CHAPTER XII.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

Mr. Hobart was not the only friend Terry had among the employes at Drummond and Brown's. The storeman, John Connors, had always been kind to him in his own rough way. He pitied the boy because of his drunken father, and liked him because of his pluck and energy.

Having no boys of his own, he had several times, half in jest, half in earnest, offered to adopt him; and although his proposition could not be considered, it strengthened the warm affection that Terry felt towards the bluff "boss" of Long Wharf.

Intense, then, as was his relief that it was not his father who had been arrested for the stealing of the black bag, there quickly followed feelings of keen surprise and sorrow, for the suspected criminal proved to be no other than John Connors, in whose possession had been found a bag presumed to be the one taken from Mr. Drummond's desk.

Terry listened for a while to the conversation of the clerks as they exchanged wondering conjectures in reference to the matter, and all the time the conviction grew stronger within him that, however appearances might be against him, Connors was no more guilty than he was himself. At length he could not keep silence, and burst out with,--

"John Connors never stole the bag. I'm sure he didn't."

His fervent declaration of faith in the storeman's innocence roused a laugh, and one of the clerks turned upon him with the question,--

"What do you know about it any way that you're so sure as to who didn't do it?"

Instantly there came up in Terry's mind the scene at home, and the mysterious gold dropping from his father's pockets. What did he know about it indeed? Far more perhaps than he cared to tell just then. Regretting that he had spoken, he made no answer; and noticing his confusion, the clerk, attributing it to his being so sharply challenged, added good-humouredly,--

"Never mind, Terry; we're a good deal of the same opinion. We don't think Connors is the man to do such a thing, and there must be a mistake somewhere."

As soon as he got home Terry told his mother of Connors' arrest, and Mrs. Ahearn, eager to seize upon any other explanation of the affair than one which would involve her husband, said persuasively,--

"Now then, Terry, ye'll not be saying anything about your father till ye find out some more, will ye, darlint?"

Poor Terry was in a sadly perplexed state of mind. He firmly believed in Connors' innocence; yet he was by no means sure of his father's guilt, and, without being able to explain to himself why, he had haunting suspicions as to Morley. How he longed to have a talk with Mr. Hobart! But his friend was away, and there was no one else in whom he had the same confidence, or to whom he could go for the counsel he so sorely needed.

Black Mike did not show himself in Blind Alley that night, greatly to the relief of both Terry and his mother, for they dreaded seeing him in their then state of mind. The two had a long talk before going to bed; but it did not make the future much clearer, although the more he thought over the matter, the more strongly Terry felt that he was not doing right in withholding the information about his father.

Immediately on his arrival at the office next morning he was told not to go out anywhere, as he would soon be particularly wanted, and presently he learned that he was to appear in the police-court as a witness at the preliminary examination of Connors. His heart sank within him at the prospect of this ordeal, and he felt as though he would give anything to run off and hide himself until the trial was over.

Shortly after eleven o'clock, Mr. Hobart, who had just got back that morning, told him to accompany him to the police-court. In profound perturbation Terry obeyed. It would be his first appearance as a witness, and he had the vaguest possible notions as to what would be required of him.

They found the court-room already crowded, for the case attracted a good deal of attention. It was a bare gaunt room, whose principal virtue lay in its being well lit. Along the farther end ran a dais, upon which stood three desks, with a big black sofa behind; while over all hung a canopy bearing the royal arms of Great Britain.

As the market clock sounded out eleven strokes, a door at the side of the dais opened, and the stipendiary magistrate, the presiding genius of the place, appeared. He had rather an imposing port, which was helped by his full gray beard and large gold spectacles. Behind came Mr. Drummond and Mr. Brown, who at his invitation took seats upon the sofa.

Having adjusted himself comfortably at the central desk, he directed the clerk, who sat in an enclosure behind him, to open the court.

A number of "drunk and disorderly" cases, which were represented by a row of men and women in various stages of rags and frowziness, had first to be disposed of, the routine being to call up the policeman who had made the arrest, listen to his statement, and without further inquiry impose fines of "five dollars, or twenty days," or "ten dollars, or forty days," according to the gravity of the offence.

At length the dock was cleared of its unsavoury tenants, and the clerk called the case of "The Queen versus John Connors."

A perceptible stir and murmur ran through the crowd when Connors came forward. He certainly had not the appearance of a criminal, and despite his evident distress at his situation, there was nothing in his bearing to indicate guilt. He had secured the services of Mr. Morton, the leading criminal lawyer, and was permitted to take his seat beside him, instead of being placed in the dock. There seemed something reproachful in the glance he gave his employers, as though to say, "You ought to have had more faith in me than to put me here."

The preliminary formalities being gone through with, the examination of the witnesses was entered upon. Mr. Drummond, Mr. Brown, the officers of the blockade-runner, and Mr. Hobart gave their evidence one after another, while Terry listened to every question and answer as though his own life depended upon the result. His mind was in a state of the utmost distress and indecision. His turn would come soon. How much should he tell? No one could have any idea of what he knew. Must he betray his father, or had he the right to maintain silence?

Never in his life before had he been brought face to face with so perplexing a moral problem, and his early training was indeed a poor preparation for its right solution. Indeed, had he been left to decide it by the standards of that training, it would have been quickly done; but during his short stay with Mr. Sargent in Boston a new view of life had come to him, in the light of which he saw his duty as he had never done before.

He looked longingly at Mr. Hobart, for he felt that a good talk with him would be a wonderful help in straightening matters out; but there was no chance of that now, and he had come no nearer a decision when he heard his name called by the clerk.

Dazed, and trembling in every limb, he entered the witness box, and took tight hold of the front rail, for it seemed as though his knees would sink under him. In consideration of his youth and manifest perturbation, the prosecuting attorney questioned him very gently and briefly as to what he knew, and Terry having told about seeing the bag locked up in the desk, hoped that the ordeal was over.

But to his dismay Mr. Morton now took him in hand, adjusting his gold spectacles so as to look straight through them into the boy's face; and assuming a very confident air, as though he knew all about it, the renowned cross-examiner said,--

"Come now, Master Ahearn, you're a bright-looking lad, and no doubt you think a good deal. Have you been thinking much about this wonderful black bag?"

Terry started, and the colour deepened on his already flushed cheeks. Had he been thinking about it? What else indeed had occupied his thoughts since first he heard of the robbery?

His keen eye observing the boy's confusion, Mr. Morton, who as a matter of fact had intended simply to play with him for a few minutes while he collected his own thoughts, for the case seemed going hard against his client, began to suspect that possibly the extent of Terry's knowledge had not yet appeared; so, changing his manner from one of good-humoured raillery to penetrating scrutiny, he put the question straight to him,--

"See here, Master Ahearn, don't you know more about this matter than you have yet told us?" Then raising his voice to a tone of command, he pointed his long finger at him like the barrel of a revolver, as he cried, "Out with it now. Tell the court everything you know, or--" He did not finish the sentence, believing it would be more effective to leave the consequences to be imagined.

The supreme crisis in Terry's life had come, and he had only an instant in which to make his decision. On the one side was duty to the truth and to the accused man; on the other, fear for his father and for himself, for he did not know but what his concealment of his father having the gold would bring down punishment on his own shoulders.

To get out of the difficulty he had only to disclaim any further knowledge, and who could gainsay him? Glancing up for a moment at the magistrate, his eyes went past him to Mr. Drummond, who sat at his left. There was a look of deep concern on the merchant's face that touched Terry to the heart, and instantly his decision was made. In a voice scarcely audible he murmured,--

"Yes, sir, I do know something more."

Mr. Morton's face suddenly brightened. Here perchance was something that might help his client.

"Ah! ha!" he exclaimed, "I thought you did. Come, then, let us have it. We're all waiting upon you."

In trembling tones and with many interruptions, Terry, helped out by the lawyer's questions, related all that transpired the night his father brought home the gold. His story produced a profound sensation. Although Black Mike had been placed under surveillance, it was without result; but now, through his son's evidence, his complicity in the crime seemed on the verge of being established.

A distinct air of relief pervaded the court-room. Mr. Morton, looking quite cheerful again, held a whispered consultation with Connors. Mr. Drummond and his partner did the same with the magistrate, while the other spectators buzzed to one another about the new turn the case had taken.

Feeling as though a fearful load had been taken off him, Terry, now seeming very pale and tired, stood in the box awaiting further questioning. But to his great relief this was not required of him, as, after some discussion, Mr. Morton asked for an adjournment until the following morning, to enable Black Mike to be brought into court. His request was granted, and officers were sent out to find Black Mike.

When the proceedings were resumed the next day, not only Black Mike was present, but also Tom Morley, and there were excited whispers current of yet more surprising developments than Terry's evidence had foreshadowed. Before the day closed the whole mystery was unravelled, and a strange story it made for, as it turned out, neither John Connors nor Black Mike, in spite of the circumstantial evidence against them, had any part whatever in the robbery, or share in its proceeds. The entire guilt lay upon Tom Morley, and to the cleverest detective in the force was due the credit of bringing it home to him.

It seemed that Morley was in the warehouse above the office when the officers brought in the black bag, and, peeping through a pipe hole in the floor, he had witnessed its being thrust into the desk. Then came to him the thought of taking it, for he was sorely in need of money to pay gambling debts. He remained in the warehouse until long after dark, broke open the desk, and carried off the bag, effecting his escape through the window.

By chance Detective Power had learned of Morley being remarkably flush with money, and while the other officers were following up clues which led to the storeman being arrested, he devoted himself to tracking the real criminal, with the result of running him down, and obtaining a full confession from him, together with the greater portion of the money.

As to the grounds of suspicion against John Connors and Black Mike, they proved to be easily explained away. The black bag found in the former's possession turned out to be another one altogether; and with regard to the gold the latter had brought home, it belonged to an officer of the _Colonel Lamb_, with whom he had been carousing, and who, fearing he might be robbed, had handed it over to Black Mike for safe keeping.

There was great rejoicing throughout the establishment of Drummond and Brown over the complete clearing up of the robbery, and Terry was warmly commended for his fidelity to the truth. Mr. Drummond was particularly pleased with him, for when he understood the whole matter he realized how trying had been the boy's situation.

It was not long after this that Terry was once more called in to Mr. Drummond's office, for his employer had something important to say to him.

"I have been thinking about you, my boy," said he, "and have decided to give you the opportunity of making up for lost time in the way of education; so I am going to send you off to a first-class commercial academy, where you can stay two or three years if you will, and then come back here qualified to make a valuable clerk. How would you like that?"

Now, not so many months before, Mr. Drummond had made Terry a somewhat similar offer, and it had met with no encouragement. But the boy saw things with different eyes now. He had been made to realize his deficiencies so keenly that the great desire of his heart was to have the opportunity of repairing them, and he was all ready to spring at the chance offered him.

"Faith, sir," he replied with a happy smile, "there's nothing I'd like better, if I may say so; and if you're pleased to send me, I'll do my very best to learn all they'll teach me."

"I fully believe you will, my boy," said Mr. Drummond, smiling back at him; "I'll have arrangements made without delay."

For two full years Terry toiled hard at the academy, overcoming one by one many difficulties and temptations that beset his path, and making such rapid improvement from every point of view that, when he returned to his desk, the keenest eye could hardly have recognized in the good-looking youth with so easy a bearing the ragged wharf boy of a little while before.

During his absence Black Mike died in hospital, and kind-hearted Mr. Drummond placed Mrs. Ahearn in a comfortable cottage far away from Blind Alley. Here Terry joined her, and the good woman had the happiness of living to see her son become one of the most trusted and highly-paid employes of Drummond and Brown.

Terry never forgot his own past. His heart was always warm in sympathy towards the boys that played about the wharves, and he lost no opportunity of saying a kind word or doing a kind deed on their behalf; and they had no better friend in Halifax than Mr. Terrence Ahearn, who, in rising from their ranks to a position of honour and emolument, showed no foolish pride, nor sought to conceal whence he had come.

THE END.

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End of Project Gutenberg's Terry's Trials and Triumphs, by J. Macdonald Oxley