“The pig done it,” said the sheriff doggedly, “and the pig ought to get the credit, and the reward!”
Looey and Red were staring at Freddy in amazement. “A pig!” exclaimed Red. “My gosh, Looey, a pig!”
“Pig, all right,” replied Looey wearily. “Gee, we’re a hot pair of robbers. Caught by a pig!” And then as Mr. Boner started in again to argue that it was he that should get the reward, Looey added: “Well, take us away and lock us up. Anywhere where we won’t have to listen to this guy talk any more.”
Mr. Bean, in his long white night-shirt and carrying a lantern, had appeared a few moments earlier in the barn door. “Trying to take the credit from my animals, is he?” he muttered. “We’ll soon fix that.” And he put his head outside and called softly: “Peter! Get rid of this fellow for us, will you?”
“And I want to tell you something too, Mr. Sheriff,” Mr. Boner was saying. “You ain’t done anything on this case, any more than your friend the pig has, and I’m going to give my own story of the capture to the newspapers, and don’t you try to stop me. They’re going to say that Mr. Montague Boner, the famous detective, was successful in putting an end to the depredations in upstate banking circles last night. With his brilliant capture of the two—”
Here he stopped, and abruptly, for something rough and furry had rubbed up against him. He turned to look. Peter, the bear, was standing on his hind legs beside him, his mouth wide open, his arms spread out, looking twice his size in the flickering lantern-light.
Mr. Boner opened his mouth almost as wide as Peter’s, and out of it came a long yell. Then he dashed for the door. He yelled as he reached the yard, and he continued to yell as he turned out of the gate and dashed off up the road, with Peter loping along easily a few feet behind him. The animals crowded to the door; they could see nothing, but they could hear those diminishing yells dying away in the direction of Centerboro, until at last through the calm night they came back as a thin thread of sound, like the whine of a mosquito. And presently that was gone too, and there was silence.
“Thank you, Mr. Bean, and animals all,” said the sheriff. “I’ll be getting along now. I’ll be up in the morning, Freddy, to have you show me where all that stolen money is. I’ll bring the reward with me. Come along, you two. Couple o’ nice cells all made up for you, with clean towels and flowers in the vases and everything. Night, all.”
Mr. Bean said good night; then he turned to the animals. “Now don’t sit up talking half the night,” he said gruffly. “Lots of time to go over it all tomorrow. I’m proud of you, Freddy.” He patted the pig clumsily on the shoulder. “Good night.” And he stumped off toward the house.
“Well,” said Mrs. Wiggins with a deep sigh, “this has been a night, I must say. But Mr. Bean is right; we must get off to bed. Only I want to hear all about it first thing in the morning.”
The animals dispersed slowly. But Freddy drew Jinx aside, and as soon as the others were gone, “Look here, Jinx,” he said, “the boards those robbers pulled up in that stall are just about over where the rats store their grain. Better have a look at that before you turn in, eh?”
Jinx twitched his whiskers twice, clapped Freddy on the back with a paw, then winked broadly, and as the pig left the barn, he glanced back and saw Jinx creep like a shadow through the open door of the box stall.
CHAPTER XI
THE TRIAL
At last came the day of the trial. From early morning the roads and field paths were full of animals, streaming toward the cowbarn, where Jinx was to be tried for the murder and subsequent eating of the crow. Many of them had brought their lunch with them, for there was no question that the trial would be a long and hard-fought legal battle. The general opinion through the countryside was that the cat was guilty, but Jinx’s friends had stuck by him loyally, even in face of what seemed almost certain guilt. “For,” said they, “we stand on Jinx’s past record, as well as on the general nature of cats. Jinx has never been known to chase, much less to eat, even a sparrow. And it is a well-known fact that no cat will eat a crow. We don’t care what the rats say. We believe him innocent.”
The trial was set for two o’clock. From the door of his office Freddy, in the intervals of his work, could see the animals streaming by. But he was very busy that morning. The capture of the robbers had made a great impression, and accounts of it had been published in every paper in the country. The day before, a deputation of Centerboro citizens, headed by the mayor in a silk hat, had come to tender him their official thanks and to pay him the reward of five thousand dollars. After the ceremony, which included speeches by several prominent bankers and business men, a number of the deputation had stayed behind to engage his services in various matters which they wanted cleared up. Many animals, too, from distant villages, who had now heard for the first time of his remarkable ability as a detective, had brought him their troubles, so that he had work enough to keep him busy for a year or more. He listened to them all with courteous attention, giving as much of his time and interest to the cousin of Henrietta’s from whom a china egg had been stolen as to the wealthy banker from Green’s Corners who wanted assistance in finding his long-lost daughter.
He sat inside the shed, listening gravely to his clients, exchanging now and then a word with his partner, Mrs. Wiggins—who had to sit outside the door because there was not room for her inside—giving orders to his subordinates, the mice and squirrels and other small animals to whom were given the less important tasks of detecting, and receiving the reports of other birds and animals who hurried in and out on his errands. Beside him the money he had received as a reward was piled up in plain sight—“for no one,” said Freddy, “would dare to steal it now. They know that if they tried it, we’d catch ’em and have ’em clapped in jail within twenty-four hours.”
Pretty soon Jinx himself came along. He sat down and waited until Freddy had finished with another client, then went in and said good morning.
“Good morning, Jinx,” said Freddy. “How’s everything up at the house?”
“Oh, all right, I guess,” replied the cat. “But I tell you, Freddy, I’m a little nervous, and that’s a fact. Are you sure you can get me off? As I told you, I wouldn’t mind so much going to jail at any other time, but right now it’s as much as my job’s worth not to be where I can keep those rats in their place.”
“I thought you’d got the upper hand of them since the other night,” said Freddy.
“So I have. I captured Ezra and two of Simon’s nephews and locked them up; and where those boards were ripped up, I found nearly a bushel of grain, which the mice carried back to the grain-box while I stood guard, but Simon is still there, and this morning, while Mr. Bean was getting the boards ready to be put back in place and nailed down, Simon stuck his head out of his hole and gave me the laugh. ‘You’ll never drive us out of the barn, Jinx,’ he said. ‘I admit you got most of our supplies, but by this time tomorrow night,’ he said, ‘you’ll be locked up safe and tight, and then, boy! Won’t we have a feast! And by the time you get out,’ he said, ‘we’ll have enough more stored away so you’ll never get us out.’”
“Well, as I’ve told you before,” said Freddy, “you aren’t going to be locked up. I’ve got this case just where I want it, and the trial will prove some things about those rats that will surprise you. It isn’t just what I believe—it’s what I can prove. And I can prove you didn’t kill any crow.”
“Well,” said the cat, “I wish you’d tell me—”
“No,” interrupted the pig, “I’m not going to tell you anything. It’s a long story and you’ll hear it all in court. There isn’t time for it now. Just be patient, and don’t worry, and everything’ll come out all right, I promise you.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Jinx with a sigh. “Oh, gosh!” he exclaimed suddenly, glancing out of the door, “here’s Charles. I’m off, Freddy. I’ll lose my temper if I talk to that big stuffed shirt, and goodness only knows what might happen then.”
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“Yes, you’d better go along,” said Freddy. “See you in court.—Morning, Charles, how’s everything in the hen-house this morning?” he said as the rooster, with an indignant glance at the departing cat, entered the office.
“Everything is all right, thank you,” said Charles stiffly. “I must say, Freddy, I can’t approve of your hob-nobbing with criminals this way.”
“Oh, hob-nobbing with your grandmother’s tail-feathers!” exclaimed the pig good-naturedly. “Don’t try that high and mighty stuff with me, that’s known you since you were a little woolly chicken that couldn’t say anything but ‘Peep, peep,’ like a treetoad!”
“That’s all very well, Freddy,” said the rooster, “but, fond as I have been of Jinx in the past, it is my belief that by committing this crime he has forfeited the friendship and esteem of all decent animals, and I cannot—”
“Oh, save the speech till later in the day,” interrupted Freddy. “But just let me tell you this: Jinx is innocent, and I can prove it, and I’m going to prove it this afternoon, and you’re going to feel very silly when you know the truth and remember all the things you’ve said about him. And now let’s talk of something else. I’ve been wanting to see you to ask you what you thought about conditions in the jail. It isn’t as overcrowded as it was before we threw out all the animals who hadn’t been sentenced at all, but it seems to me that we could make it a little less like a club if you pardoned any animals who seemed to be having too good a time there, and put them out. I think that if the animals knew that they weren’t going to be allowed just to stay there and enjoy themselves, they wouldn’t be so anxious to get in, and there wouldn’t be so many of them stealing things just so they’d be put there.”
“An excellent idea, Freddy,” said the judge. “And I’d like to start with that Eric. You know what he’s done? He’s been making speeches to the other prisoners, telling them how silly they are to want to stay out of jail when they can have so much better fun inside, and he’s organized a lot of them into a club called the Hoho Club. To join it you have to give your word that as soon as your sentence is up and you’re free again, you will commit some crime so you’ll be put right back in.”
“What does ‘Hoho’ mean?” asked Mrs. Wiggins.
“Hilarious Order of Habitual Offenders,” said Charles.
“Which leaves me right where I was before,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “What does that mean?”
“An habitual offender,” explained Freddy, “is an animal who makes a habit of committing offenses, so he’ll go to jail.”
“Oh!” said Mrs. Wiggins.
“They’ve even got a song they sing,” said Charles angrily. “It goes something like this:
Habitually we offend
Against our country’s laws.
It works out better in the end
Than being good, because—
No home has a superior
Or cheerier interior
Than this old jail,
The which we hail
With constant loud applause,
For—
Be it ever so crowded
There’s no—o place like jail!”
“It’s not a very good song,” said Freddy. “Or perhaps it’s the way you sing it.”
“Not enough expression,” put in Mrs. Wiggins.
“Oh, who asked you to criticize my singing?” asked Charles crossly. “I was just telling you—”
“Sure, sure,” said Freddy soothingly, “we agree with you. Something’s got to be done. But wait till after the trial this afternoon. I’ve got an idea how we can fix this Hoho Club so they won’t be so anxious to come up before the judge. I’ll see you then, Charles.”
“Everything is in now except Eeny’s report, isn’t it?” asked Mrs. Wiggins, as soon as Charles had gone.
“Yes,” said Freddy, “and he’ll meet me at the court-room. I suppose we’d better be getting on over and see that all our witnesses are there. Here’s the evidence.” He dragged out a market basket in which were the claws and feathers that had been found in the loft, along with several other small objects, and Mrs. Wiggins hooked it up with her horn and they started off.
The cow-barn was full, and a big mob of animals who could not find room inside were crowded about the door. Mrs. Wiggins pushed her way good-naturedly through the crowd, and Freddy followed. “What you got in the basket?” called a horse. “You going to use it to carry out what’s left of Jinx after the trial?”
The crowd laughed, and Freddy turned around. “Listen, horse,” he said, “we’ve got the proofs of Jinx’s innocence in this basket, and what do you say to that?”
“Why, I say I hope it’s true,” replied the horse, and the other animals raised a cheer.
At the far end of the barn was an old phaeton, which the animals had brought back from Florida two years before, and on the front seat stood Charles, very dignified and grand, only occasionally exchanging a few words in an undertone with Peter, the bear, who was foreman of the jury. Charles had selected the twelve members of the jury, and they sat in a double row to the left of the phaeton: Peter and Mrs. Wogus and Hank and Bill, the goat, and two sheep in the back row, and in the front row, because they were smaller, Cecil, the porcupine, and Emma’s Uncle Wesley, and two mice, Quik and Eek, and Freddy’s sister’s husband, Archie, who was so fat that he snored, even when he was wide awake. The twelfth juryman, Mr. Webb, the spider, had spun a thread down from the roof and hung there, just above the rest of the jury, where he could see and hear everything, but wouldn’t be in danger of being stepped on. In the back seat of the phaeton was the prisoner, Jinx, looking much worried.
Every available inch of space in the barn was occupied. Window-sills, beams, and rafters were lined with field mice, chipmunks, squirrels, and birds, and the pressure of the crowd on the floor was so great that even before the trial began, several smaller animals fainted and had to be carried out. Just in front of the judge a space had been kept clear, and as Freddy moved up to one side of this, Eeny darted out from under the phaeton.
“I found it at last, Freddy,” he said. “They didn’t get it from Mr. Bean’s house at all. It was Miss McMinnickle’s. Something Prinny said put me on to it, and I went down there and got in the house, and, sure enough, they’d tipped it over on her writing-desk and spilled a lot, and you could see their footprints on the blotter.”
“Fine!” said Freddy. “That’s great work, Eeny!”
“I brought a piece of the blotting-paper along,” said the mouse. “Jock has it for safe keeping.”
“Good. Now stick round. I’ll need your testimony before very long. Believe me, we’re going to give those rats a surprise!”
“Order in the court!” called Charles in his most important voice. “Silence, please. Now, gentlemen of the jury—”
“Ladies, too,” whispered Jock, pointing toward Mrs. Wogus.
“You can’t say ‘ladies’ when there’s only one,” snapped Charles.
“Well, you’ve got to say something, you can’t just leave her out entirely.”
“Lady and gentlemen of the jury,” said Charles, “you are here to decide from the evidence presented to you at this time upon the guilt or innocence of one, Jinx, a cat in the employ of Mr. Bean, who is charged with the murder, and subsequent eating, of an unknown crow, in the barn on August 7 last. Ferdinand, as a member of the great crow family, will conduct the prosecution. Frederick, the well-known detective, will conduct the defense, with the assistance of his colleague, Mrs. Wiggins. Mr. Ferdinand, will you call your witnesses?”
Ferdinand hopped up to the dash-board of the buggy, cleared his throat with a harsh caw, fixed the foreman of the jury with his sardonic eye, and said:
“As you doubtless know, ladies and gentlemen, the chief witnesses for the prosecution are Simon and his family, a band of rats who are living illegally, and without permission from Mr. Bean, in the barn. This in itself constitutes a misdemeanor which may well in time bring them as prisoners in
to this court. Nevertheless, their crimes and offenses have nothing to do with the case which we are now considering, and I wish you, in listening to their evidence, to make up your opinion without reference to any prejudice you may have against them on that score. It is Jinx who is being tried now, not the rats. Do I make myself clear?”
Mrs. Wogus spoke up. “No,” she said bluntly, “you don’t.”
“I will try to make myself more clear,” said the crow. “You believe these rats are thieves, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said the cow, “I certainly do.”
“Probably a good many of us here agree with you,” said Ferdinand. “Still, they have a story to tell of what they saw, and in judging of the truth of that story you must not be influenced by that belief. In other words, just because you think they are thieves, you mustn’t also think they are liars.”
“But I do,” said Mrs. Wogus. “How can I help it?”
“Because it hasn’t anything to do with this case,” said Charles.
“Certainly it has,” said the cow.
“You’d better get on with your case,” said Charles to Ferdinand, and the crow, seeing that he was only throwing doubts on the truthfulness of his witnesses by continuing his efforts to explain, nodded his head.
“Well,” he said, “I can only ask you to judge by the evidence that will be presented to you. I may say that the rats were reluctant to come here and testify, since it meant leaving their homes under the barn, where they feel themselves safe. In order to get them here at all I have had to get a promise from the judge that they shall not be molested until the trial is over. I will now call my first witness, Simon.”
The old gray rat crept out from under the buggy, where he and his family had been waiting, and took his place in the open space reserved for witnesses.
“Tell the jury in your own words what you saw,” said Ferdinand.
Simon’s whiskers twitched and his eyes slid round toward Jinx, who was crouched in the back seat of the buggy, his tail moving gently from side to side. “I’d like to have your word, your honor,” he said to Charles, “that my children and I will be allowed to give our evidence and go back home without being assaulted. I’m a poor rat, and I ain’t done harm to anybody. We rats have to live. That’s something that you animals don’t ever seem to think of—”
Freddy the Detective Page 10
