Chapter 5 THAD BRINGS SOME STARTLING NEWS

"Hugh, have you heard the news this Sunday morning?"

With these abrupt words Thad Stevens burst upon his chum who was feeding some long-eared, handsome Belgian hares, which of late he had taken to keeping, as it had become quite a fad among the Scranton boys.

Hugh turned to look at his friend. It was plain to be seen that Thad was laboring under considerable excitement. His face was flushed as if with running, while his eyes glowed much more than was their wont under ordinary conditions.

"Why, no, I haven't heard a thing except the church bells ringing, and people going past our house early this morning for mass. You know we live on a street that is largely used by those who have to get out shortly after daybreak Sunday mornings in winter. What's happened during the night? There couldn't have been a fire, because I'd have heard the bell, and been out with the rest of the boys."

"Oh! you couldn't guess it in a dozen trials, Hugh. It was a regular down-right burglary that was pulled off, even if the stuff taken consisted of candy, cigarettes, and the like, as well as some sporting goods and several revolvers."

Hugh looked interested.

"From the way you talk, Thad, I should say it might have been Paul Kramer's Emporium that had suffered; because he's really the only man in Scranton who keeps sporting goods."

"A good guess, Hugh, because Paul is the chap. They got in through a back door, and everybody says it was a pretty slick job, too," Thad went on to say.

"Let's see what you're telling me," Hugh remarked thoughtfully. "If they took candy and cigarettes and sporting goods it would look to me pretty much as if the robbery was the work of unprincipled boys, rather than men."

Thad stared hard at his companion.

"Well, you are a wonder, Hugh, at seeing through things!" he hastily declared. "Why, that was what Chief Wambold said right away. And, Hugh, he followed it with the declaration that he guessed he could put his finger on the guilty fellows without much trouble. You know who he had in mind, of course, Hugh?"

"It goes without saying that one of them would be Nick Lang," came the quick reply, while a small cloud crept over Hugh's face.

"Sure thing," continued Thad, shrugging his shoulders. "When a fellow has built up a nice reputation for himself along those lines he can't blame folks for suspecting him of every single tricky piece of work that is pulled off in town. In the past Nick has been ring-leader in lots of lawless doings, and the Chief was dead certain he'd get him with the goods on this time, as he called it."

"Perhaps he may, but I hope that for once Chief Wambold will find himself mistaken," said Hugh soberly, and then adding: "How did you happen to hear about it, Thad?"

"Oh! I chanced to be out early this morning on an errand for mother, taking some things over to that sick colored wash-lady we have do our weekly work, and passing through the public square on my way back I saw a crowd around Kramer's place. Of course I stayed on the job, and heard all sorts of things said. But, Hugh, they've got one of the thieves, all right."

"Who was he, Leon Disney?" asked the other, quickly, as he suddenly remembered the actions of the boy in question when he twice approached Nick Lang on the ice during that intermission for rest in the hockey match; and when he, Hugh, fancied Leon was entreating his former pal to do something which Nick refused to entertain.

"Just who it is," said the wondering Thad. "The Chief went to his house and insisted on making a thorough search. He's a shrewd old duck, is Chief Wambold, for all his faults. He seemed to guess just where a boy like Leon would hide the spoils of a raid like this. Under the floor of the old barn on the Disney place he found about half the stuff that was taken, candy by the wholesale, cigarettes, two revolvers, and even a pair of choice hockey skates."

"About half you are saying, Thad; then it looks to me as if there must have been just two of the thieves, for they had divided things equally between them."

"What a lawyer you would make, Hugh, or a detective either, for that matter," the other boy exclaimed.

"What did Leon say when they found the stolen stuff hidden under his barn?" further questioned Hugh, deigning to smile at his chum's compliment, however.

"Nary a thing would he say, except to declare himself innocent, and that he himself had heard a noise out there last night, and guessed that some enemy of his must have set up a mean game on him, wanting to get him nabbed. But say, Hugh, the Chief pulled seven packets of cigarettes out of his coat-pocket, every one stamped with the same maker's name; and nobody in Scranton handles that brand but Paul Kramer."

"It looks pretty bad for Leon, I should say," remarked Hugh.

"Oh! he'll get a free pass to the Reform School this time, as sure as anything!" asserted Thad; "and a good riddance of bad rubbish, most people in Scranton will be saying. Of course they'll be sorry for his mother, who is a respectable woman, and has had heaps of trouble with that good-for-nothing son of hers."

"But about the other thief, Thad?"

"Well, Chief Wambold said there wasn't any doubt in the wide world but that it must be Nick Lang, and I guess everybody around agreed with him, Hugh."

"Did he go up and arrest Nick?" asked Hugh, deeply interested.

"Just what he did, and I was along with the crowd," Thad told him. "Well, sir, you never saw such a cool customer. Nick smiled as brazenly in the face of the Chief as anything you ever saw. They searched, and searched, but never a scrap of the stolen goods could they run across."

"Well, what then, Thad?"

"Why, of course the Chief declared that Nick had only been some smarter than his pal in hiding the spoils where no one could find the stuff. He told Nick he would have to arrest him on general suspicion because Leon and he were such great pals, and Leon was already as good as convicted."

"Yes, and what did Nick say to that?" asked Hugh.

"Would you believe it, Hugh, he up and told the Chief that he could prove an alibi. You see, the robbery was done before eleven o'clock last night, because the clock that was knocked down when the thieves were rummaging around in the store had been broken, and it stopped at just a quarter to eleven. Even Chief Wambold agreed on that point."

"Yes, and it was cleverly settled, I must say, Thad. But how about Nick's alibi; would the Chief accept his mother's word, knowing that the chances were Nick had slipped out of the house by a window when she supposed him to be sound asleep in his bed?"

"Oh! Nick had much better proof than that, Hugh. He demanded that Chief Wambold call up old Deacon Joel Winslow, who, you know, is a man much respected around Scranton, and keeps the blacksmith shop out on the road to Allandale where it crosses the one leading to Keyport. Yes, sir, and when the officer did so from Headquarters the blacksmith weather prophet plainly told him Nick had been working alongside himself from seven until a quarter-after-eleven the night before!"

Hugh laughed. It really seemed as though a load had been suddenly taken off his chest. He had begun to fear lest his experiment might have already met with its Waterloo.

"I'm pleased to hear you say that, Thad, I certainly am," he remarked, "And did our wonderful Chief conclude to hold Nick after that?"

"He wanted to, Hugh,-I could see that plain enough; but Nick demanded that he be set at liberty. Say, you know I'm not much of an admirer of Nick Lang, but he did bluff the tall Chief of Police good and hard. He actually told him he'd sue him for damage to his reputation if he dared to hold him when there wasn't a particle of evidence connecting him with the robbery, except that once upon a time he used to go with Leon Disney, as lots of other fellows did, too."

"Then he was let go free, I take it, from what you say, Thad?"

"Oh! well, the police head said he knew very well Nick was in the racket, even if he had covered his footsteps so cunningly; and even fooled Deacon Winslow. He told Nick he'd parole him temporarily, but that he might still consider himself as under arrest."

"That must be a joke," chuckled Hugh. "It was silly on the part of

Chief Wambold. But then, of course, Nick has made him a whole lot of

trouble in the past. So only one fellow has been taken, and he

refuses to tell on his pal, does he?"

"Absolutely, though the Chief says he means to put Leon through the third degree, and force a confession from him. What does he mean by that, Hugh? I've seen it mentioned in the papers lots of times."

"I believe in cities like New York some of the detectives act roughly with a suspected prisoner, and scare them into saying things. But a clever head of police once on a time had a smarter way of getting a confession than by rough-house tactics."

"Yes? Tell me about it then," pleaded Thad.

"When he had reason to believe several members of a gang were implicated in a robbery, or other crime, he would have the weakest arrested, and brought into his presence. Then, while the man sat there nervously waiting for the dreaded ordeal of an interview and looking out of a window, he would see one of his fellow gangsters taken past in charge of several plain clothes men. Of course that would give him a shock, and when the Chief turned and told him the other fellow had already promised to make a confession in order to save himself, the prisoner nearly always broke down, and told everything to get in ahead."

"Well, the last I saw of Chief Wambold," continued Thad, "he was starting out to interview Deacon Winslow. You see, he believes the old blacksmith must have meant ten-fifteen instead of eleven. That would give Nick plenty of time to get back to town, so as to take part in the robbery of the Emporium."

Hugh rubbed his hands together after the manner of one whose mind was completely satisfied.

"I fancy he'll have all his trouble for his pains," he went on to say calmly.

"Meaning that the deacon will stick to his statement, and so clear

Nick of complicity in the crime-is that it, Hugh?"

"We all know Deacon Winslow to be a reliable man," Hugh told him. "He is accustomed to dealing in figures, and not inclined to make a mistake about the time. I'd wager now he has something positive to settle the matter of Nick's staying there, working at the forge, and learning how to be a blacksmith, until exactly fifteen minutes after eleven."

"Well," said Thad, scratching his head as though still confused, "things look pretty queer to me, and I hardly know what to believe about that Nick Lang."