Steve and the Steam Engine Part 17

Mr. Ackerman cleared his throat; it was plain that the simple eloquence of the request had touched him deeply.

"With your permission, officer, I am going to withdraw my charge," he said, with a tremor in his voice. "You are to let both these persons go scot free. You, my good woman, meant well but acted foolishly. As for the boy, Donovan, I will a.s.sume the responsibility for him."

"You are willing to stand behind him, Mr. Ackerman?"

"I am."

The detective turned toward the boy who had risen and was fumbling awkwardly with the bra.s.s b.u.t.tons adorning his uniform.

"You hear, d.i.c.k Martin, what the gentleman says," began he impressively.

"He believes you are a good boy, and as you have handed back the valuables in your possession he is going to take a chance on you and let you go."

A wave of crimson swept over the face of the boy and for the first time the tension in the youthful countenance relaxed.

"But Mr. Ackerman," Donovan continued, "expects you are going to behave yourself in future and never do such a thing again."

"I am going to see your father, d.i.c.k," broke in Mr. Ackerman's kindly voice, "and talk with him and--"

"I haven't any father," declared the lad.

"Your mother then."

"I've no mother either."

"Who do you live with?"

"Mr. Aronson."

"Is he a relative?"

"Oh, no, sir! I haven't any relatives. There's n.o.body belongin' to me.

Mr. Aronson is the tailor downstairs where I sleep. When I ain't working here I do errands for him and he lets me have a cot in a room with four other boys--newsboys, bell hops and the like. We pay two dollars between us for the room and sometimes when I carry a lot of boxes round for Mr.

Aronson he gives me my breakfast."

"n.o.body else is responsible for you?"

"Nop!" returned the boy with emphasis. "No, sir, I mean."

"I'll attend to all this, Donovan," murmured Mr. Ackerman in an undertone to the detective. "The lad shall not remain there. I don't know yet just what I'll do with him but I will plan something." Then addressing the lad, he continued, "In the meantime, d.i.c.k, you are to consider me your relative. Later I shall hunt you up and we will get better acquainted. Be a good boy, for I expect some day you are going to make me very proud of you."

"What!"

In sheer astonishment the boy regarded his benefactor.

There was something very appealing in the little sharp-featured face which had now lost much of its pallor and softened into friendliness.

"Why shouldn't you make me proud of you?" inquired Mr. Ackerman softly.

"You can, you know, if you do what is right."

"I'm goin' to try to, sir," burst out d.i.c.k with earnestness. "I'm goin'

to try to with all my might."

"That is all any one can ask of you, sonny," replied the steamboat magnate. "Come, shake hands. Remember, I believe in you, and shall trust you to live up to your word. The officer is going to let you go and none of us is going to mention what has happened. I will fix up everything for you and Mrs. Nolan so you can both go back to your work without interference. Now bid Mr. Tolman and his son good-by and run along.

Before I leave the hotel I will look you up and you can give me Mr.

Aronson's address."

Master Richard Martin needed no second bidding. Eager to be gone he awkwardly put out his hand, first to Mr. Tolman and then to Steve; and afterward, with a shy smile to the detective and the policeman and a boyish duck of his head, he shot into the hall and they heard him rushing pell-mell down the corridor. Mrs. Nolan, however, was more self-controlled. She curtsied elaborately to each of the men and called down upon their heads every blessing that the sky could rain, and it was only after her breath had become quite exhausted that she consented to retire from the room and in company with the policeman and the detective proceeded downstairs in the elevator.

"Well, Tolman," began the New Yorker when they were at last alone, "you see my heart was my best pilot. I put faith in it and it led me aright.

Unfortunately it is now too late for the matinee but may I not renew my invitation and ask you and your son to dine with me this evening and conclude our eventful day by going to the theater afterward?"

Mr. Tolman hesitated.

"Don't refuse," pleaded the steamboat man. "Our acquaintance has, I confess, had an unfortunate beginning; but a bad beginning makes for a good ending, they say, and I feel sure the old adage will prove true in our case. Accept my invitation and let us try it out."

"You are very kind," murmured Mr. Tolman vaguely, "but I--"

"Help me to persuade your father to be generous, Stephen," interposed Mr. Ackerman. "We must not let a miserable affair like this break up what might, perhaps, have been a delightful friendship."

"I don't need any further persuading, Ackerman," Mr. Tolman spoke quickly. "I accept your invitation with great pleasure."

"That's right!" cried Mr. Ackerman, with evident gratification.

"Suppose you come to my house at seven o'clock if that will be convenient for you. We will have a pleasant evening together and forget lost pocketbooks, detectives and policemen."

Taking out a small card, he hurriedly scrawled an address upon it.

"I keep a sort of bachelor's hall out on Riverside Drive," explained he, with a shade of wistfulness. "My butler looks out for me and sees that I do not starve to death. He and his son are really excellent housekeepers and make me very comfortable." He slipped into his overcoat. "At seven, then," he repeated. "Don't fail me for I should be much disappointed.

Good-by!" and with a wave of his hand he departed, leaving Stephen and his father to themselves.

CHAPTER X

AN EVENING OF ADVENTURE

That evening Steve and his father took a taxi-cab and drove to the number Mr. Ackerman had given them. It proved to be an imposing apartment house of cream brick overlooking the Hudson; and the view from the fifth floor, where their host lived, was such a fascinating one that the boy could hardly be persuaded to leave the bay window that fronted the shifting panorama before him.

"So you like my moving picture, do you, Steve?" inquired the New Yorker merrily.

"It is great! If I lived here I shouldn't do a bit of studying," was the lad's answer.

"You think the influence of the place bad, then."

"It would be for me," Stephen chuckled.

Both Mr. Tolman and Mr. Ackerman laughed.