Bernard Brooks' Adventures: The Experience of a Plucky Boy

As they left Newburg he went to the rear part of the boat, and took a look at the place. He knew from the history he studied in school that Washington had at one time had his headquarters here. If there had been time he would have liked to have gone on shore. But even then he could hardly have done so with the portmanteau in charge.

He fixed his eyes carelessly upon the historic town, not expecting to see anything of special interest.

He was destined to a great surprise. There on the pier stood the young man in the ulster. He could not mistake him. Not alone the ulster, but the scanty yellowish mustache and pallid complexion betrayed him.

“He must have been left behind!” thought Bernard, “and I have his portmanteau!”

He took another look at the young man in the ulster. Certainly be betrayed no signs of having been left against his will. He stood in a careless position with a quiet and composed face, looking at the great steamer as it steadily widened the distance between him and his late companion.

Bernard was very much puzzled.

“He doesn’t seem to care. Does he remember that I have his portmanteau?” he asked himself.

He tried to attract the young man’s attention, but in vain.

“What shall I do?” he asked himself. “I don’t know the name of the man who intrusted me with the valise. I wonder if there is any name on it.”

He examined it, but found nothing to indicate the identity of the owner.

“I must ask Mr. Stackpole what to do,” thought Bernard. “It is certainly a queer position to be in. I may find it necessary to open the portmanteau, and ascertain the contents.”

He looked around the boat in search of Mr. Stackpole; but the steamer was large and quite crowded. Then there were so many divisions to it that somehow he missed seeing his mining friend. There was nothing now to interfere with his going where he liked, as there was no chance of the young man in the ulster looking for him.

At length he sat down again, and became interested in a German family where there were three or four young children. He got on quite sociable terms with a roguish looking young boy named Herman. Bernard was fond of children, and easily won their sympathy and attachment.

A small man dressed in a drab suit came upstairs and looked keenly about him. Finally his glance rested upon Bernard and his portmanteau.

He stepped up to Bernard and said, in a tone of quiet authority, “Young man, I would like to examine that portmanteau.”

Bernard looked up in surprise.

“The portmanteau is not mine,” he said. “What do you want of it?”

“Nevertheless, I must look at it.”

Bernard still hesitated.

“Come,” said the other firmly, “it won’t be wise for you to object. I am a detective.”

CHAPTER X. HATCH, DETECTIVE

Bernard was startled. He had heard of detectives and read about them, but this was the first time he had been brought face to face with one. It must be confessed that the quiet little man hardly came up to his expectations.

“You can open it if you like,” he said.

“Where is the key?”

“I haven’t got it.”

“Young man,” said the detective sternly, “I advise you not to throw any obstacles in my way. It may do you harm.”

“But,” said Bernard earnestly, “I am speaking the truth. The owner of the portmanteau no doubt has the key, but he didn’t give it to me.”

“The owner? Isn’t it yours?”

“No, sir.”

“Whose is it, then?”

“It belongs to a young man in an ulster, who handed it to me for safe keeping.”

“Where is the young man?” asked the detective searchingly.

“He got off at Newburg.”

“Leaving the portmanteau with you?”

“Yes.”

“When is he going to get it back from you?”

“I don’t know.”

“And you don’t know his name?”

“No, sir.”

“That seems a very probable story. Young man, there seems to be a good deal that you don’t know. How long have you known the young man you speak of?”

“Only since I came on board the boat.”

“I will open the satchel and then will question you further.”

He drew from his pocket a bunch of keys, and finally found one that fitted the lock. Opening the portmanteau, he drew out some bonds.

“Aha!” he said, “it is as I suspected. These are some of the bonds that were stolen from Murdock & Co. yesterday.”

“Is it possible?” asked Bernard, in amazement. “That is the robbery I was reading about in the Argus.”

“Exactly,” said the detective, with a sharp look. “Where are the rest?”

“Where are the rest? I am sure I don’t know.”

“Young man, there is no use in trying to deceive me.”

“I am not deceiving you. It is as much a mystery to me as to you.”

“Here are fifteen hundred dollars in bonds. The amount-taken was five thousand. That leaves a balance of thirty-five hundred dollars.”