IN A BAD FIX, AND OUT

“Good evening, young man!”

With a start Jack turned toward the quietly opened door of the telegraph-room to discover a short, dark, heavily-bearded man, over whose eyes was pulled a soft gray hat.

“I suppose you don’t have many visitors at the station at this time of night?” said the stranger, entering.

“No; but you are quite welcome. Have a chair,” responded Jack courteously.

To the young operator’s surprise, the stranger drew the chair immediately before him, and seating himself, leaned forward secretively. “My name is Watts,” he began, in a low voice, “and I’ve come on business. For you are the lad who worked out that ‘ghost’ mystery here, and caused the capture of the freight robber, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” confirmed Jack, in further wonder.

“I thought so. I thought as much. I know a clever lad when I see one. And that was one of the cleverest bits of detective work I ever heard of,” declared Mr. Watts, with a winning smile. “If the railroad detectives had done their work as well, the whole freight-stealing gang would have been landed. As it was none of the rest were caught, were they?”

Instead of being pleased, the man’s flattery and ingratiating manner had ruffled Jack, and briefly he answered, “No, sir.”

“No. I knew that already. I was one of them myself.”

At this startling statement Jack stared. “I beg your pardon, sir?” he exclaimed.

“I was a member of that gang myself,” repeated Jack’s strange caller, again smiling broadly. “Don’t you think I look the part?” So saying, he pushed his hat back from his face.

Jack had no doubt of it. The small dark eyes were repellent with low cunning and greed. Instinctively he half turned to cast a glance toward the door. At once the smile disappeared, and the self-confessed law-breaker threw open his coat and significantly tapped the butt of a revolver. “No. You just sit still and listen,” he ordered sharply; but immediately again smiling, added, “though there needn’t be anything of this kind between two who are going to be good friends.

“Listen. What I called for was this: We want another man in the gang in place of Joe Corry that is the man you caught.

“And we decided to invite you.”

Jack fairly caught his breath. “Why, you must be joking, or ”

“Or crazy, eh? Not quite. I was never more serious in my life. Listen!” The speaker leaned forward earnestly. “After your spoiling our little ‘ghost’ game here the railroad people would never look for us starting in again at the same place. Never in the world would they? And likewise, after your causing the capture of Corry, they would never in the world suspect you of working with us. Do you see the point?

“And all you would have to do would be to keep your ears closed, and not hear any noises out in the freight-room at night.”

“And for doing that,” concluded the law-breaker, “we will give you a regular salary of $25 a month. We’ll send it by mail, or bank it for you at any bank you name, and no one will know where it comes from.

“What do you say?”

Jack drew back indignantly. “Most certainly not,” he began. Then suddenly he hesitated.

As the freight-robber had said, the authorities had been unable to obtain a single clue to the whereabouts or identity of the remainder of the freight-stealing gang. Should he accept the man’s offer, came the thought, undoubtedly, sooner or later, he would be able to bring about the capture of every one of them.

Immediately following, however, there recurred to Jack one of his mother’s warnings “that even the appearance of evil is dangerous, always, as well as wrong.”

But this would be quite different, Jack argued to himself to cause the capture of criminals. And what possible danger could there be in it? No one would believe for an instant that I would go into such a thing seriously, he told himself.

“All right, Mr. Watts,” he said aloud. “I’ll do it.”

“Good! It’s a go!” The freight-stealer spoke with satisfaction, and rising, grasped Jack’s hand. “I told you I knew a clever boy when I saw one and that means a wise one.

“Well, that’s all there is to it, excepting the money matter. Where will we send that? Here?”

Jack responded with an effort. “Yes, you may as well send it to me here.”

“All right. Look for it at the end of the month,” said Watts, proceeding to the door.

“Remember, you are dumb. That’s all. Good night.”

Jack’s sense of honor was not long in convincing him that he had made a mistake in entering into such a bargain, even with a law-breaker. A dozen times during the days that followed he would have given anything to have been able to wipe out the agreement.

Unhappily this dissatisfaction with himself was to prove but a minor result of the misstep.

Shortly after he had relieved the day operator at the station a week later he was surprised by the appearance of one of the road detectives, and with him a stranger.

“Good evening, Orr,” said the detective in a peculiar tone. “Let me make you acquainted with Sheriff Bates.”

Jack started, and glanced from one to the other. “Is there anything wrong?” he asked.

“Very slightly. Your little game is up, that’s all. Your older partner has given the thing away, and we have just found the watch in your room at the boarding-house,” announced the detective.

“Given the thing away? The watch? Why, what do you mean?” exclaimed Jack in alarm.

“Oh, come! Watts has squealed, and we found the watch hidden, just as he said, in the mattress of your bed up at the house.”

In a flash Jack saw it all. Watts’ offer had been a trap! A mere trap to get him into trouble, probably in revenge!

He sprang to his feet. “It’s not true! It’s false! Whatever it is, it’s false! I did see Watts, and he asked me to go in with them, but I only agreed so as to learn who they were, so we could capture them!”

To his utter dismay the two officers only laughed drily.

“No, no! That’s quite too thin,” declared the detective. “Read this.”

Blankly Jack took the letter, and read:

“Chief Detective,

“Middle Western R. R.

“Dear Sir: The young night operator at Midway Junction has joined the freight-stealing gang that Corry belonged to, and if you will look under the mattress in his room at the railroad boarding-house you will find a watch and chain of the lot we stole at Claxton two weeks ago. I gave it to him last Friday night. I came to Midway by the Eastfield freight, and when I saw another operator in the station office, I started up towards the boarding-house, and met Orr coming down. I mention this to show my story is all straight.

“I heard he was going to give us away as soon as he had got enough
loot himself, and claim he only went in with us to get us. That is
why I am showing him up.

“Yours truly,

“W. Watts.”

And the day operator had worked for him that Friday evening, while he was at the landlady’s daughter’s birthday party! And he had come down to the station at about the time the Eastfield night freight came in!

Jack sank back in the chair, completely crushed.

“Changed your mind, eh?” remarked the sheriff sarcastically.

Jack shook his head, but said nothing. What could he say!

“If it’s ‘false,’ as you claim, how do you explain our finding the watch in your room?” demanded the detective.

“I don’t know. Someone must have put it there.”

“Very likely. It wouldn’t have crept up stairs and got under the bed itself. And I suppose you will deny also that you saw Watts on the night of the party, despite the fact that he could not otherwise have known the unusual hour you came down to the station that night. Eh?”

“I never saw him after the night he called here,” affirmed Jack earnestly, but hopelessly.

“Well, you will have to prove it,” declared the sheriff. And to Jack’s unspeakable horror he was informed he must be taken into custody.

Needless to say, the news of Jack’s arrest, and of his early trial at Eastfield, the county seat, came as a tremendous shock to Alex, at Exeter. Of course he thoroughly disbelieved in Jack’s guilt, despite the net of circumstantial evidence which, according to the newspapers, had been woven about his friend; and morning and afternoon he read and re-read the papers, in the hope of something more favorable to Jack developing.

It was through this close reading that Alex finally came upon the discovery that was to draw him into the case himself, and to have so important a bearing on the outcome of the trial.

Early in the evening preceding the day set for the hearing, Alex, before starting work on his wire, was studying the paper as usual. For the second time he was reading the letter from the man Watts that had had such serious results for Jack.

Suddenly as he read Alex started, again read a portion of the letter, a moment thought deeply, and with a cry sprang to his feet and hastened to the chief despatcher’s desk.

“Mr. Allen,” he said excitedly, “in this letter Watts says he reached Midway Junction that Friday night by the Eastfield freight, and that he met and gave Jack Orr the watch after that.

“Now I remember distinctly that it was Jack reported the arrival of the Eastfield freight that night. She was twenty minutes late, and I recall asking if she was in sight yet, and his reply that she had just whistled.

“That means Jack was back at the station before the time at which Watts claims he met him!”

“Ward, why in the world didn’t you think of this before?” the chief exclaimed. “It is the most important piece of evidence your friend could have.

“Call Eastfield right away on the long-distance, and get Orr’s lawyer, and tell him.”

Alex hastily did so, and a few minutes after he heard the lawyer’s voice from the distant town, and quickly told his story.

To his surprise the lawyer for a moment remained silent, then said slowly, “Of course I would like to believe that. In fact it would make an invaluable piece of evidence practically conclusive.

“But really now, how could you be sure it was Orr you heard? What possible difference can there be between the ticks made over a telegraph wire by one distant operator, and those made by another?”

“Why, all the difference in the world, sometimes, sir,” declared Jack. “Any operator would tell you that. I would recognize Jack Orr’s sending anywhere I heard it.”

But the lawyer at the other end was still incredulous. “Well,” he said at last, “if the jury was made up of telegraph operators, perhaps your claim might go. As it is, however ”

“Say, I have it!” cried Alex. “Let me give a demonstration right there in court of my ability to identify the sending of as many different operators as we can get together, including Jack Orr. Could you arrange that?”

The lawyer was interested at last. “But could you really do it? Are you really that sure?”

“I am absolutely positive,” declared Alex.

“Then you come right ahead,” was the decisive response. “Come down here by the first train in the morning, and bring two or three other operators, and the necessary instruments.

“And if you can prove what you claim, I’ll guarantee that your friend is clear.”

“Hurrah! Then he is clear!” cried Alex joyously.

Accompanied by three other operators from the Exeter office, and with a set of telegraph instruments and a convenient dry-battery, Alex reached the court-room at Eastfield at 10 o’clock the following morning.

The trial, which had attracted a crowd that packed the building to its capacity, already had neared its conclusion. Jack’s demeanor, and that of his father, who was beside him, quickly informed Alex that matters were looking serious for his chum. Confidently he waited, however, and at last the court clerk arose and called his name.

The preliminary questions were passed, and Jack’s attorney at once proceeded. “Now Alex,” he said, “this letter here, which has been put in evidence, declares that the writer, Watts, went to Midway Junction by the Eastfield freight on the Friday night in question, and that he then met the defendant coming down to the station from his boarding-house, and gave him the watch.

“Have you anything to say to this?”

“Yes, sir. Jack Orr was at the telegraph instruments in the Midway Junction station several minutes before the Eastfield freight reached there that night. It was he who reported her coming over the wire to me at Exeter.”

The lawyer for the prosecution looked up with surprise, then smiled in amusement, while Jack and his father started, and exchanged glances of new hope.

“You are positive it was the defendant you heard over the wire?” asked Mr. Brown.

“Positive, sir.”

“If necessary could you give a demonstration here in court of your ability to identify the defendant’s transmitting on a telegraph instrument?”

“Yes, sir, I could.”

When the lawyer for the other side arose to cross-examine Alex he smiled somewhat derisively.

“You are a friend of the defendant, are you not?” he asked significantly.

“Yes, sir; and so know his sending over the wire unusually well,” responded Alex, cleverly turning the point of the question.

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders, and put the next question with sarcasm. “And, now, do you mean to stand there and tell this court that the clicks the purely mechanical clicks made over a telegraph wire by an operator miles away will sound different to the clicks made by any other operator?”

“I do,” said Alex quietly. “And I am ready to demonstrate it.”

“Oh, you are, are you? And how, pray?”

“Three other operators from the Exeter office are in the court-room, with a set of instruments and a battery. Let them place the instruments on the table down there; blindfold me, then have them and Jack Orr by turns write something on the key. I’ll identify every one of them before he sends a half-dozen words.”

A wave of surprise, then smiles of incredulity passed over the crowded room.

“Very well,” agreed the lawyer readily. “Set up the instruments.”

The three Exeter operators came forward, and the prosecutor, producing a handkerchief, himself stepped into the witness-box and proceeded to bind Alex’s eyes. That done, to make doubly sure, he turned Alex face to the wall.

When the lawyer returned to the counsel-table the proceedings were momentarily interrupted by a whispered consultation with his assistant, at the end of which, while the spectators wondered, the latter hastened from the room.

Curiosity as to the junior counsel’s mission was quickly forgotten, however, as the prosecutor then called Jack Orr to the table beside the telegraph instruments, and stood Jack and the three Exeter operators in a row before him.

“Now,” said he in a low voice, “each of you, as I touch you, step quietly to the key, and send these words: ‘Do you know who this is?’”

A moment the lawyer paused, while spectators, judge and jury waited in breathless silence, then reaching out, he lightly touched one of the Exeter men.

“Do you know who this is?” clicked the sounder.

All eyes turned toward Alex. Without a moment’s hesitation he answered, “Johnson.”

The operator nodded, and a flutter passed over the court-room.

“Huh! A guess,” declared the prosecutor audibly, and still smiling confidently, he touched another of the Exeter operators. The instruments repeated the question.

“Bradley,” said Alex promptly.

The flutter of surprise was repeated. Quickly the prosecutor made as though to touch the third Exeter man, then abruptly again touched Bradley.

“Bradley again,” said Alex.

A ripple like applause swept over the crowded room. With tightening lips the prosecutor turned again toward the third Exeter operator. At the moment the door opened, and he paused as his assistant reappeared, with him two young ladies.

The newcomers were operators from the local commercial telegraph office.

At once Jack’s lawyer, recognizing the prosecution’s purpose, was on his feet in protest. For of course the young women were utter strangers to the blindfolded boy in the witness-stand.

The judge promptly motioned him down, however, and with a smile of anticipated triumph the prosecutor greeted the two local operators, and whispering his instructions to one of them, led her to the telegraph key.

In a silence that was painful the sounder once more rattled out its inquiry, “Do you know who this is?”

Alex started, hesitated, made as though to speak, again paused, then suddenly cried, “That’s a stranger!

“And it’s awfully like the light, jumpy sending of a girl!”

A spontaneous cheer broke from the excited spectators. “Silence! Silence!” shouted the judge.

It was not necessary to repeat the order, for the disconcerted prosecutor, whirling about, had grasped Jack Orr by the arm and thrust him toward the key.

The final test had come.

Jack himself realized the significance of the moment, and for an instant hesitated, trembling. Then determinedly gripping himself he reached forward, grasped the key, and sent,

“Do you know ”

“Orr! Orr! That’s he!” cried Alex.

With a shout the entire court-room was on its feet, women waving their handkerchiefs and men cheering wildly again and again. And equally disregarding the etiquette of the court, Alex tore the handkerchief from his eyes, and leaping down beside Jack, fell to shaking his hand as though he would never let go, while Jack vainly sought to express himself, and to keep back the tears that came to his eyes.

Ten minutes later, with order restored, Jack was formally declared “Not guilty,” and with Alex on one side and his father on the other, left the room, free and vindicated.

“Well, good-by, my lad,” said Mr. Orr, as he and Alex that evening dropped Jack off their returning train at Midway Junction. “And I suppose it is unnecessary to warn you against understandings with such men as Watts in the future, no matter for what purpose.”

“Hardly, Dad,” responded Jack earnestly. “No more agreements of any kind for me unless they are on the levellest kind of level, no matter who they are with, or for what purpose.”