Читать книгу Prisoners in Devil's Bog - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 5

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Carlton Conne took the letter in his hand and manoeuvered the cigar back and forth in his mouth. At length he said, “Don’t be scared, kid. I want you to go, but not for anything you’ve done—it’s for me!”

Skippy gasped. “Gee, you mean you’re gonna lemme be a detec——”

“Listen, kid,” the man interposed kindly, “get that detective idea out of your head until you’re—well say, twenty-four years old anyhow. You have to learn, kid, and it takes long, hard years—it’s just another kind of school. But right now I can use a kid like you—you can be of some use to me. If you do your work right—keep your eyes open, your mouth shut and remember everything, I might consider you for the job as office boy at fifteen dollars a week. In the mean time, I’m to have you sent to the Delafield Reformatory where you’re going to play the part you almost had in real life—a boy unjustly sent there and a boy who’d make a break for freedom at the first opportunity.”

“Then—then you ain’t gonna send me for real!” Skippy stammered joyfully. “I’m just sorta gonna play de—detective?”

“You’re going to help me!” answered Conne with the hint of a smile on his face. “You’re going to play the part of a reform school kid as I told you before. And I’m counting on you to play it with the same kind of energy that made you sling up your arm so that you could get in here to see me. That’s why I’m going to trust you to do this thing for me! You’ve got ingenuity—know what that means, kid?”

“Yeah,” Skippy smiled, “it means havin’ swell ideas that go through.”

“In a measure, yes. Anyway, you’ve the idea and you have ingenuity, whether or not you know what it means. But the question is, can I count on you not to let anyone know (except those whom I authorize to keep in touch with you) who you are, nor the part you’re playing? You may have to play it a month, perhaps longer—I can’t tell you how long, kid. Think you could play it without betraying your game by a look or a word?”

“Gee, Mr. Conne—gee, is it sorta dangerous like? I mean I can do that about keepin’ my mouth shut an’ all—I learned that when my father got in trouble—nobody could make me tell a thing. I mean will it be dangerous if I did tell? Not that I would—honest, Mr. Conne!”

“That’s what I thought, kid. I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise. And as for its being dangerous,” said Mr. Conne tipping his cigar so that the lighted end stood dangerously near his nose, “I wouldn’t allow you to do it if it was. Of course there’s bound to be a minimum of danger in anything of this kind, but we’ll prepare you for that. If you stick and keep your mouth shut there’s nothing to be feared. One of my men will be on hand as soon as the conditions warrant it. If your aunt consents, I’ll assume full responsibility for you.”

“Aw, my aunt don’t care so long’s I ain’t no expense to her. I gotta terrible appetite, Mr. Conne, an’ she says I eat her out of house an’ home an’ besides she wants back the six dollars she paid out for my suit. She wants it to pay on insurance, she says.”

“Very well, kid—she’ll have it. After I get through telling you a little more of this job, you can go home and get her and bring her down here to me. I’ll talk to her and if she’s agreeable, I’ll give her your first week’s salary. She knows your needs better than you do, I guess.”

“Yeah,” said Skippy amiably. “Aunt Min’ll save for me, she says, so’s I’ll have some money in bank when I grow up. She said if I got a job she’d give me money for carfare an’ for a little spendin’ money.”

“She can do that after you’ve done this work and are working regularly in this office. Just now, while you’re temporary, I’ll pay you your expenses and give your aunt your salary. How’s that?”

“Sure, whatever you say, Mr. Conne,” Skippy answered happily. “You pay me more when it’s sorta extra work, huh?”

“That’s the basis on which all our men work here, kid,” the detective grinned. “When your time is on the company, naturally your expenses are too. But leave that to me—I’ll see that you have enough to eat in the way of chocolate even if you do leave half of it on your chin.”

Skippy grinned and reached for his handkerchief. When he had rubbed off the smear, he looked up. “Will you tell me some more about this job?”

Carlton Conne nodded and smoothed out the letter on his desk. “This is a report from one of my men who was on a case in Chicago,” he was saying. “To let you know more fully about this job I’ll read part of this report: ‘Ran across O’Reilly here in Chi,’ he says, ‘and he tells me that Dean Devlin is suspected of helping to spring a kid by the name of Tucker from the South End Reform School here. They picked the kid up in Wheaton and when brought back to Chi he told, under pressure, that a reverend-looking gentleman whose description fits the Dean to a “T” visited the South End Reform a little more than a month ago and propositioned him. The kid was bent to beat it and the Dean gave him some dough for a getaway.

“‘Anyway, out of this money, Tucker was told to bribe a guard and the Dean arranged the night of the escape, etc. Tucker said it was soft—the Dean was on the job in a closed car and took him to a house in what looked to be a nice part of the city. It was a pretty swell flat and the kid got everything he wanted in the way of eats, but he was kept a prisoner along with two other kids his own age who, it seemed, were also under the Dean’s protection. They too had crashed out of different reform schools under the reverend-looking gentleman’s expert supervision.

“‘Now it seems that Devlin’s idea was this: each kid was kept on at the flat till he found a job for them in some distant city. Then he saw to it that the kid got there. And so within a month, Tucker saw the other kids go. Then Devlin told Tucker that he had a job for him out in Montana, and that very night he was going to drive him as far as Alton where he could board a train absolutely safe from suspicion.

“‘They started after dark and Tucker said it wasn’t long before he got drowsy. He thinks he must have fallen asleep for the next thing he knew he felt himself falling against something and then he seemed to fall right out of the car and whirl through the air. Next thing he knew he was in the water. The car had gone down and he knew that he’d go down too, not being able to swim. He paddled furiously with his hands and looking up on the bank he saw the Dean standing there looking down. Tucker was just about to call to him when a car drove up and Devlin got in it and was driven away.

“‘Evidently, the Dean was afraid that Tucker hadn’t survived the accident and being himself confessedly nervous of the police (that being the reason for his generous interest in reform school boys) he thought it best to get away as quickly as possible by hailing the first car that came along.’”

“Gee, an’ what did poor Tucker do then, huh?” Skippy asked excitedly.

Carlton Conne smiled. “Fortunately for him, he had been thrown clear of the car and into shallow water. Just when he had resigned himself to a watery grave, he thrust his legs out and found that his feet touched bottom. You can bet that he didn’t lose any time in scrambling up the high embankment to safety.”

“An’ did he let that Devlin know that, huh?”

Carlton Conne studied the letter before him and shook his round head. “No, he couldn’t. You see he had only seen the street and the house itself at night. After all, he had been imprisoned for a month and both the street and the house looked just like a hundred others in Chicago. Devlin had driven him to and from the house in such a hurry that he never had the chance to see where he had been living. He decided to get as far away from Chicago and the police as he could. But he was picked up in a place called Wheaton, anyway.”

“Boy, what luck!” was Skippy’s sympathetic exclamation.

“Seeing it from your point of view—yes. From my point of view, it’s fortunate that Tucker lost out, for it has warmed up a trail that’s been cold too long. Devlin has been under cover a couple of years now. O’Reilly, who is an inspector on the Chicago force, said they’re anxious to find out where the other two kids are that the Dean helped to crash out of reform schools. Well, Dick Hallam knows that I’ll be interested to know why, for I got some old scores to settle with the Dean and like a good detective he got the Dean’s scent and has trailed him to New York. This morning he learned that our reverend-looking friend has applied for a permit to visit the Delafield Reform School next Friday. That’s the reason, kid, that I want you to be there when he shows up.”

“Hot dog, Mr. Conne! I been dumb not to see what you meant before. Gee whiz, you want me there to trap him like, huh?”

“I want you to be there to help me to prepare the trap, kid. None of my men can palm themselves off as kids and it seems that Devlin has been playing up to kids only. That’s why you’re going to Delafield. You’re going to help me find out why he’s been acting so generous when I know that he isn’t the type of man to do anything like that without there being money in it somewhere. Dean Devlin never did anything for nothing. And so you’re going to put yourself in his way when he makes that visit on Friday—I’ll see to it that you have every opportunity. What’s more, you’re going to fall in with any plans he may make for you.”

“Boy, it sounds terrible excitin’, Mr. Conne!”

“Not dangerously so,” the detective assured him. “One of our men, Dorcas is his name, will either go up with you or be up there on Friday and so be on hand if you need him. You’ll have no cause to worry—you won’t be alone at any time if you do just as you’re told. But there won’t be any real danger, kid—I wouldn’t let you into this if there was. Dean Devlin is a notorious swindler and blackmailer and though he can cause plenty of excitement when he’s on the trail, I’ve never heard of him laying a hand on anybody. He’s after money, not people.”

“Gee whiz,” Skippy said stoutly, “I wouldn’t be afraid anyhow!”

“That’s why I’ve taken an interest in you, kid. All you want is nerve—courage enough to go through with your part, and keep your mind and eyes on all that Dean Devlin does and says. You’ve got a job and I might as well warn you that how well you do it will determine your permanent employment by this company. In other words, it’s to be your entrance exam, so you better try to pass it!”

“Gee, will I pass it!” Skippy cried exultantly. “You’ll see how I’m gonna pass it, Mr. Conne!”

“That’s the talk, kid,” the detective said with a half-smile. “And when Dean Devlin is where he can’t take any more money from my clients or anybody else, I’ll talk to you about staying on for a regular job.”