Stratemeyer Edward
Out For Business or Robert Frost's Strange Career
CHAPTER XIX.
AN UNEXPECTED ATTACK
Andy Cross ran for several blocks after leaving Charles Shotmore and Robert so unceremoniously. Then he turned into a large office building and took the elevator to one of the upper floors.
Here he felt himself tolerably safe from pursuit.
He stood at a hall window, which overlooked the street, and gazing down saw a friend walking along on the opposite sidewalk.
"Jim Huskin," he murmured. "I wonder if he has anything new on?"
Feeling that Shotmore and Robert must have given up the pursuit by this time, he descended again and hurried after the man he had recognized.
"Hullo, Jim!" he said, as he caught the other by the arm.
Jim Huskin started, half fearing that it was a detective who had accosted him, for he was wanted for several petty crimes—indeed the two rascals were well matched, and had committed many a wrong deed together.
"Andy!" replied Jim Huskin. "How are you?"
"Nothing to brag of," answered Andy Cross.
"Then you haven't been striking it rich lately."
"On the contrary, I've had mighty poor luck. Have you got another cigar, Jim?" He said this for Huskin was smoking.
"No. I got this out of a gent at the Palmer House. I tried to work him for a loan, but it was no go."
"Then I reckon you haven't any more money than I."
"I've got a quarter," answered Jim Huskin, frankly.
"You are exactly five cents richer than yours truly."
Both sharpers laughed at this. With them it was "easy come, easy go," and temporary poverty did not bother them.
"Perhaps I am five cents richer," went on Jim Huskin. "But I owe my hotel three weeks' board."
"It's a wonder they let you stay that long."
"I've got a well-filled trunk in my room." And Huskin chuckled and winked one eye.
"Filled with bricks, eh?"
"No, paving stones—although they are about the same thing. Say, when the hotel keeper opens that he'll have enough to build on another addition."
"He won't build it on to accommodate such guests as you."
"I don't suppose he will—and I don't care."
"I am behind two weeks with my landlady. She's sharp after me—but I don't care. I can't go back, even if I wanted to."
"Had a falling out with somebody?"
"Yes. One of the boarders got a money order and I tried to get it cashed for him."
"And it didn't work, eh?"
"No, it didn't—and what's more, the man and a boy came close to having me arrested. I'll tell you what, Jim, I would like to get that boy in some spot where I could go through his pockets."
"Has he got much?"
"He's got a good silver watch, and I saw him cash money orders at the post office amounting to one hundred and fifty dollars."
"Phew! that would make a nice haul. Where is the boy?"
"I don't believe he's far off. I left him near the post office."
"Why not look him up?"
"He would recognize me and make trouble."
"Then point him out to me, and I'll see what I can do."
Andy Cross was willing to do this, providing Jim Huskin would "whack up" with anything which was netted from the proceedings, and the pair sauntered the way Cross had come.
"There he is now!" cried the sharper presently.
He pointed across the street to where Robert was walking, bound for the place where Herman Wenrich lived.
"You are sure that's the boy?" asked Huskin.
"I am positive."
"Is the money in his vest pocket?"
"I think he put it in his breast pocket."
"Then I'll soon have it from him, providing I get half a chance."
"You've got to be careful. He's a smart customer, I can tell you that."
"I've never met the boy or man I couldn't work—if I had half a show," returned Jim Huskin confidently. "What will you do, follow me?"
"Yes. If you can corner him and want assistance, whistle, and I'll do all I can," added Andy Cross.
So it was arranged, and a moment later Jim Huskin crossed the street and placed himself at Robert's heels.
By this time the boy was close to the river, and crossing the bridge at the foot of the street, he hurried on in the direction where the old lumberman resided.
"I wonder if he lives over here?" thought Huskin. "If he does I must tackle him before he reaches home."
Several blocks were passed, and Robert came to a halt on a street corner.
As he did so Huskin stooped down and pretended to pick up a handkerchief.
"Excuse me, but you dropped your handkerchief," he said, holding out the article.
Robert felt in his pocket.
"You are mistaken, the handkerchief is not mine," he answered.
"Is that so? Why, I was sure you dropped it." And Jim Huskin appeared much surprised. "It's a pretty good article," he continued. "I guess I'll keep it."
"You might as well—if you can't find the owner."
"I once had a funny thing happen with a handkerchief," went on Jim Huskin, as he ranged up alongside of Robert when the boy started off again. "A lady dropped hers in a street car. I picked it up, and as I did so, out rolled, what do you think?"
"I'm sure I cannot imagine."
"A set of false teeth. The lady had been wiping her mouth and the teeth had dropped into the handkerchief. Maybe both of us weren't embarrassed. The lady got as red as a beet, and left the car at the very next corner." And Jim Huskin laughed loudly. "A good joke, wasn't it?"
"Perhaps for the others in the car; not for the lady," answered Robert, yet he could not help smiling.
"Live down this way?" asked the sharper carelessly.
"No, I am a stranger in this part of Chicago. I am looking for Grandon street."
"Grandon Street. I can take you there easily enough. I own property on that street."
"Do you? Then perhaps you can take me to number 238—that is, if you are going there now."
"Yes, I was bound there—to see one of my tenants who talks of moving. Number 238 is less than a block from my houses. I think the Nelsons live at 238,—or is it the Romers."
"I am looking for a man named Herman Wenrich—an old lumberman from Michigan."
"Oh, yes, to be sure. I know him fairly well. Doesn't he live in the house with the Nelsons,—or maybe it's next door?"
"I don't know who he lives with, or if he lives alone. He is a stranger to me. I want to see him on a little business."
"And you have never been in this part of Chicago before?"
"No."
Jim Huskin turned his head to conceal a smile. "I reckon I can lead him where I please now," he thought. Then he looked back, to see Andy Cross following them at a distance of less than a block.
Several squares were covered, and Huskin took Robert around a corner into a street which was little better than an alleyway.
"This is a short cut," he said. "The street is all torn up a bit further on, and unless we go this way we will have to walk several blocks out of our way."
"Any way will suit me," answered Robert. "Only I may have some difficulty in finding my way back."
"Not if you take the street two blocks to our left."
As they entered the alleyway Jim Huskin began to whistle a lively air. It was the signal for Andy Cross to draw closer.
"I always whistle when I get here," explained the sharper, glibly, as he stopped for a second. "I was born and brought up in this neighborhood, and the scene takes me back to my boyhood days."
Robert was not favorably impressed by the surroundings. On one side of the alleyway were a number of deserted tenement houses, and on the other the high brick wall surrounding a factory yard. "He must have been pretty poor to have lived in one of those shanties," thought the boy.
"In those days these houses were well kept, and where the factory stands was a pretty open lot," said Huskin, as if reading his thoughts. "Everything is changed now. Will you mind my stopping at one of the houses for a minute? An old negro lives here, and I want to see if he is sick."
"All right."
Jim Huskin entered one of the tenements, to find it as he expected, deserted.
"Say, just look here a minute!" he cried, coming to the front door. "What do you think is the matter with this poor fellow?"
Wondering what was up, Robert advanced and entered the hallway of the tenement.
The light was poor, and for several seconds he could see but little.
"I don't see anybody—" he began, when, without warning, Jim Huskin leaped upon him and caught him by the arm and collar.
"Give me that money and your watch!" he cried, harshly. "Give it to me instantly, or it will be the worse for you."
CHAPTER XX.
THE ESCAPE OF CROSS AND HUSKIN
For the moment Robert was dumfounded, for he had not dreamed that this pleasant stranger was about to attack him.
"Do you hear? Give me that money," repeated Huskin, and tightened his grip.
"Let me go!" returned Robert. "Would you rob me?"
"I want that money you drew out of the post-office. And I want it instantly."
"I won't give you a cent," cried Robert, and began to struggle with all the strength at his command.
Although but a boy, he was strong, and soon it looked as if he might break away in spite of all the sharper could do to hold him. Seeing this, Huskin whistled loudly three times,—a signal that Andy Cross must join him at once.
The signal had scarcely come to an end when Andy Cross pushed his way into the hallway.
"Quick—hold him!" shouted Jim Huskin. "He's a regular eel."
"I've got him," answered Andy Cross, and caught Robert from behind, and soon his bony fingers were pressing themselves directly into the poor youth's windpipe, so that it looked as if Robert would be choked to death.
Robert could not see Cross, but he recognized the sharper's voice, and at once came to the conclusion that the two men had laid a plot to rob him.
Nearly strangled, he let go his hold of Huskin, and tried to break Andy Cross' grip.
The moment Jim Huskin felt himself free he wrenched Robert's watch and chain from their fastening and placed them in his own pocket.
Then he dove into the boy's coat.
"Let—let me go!" spluttered Robert. "Help! thiev–"
He could go no farther, for now his wind was cut off entirely. All grew black before his eyes, and it was only in a hazy fashion that he felt Huskin snatch the money from where he had placed it with care.
"Got what you want?" asked Andy Cross.
"Yes."
"Sure about the money?"
"Here is a package of five and ten dollar bills."
"That's it. And the watch?"
"Safe."
"Then we had better make tracks."
"Ram his head against the wall first. We don't want him to give the alarm too soon."
Andy Cross understood what Huskin meant, and between them the sharpers raised the boy's body up and threw him with great violence against the hard wall close at hand.
The shock landed mainly upon Robert's head, as was intended, and with a groan, the youth sank down in a heap unconscious.
"I guess he's done for," said Cross.
"He is for a while, anyway," responded Huskin. "Come, the sooner we get out of this neighborhood the better off we will be."
Running to the doorway of the tenement, both sharpers peered forth.
"A man is coming!" cried Cross.
"Let us get out by the back way," said his companion.
They hurried back past Robert, and into the kitchen.
Here, to their surprise, a fire was burning in a dilapidated stove.
"Hullo! I thought this place was deserted," ejaculated Jim Huskin, in astonishment.
"We must not be caught," added Cross. "Here is a back door and another alleyway."
The door was unlocked, and they slipped outside. Soon the rascals had placed several blocks between themselves and the scene of the nefarious encounter.
Meanwhile the man coming up the alleyway paused at the tenement.
He lived in the place, paying no rent. He was very old, and could hardly walk, and his eyesight was poor.
He had been to the corner grocery to buy himself a few of the necessities of life.
Entering the semi-dark hallway he shambled along until his foot struck Robert's body.
"Why, what can this be?" he muttered, and bent over that he might see.
He was greatly amazed to find a boy there, suffering from a slight cut over one eye, from which the blood was flowing.
"Something is wrong," he thought. "Has the lad met with foul play?"
He was half of a mind to summon the police, but was afraid he could not find an officer short of six or seven blocks off.
Setting down his basket, he raised up Robert's head. As he did this, our hero gave a groan and a shiver.
"Don't, don't hit me again," he murmured. "Don't!"
"I ain't hit ye," answered the old man. "How did ye git here?"
But Robert did not answer, having relapsed again into unconsciousness.
Not without considerable trouble did the old man bring some cold water and bathe Robert's face, and bind up the wound with an old towel. He carried the boy to the kitchen and set him down on a worn-out lounge.
"How do you feel?" he asked as Robert opened his eyes and stared around him.
"Where are they—the rascals?" asked Robert. He was completely bewildered.
"Who do you mean?"
"I mean the men who attacked me."
"I don't know anything about 'em. I found ye in the hallway in a heap."
"Two men attacked me and robbed me."
"Gee shoo! Did they git much?"
"Yes." Robert gave a groan. "They got my watch and over a hundred and fifty dollars."
At this announcement the eyes of Lemuel Branley almost started from their sockets.
"A hundred and fifty dollars!"
"Yes; and a watch worth twenty-five more."
"What was ye a-doing with so much money about ye?"
"I was expecting to use the most of it to buy something with. So you didn't see the men?"
Lemuel Branley shook his head.
"They couldn't have left so long ago."
"Then they didn't go out by the front door, for I was at the top of the alleyway quite a spell."
"Is there a rear way out?"
"Yes; and come to think of it, the back door was wide open when I first came in for the water."
"Then they went out that way."
There was a pause.
"Did you know them?" asked the old man, curiously.
"I knew one of them in a way. The other introduced himself to me while I was on my way over here."
And Robert related how he had fallen in with Jim Huskin, and how the sharper had gotten him to enter the tenement hallway.
"You're lucky to escape with your life," said Lemuel Branley. "You don't know how bad some of the criminals in Chicago are."
"I must try to get on their track. I can't afford to lose my money, nor the watch, either." And Robert's face grew serious. The watch was the one his father had given him, and without the money how was he to purchase the map Dick Marden was so anxious to possess?
"You'll have to hustle to find them rogues, to my way of thinking," said Lemuel Branley. "Like as not they'll quit Chicago just as soon as possible."
Robert stood up. He felt strangely weak and far from able to pursue anybody.
"Can you call a policeman?" he asked.
"Certainly."
Lemuel Branley made off, and while he was gone the boy brushed off his clothing and washed himself. Luckily he had a bit of court-plaster in his pocket, and this he plastered over the cut on forehead, thus doing away with the ragged towel.
By the time he had finished he felt a little stronger. Soon the old man came back, followed by a tall, heavy-set officer of the law.
"I saw you and one of the men a while ago," said the policeman, after our hero had told his story. "The man didn't impress me very favorably. I rather think I've seen his picture in the rogues' gallery."
"Then you would know him again?"
"I think I would."
"I wish you would try to hunt him up."
"I will. Will you go along."
Robert was willing, and they left the tenement by the back way, our hero first thanking Lemuel Branley for what he had done.
But nothing was to be seen of Andy Cross and Jim Huskin, and in an hour the policeman and the youth gave up the hunt. The officer directed Robert to the nearest station house, and here the particulars of the robbery were taken down. A large book of photographs was placed before Robert, and he soon found Jim Huskin's portrait.
"That's the man," he said.
"You are certain."
"Yes, I would know him out of a thousand."
Andy Cross' photograph could not be found, since he had not yet sat for the rogues' gallery, even though he richly deserved it.
The officer in charge took down Robert's address, and told our hero if anything was learned he would let the youth know.
With this small consolation Robert had to be content. He left the station house much crestfallen.
"Everything seems to be going wrong," he mused. "I do hope those rascals are caught, and that very soon."
CHAPTER XXI.
ROBERT AND THE OLD LUMBERMAN
It must be confessed that Robert was in no humor to hunt up Herman Wenrich.
"Even if I find him, what good will it do, if I can't offer him the money for the map?" was his mental comment.
Nevertheless, there seemed to be nothing else to do, and so, after a lunch, he started again for No. 238 Grandon Street.
He was careful where he went this time, and found the thoroughfare without further difficulty. It was fully eight blocks from the tenement where he had been robbed.
The number he was searching for was a block away, and as he walked toward it two men passed him whom he instantly recognized. The men were Jean Le Fevre and Oscar Hammerditch.
"Well, I declare!" muttered the boy. "Can it be possible that they have been calling upon Herman Wenrich?"
It certainly would seem so, yet Robert had no way of proving it. Both the Canadian and the Englishman were walking rapidly, and soon they passed out of sight around the corner.
Robert found No. 238 Grandon Street a modest dwelling set in the rear of a tiny garden of flowers. As he entered the garden a girl came out on the front porch and gazed up and down the street anxiously. She was probably fifteen years of age, and was pale and thin, as if just getting over a long sickness, which was the case.
"Does Mr. Herman Wenrich live here?" asked Robert politely, as he tipped his hat.
"Yes, sir," answered the girl.
"Is he in?"
"He is, but he is not very well."
As she spoke the girl eyed Robert sharply, wondering what he wanted.
"He doesn't look like one of these traveling agents," she thought. She had been bothered with agents a great deal lately.
"I am sorry to hear Mr. Wenrich is not well," said Robert. "I wished to see him on a little business."
"May I ask your name?"
"My name is Robert Frost. But he doesn't know me. You might tell him that I came here at the request of Richard Marden, who is a nephew of Felix Amberton, of Timberville, Michigan. I wish to see him about a lumber tract up there."
"Why, that is what those two men came about!" cried the girl.
"You mean the two men I just met on the street?"
"I presume they are the same. The men left but a minute before you came."
"Can you tell me if they came for a map?"
"Why, yes, they–" The girl stopped short. "I do not know as I have any right to talk of these things, Mr. Frost. My father might not like it."
"So Mr. Wenrich is your father."
"Yes. My name is Nettie Wenrich."
Robert bowed. "I certainly would not wish to make any trouble for you," he said, with a smile. "But I would like to see your father."
Nettie Wenrich hesitated for a moment. "He looks like a nice boy," she thought. "I like him better than I did those men."
"Come into the parlor and I will tell father you are here," said she.
Robert found the parlor small but cozy. There were several covered chairs, some pictures and books, and in one corner stood a small organ. The youth sat down near a window and waited.
The girl was gone fully five minutes. When she returned her face bore a puzzled look.
"Father does not know what to make of this," she said. "You say you came because Mr. Amberton sent you?"
"Mr. Marden sent me. He is Mr. Amberton's nephew and has taken full charge, now that Mr. Amberton is sick."
"Father says Mr. Hammerditch, one of the men who just called, said Mr. Amberton sent him for the map."
"What!" cried Robert, leaping to his feet. "That cannot be possible."
"Why?"
"Because those men are enemies of Mr. Amberton. They wish to get some of his lumber lands away from him."
The girl studied Robert's honest face for a moment.
"I believe you. But it is a queer mix-up," was her comment.
"Perhaps I can explain some things, Miss Wenrich. But I would like to talk with your father first."
"Very well. But my father is quite sick, and I would not like to have you excite him."
"I will be careful. But I hope he didn't let them have the map."
"No, he is holding that. They made a proposition to him and he said he would think it over."
Nettie Wenrich led the way to the second story of the cottage, and to the front bedchamber. Here, on a snowy couch lay Herman Wenrich, feeble with age and a malady that had attacked his digestive organs.
"I do not wish to disturb you, Mr. Wenrich," said Robert, after introducing himself and shaking hands. "But I think it very strange that I should come here right after those two men I met outside."
"It is strange, lad," responded Herman Wenrich feebly. "I cannot understand it."
"I think I can safely say that Mr. Amberton never sent them and that he knows nothing of their coming," continued our hero.
"That makes the whole thing even more strange."
"They wish to get a certain map from you—a map of some lumber lands in upper Michigan."
"Yes, yes, there is but one map," cried Herman Wenrich. "I have kept it safely for years."
"Papa, please do not excite yourself," pleaded Nettie Wenrich, coming to the bedside.
"I am not excited, my child."
"I do not know a great deal about the matter," continued Robert. "But I do know that those two men, Le Fevre and Hammerditch, are Mr. Amberton's enemies and not his friends."
"Can you prove that?"
For the instant the youth was nonplussed. Then he thought of Dick Marden's letter.
"Here is a letter I got from Timberville," he said. "You can read that."
"My eyesight is poor. Nettie, read the letter."
At once the daughter complied. Herman Wenrich listened attentively.
"Ah, yes, I remember this Marden now," he said slowly. "He was the son of Amberton's youngest sister. Where does he come from?"
"He belongs in California and is a rich miner. But he was brought up down east—in Vermont, if I remember rightly."
"Exactly—he is Grace Amberton's boy. A good fellow, too—if he takes after his mother. So Amberton is sick and has put Dick Marden in charge. Then what those two men told me is a—a string of falsehoods."
"You can see what I am authorized to offer you for the map," said Robert. "I started for here with the money in my pocket–"
"Stop, Mr. Frost. You do not understand old Herman Wenrich. I am not thinking to sell the map."
"But you are willing to see justice done to Mr. Amberton, are you not?"
"Yes, yes—full justice—for he deserves it. He could have had the map before, but it affected some land of mine—which I have since sold."
"Then you will let him have the map!" exclaimed Robert, much delighted. "I will pay–"
"Not a cent, my lad, not a cent. He can have it and welcome. But—but–"
"But what, sir?"
"I must be dead sure, as they say, of what I am doing. You look honest enough, but so did those men."
"Those men didn't look very honest to me," came from Nettie Wenrich, who had taken a strong liking to Robert, and it must be admitted that the feeling was reciprocated. "I could not bear that Englishman."
"I cannot blame you for being suspicious," said Robert gravely. "I wish I had been so this morning. I might have saved my watch and some of my money." He did not feel called upon to state that he had lost the amount which was to be paid over to Herman Wenrich for the map.
Of course he had to tell his story—or, at least, a part of it. Nettie Wenrich was quite affected.
"It was too bad!" she cried. "I hope you get your watch and money back and succeed in sending those bad men to prison."
"I will tell you what I will do," said Herman Wenrich, after several minutes of silent thinking. "Let Felix Amberton send me a written order to deliver the map to you and I will do so."
"That is fair," said Robert. "No honest person could ask more at your hands. But what of those two men? They are to call again, I believe."
"I will put them off, for, say three days. You ought to be able to get your order by that time."
"Perhaps I can get it sooner, but I wish you would make it four days. There may be some delay, especially if Mr. Amberton is very ill."
"Very well, we will make it four days then," said Herman Wenrich, and thanking him for his kindness Robert withdrew and followed Nettie Wenrich downstairs.
"Do your father and you live here alone?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I hope he gets well soon," said the youth gravely, and his voice was full of a sympathy which went straight to the girl's heart.
"I am afraid he will never get well," answered Nettie, and the tears sprang into her eyes.
He took her hand and shook it warmly. "You must hope for the best," he said. And then, as she looked straight into his clear, honest eyes, he added, "If I can ever be of service to you don't hesitate to call upon me."
And a minute later he was gone.
