"Yes," said Tim, in surprise. "Do you know him?"
"I have seen him this morning," said Mr. Murdock. "Wait a minute, and I will give you a line to d.i.c.k; or rather it will not be necessary. If you can get a chance, let him know that I am going to call on him this afternoon. Will you be at the station-house, or near it, at six o"clock?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then we can arrange about your appearing as a witness at the trial.
Here is half a dollar for your trouble in bringing the note."
"I don"t want it, sir," said Tim. "I don"t want to take anything for doing a good turn to d.i.c.k."
"But you have been prevented from earning money. You had better take it."
But Tim, who was a warm-hearted Irish boy, steadfastly refused, and left the store in quest of Henderson"s hat and cap store, having also a note to deliver to Fosd.i.c.k.
"So that was Micky Maguire who was here a little while since," said Mr.
Murdock to himself. "It seems singular that immediately after getting Richard into trouble, he should have come here where he was employed.
Can it be that Gilbert had a previous acquaintance with him?"
The more Mr. Murdock reflected, the more perplexed he became. It did cross his mind that the two might be in league against d.i.c.k; but then, on the other hand, they evidently parted on bad terms, and this seemed to make such a combination improbable. So he gave up puzzling himself about it, reflecting that time would clear up what seemed mysterious about the affair.
Gilbert, on his part, could not help wondering on what errand Tim Ryan came to Mr. Murdock. He suspected he might be a messenger from d.i.c.k, but thought it best not to inquire, and Mr. Murdock did not volunteer any information. When the store closed, the head clerk bent his steps towards the station-house.
CHAPTER XV.
THE FRANKLIN STREET STATION-HOUSE.
The station-house to which d.i.c.k had been conveyed is situated in that part of Franklin Street which lies between Centre and Baxter Streets.
The last is one of the most wretched streets in the city, lined with miserable tenement houses, policy shops, and second-hand clothing stores. Whoever pa.s.ses through it in the evening, will do well to look to the safety of his pocket-book and watch, if he is imprudent enough to carry either in a district where the Ten Commandments are unknown, or unregarded.
The station-house is an exception to the prevailing squalidness, being kept with great neatness. Mr. Murdock ascended the steps, and found himself in a large room, one side of which was fenced off by a railing.
Behind this was a desk, at which sat the officer in charge. To him, Mr.
Murdock directed himself.
"Have you a boy, named Richard Hunter, in the house?"
"Yes," said the sergeant, referring to his minutes. "He was brought in this afternoon, charged with picking a gentleman"s pocket."
"There is some mistake about this. He is as honest as I am."
"I have nothing to do with that. He will have a fair trial to-morrow morning. All I have to do is to keep him in safe custody till then."
"Of course. Where is he?"
"In a cell below."
"Can I see him?"
"If you wish."
The officer summoned an attendant, and briefly ordered him to conduct Mr. Murdock to d.i.c.k"s cell.
"This way, sir," said the attendant.
Mr. Murdock followed him through a large rear room, which is intended for the accommodation of the officers. Then, descending some steps into the courtyard, he descended thence into the apartments in the bas.e.m.e.nt.
Here are the cells for the temporary detention of offenders who are not at once sent to the Tombs for trial. The pa.s.sages are whitewashed and the cells look very neat. They are on either side, with a grating, so that one pa.s.sing along can look into them readily. They are probably about seven feet long, by four or five in width. A narrow raised bedstead, covered with a pallet, occupies one side, on which the prisoner can either lie or sit, as he pleases.
"How are you, boss?" asked a negro woman, who had been arrested for drunkenness, swaying forward, as Mr. Murdock pa.s.sed, and nearly losing her balance as she did so. "Can"t you give me a few cents to buy some supper?"
Turning from this revolting spectacle, Mr. Murdock followed his guide to the second cell beyond where our hero was confined.
"Is it you, Mr. Murdock?" exclaimed our hero, joyfully jumping to his feet. "I am glad to see you."
"And I am glad to see you; but I wish it were somewhere else," said Mr.
Murdock.
"So do I," said d.i.c.k. "I aint partial to this hotel, though the accommodations is gratooitous, and the company is very select."
"I see you will have your joke, d.i.c.k, even in such a place."
"I don"t feel so jolly as I might," said d.i.c.k. "I never was in the station-house before; but I shall be lucky if I don"t get sent to a worse place."
"Have you any idea who took the wallet which was found in your pocket?"
"No," said d.i.c.k.
"Do you know a boy called Micky Maguire?" proceeded Mr. Murdock.
"Yes," said d.i.c.k, looking up in surprise. "Micky used to be a great friend of mine. He"d be delighted if he only knew that I was enjoyin"
the hospitality of the government."
"He does know it," said Mr. Murdock, quietly.
"How do you know?" asked d.i.c.k, quickly.
"Because it was he that stole the wallet and put it in your pocket."
"How did you find out?" asked d.i.c.k, eagerly.
"Do you know a boy named Tim Ryan?"
"Yes; he"s a good boy."
"It was he that brought me your note. He saw the whole proceeding."