DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.22217#0060
48 THE STREET PORTER'S SON.
himself right into the grave of coal dross he had mad^, where
he sat helplessly staring at us, speechless with astonishment
and terror. We had been watching the place since nightfall
from a safe hide close by, and were as much astonished at our
capture as the cowering culprit himself.
I had made sure that none but Micky himself would have
the run of that cellar, and was intensely chagrined to find in
our clutches only a rather stupid-looking fellow, who had not
even the daring to attempt resistance or make a dash for
liberty.
" What's your name ?" I demanded, while the others rapidly
unearthed the contents of the hide.
" Patrick Stephens," he nervously answered.
" Good gracious ! you don't mean to say that you are the
porter's son ?" I exclaimed, more vexed than I cared to show.
He nodded, but then perhaps conscious that he had said too
much, he took refuge in silence. Behold the stupidity of the
man ; just when speaking would have benefited him he closed
his mouth. I asked him what he was doing there; if he had
been sent by any one, and how he accounted for some of the
bottles bearing the address of a Greenside grocer; but to all
these questions he remained perversely dumb. He had not the
slightest suspicion that Micky had betrayed him, still less that
he owed his capture to his own tongue and his anxious father.
His idea was that he had been suspected by us, watched and
followed to the place, and thus captured in the ordinary course
of events. Finding him so stubborn, I sent him to the Office
in charge of the others, leaving a man to guard the plunder till
it could be taken away in a barrow, while I went up to Micky's
house and considerably surprised him by telling him to get up
and come with me—for the cunning rascal had, for the sake of
appearances, got into bed, where he stared at me, the very
picture of virtuous innocence.
He showed every one of his yellow teeth in that devil's
grin of his when I sharply repeated the command, and then I
inwardly guessed that I should have some trouble in getting
him convicted. My hope, however, was strong in the porter's
son, who, I was convinced, was by far the more innocent of
the two, so I snapped the bracelets on Micky with apparent
zest, and he was locked up till morning, when I again visited
Pat, and found him as obdurate as before. I had still one
resource—the old porter, and to him I went as soon as I could
get away.
himself right into the grave of coal dross he had mad^, where
he sat helplessly staring at us, speechless with astonishment
and terror. We had been watching the place since nightfall
from a safe hide close by, and were as much astonished at our
capture as the cowering culprit himself.
I had made sure that none but Micky himself would have
the run of that cellar, and was intensely chagrined to find in
our clutches only a rather stupid-looking fellow, who had not
even the daring to attempt resistance or make a dash for
liberty.
" What's your name ?" I demanded, while the others rapidly
unearthed the contents of the hide.
" Patrick Stephens," he nervously answered.
" Good gracious ! you don't mean to say that you are the
porter's son ?" I exclaimed, more vexed than I cared to show.
He nodded, but then perhaps conscious that he had said too
much, he took refuge in silence. Behold the stupidity of the
man ; just when speaking would have benefited him he closed
his mouth. I asked him what he was doing there; if he had
been sent by any one, and how he accounted for some of the
bottles bearing the address of a Greenside grocer; but to all
these questions he remained perversely dumb. He had not the
slightest suspicion that Micky had betrayed him, still less that
he owed his capture to his own tongue and his anxious father.
His idea was that he had been suspected by us, watched and
followed to the place, and thus captured in the ordinary course
of events. Finding him so stubborn, I sent him to the Office
in charge of the others, leaving a man to guard the plunder till
it could be taken away in a barrow, while I went up to Micky's
house and considerably surprised him by telling him to get up
and come with me—for the cunning rascal had, for the sake of
appearances, got into bed, where he stared at me, the very
picture of virtuous innocence.
He showed every one of his yellow teeth in that devil's
grin of his when I sharply repeated the command, and then I
inwardly guessed that I should have some trouble in getting
him convicted. My hope, however, was strong in the porter's
son, who, I was convinced, was by far the more innocent of
the two, so I snapped the bracelets on Micky with apparent
zest, and he was locked up till morning, when I again visited
Pat, and found him as obdurate as before. I had still one
resource—the old porter, and to him I went as soon as I could
get away.