Dan The Newsboy 27

Dan The Newsboy 27

CHAPTER XXIII.

 

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM.

 

 

In the house on Houston street, Bill wasted little regret on the absence

of his wife and child. Neither did he trouble himself to speculate as to

where she had gone.

 

"I'm better without her," he said to his confederate, Mike. "She's

always a-whinin' and complainin', Nance is. It makes me sick to see her.

If I speak a rough word to her, and it stands to reason a chap can't

always be soft-spoken, she begins to cry. I like to see a woman have

some spirit, I do."

 

"They may have too much," said Mike, shrugging his shoulders. "My missus

ain't much like yours. She don't cry, she don't. If I speak rough to

her, she ups with something and flings it at my head. That's her style."

 

"And what do you do?" asked Bill, in some curiosity.

 

"Oh, I just leave her to get over it; that's the best way."

 

"Is it?" said Bill, grimly. "Why, you're not half a man, you ain't. Do

you want to know what I'd do if a woman raised her hand against me?"

 

"Well, what would you do?"

 

"I'd beat her till she couldn't see!" said Bill, fiercely; and he looked

as if he was quite capable of it.

 

"I don't know," said Mike. "You haven't got a wife like mine."

 

"I just wish I had. I'd tame her."

 

"She ain't easy to tame."

 

"Just you take me round there some time, Mike. If she has a tantrum,

turn her over to me."

 

Mike did not answer. He was not as great a ruffian as Bill, and the

proposal did not strike him favorably.

 

His wife was certainly a virago, and though strong above the average, he

was her superior in physical strength, but something hindered him from

using it to subdue her. So he was often overmatched by the shrill-voiced

vixen, who knew very well that he would not proceed to extremities. Had

she been Bill's wife, she would have had to yield, or there would have

been bloodshed.

 

"I say, Bill," said Mike, suddenly, "how much did your wife hear of our

plans last night?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"She might."

 

"If she had she would not dare to say a word," said Bill, carelessly.

 

"You don't know. Women like to use their tongues."

 

"She knows I'd kill her if she betrayed me," said Bill. "There ain't no

use considerin' that."

 

"Well, I'm glad you think so. It would be awkward if the police got wind

of it."

 

"They won't."

 

"What do you think of that chap that's puttin' us up to it?"

 

"I don't like him, but I like his money."

 

"Five hundred dollars a-piece ain't much for the risk we run."

 

"We'll have more."

 

"How?"

 

"If we don't find more in the safe, we'll bleed him when all's over.

He'll be in our power."

 

"Well, Bill, you know best. You've got a better head nor me."

 

"And a stouter heart, man. You're always afeared of something."

 

It was true that Bill was the leading spirit. He was reckless and

desperate, while Mike was apt to count the cost, and dwell upon the

danger incurred.

 

They had been associated more than once in unlawful undertakings; and

though both had served a short term of imprisonment, they had in

general escaped scot-free.

 

It was Bill who hung round the store, and who received from Talbot at

the close of the afternoon the "combination," which was to make the

opening of the safe comparatively easy.

 

"It's a good thing to have a friend inside," he said to his confederate.

"Our money is as good as made."

 

"There'll be the janitor to dispose of," suggested Mike.

 

"Leave him to me. I'll knock him on the head."

 

"Don't kill him if you can help it, Bill. Murder has an ugly look, and

they'll look out twice as sharp for a murderer as for a burglar.

Besides, swingin' ain't pleasant."

 

"Never you mind. I'll only stun him a little. He can wake up when we're

gone, but we'll tie him so he can't give the alarm."

 

"How cool you take things, Bill!"

 

"Do I? Well, it's my business. You just leave everything to me. Obey

orders, and I'll bring you out all right."

 

So the day passed, and darkness came on. It was the calm before the

storm.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXIV.

 

OLD JACK, THE JANITOR.

 

 

The janitor, or watchman, was a sturdy old man, who in early life had

been a sailor. Some accident had made him lame, and this incapacitated

him for his early vocation. It had not, however, impaired his physical

strength, which was very great, and Mr. Rogers was glad to employ him in

his present capacity. Of his fidelity there was no question.

 

When Jack Green--Jack was the name he generally went by--heard of the

contemplated burglary, he was excited and pleased. It was becoming

rather tame to him to watch night after night without interruption, and

he fancied he should like a little scrimmage. He even wanted to

withstand the burglars single-handed.

 

"What's the use of callin' in the police?" he urged. "It's only two men,

and old Jack is a match for two."

 

"You're a strong man, Jack," said Dan, "but one of the burglars is as

strong as you are. I have seen him, you know. He's broad-shouldered and

big-chested."

 

"I ain't afraid of him," said Jack, defiantly.

 

"Perhaps not, but there's another man, too. You couldn't overcome both."

 

"I don't know about that."

 

But Jack finally yielded, though reluctantly, and three policemen were

admitted about eight o'clock, and carefully secreted, to act when

necessary. Jack pleaded for the privilege of meeting the burglars first,

and the privilege was granted, partly in order that they might be taken

in the act. Old Jack was instructed how to act, and though it was a part

not wholly in accordance with his fearless spirit, he finally agreed to

do as he was told.

 

It is not necessary to explain how the burglars effected their entrance.

This was effected about twelve o'clock, and by the light of a

dark-lantern Bill and Mike advanced cautiously toward the safe.

 

At this point old Jack made his appearance, putting on an air of alarm

and dismay.

 

"Who are you?" he demanded, in a tone which he partially succeeded in

making tremulous.

 

Bill took up the reply.

 

"Are you the janitor?" he asked.

 

"Yes, gentlemen. What do you want?"

 

"Keep quiet, and we will do you no harm. We want you to open the safe."

 

"I can't do that, gentlemen. I can't betray my trust."

 

"All right; I'll do it myself. Give us the key. What's the combination?"

 

"Hartford."

 

Bill glanced at Mike significantly. The word agreed with the information

they had received from Talbot. It served to convince them that the

janitor had indeed succumbed, and could be relied upon. There was no

suspicion in the mind of either that there was any one else in the

establishment, and they felt moderately secure from interruption.

 

"Here, old fellow, hold the lantern while we go to work. Just behave

yourself, and we'll give you ten dollars--shall we, Mike?"

 

"Yes," answered Mike; "I'm agreed."

 

"It'll look as if I was helpin' to rob my master," objected Jack.

 

"Oh, never mind about that; he won't know it. When all is over we'll tie

you up, so that it will look as if you couldn't help yourself. What do

you say?"

 

Jack felt like making a violent assault upon the man who was offering

him a bribe, but he controlled his impulse, and answered:

 

"I'm a poor man, and ten dollars will come handy."

 

"All right," said Bill, convinced by this time that Jack's fidelity was

very cheaply purchased. He plumed himself on his success in converting

the janitor into an ally, and felt that the way was clear before him.

 

"Mike, give the lantern to this old man, and come here and help me."

 

Old Jack took the lantern, laughing in his sleeve at the ease with which

he had gulled the burglars, while they kneeled before the safe.

 

It was then that, looking over his shoulder, he noticed the stealthy

approach of the policemen, accompanied by Dan. He could content himself

no longer. Setting down the lantern, he sprang upon the back of Bill as he was crouching before him, exclaiming: