CHAPTER XXXII.
A CRAZY MAN’S DOINGS
“You are more than kind to me, Jerry Upton,” exclaimed Nellie Ardell, when they and her little brother were left alone.
“I didn’t want to see you thrown out of your home,” said Jerry, soberly.
“I shall pay you back that money as soon as I possibly can,” she went on. “I expect to get about twenty dollars for sewing next week. One of the ladies I work for is out of town, but is coming back on Wednesday.”
“All right – take your time. When will you move? Maybe I can help carry some things for you.”
“I’ve a good mind to move this afternoon. Those other rooms are all ready.”
“Then do it, and I’ll pitch right in,” and in fun the young oarsman picked up several chairs.
“I will. Will you be kind enough to stay with Tommy a few minutes?”
“Certainly.”
Nellie Ardell went off at once, and was back in ten minutes. When she returned she had rented three small rooms for less money than she now paid.
She had not many articles of furniture and it did not seem the least bit like working to our hero to assist her in transferring them across the way. The two worked together, and as they labored they talked, Jerry telling her a good deal about his mission to New York and the girl relating her own experiences in keeping the wolf from the door.
“We were not always poor,” said Nellie Ardell. “When father was alive we lived in our own home in Brooklyn. But he grew interested in a Western land scheme and it took all of his money.”
“That was our trouble. I came to New York to see what I could do toward making Alexander Slocum give an accounting of the money he put in a California land scheme for my uncle.”
“Why, my father was in Slocum’s land scheme!” she ejaculated.
“Perhaps it was the same. This land scheme I speak of was called the Judge Martin – why, I don’t know.”
“It is the same. It was so called because the land once belonged to a Judge Martin of Colorado.”
Of course, Jerry was deeply interested, and, the moving finished, he and she sat down to talk the matter over.
From what our hero learned of Nellie Ardell he came to the conclusion that Alexander Slocum was every inch the villain he had taken him to be.
The real estate dealer had hoodwinked the girl completely, and she had surrendered to him all the documents her parent had left behind at the time of his death.
“It’s too bad,” said Jerry. “We must work together against him. But nothing can be done until my missing papers are recovered.”
Before he left, another matter was discussed and settled. In her new quarters Nellie Ardell had a small room she did not really need, and she offered to board Jerry at three dollars and a half a week. As this would be an acceptable saving just at present, our hero accepted the offer and agreed to make the change on the following Monday.
Sunday passed quietly. Jerry spent part of the day in writing a long letter home, telling the folks just how matters stood and urging them not to worry, as he felt certain all would come out right in the end, and that he was quite content to remain in New York and support himself until he had settled matters with Alexander Slocum. The letter was finished late in the afternoon, and after taking supper he went out to post it.
The novelty of life in the city had not yet passed, and, the letter put into a corner box, the young oarsman sauntered on and on, taking in the many strange sights.
He had gone a distance of half a dozen blocks when he came to a church. The doors were wide open, and as the congregation were singing, he stopped to listen to the music.
When the music stopped, our hero passed on down the street, which seemed to grow poorer as he advanced. The new houses gave place to those that were very old, and on all sides Jerry could see the effects of grinding poverty.
“It’s a great city,” he thought. “And it is true that one half doesn’t know how the other half lives.”
“Please, mister, will you give me five cents?”
Jerry stopped in his walk and looked down to see who had addressed him. It was a little girl, and she was crying bitterly.
“Five cents?” he repeated.
“Yes, mister; please don’t say no. I’ve asked so many for the money already and they won’t give me a cent.”
“What are you going to do with five cents?”
“I’ve got to bring it home to daddy.”
“To daddy – you mean your father?”
“He’s a sort of a father, but he’s not my real papa,” sobbed the little girl. “He took me when papa died.”
“What does your – your daddy want with the five cents?”
At this question the little girl’s face flushed.
“I – I daren’t tell you – daddy would whip me,” she whimpered.
“Does he drink?”
“I daren’t tell you.”
“Does he send you out very often to beg?”
“He sends me out when he’s – when he’s – but I daren’t tell you. He would whip me most to death.”
“Where do you live?”
“Over there.”
And the little girl pointed to a long row of rear tenements, the very worst-looking in the neighborhood.
“And what is daddy’s name?”
“His real name is James MacHenry, but the folks around here all call him Crazy Jim,” she answered.
Jerry started back in surprise. Crazy Jim was the tramp who had been seen walking off with his packet of documents!
“So you live with Crazy Jim?” said our hero, to the little girl, slowly.
“Yes, sir.”
“How long have you lived with him?”
“Oh, a long while, sir.”
“Take me to him.”
At this request she drew back in horror.
“Oh, I can’t do that, indeed I can’t,” she faltered.
“Why not?”
“I took a man to him once – a charity officer – and daddy – whip – whipped me for it.”
“Then show me where he lives,” went on Jerry after a pause. “You needn’t let him see you. I must have a talk with him. Perhaps I’ll give him some money.”
The little girl still hesitated, but finally led the way up the street into a horrible-looking alley and pointed to a dingy tenement-house.
“Daddy is up there on the top floor in the back.”
“And is that where you live?” asked Jerry, with a shudder he could not repress.
“Yes, of course.”
“It’s not a nice place.”
“Oh, no,” and something like a tear glistened in the girl’s eye.
“Here is ten cents for you,” added Jerry. “You had better keep it for yourself. Are you hungry?”
“A little. I only had some bread to-day for dinner and supper.”
“Then go down to the restaurant on the corner and get something to eat for the money. You need it.”
The little girl ran off to do as bidden, and our hero entered the dilapidated tenement. Four dirty men and women sat on the stoop smoking and drinking from a tin pail.
“Who are ye lookin’ fer?” asked one of the men, roughly.
“Crazy Jim,” answered Jerry, briefly, and brushed past him.
The hallway was dark, and it was with difficulty that the young oarsman found the rickety stairs, every step of which creaked as he trod upon it.
Arriving at the top floor, the youth noticed a shaft of light streaming from beneath a door in the rear. He knocked loudly.
There was a movement within, the door was flung back, and Jerry found himself confronted by a tall, round-shouldered individual, with long, unkempt hair and a wild look in his small black eyes.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE LITTLE NOBODY
“Well!” demanded the man laconically.
“Is this James MacHenry?”
“That’s me, boy.”
“I would like to see you on business,” Jerry went on, as he brushed past and entered one of the barest living apartments he had ever seen.
“On business?”
“Yes, a few days ago you picked up a packet downtown belonging to me – a packet containing some documents and letters.”
“Who said they belonged to you?”
“I say so. My name is Jerry Upton, and I dropped the packet in the alleyway where you found it.”
The man stared at our hero.
“Say, is this a game?” he demanded, harshly.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you trying to get me into trouble?”
“No, I am trying to keep you out of trouble,” replied the young oarsman, warmly.
“You say that packet belonged to you?”
“Yes.”
“It didn’t have your name on it.”
“No, it – ” Our hero stopped short. “It had Alexander Slocum’s name on it!” he burst out.
“Exactly.”
“You don’t mean to say you delivered that packet to him?” gasped the youth.
“I did – not an hour ago.”
Jerry fell back into a chair and breathed heavily. The packet was gone – into the hands of the enemy!
“The man said it was his package,” said Crazy Jim. “He gave me a reward of five dollars for returning it to him.”
“It was mine. He wanted to steal it – and now he’s done it,” cried Jerry. “You let him have it but an hour ago?”
“Yes.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you open the packet?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t make nothing out of it – ’cos I ain’t eddicated. I read his name on it and got another fellow to write a postal card yesterday afternoon. He came here, examined the papers, and seemed much pleased.”
“No doubt he was pleased,” groaned the young oarsman.
“Was the thing worth much?”
“It was worth a good deal. I would have given five dollars to get it back.”
“What does he want with it?”
“Wants to do my father out of some property,” answered our hero. “By the way, who is that little girl who lives with you?”
At this question Crazy Jim’s face darkened.
“That ain’t none of your business,” he growled.
“You shouldn’t send her out on the street to beg.”
“Wot! has she been blabbin’ again? I’ll break every bone in her body!” and off the man started out of the room and down the narrow stairs.
Jerry had noticed that his breath smelt strongly of liquor. He was not only a drinking man, but also one who was not quite right in his head.
“Don’t hurt her, you brute!” called out the boy, and followed him out of the alleyway into the street. At the nearest corner stood the little girl, and Crazy Jim rushed up to her fiercely.
“You good-fer-nothin’!” he bawled. “I’ll teach ye a lesson! Didn’t I tell ye ter keep yer clapper still about me? Take that! and that!”
He raised his heavy hand and struck her a cruel blow on the side of the head. She staggered back, and he was about to repeat his unjust action, when Jerry thought it about time to interfere. Catching him by the arm, our hero hurled him backward with such force that he fell flat in the gutter.
At once a shout went up from those who saw Jerry’s action.
“What are yer doin’?”
“Who is that boy?”
With a fearful exclamation, Crazy Jim arose to his feet.
“I’ll fix ye fer that!” he hissed, and sprang forward. “You ain’t got no right ter interfere between me an’ the gal.”
“You are a brute!” burst out our hero. “This little girl has done nothing to deserve such punishment.”
“Who set you over me?” howled the infuriated man. “I’ll fix ye!”
He tried his best to hit Jerry with his fist, but the young oarsman dodged him and took a stand in front of the little girl.
“You had better run away,” Jerry whispered to her. “He is in a terrible mood just now.”
“Where shall I go?” whimpered the girl.
“Anywhere. Up two blocks. I will join you soon.”
Without delay the little girl ran off. Crazy Jim tried to follow her, but Jerry headed him off.
Seeing he could do nothing with his hands, the savage man looked around for some weapon. A heavy stone was lying handy, and he picked it up. The next moment it was launched at our hero’s head.
Luckily, Jerry was quick at dodging, or he might have been seriously wounded. The missile went sailing over the lad’s head and flew with a crash through the front window of a neighboring store.
The smashing of the pane of glass was followed by a shout of alarm from the storekeeper, who sat in a chair on the pavement.
“Here, vot’s dot?” he yelled. “Vot you means py preaking mine vinder, hey, you Crazy Gim? I vos got you locked up. Ain’t it? Bolice! bolice!”
The German storekeeper continued to yell so loudly that it was not long before an officer appeared. Seeing this, Jerry backed out of the crowd and hurried off. He saw the policeman catch Crazy Jim by the arm, and a wordy war followed. A minute later the fellow was being marched off to the station-house. No doubt the policeman would have liked it had he found Jerry, but our hero kept at a safe distance.
It was now quite dark, and it was with some difficulty that Jerry again found the little girl. She stood by a hitching post, sobbing bitterly.
“Where is he?” she asked, choking back her sobs.
“The policeman took him off. Don’t cry any more,” Jerry added, soothingly.
“But where shall I go?” she asked. “I can’t go back.”
“Have you no friends?”
“No. Crazy Jim and I came to New York alone when papa died.”
“Where did you come from?”
The little girl shook her head at this. She had been too young to remember.
“What is your name?”
“Dottie.”
“Dottie what?”
“Nothing, only Dottie.”
Jerry was in a quandary. To a certain degree he felt responsible for her present forlorn condition. Suddenly an idea struck him.
“If you will come with me, I’ll see to it that you have a good bed to-night, and breakfast in the morning,” he said. “And after that I’ll see what I can do for you, Dottie.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Jerry Upton.”
“You look like a nice boy and I’ll go with you,” and she placed her hand confidently in that of the young oarsman.
Jerry took the little one to Nellie Ardell’s apartments. Of course she was much surprised, and, sitting down, our hero had to explain everything as far as he was able. Nellie Ardell agreed instantly to take the little girl in.
“You can stay here until we can do something for you,” she said. “I know how it would feel to have little Tommy on the streets homeless.”
And soon after that Dottie was put to bed, very well content. Her hard life with Crazy Jim had made her used to ups and downs that no ordinary little girl could have endured.
The reader can well imagine that Jerry did not sleep much that night. He could not forget that Alexander Slocum had the precious packet of papers. Bitterly he regretted not having taken better care of the documents.
“I will call on Slocum, and come to some sort of an understanding,” Jerry said to himself. “Perhaps when I tell him that both Nellie Ardell and myself are ready to proceed against him he will be willing to come to terms.”
The next day was a busy one at the book-bindery, and our hero got no chance to call on Slocum. During that time he learned that Crazy Jim had been locked up for resisting the officer and had been sentenced to thirty days on Blackwell’s Island.
The young oarsman did not know what to do about little Dottie, but Nellie Ardell solved this question.
“I have received a whole lot of new work,” she said. “So for the present we can keep her to mind Tommy while I am dressmaking.”
So the little girl stayed on. Jerry never dreamed of how much she had to do with his future life.
On Thursday Mr. Islin’s brother died and the bindery was closed for several days. Jerry took the opportunity to walk down to Alexander Slocum’s offices.
The real estate man was alone, and greeted our hero with a sinister smile.
“So you have seen fit to call again, young man,” were his first words.
“Mr. Slocum, let us come to business,” Jerry replied firmly. “What are you going to do about my father’s claim?”
Alexander Slocum laughed harshly.
“Your father’s claim?” he repeated. “I don’t recognize the fact that your father has any claim against me.”
CHAPTER XXXIV.
ALEXANDER SLOCUM SHOWS HIS HAND
Alexander Slocum’s statement was no more than Jerry had expected, so he was not taken back by the words. He looked the man steadily in the eyes.
“So that is the position you are going to take now – since you received my packet from James MacHenry,” said Jerry, deliberately.
Slocum started and winced, and the young oarsman saw that Crazy Jim had spoken the truth.
“I haven’t anything belonging to you, Upton.”
“It is useless for you to deny it, Mr. Slocum. He found the packet and delivered it to you for a reward of five dollars.”
“The packet he delivered to me was my own. It contained some legal documents belonging to this office.”
“You may make others believe that, Mr. Slocum, but – ”
“But what, boy? Remember, I want none of your insolence here. I will listen to you, but you mustn’t grow impertinent.”
“I’m only speaking the truth. You virtually robbed me, just as you robbed my father and Mr. Bryant Ardell.”
“Ha!” Slocum leaped to his feet. “Who – where did you hear of Bryant Ardell?” he asked, excitedly.
“I have met Nellie Ardell several times – in fact, I am boarding with her.”
“Did she set you to hounding me?”
“No; we met by accident after I had come to New York almost on purpose to see you.”
“She is an impudent young woman.”
“She told me that you had her land papers, just as you now have mine.”
“It’s a falsehood!”
“If both of us go to court with our story, we may prove that it is not a falsehood.”
“Ha! are you going to combine to ruin my reputation?” cried the real estate dealer, growing pale.
“We are going to try to obtain our rights.”
“You’ll gain nothing. I’ll – I’ll have you locked up on a charge of black-mail!” Alexander Slocum began to pace his office nervously. “See here, Upton how much do you want to go off and leave me alone?” he questioned, suddenly.
“I want what is due my father.”
“You’ll not get it!” he whispered, hoarsely, throwing his mask aside. “Do you think I have plotted and worked all these years for nothing? Not much! All that property is mine, do you hear? Nobody else shall ever own a foot of it. Now, I’ll tell you what I am willing to do. I’ll give you a hundred dollars in cash and we’ll call it square. Mind you, I don’t admit your claim. I only want to avoid trouble.”
Jerry looked at the man and drew a long breath. He could see through Slocum’s words as clearly as he could see through the window. His father’s claim was worth a fortune!
“Come, what do you say?” demanded Slocum as Jerry did not answer him.
“I say this, Mr. Slocum,” rejoined our hero. “I won’t accept your proposition, and before I am done with you I’ll have our rights and you’ll be in state’s prison.”
With a snarl very much like that made by a fretful tiger, the man leaped toward the boy as if to grab him by the throat.
“You fool! I’ll make you come to terms!”
His hand touched Jerry’s collar, but the young oarsman evaded him and placed the flat-top desk between them. When the man ran around the desk, Jerry picked up a heavy brass-bound ruler.
“Stop, or I’ll crack you with this!” cried our hero, and, seeing the weapon, Slocum halted.
“Don’t be a fool, boy!”
“I don’t intend to be.”
“You can do nothing against me.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Who will take your word against mine? Nobody. You are a mere country lad, while I am a well-known New York citizen.”
“Mr. Ardell was also well known in his day.”
Again Alexander Slocum’s face grew pale.
“Nellie Ardell has no doubt urged you to attack me,” he growled. “I must see her. Why didn’t she come with you?”
“She is busy.”
“I will explain matters to her in detail. Really, the claim is not worth anything, but I wish to avoid trouble, and – ”
“You might as well stop, Mr. Slocum, for it’s too late to say that now. I am positive our claims are of great value. Since you won’t do the right thing, I shall advise my father to bring action in court to compel you to come to terms.”
While speaking, Jerry had walked to the door, and now placed his hand on the knob.
“Stop! stop!”
“No, I have had enough for the present.”
“You villain!”
Slocum ran toward Jerry, who opened the door to step out, but found the way blockaded by Casey, his book-keeper.
“Here, what’s up?” cried the man, in wonder.
“Don’t let him get away, Casey!” cried Alexander Slocum. “He is going to make trouble, sure!”
“Let me go!” burst out our hero as the book-keeper caught hold of him. “Let go, or I’ll – ”
Jerry never finished that sentence. Alexander Slocum had picked up the ruler the youth had dropped, and leaped to the front. Down came the weapon on the young oarsman’s head; he felt a sharp stinging pain – and then he knew no more.
When Jerry came to his senses all was dark around him. He was lying on a damp, cement floor, evidently that of a cellar.
His head ached greatly, and for several minutes he could not remember what had happened.
Then came back that scene in Slocum’s office. He staggered to his feet.
Where was he and how long had he been there?
The first question was readily answered. Stepping forward, Jerry stumbled over some loose coal. He was in a coal-cellar. Around and above were brick walls. The door was of sheet-iron, and it was tightly closed and barred. How had he come to that place? Probably his enemies had carried him hither, although how they could do it without being seen was a question.
As soon as our hero felt strong enough he looked about for some means of escaping from his prison. With great care he examined the walls and tried the door.
Finding no outlet on any side, he turned his attention to the pavements above. From one spot there came a faint glimmer of light, in a circle, and he rightfully guessed that the coal-hole was located there.
How to reach the hole was a problem. It was several feet above our hero’s head, and there was nothing in the coal-vault to stand upon.
Jerry considered the situation for a minute, and then, standing directly under the cover of the hole, leaped upward, sending his hand over his head as he did so.
The cover was loose, and the force of the blow caused it to fly upward. Another blow and it fell away entirely, and in a second more the young oarsman was clambering out of the opening.
It was drawing towards evening, and the street was full of people, some of which eyed the boy curiously. Restoring the cover to its place, he left the spot.
The question now was, should he return to Slocum’s office or seek outside assistance? He decided upon the latter course. To attempt to bring the rascally real estate agent to terms alone would be foolhardy.
Jerry’s head ached so much he could think only with difficulty, and he decided to return to Nellie Ardell’s apartments. It was a hard walk, and he was glad when the place was reached and he could sit down.
“What’s the matter – are you hurt?” cried the young woman.
“I was knocked out,” replied the youth, with a sorry little laugh. “I’ve got a pretty big lump on the top of my head.”
Sitting down, he told his story, to which Nellie Ardell listened with breathless attention.
“The wicked man! He should be locked up!” she burst out, when Jerry had finished. “It’s a wonder he didn’t kill you.”
“That’s true. As it was, the blow was awfully hard.”
“What will you do now?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Won’t that Mr. Islen whom you work for, help you?”
“Perhaps he will,” returned the youth, struck with the idea. “The trouble is his brother is dead, and that has upset him.”
“One thing is certain, Jerry, the property is valuable.”
“Yes, and another thing is certain,” added our hero. “We want our shares of it.”
“It would be a great help to me to get some money out of it,” said Nellie Ardell, with a sigh. “This sewing constantly day in and day out is wearing on me.”
The two talked for over an hour, and then Jerry felt compelled to lie down. It was nearly morning before his head stopped aching and he got some rest.