The Store Boy

CHAPTER XXVII THE TELLTALE TICKET

Con­rad still had the pawn­bro­ker's tick­et which he had re­ceived in re­turn for the opera glass­es, and did not quite know what to do with it. He didn't in­tend to re­deem the glass, and if found in his pos­ses­sion, it would bring him un­der sus­pi­cion. Now that a de­tec­tive had the mat­ter in charge, it oc­curred to him that it would be well to have the tick­et found in Ben's room.

The two had rooms up­on the same floor, and it would, there­fore, be easy to slip in­to Ben's cham­ber and leave it some­where about.

Now, it chanced that Su­san, the cham­ber­maid, was about, though Con­rad did not see her, when he car­ried out his pur­pose, and, in­sti­gat­ed by cu­rios­ity, she peeped through the half-​open door, and saw him place the tick­et on the bu­reau.

Won­der­ing what it was, she en­tered the room af­ter Con­rad had va­cat­ed it, and found the tick­et Con­rad had placed there.

Su­san knew what a pawn­bro­ker's tick­et was, and read it with cu­rios­ity.

She saw that it was made out to Ben Bar­clay.

“How, then, did Mas­ter Con­rad get hold of it?” she said to her­self. “It's my be­lief he's try­ing to get Mas­ter Ben in­to trou­ble. It's a shame, it is, for Mas­ter Ben is a gen­tle­man and he isn't.”

Be­tween the two boys, Su­san fa­vored Ben, who al­ways treat­ed her with con­sid­er­ation, while Con­rad liked to or­der about the ser­vants, as if they were made to wait up­on him.

Af­ter Con­rad had dis­posed of the pawn tick­et, he said care­less­ly to his moth­er:

“Moth­er, if I were you, I'd look in­to Ben's room. You might find the opera glass there.”

“I don't think he'd leave it there. He would pawn it.”

“Then you might find the tick­et some­where about.”

Up­on this hint, Mrs. Hill went up to Ben's room, and there, up­on the bu­reau, she nat­ural­ly found the tick­et.

“I thought so,” she said to her­self. “Con­rad was right. The boy is a thief. Here is the tick­et made out to him by name. Well, well, he's brazen enough, in all con­science. Now shall I show it to Cousin Hamil­ton at once, or shall I wait un­til the de­tec­tive has re­port­ed?”

On the whole, Mrs. Hill de­cid­ed to wait. She could de­lay with safe­ty, for she had proof which would ut­ter­ly crush and con­found the hat­ed in­ter­lop­er.

Mean­while, the de­tec­tive pur­sued his in­ves­ti­ga­tions. Of course, he vis­it­ed Simp­son's, and there he learned that the opera glass, which he read­ily rec­og­nized from the de­scrip­tion, had been brought there a few days pre­vi­ous.

“Who brought it?” he asked.

“A boy of about six­teen.”

“Did he give his name?”

The books were re­ferred to, and the at­ten­dant an­swered in the af­fir­ma­tive.

“He gave the name of Ben Bar­clay,” he an­swered.

“Do you think that was his re­al name?” asked the de­tec­tive.

“That de­pends on whether he had a right to pawn it.”

“Sup­pose he stole it?”

“Then, prob­ably, he did not give his re­al name.”

“So I think,” said Mr. Lynx qui­et­ly.

“Do you know if there is a boy by that name?”

“There is; but I doubt if he knows any­thing about the mat­ter.”

“I will call again, per­haps to-​mor­row,” he added. “I must re­port to my prin­ci­pal what I have dis­cov­ered.”

From Simp­son's he went straight to Mrs. Hamil­ton, who had as yet re­ceived no com­mu­ni­ca­tion from the house­keep­er.

“Well, Mr. Lynx,” she asked, with in­ter­est, “have you heard any­thing of the glass?”

“I have seen it,” was the qui­et re­ply.

“Where?”

“At a well-​known pawn­shop on the Bow­ery.”

“Did you learn who left it?” asked Mrs. Hamil­ton ea­ger­ly.

“A boy--about six­teen years of age--who gave the name of Ben Bar­clay.”

“I can't be­lieve Ben would be guilty of such a dis­grace­ful act!” ejac­ulat­ed Mrs. Hamil­ton, deeply moved.