Steve and the Steam Engine by Sara Ware Bassett (best large ereader TXT) 📕

this gentleman—" he broke off, saying in an undertone to the man at his elbow. "This is your boy, Donovan."

The tall man came nearer.

"You are a detective?" asked Mr. Tolman bluntly.

"Well, something of the sort, sir," admitted the man called Donovan. "It is occasionally my business to hunt people up."

"And you have been sent to hunt my son up?"

Donovan nodded.

Stephen turned white and his father put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"My son and I," he replied, addressing the detective quietly, "can explain this entire affair to you and will do so gladly. The boy did find the pocketbook but he was ignorant of its value because he has not even looked inside it. In fact, that he had the article in his possession did not come into his mind until a few moments ago. If he had known the thing was valuable, do you suppose he would have left it in his ulster pocket and checked the coat in a public place like this?"

The detective made no reply.

"We both shall be very glad," went on Mr. Tolman firmly, "to go with you to headquarters and straighten the matter out."

"There may be no need of that, sir," Donovan responded with a pleasant smile. "If we can just talk the affair over in a satisfactory way—"

"Suppose you come upstairs to our room," suggested Mr. Tolman. "That will give us more quiet and privacy. Will that be agreeable to you?"

"Perfectly."

As the three walked toward the elevator Steve glanced with trepidation at the plain-clothes man.

The boy knew he had done nothing wrong; but would he be able to convince the detective of the truth of his story? He was thoroughly frightened and wondered whether his father was also alarmed.

If, however, Mr. Tolman was worried he at least did not show it. Instead he courteously led the way from the elevator down the dim corridor and unlocked the door of Number 379.

"Come in, Mr. Donovan," he said cordially. "Here is a chair and a cigar. Now, son, tell us the story of this troublesome pocketbook from beginning to end."

In a trembling voice Stephen began his tale. He spoke slowly, uncertainly, for he was well scared. Gradually, however, he forgot his agitation and his voice became more positive. He recounted the details of the omnibus ride with great care, adding ingenuously when he came to the termination of the narrative:

"And I hoped the man's name would be inside the pocketbook because I liked him very much and wanted to return to him what he had lost."

"And wasn't it?" put in Mr. Donovan quickly.

"I don't know," was the innocent retort. "Don't you remember I told you that I hadn't looked inside yet?"

The detective laughed with satisfaction.

"That was a shabby trick of mine, youngster," said he. "It was mean to try to trap you."

"Trap me?" repeated Steve vaguely.

"There, there, sonny!" went on Donovan kindly. "Don't you worry a minute more about this mix-up. Mr. Ackerman, the gentleman who lost the bill book, did not think for a second that you had taken it. He simply was so sure that he had lost it on the bus that he wanted to locate you and find out whether you knew anything about it or not. His name was not inside the pocketbook, you see, and therefore any one who found it would have no way of tracing its owner. What it contains are valuable papers and a big wad of Liberty Bonds which, as your father knows, could quickly be converted into cash. In consequence Mr. Ackerman decided that the sooner the pocketbook was found the better. The omnibus people denied any knowledge of it and you were the only remaining clue."

Mr. Tolman sank back in his chair and a relaxation of his muscles betrayed for the first time that he had been much more disturbed than he had appeared to be.

"Well," he said, lighting a fresh cigar, "the bill book is not only located but we can hand it back intact to its owner. If you can inform us where the gentleman lives, my boy and I will call a taxi and go to his house or office with his property."

A flush of embarrassment suffused the face of the officer.

"Maybe you would like to come with us, Donovan," added Mr. Tolman, who instantly interpreted the man's confusion.

"I hate to be dogging your footsteps, sir, in this fashion," Mr. Donovan answered, with obvious sincerity. "Still, I—"

"You have your orders, no doubt."

"Well, yes, sir," admitted the plain-clothes man with reluctance. "I have."

"You were to keep your eye on us until the pocketbook reached its owner."

"That's about it, sir. Not that I personally have the least suspicion that a gentleman like you would—"

"That is all right, my man. I perfectly understand your position," Mr. Tolman cut in. "After all, you have your duty to do and business is business. We'll just telephone Mr. Ackerman that we are coming so that we shall be sure of catching him, and then we will go right up there."

"Very well, sir."

Stephen's father started toward the telephone and then, as if struck by a sudden thought, paused and turned.

"Steve," he said, "I believe you are the person to communicate with Mr. Ackerman. Call him up and tell him you have found his purse and that you and your father would like to come up to his house, if it will be convenient, and return it."

"All right, Dad."

"You will find his number on this slip of paper, sonny," the detective added, handing the lad a card. "He is not at his office. He went home to lunch in the hope that he had left the pocketbook there."

After some delay Stephen succeeded in getting the number written on the card. A servant answered the summons.

"May I speak to Mr. Ackerman, please?" inquired the lad. "He is at luncheon? No, it would not do the least good for me to tell you my name for he would not know who it was. Just tell him that the boy who sat beside him this morning on the Fifth Avenue bus—" there was a little chuckle. "Oh, he will be here directly, will he? I thought perhaps he would."

A moment later a cheery voice which Steve at once recognized to be that of the steamboat man came over the wire:

"Well, sonny?"

"I found your bill book, Mr. Ackerman, and my father and I would like to bring it up to you."

"Well, well! that is fine news!" cried the man at the other end of the line. "How did you know who it belonged to?"

"Oh, I—we—found out—my father and I," stammered the lad. "May we come up to your house with it now?"

"You would much better let me come to you; then only one person will be inconvenienced," the New Yorker returned pleasantly. "Where are you staying?"

"At the Manhattan."

"You must not think of taking the trouble of coming way up here. Let me join you and your father at your hotel."

"Very well, Mr. Ackerman. If you'd rather—"

"I certainly should rather!" was the emphatic answer. "I could not think of bringing two people so far out of their way."

"There are three of us!" squeaked Stephen.

"Three?"

"Yes, sir. We have another person—a friend—with us," explained the boy, with quiet enjoyment. How easy it was to laugh now!

"All the more reason why I should come to you, then," asserted Mr. Ackerman. "I will be at the Manhattan within half an hour. Perhaps if you and your father and your friend have the afternoon free you would like to go to some sort of a show with me after we conclude our business. Since you are here on a holiday you can't be very busy."

Stephen's eyes sparkled with merriment.

"I don't know whether our friend can go or not," he replied politely, "but I think perhaps Dad and I could; and if we can we should like to very much."

"That will be excellent. I will come right along. Not only shall I be glad to get my pocketbook back again but I shall be glad to see you once more. I told you this morning that I had a feeling we should meet some time. Whom shall I ask for at the hotel?"

"Stephen Tolman."

With a click the boy hung up the receiver.

"Mr. Ackerman is coming right down," said he, addressing his father and the detective with a mischievous smile. "He has invited the three of us to go to the matinee with him."

"The three of us!" echoed the plain-clothes man.

"Yes," returned the lad. "I told him we had a friend with us and so he said to bring him along."

"Good heavens!" Donovan ejaculated.

Mr. Tolman laughed heartily.

"Not all the thieves you arrest take you to a theater party afterward, do they, Officer?" he asked.

"I said from the first you were gentlemen," Mr. Donovan asserted with humor.

"But couldn't you go?" inquired Steve, quite seriously.

"Bless you, no, sonny!" replied the man. "I am from headquarters, you know, and my work is chasing up crooks—not going to matinees."

Nevertheless there was an intonation of gentleness in his voice, as he added, "I am obliged to you just the same, for in spite of my calling I am a human being and I appreciate being treated like one."