Chapter 2

TROUBLE

Jet was not just certain, when he seated himself on the bench to wait for another summons, whether he had done right in obeying the tall man so implicitly, but yet he could not understand how it would make any difference to the manager, since he brought back the amount of money which was the lawful charge for such service.

"I'll ask one of the other fellows," he said to himself, and then the rush of business was so great that he almost forgot the incident of the morning.

Until two o'clock in the afternoon he was busily engaged, and at that hour returned after having been to the post-office to mail a large lot of circulars sent by a particularly testy and disagreeable old gentleman.

"You needn't sit down," the manager said sharply, as the boy laid the service slip on the desk. "Go with this man and see to it that you tell the whole truth."

Jet looked in surprise at a gentlemanly appearing person who was pointed out to him, standing near the door, and asked hesitatingly:

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Exactly what I said. Don't keep him waiting, and come back here at once if they let you go to-day."

This last remark was yet more mysterious than the first, but Jet did not have an opportunity to ask any more questions, for at this instant the stranger took him by the arm, saying as he did so:

"Now walk sharp. I've lost too much time already."

There was no other alternative but to obey, for the man literally dragged him through the crowds on the sidewalks, and continued on at a rapid pace until the two were at the entrance of Police Headquarters.

"What am I to go in there for?" Jet asked, as he tried to hold back.

"The inspector wants to see you," the man replied, and the boy ceased any show of resistance, for he began to realize that he was a prisoner, although on what charge he could not so much as guess.

Ten minutes later he was standing in front of the inspector, and that gentleman was gazing at him scrutinizingly.

"What is your name?" he asked abruptly, and when the answer had been given be continued by inquiring into all the particulars of his short life, until Jet cried in desperation:

"What do you think I have done, sir?"

"That remains to be seen," was the unsatisfactory reply, as, after writing down all the boy had said, the inspector summoned a man in the garb of an ordinary citizen, to whom he handed the paper as he said in a low tone: "Find out if this is correct, and come back at once."

Then turning to Jet:

"How long have you been a district messenger?"

"Two days."

"What time in the morning do you go on duty?"

"Seven o'clock."

"What was the first call you had to-day?"

"To No. -- East Fourteenth Street."

"Tell me all that happened there, and remember If you try to lie I shall know it."

Jet, confused and bewildered by the strange position in which he found himself, did as he was bidden.

Just for an instant he believed it would be only just toward the man who had hired him, to repeat what he had been told to say, but then came the thought that he was virtually under arrest and the truth should be spoken at every hazard.

"Can you describe these men?" the inspector asked, when his short story was told.

Jet did his best, not omitting to say that the hair of one and the whiskers of another looked suspiciously false.

"Would you know them again?"

"I'm certain of it. The tall man I could spot even if the whiskers were taken off."

At this point the officer who had been sent to learn the truth of Jet's statement regarding himself, returned, nodded his head in a significant manner, and immediately disappeared through another doorway.

Over and over again did the inspector insist on Jet's telling the story of his morning's work, and when fully an hour had been spent in this manner he said decidedly more kindly than before:

"I believe you have spoken the truth, but you will be an important witness in a very serious case, and I suppose it is my duty to send you to the House of Detention."

"Does that mean I'm goin' to be locked up?" Jet asked in alarm.

"You will be deprived of your liberty, but it is very different from going to jail."

"Don't do that! Please don't do that! I've just got a job where I can earn a good deal of money, and it'll knock me out of it. Besides," Jet added as a lucky thought occurred to him, "if I keep on about my business I may see them fellers again."

"You advance a very good argument, and, in fact, I am depending on you to do that same thing, but how shall I know that you won't give us the slip?"

"I'll stay right at the office, except when I'm out with a message, an' come here every night if you say the word."

"Do you know of any one who would go bail for your appearance when wanted?"

"Mammy Showers would tell you that I'll act square up to what I say."

The inspector did not reply for several seconds, and then it was to say:

"I'll take your word for it, my boy. You are to report to me, or one of the officers here, every twenty-four hours, and, in the meanwhile, if you get a glimpse of either of those men, follow him until word can be sent to me; but do not speak of this matter to any one."

It was evident that this ended the interview, for the inspector rose to his feet, and Jet, overjoyed at the prospect of escaping imprisonment, hurried out of the gloomy-looking building.

On his return to the office the manager, who was particularly busy at that moment, motioned him to a seat on the messengers' bench, and the fat boy, unusually wide awake, asked in a blood-curdling whisper:

"Did you really have anything to do with that murder?"

"What do you mean?"

"There was a man killed an' robbed over on East Twentieth Street last night, and some of the fellers said you was down to headquarters tellin' the police all about it."

"And it was the murderers I saw this morning!" Jet repeated aloud, astounded by the knowledge that he had possibly assisted the guilty ones to hide the evidences of their crime.

"Then you was in it!" the fat boy exclaimed.

"Now don't be a fool! I carried a bag for some men this morning, but that's all I know about it. Who was the murdered man?"

"It's all in that paper Sankey left in his overcoat pocket. Get it an' you have the whole story. I wonder why they don't put you in jail?"

Before Jet could reply to this question he was ordered to the desk, and from there sent to answer a call from the Union Square Hotel.

Evidently it was not one of the regular patrons of the house who had summoned him.

He found a gentlemanly looking party standing just outside the clerk's desk, who appeared particularly pleased on observing the number on his cap.

"I want you to go with me to Yonkers, and bring back certain papers which must be delivered before six o'clock. Can you go so far?"

"I will run over to the office and find out. You see I haven't been on the force very long, and don't know exactly what to do when the work will keep me so long away."

"Very well, hurry as fast as possible, for I want to leave here by the next train."

Jet ran swiftly back, and in a very few moments returned with the information that he was at liberty to go wherever the gentleman desired, so long as the office received the regular price per hour for his services.

"There won't be any difficulty about that. You are to go to pier 466 North River, and wait there until I come. Don't stop on the way, for I shall probably ride down."

"I thought we were going on the cars."

"I changed my mind while you were away. We can get there just as quickly by boat. Hurry off, for I don't want to be kept waiting."

Jet left the hotel at once, wondering why the gentleman did not give him a car fare if the business demanded so much speed, and on his way to the pier he heard the news-boys crying the particulars of the "Terrible tragedy on East Twentieth Street."

"I'll see what the story is," Jet said to himself as he bought one of the papers, but he did not stop to read then lest he should arrive at the rendezvous too late.

The gentleman was waiting for him on his arrival, but did not express any anxiety to start for Yonkers immediately.

"You can go up to my room and help me stow away some baggage," he said, glancing around as if to make certain they were not observed.

"Ain't this the Albany boat?"

"Yes; but I reckon there's nothing to prevent our getting out at Yonkers."

"I didn't know she stopped there."

"You will probably have time to learn several things before you're many years older."

"But this steamer doesn't leave till night."

"I've made another change in my plans, and it doesn't concern you since a messenger's duty is to follow as long as he is paid for his services."

This was said in such an angry tone that Jet held his peace lest he should give further offense, but at the same time the whole affair was beginning, in his mind, to assume a very mysterious aspect.

The man motioned for him to walk by his side, and led the way through the main saloon to a state-room forward, where, through the half-opened door. Jet failed to see the baggage which had been spoken of as needing "stowing."

"Go in," the stranger said impatiently, pushing Jet into the apartment, and following him.

Then the door was locked, and the man carefully fastened both the shutter and window.

Now the messenger was alarmed, and turned toward the door with upraised fist as if to pound for assistance, when a hand was placed roughly over his mouth.

"Don't try any such game as that or there'll be trouble, you young cub," the man whispered, and almost before Jet knew what was being done a hard substance had been forced into his mouth and fastened there by a towel tied around his head.

That he was a victim of foul play the young messenger could have no doubt, and he struggled with all his strength to free himself, but in vain.

The stranger took from his pocket several lengths of stout rope, bound first Jet's hands and then his feet, after which he threw him roughly into one of the berths.

"I reckon you'll lay there without making very much fuss, till I get ready to let you go," he said, as he treated himself to a long draught from a black flask. "When we do land at Yonkers, you can go back to Police Headquarters once more."

The latter remark caused Jet to associate this adventure with the one he had had in the morning, and after looking intently at the stranger his suspicions became a certainty.

"This is the short fellow who got me to carry the valise!" he said to himself. "They know about my goin' to see the inspector, and are bound to get me out of the way."

The idea that his captor was a cold-blooded murderer, who probably would not hesitate to add another to his list of crimes, was far from reassuring, and the perspiration burst out on Jet's face as he thus persuaded himself he was in immediate danger of a violent death.