“I wouldn’t mind,” said Robin. Would not mind? His heart was racing so fast he thought it would burst right out of his chest.
But Hawker had no sooner left than he began thinking over what had just been said. And he decided that Hawker was either very stupid or very clever. “Never tryin’ to run off,” he had said. Well, how could Robin run off anywhere, being either locked up or, but for rent collecting, never out of Hawker’s sight? As for taking money or jewelry, did Hawker think Robin such an idiot as to take anything at all of his, and then sit there in the locked apartment waiting for him to return and find out about it? It must have been some sort of test that put him in no danger of losing his money or the jewels. But why was Hawker suddenly being so nice to Robin? What was behind it?
And then it came to him. Clever Hawker might be, but not so clever that he knew a certain conversation—one he had had with his friends Quill and Maggot at The Whole Hog—had been heard by a certain friend of Robin’s. Mouse! In Mouse’s words, Hawker had said, “One day’s he’s goin’ ter let down his guard an’ lead you ter wot I’m lookin’ fer.”
Let down his guard! That was exactly what Hawker was working toward—Robin letting down his guard. He must never have believed Robin’s tale of Danny being kidnapped while he, Robin, sat on the steps sleeping. But why did all this niceness start right after Hawker’s meeting with that man, Mr. Highcrofft? There was no question that Hawker had been sunk in unhappy thought after the two men had met. What was Mr. Highcrofft’s connection to all this? But most of all, why had Robin had that feeling of dread when he looked into the man’s eyes, not once, but twice?
This was not only more puzzling. It was more terrifying. Robin knew that he was now going to have to be more careful than ever. Oh yes, very, very careful indeed!
Chapter XVI
A Final Wish
“Get your coat on. You’re comin’ with me,” Hawker said to Robin in the late afternoon of the following day. “Today’s the day I’m gonna let you off the hook. Just a bit o’ a try out, you might say. And no monkey stuff, or the deal’s off. You get my meanin’?”
“Oh yes!” said Robin eagerly. But he knew exactly what Hawker was up to.
“Off the hook.” There was no “off the hook” about it. Robin had the hook imbedded in his throat as much as any poor fish caught in the ocean. And Hawker was just as carefully playing out his line with Robin at the end of it. As for “no monkey stuff,” why that was exactly what he really wanted, just being clever in warning Robin against it.
Where they headed when they left the apartment was, not surprisingly, Hawker’s great entertainment center, The Whole Hog. And there, also not surprisingly, were Quill and Maggot waiting for him.
“You remember my friends Quill and Maggot here,” said Hawker jovially when they arrived at the table where the two were sitting. “Say ‘hello’ to the boys, Robin.”
“Hello, sirs,” he said politely.
“Ain’t he the little gentleman? He’ll go far, I tell you,” said Hawker, winking at the two men as they exchanged grins. “And such a good boy too, that I’m lettin’ him off the hook for a while tonight. But just for a hour. A boy can go visitin’ a lot o’ places in a hour. Sorry about losin’ your pa’s watch for you, Robin, but here’s mine for tellin’ when the hour’s up. See how I’m trustin’ him now, boys, with my own watch?” The still grinning “boys” nodded together like two toy monkeys on a single string. “Now you go along, Robin,” Hawker said, waving him off. “And mind you … a hour! Next time, maybe it’ll be for longer.”
Dodging the crowded tables and chairs, Robin made his way back to the front door. But as he went, he managed to turn his head slightly so he could still see the table where the three men were sitting. And with no surprise he saw Quill sliding from his seat. He was going to be following Robin again! Well, Robin knew exactly what to do about that.
Strolling at the slowest possible speed, stopping at every single store window and staring into it for minutes on end, he paraded up one side of the street, and down the other, consulting Hawker’s watch at every gas lamp. An hour was an hour, and he had no intention of going one minute over it.
The whole time he was parading up and down the street, Robin was quite aware of Quill darting in and out of stairwells and doorways right behind him. Once, Robin darted into a stairwell himself, enjoying seeing Quill, passing it, frantically looking for him. If this whole game were not so deadly, Robin could have been having a good time. And of course, he had the pleasure of imagining Quill’s disgust at having Robin return promptly to The Whole Hog after having chased him no place but up and down the street.
But Hawker had no intention of giving up, and so the next late afternoon, the same game took place. And the third afternoon as well. Robin wondered how long these chases would continue before Hawker would give up and accept that Robin might have been telling the truth, and really did not know where Danny was. Then what? Would it mean returning to the old cruel treatment and being imprisoned again? Would it mean no school, but going into a factory instead? And would he ever find a way to escape to St. Something? To the boys? To Danny?
Then on the fourth afternoon, just as the street lamps were being lit, with Quill still dogging his footsteps, Robin was startled to see Maggot running toward them. Quill stepped out of the shadows to meet him. No longer making any pretense of hiding, the two men ran toward Robin. They were both panting, their eyes glaring, and their faces pale as dough.
“Come with us!” Maggot said, gasping for air. “Hawker’s in terrible trouble. There’s been a fight. He’s been took to your home. He’s askin’ to see you.”
“B-b-but how did it happen?” asked Robin, feeling his knees grow weak under him.
“Can’t use my breath talkin’,” said Maggot. “You’ll find out soon enough. But we got to hurry. From what I seen, there ain’t much time left. And you got to show us the way to your home, boy, ’cause we ain’t never been there before.”
Not much time left! Something terrible had happened to Hawker, the last thing in the world Robin would have thought of, or even wanted, much as he wanted to get out of Hawker’s clutches. But no questions were to be answered until they reached their destination. Numb with shock, he could only lead Quill and Maggot in deadly silence down the streets toward what gave every promise of being a grim and terrible scene.
When they arrived at the apartment, they found the front door open, and beyond it only the dim, fluttering light of a single oil lantern set on a table. Robin quickly led them through that front room into the one beyond it. There they found three men standing up, leaning against the wall, all staring at the man stretched out on the bed. The light of a single oil lamp flickered over an ominous rose red stain that had spread its awful bloom across his chest. The stain was a curious match to the livid gash that cut across the ghastly white skin under the man’s closed eyes. The man on the bed was Hawker Doak.
Robin, not knowing what to do, remained standing helplessly beside Maggot, who spoke to one of the men.
“He should o’ been took to the hospital,” Maggot said.
“You was there,” the man said. “You heard him. He said he wanted to come here. Said he’d bring hisself if none o’ us would do it. Kept sayin’ he wanted to come here to talk with the boy.”
“Anyone thought o’ gettin’ a doctor?” asked Maggot.
“Fish’s gone lookin’ for one,” said the man. “Don’t know where he’s gonna find one, but won’t do much good anyhow. If you ask me, Hawker’s a goner. I think he’s just keepin’ hisself alive till he sees the boy.”
Just then a terrible groan came from the figure on the bed. Maggot gave Robin a shove toward it.
“Go on over there, boy. You’re what he wants.”
Trying to overcome his horror, Robin hesitantly approached the bed.
“It’s …it’s me, Robin, Hawker. I’m …I’m here.”
Hawker finally opened his eyes.
“Glad they could
find you,” he said. His voice was so weak and hoarse it could barely be heard. He looked across the room at the men all staring at him and Robin. “Boys,” he said, struggling to raise his voice, “thanks for bringin’ me here like I wanted. You’re good lads, the lot o’ you. But no need to stay on. Quill and Maggot’ll stay here with me. But right now, I’d like if you two would wait outside for a minute. I got somethin’ to say to the boy here.”
“Hope to see you back at The Whole Hog soon, Hawker,” one of the men said as they all filed uncomfortably from the room.
As soon as the men had left, Hawker attempted a weak grin. “They’re lyin’, and they know I know they’re lyin’. They know my number’s up and they ain’t ever gonna see me back at The Whole Hog again. But now, Robin, there’s somethin’ I want you should do. It’s got to be done quick, because I ain’t got much time left. You go over to my chest there and look inside the top drawer that’s alongside the one where I keep all the other stuff you know about. In that drawer, there’s money, there’s a name and address on a slip o’ paper, and there’s the locket you had. What I want is for you to take a cab with the money, take along the locket, and go to the address what’s on the slip o’ paper. You give the locket to the man with the name you see on it. No other man! You give him the locket, and you say him who sent it is dyin’ and got to see him—urgent.”
“What if he won’t come?” asked Robin.
“He’ll come all right,” said Hawker, groaning with pain. “He’ll come. Just you hurry. And tell Quill and Maggot they can come back. They’ll stay with me till you get back. But hurry, boy! Hurry!”
Robin had never been in a cab in his life. He had no idea even how to go about getting one. Chase one down, he supposed. But he had to go three blocks before he even found any to chase. And when the cab drivers saw that it was only a boy in a patched jacket waving them down, they passed him right by. Valuable minutes were lost before a cab driver finally stopped long enough for Robin to wave a wad of bills in his face.
The cab driver gave a low whistle when he saw the name and address on the slip of paper Robin handed him. “Sure this is the place?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Robin, climbing into the cab. “And please hurry!”
“Yes, sir!” said the driver.
Robin had jammed the slip of paper into his pocket with the money and the locket. He had never even looked at it. Where was he going that had so impressed the cab driver? Now with nothing to do but listen to the clop, clop of the horses’ hooves, Robin looked at the slip of paper the cab driver had returned. The small oil lantern outside the cab door gave just enough light for him to read it. The address meant nothing to him, but when he saw the name above it, he wanted to fling open the door and leap from the cab. For the name on the slip of paper was Highcrofft. Mr. Jonathan Highcrofft!
Robin’s blood froze. He had no real reason for hating the man, but he did. He had no real reason for being afraid of him. But he was. Clop! Clop! Clop! The horses’ hooves drummed on. But Robin knew he would do nothing to keep them from moving ahead. After all, he was carrying out a man’s wish. A man’s final wish!
Clop! Clop! Clop! The horses’ hooves drummed on. And on.
Chapter XVII
A Terrible Confession
When the cab finally pulled to a stop at the address given on the slip of paper, the cab driver saw fit to whistle again. For they had come to a splendid brick house, a house which more properly could have been called a mansion. Robin had guessed that Mr. Highcrofft was rich, but he could never have guessed as rich as this. It only added to his fright after he paid the cab driver and was walking up the steps to the enormous double, oak doors. Robin’s hand was trembling when he pushed the brass button that made chimes ring deep inside the house. Almost instantly, it seemed, the doors opened to reveal a tall man dressed in a swallow-tailed coat and striped trousers. The look on his face made it clear he was not pleased to find a boy in a patched jacket standing at the door.
“What is it you want?” he asked stiffly. “If you’re here begging, we can’t help you.” He paused a moment. “Well, if it’s food you want, and you’re hungry, go around to the back door. There may be something they can give you there.”
“I …I …I’m not begging,” stammered Robin. “I’ve come to talk to this person.” He handed the man, clearly the butler, the slip of paper from his pocket.
“Step inside then,” the butler said, his face expressionless. “I’ll go see if Mr. Highcrofft is able to see you.”
Robin stepped into a great, high-ceilinged entry hall, its two sparkling crystal chandeliers lighting up a grand, curved stairway rising up one side, two tall mirrors, and at least four large oil paintings framed in elegant, carved gold frames. This was a room that did nothing toward making Robin feel more comfortable. It was well that he had but a few moments to stand there quaking before Mr. Highcrofft appeared from the drawing room. But this was not the Mr. Highcrofft Robin expected to see!
Oh, this man had a family resemblance to the other. There was no denying it. But although he did indeed have a black beard, his face was somewhat thinner. And his eyes! They were a bright blue, with a gentle, kindly look to them. These were not the eyes Robin had seen before.
“You may go now, Fletcher. I’ll take it from here,” he said. Then he looked down at Robin. “Who is it who sent you, young man?”
“Mr. Hawker Doak,” replied Robin.
“Then this is a mistake,” was the quick reply. “I don’t know the man, but my cousin Franklin Highcrofft does business with him. Mr. Doak must have made a mistake with this. I’m Mr. Highcrofft, all right, but Mr. Jonathan Highcrofft as is written on this slip. I don’t know how he got this name and address. Do you?”
Robin shook his head. “All I know is he said he only wanted to see the man whose name is on the slip, and no other. And he told me to give you this.” Robin pulled out the locket and handed it to Mr. Highcrofft.
Mr. Highcrofft’s face paled when he saw it. He opened the locket, staring silently at the pictures in it. “Where did Mr. Doak get this?” he asked.
“I …I don’t know,” stammered Robin.
“Is the man your father?” asked Mr. Highcrofft.
“No, my step-papa,” replied Robin. “But he’s been in a fight, and he’s dying. He wants you to come as quickly as you can.”
“Wait here …what is your name, young man?” asked Mr. Highcrofft.
“It’s Robin,” he replied.
“Well, wait here, Robin. I shall be right back. Fletcher!” Mr. Highcrofft shouted as strode back into the drawing room. “Have the carriage brought round to the front door. And very quickly, if you please. Very quickly.”
Only minutes later, Robin was back in a carriage, listening once again to horses’ hooves drumming, hooves carrying him back to where Hawker Doak lay dying in his bed. Perhaps already gone, for all Robin knew. And the man beside him, Mr. Highcrofft, might have been thinking the same thing. His hands were tightly clenched and his face grimly set.
“Are you sure, Robin, you know nothing about where this locket came from?” Mr. Highcrofft pulled himself up from deep thought to ask.
“No, sir,” said Robin. “I …I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right,” Mr. Highcrofft in a kindly voice. “I’m sure if you knew anything, you’d tell me.”
After that, he retreated back into his deep thoughts, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.
As soon as they arrived at their destination, Mr. Highcrofft ordered his carriage to wait, and he ran with Robin to the apartment.
“Is he …is he …?” Robin asked when they entered Hawker’s room.
“Still with us,” replied Quill.
“But fading fast,” added Maggot. “Good thing you’re back.”
Upon hearing their voices, Hawker opened his eyes. “You brought Mr. Highcrofft with you, Robin?” he gasped. “Have him come by the bed. Quill and Maggot, I’d be pleased if you’d step out of the room w
hilst I talk private with these two.”
As the two men left, Robin approached the bed with Mr. Highcrofft. He could see the locket tightly clutched in Mr. Highcrofft’s hand.
“Mr. Highcrofft,” Hawker said, his voice now so weak they had to lean down to hear him, “I’m doin’ what I’m doin’ because I’m dyin’ and want to make things right with my Maker before I go. I’ve been a bad man, Mr. Highcrofft. Been terrible to this boy and to his ma. Ain’t that right, son?”
“It doesn’t matter now, Hawker,” Robin said, not knowing why his eyes should suddenly fill with tears on hearing this man who had indeed treated him so cruelly now call him “son.” “What I remember is how you got me that good cake. Remember?”
Hawker tried to smile. “It was good, and it was nice eatin’ it together. But it’s to Mr. Highcrofft I got a terrible confession to make. You got the locket, did you, Mr. Highcrofft?”
“I have it,” he replied, holding it out in his hand. “But where did you get it, man?”
“Stole it from your wife’s room in the hospital when she was havin’ her baby,” replied Hawker. “It was right by the crib.”
“I guessed it,” said Mr. Highcrofft, a catch in his throat.
“But there’s more,” said Hawker. “And it’s much worse. The same night your wife was havin’ her baby, my wife was havin’ hers. It was the baby already on its way when I married her and became this boy’s step-pa.”
“But why are you telling me all this?” asked Mr. Highcrofft. “You have already explained how you came by the locket, so precious to me because of the photograph in it of my dear wife, as well as my own. It isn’t necessary for you to say more, and you are very weak. This is taking a lot out of you.”
“I’m tellin’ you because it got to be told,” moaned Hawker. “Because what happened is that my wife’s baby was born dead …yours was born alive. And I got paid a lot o’ money to switch them that same night. How I did it is no matter. I did it. Robin, your brother was never your real brother.”
Secret in St. Something Page 11
