Fame and Fortune Part 33

"Yes. He is a good boy."

"The case seems a clear one. The prisoner is discharged from custody.

Arrest Micky Maguire on the same charge as early as possible."

The next case was called, and d.i.c.k was free.

Mr. Murdock came forward, and took him by the hand, which he shook heartily.

"I congratulate you on your acquittal," he said.

"I feel a little better than I did," said d.i.c.k. "Tim, you're a good fellow," he said, clasping Tim's hand. "I wouldn't have got off, if it hadn't been for you."

"I ought to do that much for you, d.i.c.k, when you've been so kind to me."

"How are you getting along now, Tim?"

"Pretty well. Mother's got so she can work and we're doin' well. When she was sick, it was pretty hard."

"Here's something to help you along," said d.i.c.k, and he drew a bill from his pocket.

"Five dollars!" said Tim, in surprise.

"You can buy some new clothes, Tim."

"I ought not to take so much as that, d.i.c.k."

"It's all right, Tim. There's some more where that comes from."

They were in Centre Street by this time. Fosd.i.c.k came up hurriedly.

"Have you got off, d.i.c.k?" he asked, eagerly.

"Yes, Fosd.i.c.k. There's no chance of my being entertained at the expense of the city."

"I didn't expect the trial was coming off so early. Tell me all about it."

"What did they say at the house at my being away?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Miss Peyton inquired particularly after you. I said, as you directed me, that you were detained by important business."

"What did she say then?"

d.i.c.k was so particular in his inquiries, fearing lest any suspicion should have been formed of the real cause which had detained him. There was no reason for it; but it had always been a matter of pride with him in his vagabond days that he had never been arrested on any charge, and it troubled him that he should even have been suspected of theft.

"You are fishing for compliments, d.i.c.k," said Fosd.i.c.k.

"How do you make that out?"

"You want to know what Miss Peyton said. I believe you are getting interested in her."

"When I am, just send me to a lunatic asylum," said d.i.c.k.

"I am afraid you are getting sarcastic, d.i.c.k. However, not to keep you in suspense, Miss Peyton said that you were one of the wittiest young men she knew of, and you were quite the life of the house."

"I suppose I ought to blush," said d.i.c.k; "but I'm a prey to hunger just now, and it's too much of an effort."

"I'll excuse you this time," said Fosd.i.c.k. "As to the hunger, that's easily remedied. We shall get home to breakfast, and be in good time too."

Fosd.i.c.k was right. They were the first to seat themselves at the table.

Mr. Clifton came in directly afterwards. d.i.c.k felt a momentary embarra.s.sment.

"What would he say," thought our hero, "if he knew where I pa.s.sed the night?"

"Good-morning, Hunter," said Clifton. "You didn't favor us with your presence at dinner last evening."

"No," said d.i.c.k. "I was absent on very important business."

"Dining with your friend, the mayor, probably?"

"Well, no, not exactly," said d.i.c.k, "but I had some business with the city government."

"It seems to me that you're getting to be quite an important character."

"Thank you," said d.i.c.k. "I am glad to find that genius is sometimes appreciated."

Here Miss Peyton entered.

"Welcome, Mr. Hunter," she said. "We missed you last evening."

"I hope it didn't affect your appet.i.te much," said d.i.c.k.

"But it did. I appeal to Mr. Fosd.i.c.k whether I ate anything to speak of."

"I thought Miss Peyton had a better appet.i.te than usual," said Fosd.i.c.k.

"That is too bad of you, Mr. Fosd.i.c.k," said Miss Peyton. "I'm sure I didn't eat more than my canary bird."

"Just the way it affected me," said d.i.c.k. "It always improves my appet.i.te to see you eat, Miss Peyton."

Miss Peyton looked as if she hardly knew whether to understand this remark as complimentary or otherwise.

That evening, at the dinner-table, Clifton drew a copy of the "Express"

from his pocket, and said, "By Jove, Hunter, here's a capital joke on you! I'll read it. 'A boy, named Richard Hunter, was charged with picking a pocket on Chatham Street; but it appearing that the theft was committed by another party, he was released from custody.'"

d.i.c.k's heart beat a little quicker while this was being read, but he maintained his self-possession.

"Of course," said he, "that was the important business that detained me.

But I hope you won't mention it, for the sake of my family."