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The Telegraph Messenger Boy; or The Straight Road to Success, a fiction by Edward Sylvester Ellis |
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Chapter 20. Watching And Waiting |
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_ CHAPTER XX. WATCHING AND WAITING
His hat fell off, and, without stopping to pick it up, he broke into a frantic run, closely followed by his companion, neither of them making the least outcry, but doubtless doing a great deal of thinking. Ben Mayberry laughed until his sides ached, for the tables had been turned most completely on his enemies; but he became serious again when he wended his way homeward, for there was much in the incidents of the day to mystify and trouble him. His mother had retired when he reached his house, but there was a "light in the window" for him. The fond parent had such faith in her son that she did not feel alarmed when he was belated in coming home. Ben made a confidante of her in many things, but the truth was he was outgrowing her. She was a good, devout lady, but neither mentally nor physically could she begin to compare with her boy. Had he made known to her the contemplated robbery, or his own narrow escape from assault, she would have become nervous and alarmed. Ben did not tell her about the affray with Rutherford Richmond and his companion, for it would only have distressed her without accomplishing any good. He saw that his terrible adventure the preceding winter, on the wrecked bridge, had shocked her more than many supposed, and more than she suspected herself. The consequences became apparent months afterward, and caused Ben to do his utmost to keep everything of a disquieting nature from his beloved mother. On the morrow Ben told me the whole particulars of his adventures on the way home, and asked me what I made of it. "I give it up," I answered. "It's beyond my comprehension." "Do I look like a wealthy youth?" he asked, with a laugh. "It is not that; they have some other purpose." "Do they imagine I carry the combination to some safe in the city, and do they mean to force it from me?" "Nothing of that sort, as you very well know. It looks as if they really meditated doing you harm." "There is no room for doubt; and it was a lucky thing, after all, that the night was so dark, and the city don't furnish many lamps in that part of the town. Do you think I ought to tell the mayor or some officer about this?" "Could you identify either of the men if you should meet him on the street?" "I could not, unless I was allowed to examine his back, where the stone landed." "Then there's no use of telling anyone else, for no one could help you. You had better carry a pistol, and take a safer route home after this. One of these days, perhaps, the whole thing will be explained, but I own that it is altogether too much for any fellow to find out just now." It was natural that I should feel nervous the entire day, for there was every reason to believe we were close upon exciting incidents, in which fate had ordered that Ben Mayberry and myself would have to make the initial movements. Neither Burkhill, the tramp-like looking individual, nor any character to whom the least suspicion could attach, put in an appearance at the telegraph office during the day; this was another disappointment to Ben and myself. The mayor also was disposed to be uncommunicative, for when I dropped in on him during the afternoon, he was short in his answers, barely intimating that everything was in a satisfactory shape. When asked whether Detective Maxx had revealed himself, he said: "I have seen nothing of him, and do not care to see him. His help is not needed." I am convinced that the action of the famous detective had a great deal to do with the ill-humor of the mayor, who was generally one of the most affable of men. I was pretty well used up, and at eleven o'clock I closed the office and went home, separating as usual from Ben Mayberry, who, I was satisfied, intended to know whether anything was amiss before he lay down to slumber. Although the impression was general that it was the Mechanics' Bank which was the objective point of the conspirators, yet the chief of police, as I have intimated, had stationed his men so as to be ready for instant use, should it prove to be any one of the moneyed institutions. Ben Mayberry was so well satisfied that it was the Mechanics' that, after leaving me, he went in that direction, anxious to see a first-class burglary attempted and foiled. The institution, it will be remembered, stood on the corner of one of the main streets, and a lamp was burning directly opposite. The cashier reported that two suspicious characters had called during the day and made some inquiries about drafts on New York, and the officers, who had spent much time in the neighborhood, were convinced that they had seen the same individuals stealthily viewing the bank from the outside. When Ben reached the vicinity he saw no person, although he well knew that in almost every dark nook and hiding place, a guardian of the law was stationed, quietly awaiting the moment when the lawbreakers would dare show themselves. Ben knew, too, that more than one pair of eyes carefully scrutinized him as they did every pedestrian who passed. He continued along until he reached a point where he could stand without being noticed by anyone. Then he stopped, and, wide awake as ever, resolved that he would see the thing out if he was forced to stand where he was until the rising of the sun on the morrow. _ |
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