CHAPTER VIII
NEW YORK AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE
It took no very long interval to prove that there was some foundationfor Mr. Tolman's last assertion, for within a short time the travelerswere standing on Fifth Avenue amid the rush of traffic, and feeling ofas little importance as dwarfs in a giant's country. The roar of themighty city, its bustle and confusion, were both exhilarating andterrifying. They had left their luggage at the hotel and now, whileSteve's father went to meet a business appointment, the boy was to takea ride up the Avenue on one of the busses, a diversion of which he nevertired. To sit on top and look down on the throng in the streets wasalways novel and entertaining to one who passed his days in a quiet NewEngland town. Therefore he stopped one of the moving vehicles and ingreat good humor bade his father good-by; and feeling veryself-sufficient to be touring New York by himself, clambered eagerly upto a seat.
There were few passengers on the top of the coach for the chill of earlymorning still lingered in the air; but before they reached RiversideDrive a man with a bright, ruddy countenance and iron-grey hair hailedthe bus and climbed up beside the boy. As he took his place he glancedat him kindly and instantly Steve felt a sense of friendliness towardthe stranger; and after they had ridden a short distance in silence theman spoke.
"What a beautiful river the Hudson is!" he remarked. "Although I am anold New Yorker I never cease to delight in its charm and its fascinatinghistory. It was on this body of water, you know, that the firststeamboat was tried out."
"I didn't know it," Stephen confessed, with an honest blush.
"You will be learning about it some day, I fancy," said the other, witha smile. "An interesting story it is, too. All the beginnings of ourgreat industries and inventions read like romances."
"My father has just been telling me about the beginnings of some of ourrailroads," observed Steve shyly, "and certainly his stories were asgood as fairy tales."
"Is your father especially interested in railroads?" inquired the NewYorker.
"Yes, sir. He is in the railroad business."
"Ah, then that accounts for his filling your ears with locomotivesinstead of steamboats," declared the man, with a twinkle in his eyes."Now if I were to spin a yarn for you, it would be of steamboats becausethat happens to be the thing I am interested in; I believe their historyto be one of the most alluring tales to which a boy could listen.Sometime you get a person who knows the drama from start to finish torelate to you the whole marvelous adventure of early steamboating, andyou see if it does not beat the railroad story all out."
He laughed a merry laugh in which Stephen joined.
"I wish you would tell it to me yourself," suggested the lad.
The man turned with an expression of pleasure on his red-cheeked face.
"I should like nothing better, my boy," he said quickly, "but you see itis a long story and I am getting out at the next corner. Sometime,however, we may meet again. Who knows? And if we do you shall hold me tomy promise to talk steamboats to you until you cry for mercy."
Bending down he took up a leather bag which he had placed between hisfeet.
"I am leaving you here, sonny," he said. "I take it you are in New Yorkfor a holiday."
"Yes, sir, I am," returned Steve with surprise. "My father and I arestaying here just for a few days."
"I hope you will have a jolly good time during your visit," the mansaid, rising.
Stephen murmured his thanks and watched the erect figure descend fromthe coach and disappear into a side street. It was not until the NewYorker was well out of sight and the omnibus on its way that his eye wascaught by the red bill book lying on the floor at his feet. None of thefew scattered passengers had noticed it and stooping, he picked it upand quietly slipped it into his pocket.
What should he do with it?
Of course he could hand it over to the driver of the bus and tell him hehad found it. But the man might not be honest and instead of turning itin to the company might keep it. There was little doubt in Steve's mindthat the pocketbook belonged to the stranger who had just vacated theplace and it was likely his address was inside it. If so, what apleasure it would be to return the lost article to its rightful ownerhimself. By so doing he would not only be sure the pocketbook reachedits destination but he might see the steamboat man again.
He longed to open the bill book and investigate its contents. What wasin it, he wondered. Well, the top of a Fifth Avenue coach was no placeto be looking through pocketbooks, there was no question about that. Letalone the fact that persons might be watching him, there was danger thatin the fresh morning breeze something might take wing, sail down to theHudson, and never be seen again. Therefore he decided to curb hisimpatience and wait until he reached a more favorable spot to examinehis suddenly acquired treasure. Accordingly he tucked the long redwallet farther down into the breast pocket of his ulster, and feelingassured that nothing could be done about it at present, gave himself upto the pleasure and excitement of the drive.
It was not until he had rejoined his father at the hotel and the twowere sitting at lunch in the great dining room that the thought of itagain flashed into his mind.
"Gee, Dad!" he suddenly exclaimed, looking up from his plateful of friedchicken with fork suspended in mid-air. "I meant to tell you I found apocketbook in the bus this morning."
"A pocketbook!"
"Yes, sir. I think the man who had been sitting beside me must havedropped it when he stooped over to get his bag. At any rate it was lyingthere after he got out."
"What did you do with it?" Mr. Tolman inquired with no great warmth ofinterest. "Gave it to the conductor, I suppose."
The boy shook his head.
"No, I didn't," was the answer. "I was afraid he might not turn it in,and as I liked the man who lost it I wanted to be sure he got it, so Ibrought it back with me."
"And where is it now?" demanded Mr. Tolman, now all attention. "I hopeyou were not so careless as to leave it upstairs in our room."
"No. I didn't leave it in the room," returned the lad. "It is out in mycoat pocket. I meant to take it out and see what was in it; but so manythings happened that I forgot about it until this very minute."
"You don't mean that you left it in your ulster pocket and let them hangit out there on the rack?"
"Yes."
"You checked your coat and left it there?"
"Why--yes," came the faltering reply.
Mr. Tolman was on his feet.
"Wait here until I come back," he said in a sharp tone.
"Where are you going?"
"Give me your check quickly," went on his father, without heeding thequestion. "Hurry!"
Steve fumbled in his jacket pocket.
"Be quick, son, be quick!" commanded Mr. Tolman impatiently. "Don't youknow it is never safe to leave anything of value in your coat when youare staying at a large city hotel? Somebody may have taken thepocketbook already."
Scarlet with consternation the lad produced the check.
"If nothing has happened to that pocketbook you will be very fortunate,"asserted the man severely. "Stay here! I will be right back."
With beating heart the boy watched him thread his way between the tablesand disappear from the dining room into the lobby.
Suppose the bill book should be gone!
What if there had been valuable papers in it, money--a great deal ofmoney--and now through his carelessness it had all disappeared? Howstupid he had been not to remember about it and give it to his fatherthe instant they had met! In fact, he would much better have taken achance and handed it to the bus conductor than to have done the foolishthing he had. He had meant so well and blundered so grievously! Howoften his father had cautioned him to be careful of money when he wastraveling!
Tensely he sat in his chair and waited with miserable anxiety, his eyesfixed on the dining-room door. Then presently, to his great relief, hesaw his father returning.
"Did you--" he began.
"You will have to come
yourself, Steve," said the elder man whose browwas wrinkled into a frown of annoyance. "The maid who checked the coatsis not there, and the one who is insists that the ulster is not mine,and in spite of the check will not allow me to search the pockets ofit."
Stephen jumped up.
"I suppose she is right, too," went on Mr. Tolman breathlessly, "but thedelay is very unfortunate."
They made their way into the corridor, where by this time an officeclerk and another man had joined the maid who was in charge of the coatrack.
Stephen presented his check and without comment the woman handed him hiscoat. With trembling hand he dived into the deep pocket and from it drewforth the red bill book which he gave to his father.
"There it is, Dad, safe and sound!" he gasped.
Instantly the clerk was in their path.
"I beg pardon, sir," said he with deference, "but does that pocketbookbelong to you?"
Mr. Tolman wheeled about.
"Eh--what did you say?" he inquired.
"I asked, sir, if that pocketbook was your property?" repeated theclerk.
Mr. Tolman faced his inquisitor.
"What business is that of yours?" he demanded curtly.
"I am sorry, sir, to appear rude," the hotel employee replied, "but wehave been asked to be on the lookout for a young lad who rode thismorning on one of the Fifth Avenue busses where a valuable pocketbookwas lost. Your son tallies so well with the description that--"
"It was I," put in Stephen eagerly, without regard for consequences."Who wants me?"
With a smile of eagerness he turned, expecting to encounter the genialface of his acquaintance of the morning. Then he would smile, hold outthe pocketbook, and they would laugh together as he explained theadventure, and perhaps afterward have luncheon in company.
Instead no familiar form greeted him. On the contrary the slender manwho had been standing beside the clerk came forward.
Mr. Tolman sensed the situation in a second.
"You mean somebody thinks my son took the pocketbook?" asked heindignantly, as he confronted the clerk and his companion.
"It is not my affair, sir, and I am sorry it should happen in ourhotel," apologized the clerk. "Perhaps if you will just explain thewhole matter to this gentleman--" he broke off, saying in an undertoneto the man at his elbow. "This is your boy, Donovan."
The tall man came nearer.
"You are a detective?" asked Mr. Tolman bluntly.
"Well, something of the sort, sir," admitted the man called Donovan. "Itis occasionally my business to hunt people up."
"And you have been sent to hunt my son up?"
Donovan nodded.
Stephen turned white and his father put a reassuring hand on hisshoulder.
"My son and I," he replied, addressing the detective quietly, "canexplain this entire affair to you and will do so gladly. The boy didfind the pocketbook but he was ignorant of its value because he has noteven looked inside it. In fact, that he had the article in hispossession did not come into his mind until a few moments ago. If he hadknown the thing was valuable, do you suppose he would have left it inhis ulster pocket and checked the coat in a public place like this?"
The detective made no reply.
"We both shall be very glad," went on Mr. Tolman firmly, "to go with youto headquarters and straighten the matter out."
"There may be no need of that, sir," Donovan responded with a pleasantsmile. "If we can just talk the affair over in a satisfactory way--"
"Suppose you come upstairs to our room," suggested Mr. Tolman. "Thatwill give us more quiet and privacy. Will that be agreeable to you?"
"Perfectly."
As the three walked toward the elevator Steve glanced with trepidationat the plain-clothes man.
The boy knew he had done nothing wrong; but would he be able to convincethe detective of the truth of his story? He was thoroughly frightenedand wondered whether his father was also alarmed.
If, however, Mr. Tolman was worried he at least did not show it. Insteadhe courteously led the way from the elevator down the dim corridor andunlocked the door of Number 379.
"Come in, Mr. Donovan," he said cordially. "Here is a chair and a cigar.Now, son, tell us the story of this troublesome pocketbook frombeginning to end."
In a trembling voice Stephen began his tale. He spoke slowly,uncertainly, for he was well scared. Gradually, however, he forgot hisagitation and his voice became more positive. He recounted the detailsof the omnibus ride with great care, adding ingenuously when he came tothe termination of the narrative:
"And I hoped the man's name would be inside the pocketbook because Iliked him very much and wanted to return to him what he had lost."
"And wasn't it?" put in Mr. Donovan quickly.
"I don't know," was the innocent retort. "Don't you remember I told youthat I hadn't looked inside yet?"
The detective laughed with satisfaction.
"That was a shabby trick of mine, youngster," said he. "It was mean totry to trap you."
"Trap me?" repeated Steve vaguely.
"There, there, sonny!" went on Donovan kindly. "Don't you worry a minutemore about this mix-up. Mr. Ackerman, the gentleman who lost the billbook, did not think for a second that you had taken it. He simply was sosure that he had lost it on the bus that he wanted to locate you andfind out whether you knew anything about it or not. His name was notinside the pocketbook, you see, and therefore any one who found it wouldhave no way of tracing its owner. What it contains are valuable papersand a big wad of Liberty Bonds which, as your father knows, couldquickly be converted into cash. In consequence Mr. Ackerman decided thatthe sooner the pocketbook was found the better. The omnibus peopledenied any knowledge of it and you were the only remaining clue."
Mr. Tolman sank back in his chair and a relaxation of his musclesbetrayed for the first time that he had been much more disturbed than hehad appeared to be.
"Well," he said, lighting a fresh cigar, "the bill book is not onlylocated but we can hand it back intact to its owner. If you can informus where the gentleman lives, my boy and I will call a taxi and go tohis house or office with his property."
A flush of embarrassment suffused the face of the officer.
"Maybe you would like to come with us, Donovan," added Mr. Tolman, whoinstantly interpreted the man's confusion.
"I hate to be dogging your footsteps, sir, in this fashion," Mr. Donovananswered, with obvious sincerity. "Still, I--"
"You have your orders, no doubt."
"Well, yes, sir," admitted the plain-clothes man with reluctance. "Ihave."
"You were to keep your eye on us until the pocketbook reached itsowner."
"That's about it, sir. Not that I personally have the least suspicionthat a gentleman like you would--"
"That is all right, my man. I perfectly understand your position," Mr.Tolman cut in. "After all, you have your duty to do and business isbusiness. We'll just telephone Mr. Ackerman that we are coming so thatwe shall be sure of catching him, and then we will go right up there."
"Very well, sir."
Stephen's father started toward the telephone and then, as if struck bya sudden thought, paused and turned.
"Steve," he said, "I believe you are the person to communicate with Mr.Ackerman. Call him up and tell him you have found his purse and that youand your father would like to come up to his house, if it will beconvenient, and return it."
"All right, Dad."
"You will find his number on this slip of paper, sonny," the detectiveadded, handing the lad a card. "He is not at his office. He went home tolunch in the hope that he had left the pocketbook there."
After some delay Stephen succeeded in getting the number written on thecard. A servant answered the summons.
"May I speak to Mr. Ackerman, please?" inquired the lad. "He is atluncheon? No, it would not do the least good for me to tell you my namefor he would not know who it was. Just tell him that the boy who satbeside him this morning on the Fifth Avenue bus--" there
was a littlechuckle. "Oh, he will be here directly, will he? I thought perhaps hewould."
A moment later a cheery voice which Steve at once recognized to be thatof the steamboat man came over the wire:
"Well, sonny?"
"I found your bill book, Mr. Ackerman, and my father and I would like tobring it up to you."
"Well, well! that is fine news!" cried the man at the other end of theline. "How did you know who it belonged to?"
"Oh, I--we--found out--my father and I," stammered the lad. "May we comeup to your house with it now?"
"You would much better let me come to you; then only one person will beinconvenienced," the New Yorker returned pleasantly. "Where are youstaying?"
"At the Manhattan."
"You must not think of taking the trouble of coming way up here. Let mejoin you and your father at your hotel."
"Very well, Mr. Ackerman. If you'd rather--"
"I certainly should rather!" was the emphatic answer. "I could not thinkof bringing two people so far out of their way."
"There are three of us!" squeaked Stephen.
"Three?"
"Yes, sir. We have another person--a friend--with us," explained theboy, with quiet enjoyment. How easy it was to laugh now!
"All the more reason why I should come to you, then," asserted Mr.Ackerman. "I will be at the Manhattan within half an hour. Perhaps ifyou and your father and your friend have the afternoon free you wouldlike to go to some sort of a show with me after we conclude ourbusiness. Since you are here on a holiday you can't be very busy."
Stephen's eyes sparkled with merriment.
"I don't know whether our friend can go or not," he replied politely,"but I think perhaps Dad and I could; and if we can we should like tovery much."
"That will be excellent. I will come right along. Not only shall I beglad to get my pocketbook back again but I shall be glad to see you oncemore. I told you this morning that I had a feeling we should meet sometime. Whom shall I ask for at the hotel?"
"Stephen Tolman."
With a click the boy hung up the receiver.
"Mr. Ackerman is coming right down," said he, addressing his father andthe detective with a mischievous smile. "He has invited the three of usto go to the matinee with him."
"The three of us!" echoed the plain-clothes man.
"Yes," returned the lad. "I told him we had a friend with us and so hesaid to bring him along."
"Good heavens!" Donovan ejaculated.
Mr. Tolman laughed heartily.
"Not all the thieves you arrest take you to a theater party afterward,do they, Officer?" he asked.
"I said from the first you were gentlemen," Mr. Donovan asserted withhumor.
"But couldn't you go?" inquired Steve, quite seriously.
"Bless you, no, sonny!" replied the man. "I am from headquarters, youknow, and my work is chasing up crooks--not going to matinees."
Nevertheless there was an intonation of gentleness in his voice, as headded, "I am obliged to you just the same, for in spite of my calling Iam a human being and I appreciate being treated like one."
Steve and the Steam Engine Page 8
