lead Hawker was to St. Something. Other than that he did not have the wildest idea in the world. But miracles from St. Something seemed to be falling on his head like raindrops. For as he started walking, he suddenly did have an idea—the pier where the boys had lived before they found their new home! He had never been there, but they had given him a good description of where it was, and he was certain he could lead Hawker right to it.
The only thing he now needed to pray for was that none of the boys who had shared the pier with his friends would be “at home” when he and Hawker arrived. They, of course, would not know Robin, and what then? Robin’s brain, by now all but completely paralyzed, could not come up with an answer to that. It was still early enough, however, that the street boys were still out there in the streets. So all that was needed was for the space under the pier to look lived in, but with no boys in it.
Robin was able to find the pier with little difficulty, but when they went under it, he found that his luck had run out. For by the light of a single fluttering candle, a ragged young boy, who looked like any one of the hundreds who roamed the streets, sat cross-legged on the ground gnawing on the tag end of a chunk of bread. He looked up as Robin arrived with Hawker, but went right on chewing without saying a word.
“This the place?” Hawker asked Robin.
“Y-yes,” stammered Robin.
“You know this boy?” Hawker addressed the boy on the ground, jerking his head at Robin.
Standing frozen at Hawker’s side, Robin managed to nod his head so slightly it was almost no nod at all. Probably only a street boy, schooled in the art of signalling, would have caught it.
“Sure,” said the boy, chewing away with his mouth open.
“Live here, does he?” asked Hawker.
Robin nodded again.
“Sure he lives here,” the boy said, appearing more intent on picking something crawling across his bread than answering Hawker’s questions.
“What’s his name then?” Hawker asked slyly.
The boy looked at Robin for a signal. Of course, getting none, he mumbled something unintelligible.
“What was that?” Hawker shot at him. “I didn’t get it. Say it again.”
“It’s Jocko,” the boy said, giving Robin a helpless shrug.
“Well, it ain’t. So what do you think of that?” said Hawker, pouncing on this gleefully.
“It is Jocko,” Robin burst out, finally locating his voice. “It’s my street name. You remember how Maggot said when I got out on the street, I’d have to change my name for protection. Well, that’s what I did.”
This had the desired effect of stopping Hawker. But after mulling it over and being unable to find any loopholes in this reply, he came up with another thought.
“Did he have a brat … a baby with him when he first got here?” he asked the boy.
Robin quickly shook his head.
“Baby?” said the boy. “Yer crazy, man. Who’d be bringin’ a baby here? We got trouble ter spare carin’ fer usselves. Wot we want with a baby?” Then the boy grinned at Robin. “You stayin’ or leavin’ fer the evenin’, Jocko?”
“He’s leavin’ with me,” snapped Hawker.
&
nbsp; “Jist askin’,” said the boy.
As they had been talking, Robin had been digging into his jacket pocket, and managed to find something Hawker had missed in his earlier search. It was a one cent piece. As they turned to leave, Robin managed to flip the coin in an underhanded throw, and turn his head enough to see the boy catch it expertly and stuff it in his pocket. With another grin, he tipped his cap at Robin.
Robin was learning to like these street boys more and more. This one had saved his skin. He only wished he had had more to give, but he had to be satisfied knowing that the cent would buy the boy another chunk of bread.
As for Robin himself, what was to happen to him?
“Where are we going now?” he asked Hawker.
“You’re goin’ to your old home, boy,” snarled Hawker. “Where did you think?”
Chapter XV
A GOOD BOY
Robin was now Hawker Doak’s prisoner. He had seen Hawker remove the key from the inside lock, making certain, of course, that Robin had seen him doing it. And there had been a final click of a key turning in the lock outside when Hawker had gone out again. Oh yes, Robin was now his prisoner. Hawker left no doubt about that. It seemed that Robin was being guarded like one of Hawker’s precious stolen jewels.
Yet had Mouse not heard Hawker saying Robin could drown for all he cared? It was Danny he wanted. So, perhaps, like the spider who weaves his web to catch his prey, Robin was to be the web meant to catch Danny. But how? And when? All Robin knew was that Hawker made no further mention of him. It looked as if he had forgotten Danny altogether.
Instead, Robin continued a prisoner, himself the prey caught in Mr. Slyke’s cleverly woven web. And he was not only a prisoner in the apartment, but when he left it as well. For he was always in the company of Hawker, who never took his eyes off Robin for a moment.
Robin felt desperate. How was he ever to get word to the boys of what had happened to him, or find out from them if Danny was all right? As several days went by, this began to seem more and more impossible. And then one day, as he was going with Hawker to collect the rents, there was Mouse coming right toward them swinging his shoe box!
What was Mouse doing there? Robin knew Mouse was dangerously near his old neighborhood, and if caught by his pa, might well have a whole new crop of welts and bruises on his thin body by evening. Could Mouse be out scouting for Robin and not worrying about his own safety? But what if he spotted Robin and, without thinking, ran up to him before even noticing that Robin was with Hawker? Then, known to be Robin’s friend, might Hawker not cleverly have him followed by Quill, who could be led right to Danny? Much as Robin wanted to talk to Mouse, he must warn him away. Carefully, Robin lowered his hand to his side, and made a fist. Would Mouse understand that this time it meant danger, stay away?
Mouse, with a blank look on his face, drew closer and closer. He was soon so close that Robin could see the freckles on his nose. But what was that curious blinking he was doing with his eyes, looking up and down at a furious rate. Robin followed his eyes down, and there saw it—the fist matching his own at Mouse’s side!
It had all taken place in one heart-stopping moment. Mouse, without so much as a muscle twitching on his face, had passed them right by, and was gone. But he knew! And now they would all know that Robin was back in Hawker’s clutches and was his prisoner. There was nothing they could do to rescue him, any more than he could find a way to escape. But Robin knew he would at least sleep a little better that night, now that the boys knew what had happened to him.
There were actually times when Robin was not locked in the apartment and was out of Hawker’s sight. That was when he, Robin, was collecting rents in the dark, dank halls of the buildings Hawker managed, while Hawker himself sat outside waiting. But unless Robin could come up with a way of climbing out the window of one of the apartments, there was no escaping any building but through the front door.
It was the same, day in and day out. No one to talk to except Hawker, growling, grunting, snapping, or snarling at him. And still no mention of Danny. But Robin had to believe Hawker was up to something. He was certain of it. And the prospect was frightening. Then one day something happened that added to his fears.
He always dreaded collecting the rents, and dreaded even more finishing the job, coming out, and seeing the hulking body of Hawker Doak waiting for him at the side of the stairs. But one day he came from a building to find Hawker missing, not sitting in his usual place. Instead he was standing beside a carriage and horses that had stopped outside the building and was talking to a strange man. The man caught sight of Robin as soon as he stepped through the door, and said something to Hawker, nodding his head in Robin’s direction.
“Get over here, boy!” Hawker commanded him. “And be quick about it.” He had a sound in his voice Robin had never heard there before. It was a kind of nervous fear.
Robin ran over to the carriage, looking up at Hawker and waiting for his next instructions. But it was the man who spoke.
“Look up at me, boy,” he snapped.
And Robin found himself once again looking up into the cruel, dark eyes of the man whose shoes he had shined outside the front doors of St. Something! Eyes that now seemed to be piercing Robin’s brain as he studied Robin’s face curiously with narrowed eyes.
“Do you shine shoes?” he asked abruptly.
Robin had no choice but to nod. After all, it was what Quill had found him doing for a number of days, and there was no reason to think it had not been reported to Hawker.
“Then are you not the boy who shined my shoes for me outside St. Katherine’s Church some days ago?” the man asked.
“No, sir. I … I don’t know where that is,” replied Robin, praying that the man’s eyes were not actually able to see into his brain, or could hear his heart pounding in his chest. For St. Katherine’s Church was, in truth, no other than St. Something!
The man continued studying Robin’s face. “I don’t often make such mistakes,” he said. Then he added as if it were an indifferent afterthought, “You’re not a boy given to lying, are you?”
“N-no, sir,” replied Robin, hoping his face did not betray him, which he felt was what the question was supposed to accomplish. It otherwise made no sense, for who in their right mind would have answered “yes” to it?
“All right, boy,” Hawker said roughly. “You wait for me on the steps until I finish talkin’ with Mr. Highcrofft.”
When Robin had left them, the men continued talking in low voices. Mr. Highcrofft appeared agitated and angry. And as he walked back to the apartment with Robin, Hawker was sunk in deep silence.
The following afternoon, Robin was not taken out with Hawker, but was left locked in the apartment. When the supper hour came, as announced by the chipped enamel clock sitting on the kitchen counter, there was nothing to prepare for a meal, because the kitchen cupboards were empty. The food brought in for Robin, who was naturally not allowed out to buy any for himself, was as little as Hawker felt obliged to provide just to keep him alive. So Robin stayed hungry most of the time. He would only have something to eat that evening when Hawker returned home.
But it was not too much longer before Hawker came stamping through the front door. And he was smiling! Or at least what passed for a smile with him.
“Well, now we got a treat for supper tonight,” he said. “It’s cake with real sugar frostin’ on it. And I’ll sit down and share it with you b-b … Robin.”
Cake? Sharing? Robin? Was Hawker ill? Was his mind gone? What was this all about? Robin could not even begin to guess, and he could not see himself asking Hawker to explain.
Hawker’s attempt at making conversation as he sat stuffing the larger portion of the cake into himself was purely laughable.
“How was your day?” he asked Robin.
“It … it was fine,” replied Robin, whose day had been as dull and dreary as always. But should he now ask Hawker how his own day was? Was it expected? “H-how was yours?” he final
ly blurted.
“Good,” replied Hawker, his mouth so full of cake the crumbs were spilling out. “Hey, you know somethin’? If you keep on bein’ a good boy like you been doin’, I’m givin’ some thought to sendin’ you back to school. How’d you like that, eh?”
“I … I … I would, thank you,” the stunned Robin managed to reply.
Hawker then stood up, putting a welcome end to the conversational attempt. “All right, I’ll be thinkin’ more about it,” he said, giving a swipe across his mouth with his shirt sleeve. “Now I’m goin’ out. See you go to bed and get your rest.”
Robin was too startled by this last expression of interest in him even to reply. But Hawker, undoubtedly up to his neck with being pleasant, stumped out and slammed the door in his usual manner. That did not bother Robin one bit. His stomach wonderfully full of cake, all he could think about was that there might not be a factory in his future after all. Only school! And freedom! If only that freedom would come soon enough for him to somehow make it to St. Something, his friends, and most especially—Danny.
The following day, however, although Hawker remained as pleasant as was possible for him to be, he still left Robin locked up in the apartment. And he left something else as well, the jewelry drawer wide open, and a pile of money sitting in full view on top of the chest of drawers. As Robin already knew where the jewelry and money were hidden, what was this all about? Was it to serve as a strong temptation for Robin to help himself to whatever he wanted? And why?
Then, that evening, after Hawker had come home with more food for Robin than usual and was leaving again, he turned to Robin and said, “Well, I told you, you been bein’ a good boy, never tryin’ to run off again or nothin’ like that. Now I see how honest you been. No money gone. No more lockets and pins missin’. So,” he paused to see how this was settling with Robin, “tomorrow maybe you can come out with me, and I’ll see to lettin’ you off the hook a little. What do you think of that?”
Secret in St. Something Page 10
