The Purple Pennant/Chapter 19
MR. MYRON ADDICKS returned home rather later than usual that afternoon. Although he had knocked about the world a good deal during his twenty-seven years, and had put up with a good many discomforts, he had been telling himself of late that his present domicile was about as dreary and unsatisfactory as any he had ever endured. The best thing he could say of it was that the rent was cheap, cheaper than that of any other room he had been able to find in Clearfield. But there was little else to be said in its favor. There was no view to be enjoyed, the building was silent and lonely after dark—save in the basement, from whence a strong odor of baking arose every night—and a bath was almost an impossibility. Unfortunately, until his income had at least doubled itself, he could not afford to pay more, and this afternoon, tramping along a country road outside of town, he had reached the conclusion that any increase in his income was not to be expected and that the best thing he could do was to hit the trail back West. In short, he was rather discouraged to-day, a condition of mind very unusual with him, and when he entered the building to climb the two flights to his cheerless "home" he had just about determined to pack his battered trunk.
He stopped, as was his custom, to apply a match to the single gas-jet at the top of the first flight, and repeated the operation in the hall above. And having turned the key to his liking he heard his name spoken and looked into the anxious faces of Fudge and Perry.
"Hello!" he greeted them. "What are you fellows doing up here?"
His tone lacked warmth, but the boys didn't notice the fact.
"We came to see you about something," replied Fudge, in lowered voice. And then he glanced apprehensively toward the stairs. "Do you mind if we go in your room, sir?"
"Why, no; glad to have you." Mr. Addicks produced his key and opened his door. "Wait till I light up or you'll break your necks in here. Mighty nice of you boys to call." The gas shed light on the rather bare room and Mr. Addicks nodded at the chairs. "Sit down and confess all," he went on. "How's the world been treating you two?"
"All right, sir," answered Fudge hurriedly. "But that isn't it. What we want to tell you is that—that they're after you, sir."
"After me?" asked the other mildly. "Who is?"
"The—the police, sir." Fudge continued breathlessly. "We came up about a half-hour ago and he didn't hear us, I guess, and he knocked and then he tried the door. We made believe"
"Whoa! Back up! Let's have this right, Shaw. You came up here to see me a half-hour ago and saw someone knock on my door and try to open it. Who was he?"
"A policeman, Mr. Addicks; a big, fat policeman. We made believe we were looking for another room and he went out again and we stayed here to warn you."
"Why, now that was kind of you," replied Mr. Addicks gravely. "But just why did you think I ought to be warned?"
Fudge hesitated. After all, it was not a pleasant task to inform a man that you knew him to be a criminal. Perry moved uneasily in his chair, but failed to come to his chum's assistance.
"Come on," persisted Mr. Addicks. "We're all friends together. What's the idea, Shaw?"
Fudge threw a final appealing glance at Perry and plunged: "It's none of our business, sir, only I—er—I happened to see the notice in the express office and"
"What notice?"
"About the train-robber. And then we—we came in the other day and couldn't help seeing the scar and—and knowing."
"What scar, Shaw?"
"On your arm, sir; the white scar just like the description says."
"The white Oh!" Mr. Addicks nodded comprehendingly.
"We haven't breathed a word to anyone, Mr. Addicks, but I guess they got on to you. And we thought you ought to know."
"Of course." Mr. Addicks' countenance held puzzlement and some amusement, and he was silent a moment. At last: "Let's have this just right now," he said. "You suspect me of being this train-robber and you think the police are after me. Is that it?"
"Y-yes, sir."
"The description of the robber fits me, does it?"
"Why, yes, sir, all except the height. I guess you're more than five feet and ten inches, aren't you?"
"Five feet, eleven. But that's near enough. What was the fellow's name, by the way?"
"He had two or three names. Edward Hurley was one of them, and another was Crowell, and—I don't remember the other."
"Fenney," supplied Perry subduedly.
"Ha!" Mr. Addicks arose from the table on which he had been seated, thrust his hands into his pockets and walked to the window. The boys exchanged expressive glances. After a moment's silent contemplation of the twilit world outside Mr. Addicks turned back.
"How do you suppose they found out?" he asked, in a low voice.
Fudge shook his head. "Maybe you left off your disguise some time, sir."
"My—my what?"
"Disguise; the mustache, sir."
"Oh, yes, the mustache. That's it, I guess."
"Yes, sir, you didn't have it on when you came in just now, you know."
"Careless!" sighed Mr. Addicks. "No wonder they spotted me. Well, what must be must be, boys!" He sank into a chair with a gesture of surrender. "I guess it's all up, hombres."
"Couldn't you—couldn't you make your get-away?" asked Fudge, lowering his voice and glancing apprehensively toward the door. Mr. Addicks laid finger to lips, tiptoed across and suddenly threw the door open. Thrilled, Fudge and Perry leaned forward to look. The corridor, however, was empty.
Leaving the door slightly ajar, Mr. Addicks returned to his seat.
"You mean," he asked, "that I might get away before they came back for me?"
Fudge nodded.
"I wonder! You're certain you haven't told anyone, Shaw? Or you, Hull?"
"No, sir, we haven't," replied Fudge emphatically, even indignantly. "We haven't said a word to anyone. We—we thought at first you were a safe-breaker," he added apologetically.
"What made you think that?"
"I don't know exactly. Of course, we knew you weren't just an ordinary thief, sir; we could see that; and so I—we thought maybe that was your line."
"You wronged me there," said Mr. Addicks, in hurt tones. "I've never cracked a safe in my life Shaw."
"I'm sorry, sir. Only—how did you get the money from the express car at Cartwright? Didn't you have to break the safe open?"
"Oh, that? Why, you see—but, look here, what made you first suspect me?"
"I guess it was the disguise. Besides, we knew you were playing the piano at the theater just for a—for a bluff."
"So you knew that, eh?" muttered Mr. Addicks. He viewed Fudge with admiration. "It's a good thing you're not on the police force, Shaw, or I'd have been nabbed long ago. You're a regular Burns!"
Fudge strove to disguise his delight in the praise, and Perry broke into the conversation anxiously. "Don't you think you'd ought to be going, sir?" he asked. "They may come back any moment."
"You're right." Mr. Addicks referred to a tin alarm clock on the table. "Ten after six," he muttered. "It's a desperate chance, but I'll take it." He disappeared into the closet and returned with a much-worn valise which he placed, open, on a chair. "Now then, let's see." He glanced frowningly about the room. "I can't take much with me. I guess I'd better foot it to the next town and jump the train there. Maybe they won't be looking for me. Boys, I don't want to drive you away, but if they should come and find you here they might suspect you of tipping me off. I wouldn't want you to get into trouble on my account, and it might go hard with you if they found it out. Better get out while there's time."
Fudge looked uneasy. "Well, maybe we had," he murmured. "They might put us through the third degree and make us tell."
"That's just what they'd do," said Mr. Addicks convincedly. "I'm mighty grateful to you fellows, and if the thanks of a train-robber are of any value to you"
"What's that?" asked Perry, startled. With a swift leap Mr. Addicks reached the gaslight and turned it out. In the darkness they listened with straining ears. No sound reached them, however, beyond the usual noises from the street. "I thought," muttered Perry apologetically, "I heard something."
"I g-g-guess," said Fudge, as Mr. Addicks lighted the gas again, "I g-g-guess we'd better go."
"Yes," whispered Mr. Addicks, "don't run any risks. Good-by, boys. Take care of yourselves and, whatever you do, remain honest." He shook hands with Fudge and then with Perry. "Remember that honesty is the best policy and take it from me that there's nothing in train robbery. A fellow hasn't got a fair chance nowadays."
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"'What's that?' asked Perry, startled" "Couldn't you—if they don't get you this time,
sir, couldn't you—" Perry faltered embarrassedly—"couldn't
you reform, sir?"
"I'll try, Hull, I swear to you I'll try." Mr. Addicks seemed quite affected and, after the door had closed behind them, they thought they heard a sob. They stole noiselessly down the stairs. On the sidewalk Fudge drew a deep breath of relief as he glanced left and right and saw no policeman.
"Gee, I hope he gets away," he whispered huskily.
Perry nodded. "So do I. He—he's a mighty nice fellow. What do you say if we stay around until he goes, Fudge? I'd like to be sure he gets away, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, but it wouldn't be safe. They might—might connect us with his escape. Why, even now they may be watching the building! Come on, but don't walk too fast. Try to look careless, Perry."
So, looking careless, they reached the corner, but there, to Perry's surprise, Fudge seized him by the arm and dragged him on. "We've got to throw them off the track," he muttered. "They may follow us."
Silently they proceeded another block and then, when Fudge had turned quickly and glanced back along G Street, they slipped around the corner, cut through a yard and climbed a fence, dodged past a house and finally gained Troutman Street.
"There," said Fudge, with satisfaction, "I guess we've thrown them off all right." He stopped a moment, made a silent investigation and added darkly: "I hope they tear their pants on that fence the way I did!"
"It must be awfully late," said Perry. "I guess I'll go back this way; it's shorter."
"Better not," warned Fudge. "Come on to F Street. They might see you."
"I hope," mused Perry as they went on down the block, "I hope he will try to reform, Fudge. He doesn't seem what you'd call a hardened criminal, does he?"
"No, he doesn't. I guess there's a lot of good in him, Perry. I dare say he will get away safely and go back out West and settle down just like you or me."
"I do hope so." Perry sighed. "I liked him a lot, Fudge."
"Me, too. I wish he wasn't a criminal, that's what I wish. And, oh, shucks, now he can't do that drawing! I'll have to tell Dick that he left town unexpectedly. Say, let's do something to-night, Perry. Think your folks'll let you go to the movies?"
"I'll ask them. I ought to study, but—but I guess I'm too excited." Perry laughed softly. "Say, a fellow doesn't save a train-robber from the police every day, does he?"
"I guess not! I guess if the fellows knew what we'd been up to to-day they'd open their eyes!"
"I suppose, though, we oughtn't to tell them."
"Hm, well, not for a long while," answered Fudge.
As Fudge had remained away from the theater for some time, his mother, after extracting a promise to get up early and study his lessons before breakfast, at last consented to let him go, and Fudge was leaning over Perry's fence promptly at twenty minutes to eight and whistling his doleful signal. Perry joined him without his cap and spoke subduedly.
"Will you wait a few minutes, Fudge?" he asked apologetically. "Dad and mother are going with us. Do you mind very much?"
Fudge kicked the base-board of the fence, a reckless thing to do considering the condition of it, and finally replied with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm: "Of course not—much. What they going for, Perry? I didn't know they ever went."
"They don't. Only dad took it into his head that he'd like to see what the movies are like, and ma said she'd go, too. I'm sorry."
"Well" Fudge stopped and then asked hopefully: "Do you think they'll pay for me, Perry?"
"I guess so," was the doubtful answer. Further conversation across the fence was prevented by a summons for Perry, and a minute or two later the quartette was on its way to the theater. To Fudge's satisfaction, Doctor Hull, directed by Perry, attended to the trifling matter of tickets and they filed in. The slight delay had allowed the front half of the house to fill and they were obliged to seat themselves fifteen rows back, a location not at all to Fudge's liking. Fudge derived great enjoyment, in the interims between films, from observing the orchestra, and from back here all he could see well was just the man at the piano, and the man at the piano was the least interesting
"Why, Fudge Shaw, what is the matter?" exclaimed Mrs. Hull.
"N-n-nothing, ma'am," replied Fudge chokingly.
"Aren't you well?"
"Y-yes'm."
"You don't look it. You sure you don't feel faint?"
"No'm—yes'm, I mean. I—I just had a twinge."
Mrs. Hull viewed him doubtfully and a trifle disapprovingly and turned to the Doctor to confide her belief that Fudge was by no means a satisfactory companion for Perry. Whereupon Fudge dug his elbow painfully into Perry's ribs and whispered excitedly:
"Perry, look down there!"
"Where? What?" demanded the other, squirming out of the way of Fudge's energetic elbow. "What is it?"
"The man at the piano! Look at him!"
Perry looked and gasped and looked again. Surely that back and those shoulders and that head belonged to
At that instant the piano player turned to speak to the violinist and the boys gazed, astounded, on the false mustache and smiling countenance of Mr. Addicks, the train-robber!