CHAPTER IX.

Police Headquarters.

"Who are you? What are you talking about?" demanded one of the

detectives of Andy, after the latter had stepped forward with his

exclamation that it was not the little boy.

A curiously malevolent expression crossed the face of the man with the

child as he bent his eyes on Andy; but he did not speak to him then, but

rather to the crowd that had quickly gathered,

"What does all this mean? Why am I stopped in this way? Is there a

policeman here? Call a policeman, somebody, please. Upon my word--a

pretty pass this, that a man may be molested in a public place in such a

fashion!"

Mr. Roberts was well dressed and his manner was composed and even

dignified, so that the sympathy of the spectators was with him at once,

until one of the detectives threw back his coat and showed his badge,

when there was a murmur of wonder, and one of them asked:

"What's he done?"

Just at this point the policeman came hurrying up.

The detective in charge saw him and showed him his badge, and then said

to him:

"Collar the kid," pointing to Andy, "and fetch him along to the office

up here. Are you a passenger on the steamer?" he asked of his prisoner.

"No; but I warn you that you will find yourself in trouble if you do not

release me at once. I can easily see that there is a conspiracy among

you to give me trouble. That boy there, whose father is a convict, as I

happen to know, is at the bottom of it, I suppose. As for this child

here, he is the son of a friend, and I have brought him here to see the

departure of the steamer. If, after this explanation, you still persist

in detaining me, it shall be at your peril."

"If I've made a mistake, I'm sorry," said the detective; "but I'm doing

no more than my duty in holding you. I never saw that boy before. I

don't know what he knows of the matter."

"You're looking for Regy Thorne, aren't you?" said Andy, who had

confined himself to listening and thinking until now.

"What if we are?" replied the non-committal detective.

"So am I, that's all," answered Andy, giving his enemy a bold glance of

defiance in return for the black looks cast upon him.

They had reached the wharf office by this time, and were readily

admitted by the wharfinger and given a place at the back end.

"Oho!" said the detective, "so you are after him, too, are you? How do

you come to know anything about it?"

"I live in Lakeville, and I left there last night on purpose to come

here and look for Regy. I was after the reward."

"Do you know this gentleman?"

And he pointed to the man Andy had such good cause to know.

"He knows me," struck in Mr. Roberts, with a sneer, "and bears me no

good will for having exposed him in the village where he lives. I

protest against being held on his evidence. If I am to undergo this

humiliation, send for a carriage immediately and have me taken to

headquarters, so that I may send for this child's parents and for some

of my friends. The charge against me I do not understand yet, excepting

that it has something absurd to do with this little boy."

If Andy had been allowed to speak at once in answer to the question of

the detective, he would have betrayed a great deal of the knowledge he

had of the man, and would have given out a sudden light that had come

to him as he stood there looking at him and listening. But with

consideration came wisdom, or, at the least, caution, and he replied,

briefly:

"I saw him in Lakeville yesterday. He did what he could to injure me,

but I did not know that he had anything to do with this matter."

"You know the boy we are looking for?" asked the detective.

"Yes, sir."

"And you are sure this is not the one?"

Andy looked carefully at the child, who had stood in a sort of wonder at

the attention he was receiving.

"I am sure," said Andy, finally, "that this is not Regy Thorne; but he

is dressed exactly as Regy was yesterday, or the day before. I did not

see him yesterday."

"Dressed the same!" said the detective, exchanging meaning glances with

his fellow-officer. "How do you explain that?" he inquired of Andy's

enemy.

"I don't explain it," was the cool answer. "I suppose, however, that a

great many children dress alike in these days when clothing is bought

ready-made."

The detective looked at him shrewdly and turned to his companion.

"Get a carriage, Dan--that is, if this gentleman is prepared to pay

for it."

"Certainly," was the reply. "And may I ask what the charge against

me is?"

"I should suppose you might have guessed it by this time," answered the

detective, with so much less respect in his manner that it was quite

evident that he did not believe his prisoner as innocent as he would

have it appear. "The charge against you isn't made yet, but I arrested

you on suspicion of being implicated in the kidnapping of a little boy

named Reginald Thorpe Thorne, and I shall take you to headquarters on

that suspicion."

Andy was sure he saw a slight change in the man's features at the tone

in which the words were uttered, and it was plain to him that the

coincidence of the little boy in his company being dressed exactly as

Regy had been dressed, had made an impression on the detective.

The latter turned to him.

"You will have to go with us too. What is your name?"

"Andrew Fletcher."

"You will find his father's name on the register at Sing Sing," said the

man who had, as Andy believed, done so much to put it there.

Andy flashed an indignant glance at him, but paid no other attention

to him.

"Must I go with you?" he asked of the detective.

"Yes."

"Will you leave somebody here to watch the steamer, just the same?"

questioned Andy, anxiously.

"Don't worry about that, my lad. The steamer shall be watched."

"Will I be kept long?"

"I can't tell. Depends on what the inspector says."

It seemed to Andy that all his chances of earning the reward were gone;

but there was just a glimmering of hope left, and he was determined not

to part with a certain secret he had until he was certain that Regy was

found.

The secret was a small thing, and yet it might be the key to success. It

was this: Andy had made no effort to connect the two speakers he had

overheard while he was working in the onions with any one he knew, until

as he stood there in the wharf office confronted with the man who had

tried so hard to injure him, and who seemed in some singular way

connected with the kidnapping of Regy Thorne.

Then it came to him like a flash, that his was the voice he had heard

saying to the other man the words about being at the Arizona at five in

the morning.

It was certain to him then that Henry Roberts was connected with the

kidnapping, and while it was impossible for him to comprehend the

meaning of the episode in which he was an enforced actor, he had settled

it in his mind, that if Regy was to be found, it would be through this

man.

He should have told all this--his knowledge and his suspicions--to the

police when he was taken to the inspector's office and examined; but he

did not realize the importance of doing so, and his eagerness to gain

the money for his father's sake was so great that he merely answered the

questions put to him.

As for the man, whom he had come to look upon as his enemy, and who,

indeed, seemed to have transferred to the son the hatred and ill-will he

had once borne the father, it was found impossible to fix any sort of

complicity on him.

The child was easily proven to be the son of respectable parents, who

had been promised long ago by Mr. Roberts that he should go some morning

to see an ocean steamer off. The clothes had been purchased some time

before at a clothing store.

So Mr. Roberts was dismissed; but no apology was made to him, and he

demanded none. Of course, no one thought of apologizing to Andy for a

detention of four hours at police headquarters, for Mr. Roberts had not

failed to inform the inspector that Andy's father was in Sing Sing, and

it is natural for police to judge a child by his parents.

So Andy was dismissed, with a warning not to mix himself up in matters

that did not concern him. And Andy went out of the gloomy building,

feeling that there was not much justice to be had from the law.

There was his father, innocent and in prison; and here was he,

dismissed, as if he was not much better than a criminal himself. And to

be told not to mix himself up in the matter! As for that, he would not

give up his search for Regy because they told him to.