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The High School Captain of the Team, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 24. Dave Gives Points To The Chief Of Police |
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_ CHAPTER XXIV. Dave Gives Points to the Chief of Police "You clumsy bungler!" spoke Dave Darrin hotly. "Chief, I demand the right to speak to you for a moment." "After you're ironed and taken to the station house," snapped Mr. Simmons. "Chief, you're not afraid to step aside with me and listen to about ten words?" demanded Darrin scornfully. "And if you don't---if you go on in your bull-headed way---you'll be the scorn of the town by morning. Why don't you hear what I've got to say, instead of letting precious seconds slip by. Come! Over this way!" There was something so commanding in Darrin's voice and manner that Simmons concluded to listen for a moment. Keeping his flash-light turned on Darrin, the chief of police followed Dave. Darrin whispered something in the big man's ear. In another moment the two were whispering together animatedly. "Why didn't you come to the point before, Darrin?" demanded the chief gruffly. "Great Scott, didn't I, as soon as I could postpone your mania for having me loaded down with police chains?" "Yet how do I know you're telling me anything like the truth?" "If I'm lying, you can find it out very quickly, can't you?" demanded Darrin. "But come along, or you'll be too late. Oh, why do all the biggest slow pokes in creation get appointed to the police force?" "Come along with me, Delmar," ordered Chief Simmons, turning to one of his policemen. "The rest of you stay here---though you can pass on into the open air. Then wait there for us." "Don't you waste any time on worry, Dick," Dave called back. Prescott laughed easily. Whatever Dave had discovered, or thought he had, Darrin's chum was quite content now to await the result of all that enthusiasm. "We must not make much noise," cautioned Darrin, as he led the way swiftly, though on tiptoe. "We don't want to scare the other people cold until we have them cooped so that they can't get away. But you'd better be ready, in case they're desperate enough to try shooting!" Up the street, to the head of another alley way, Darrin led the swift chase. "Now, softer than ever," he whispered, over his shoulder, without halting. A moment later Dave halted before two stone steps that led down to a basement junk shop. Just as he did so a low voice inside could be heard, saying in barely audible tones: "I'm so anxious to know whether Prescott fell into the trap that I can hardly wait another minute." "You'd better wait until morning, or you'll tumble into something with your eyes shut, and that will mean both of us nabbed," growled another voice. "Do you think they found Prescott---that they believed in the appearances against him?" "I can't say," came the other low voice. "And I can wait. I'm not crazy on the subject, as you seem to be." "Explain this all over again, to us, won't you?" shouted the chief, pushing open the door of the junk shop and striding in, backed by the light and the revolver of Officer Delmar. "What?" screamed Phin Drayne, then sank to his knees in the extremity of his terror. "Don't either of you try to put up any fight," warned the chief. "Delmar, here are my handcuffs to put with your own. Hand me your light, and then iron both of these fellows securely." The owner of the junk shop, a man under thirty, dirty and low browed, stood cowering back against a bench. The fellow looked as though he would have fought had there been any chance to draw a weapon. But he was gazing straight into the muzzle of the police chief's weapon. An instant later both prisoners had been handcuffed, and a pistol had been taken from the clothing of each. From the junkman, too, had been taken a ring of keys. "One of these fit your door?" demanded Simmons. "Yes," growled the scowling one. "The long key." "Bring the prisoners along, Delmar," ordered the chief. "I'll lock up here. We'll come back later for a search." Out on the sidewalk Phin Drayne plucked up courage enough to find his voice. "For goodness' sake, let me go, Chief," he begged, falteringly. "I haven't done anything, although things look against me." "I guess we'll be able to put things enough against you," retorted the police official mockingly. "Think of my mother!" pleaded the wild boy. "Think of our family---one of the most respectable in town. Think of-----" "Oh, you're enough to make one tired," broke in Dave Darrin, in deep disgust. "You thought of Dick Prescott when you put up the job to have him arrested as a burglar, didn't you?" "Why, what do you mean? I didn't do anything to Dick Prescott," shouted Drayne angrily, or affecting to be angry. "Tell that to the marines," quoth Darrin contemptuously. "It was through following on your trail, Drayne, that I discovered the whole trick, and also knew just where to take the police to find you." An hour later Chief Simmons was well satisfied that he had laid the burglar scare in Gridley. Not that the new chief had had so very much to do with the result, either. The first move had been to get back to the Kahn store, where Dick Prescott was promptly freed, with the chief's hearty apologies. Over at the police station, by separating Drayne from his accomplice, Bill Stevens, the junkman, and questioning each separately, the whole story had come out, chiefly through frenzied confessions. Phin Drayne, loafing about town, and with his pocket money nearly cut off by his father, had formed the acquaintance of Stevens, who, besides being a junkman, was a very fair locksmith, though about the latter trade he had never bragged publicly. Drayne had been ripe for any move that would place him in more funds. So, first of all, he and Stevens had entered the commercial establishment of Drayne, senior. There, thanks to Phin's knowledge of the premises, they had made a very good-sized "haul." After that the pair had operated together frequently. Stevens' junk shop had offered a handy pace in which to hide the plunder. Then, as time went on, and Phin heard, by chance, that Dick and Dave were trying to catch the burglars in behalf of "The Blade,", a plan had occurred to Phin by which he might ruin Dick utterly in the eyes of the community. The whole plan had been carefully laid by Stevens and young Drayne. On this night, just after Conklin's drug store had been closed for the night, Stevens had slipped in a key that had opened a side door for him. Then the door was left closed but unlocked. At that hour of the night no one was likely to notice anyone who went in or out at the side door. And Conklin's was equipped with a public telephone. Then down to the alleyway had stolen the evil pair. Kahn's rear door had been opened with false keys and left ajar. Then Phin Drayne stole back to the junk shop, while Stevens, whose voice could not be recognized over the wire by Dick, sent the message. Next, back to where he could watch the alleyway, hurried Stevens, and hid. Stevens saw Dick Prescott slip into the alleyway, then go inside the store. That was enough for Stevens, who had slipped back and into the drug store once more, getting the police station on the wire and 'phoning to the chief that Gridley's burglars had just entered Kahn's through the rear door. Only a block and a half from Kahn's was the police station. Almost immediately the officers were on the spot, stalking---Dick Prescott. But, at the time when Dick left his own home and went down the street so hurriedly Dave Darrin had been sauntering along, to call his chum out on their nightly quest for "The Blade." Seeing Dick move so swiftly, Darrin concluded that something most unusual was about to happen. So Dave trailed swiftly in the rear. Thus it was that Darrin drew back just in time to see Bill Stevens slipping away from a hiding place at the head of that alleyway. "That does for Prescott," chuckled Stevens, half aloud. "Oh, it does, does it?" silently murmured alert Dave, and now he intently followed Stevens to the drug store, and thence back to the junk shop. Dave's next swift move was to rush back to Kahn's with the result already known. "Well, did you think the folks of Gridley would continue to believe such a charge against young Prescott?" demanded Chief Simmons of the sneak. "I knew some wouldn't, but I thought the whole affair would make such a row that Prescott would never be quite able to hold up his head in Gridley again," declared Drayne huskily. "But I thought that it would stop his thinking of going to West Point, anyway." "Instead of which," muttered Simmons dryly, "you'll get four years---or more, Drayne at some place that won't be West Point." "Oh, my father won't quite stand for that," returned Phin, a bit more loftily. "He has money and some family pride." "Money doesn't help much for confessed burglars," rejoined Chief Simmons. At that moment Heathcote Drayne, who had been roused out of bed by a policeman, came in, so white faced that Dick and Dave felt sorry indeed for the unhappy parent. But Dick didn't remain to see the meeting between father and son. Prescott and his chum hastened around to "The Blade" office. Gladly enough would both boys have kept Phin's disgrace from going before the public, but it was too big a story, locally, and was bound to come out. So Dick wrote a straight account, after which he and Dave hurried home to get the fag end of a night's rest. Gridley merchants lost but little, in the end, through the series of burglaries. Most of the plunder was recovered at the junk shop. Bill Stevens was sent to prison for a term of eight years. Phin, being only seventeen, was allowed to plead his youth. In his case justice was satisfied with his commitment to a reform school until he should be twenty-one years of age. And so ended the story of the mysterious burglaries. _ |
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