Bob Chesters Grit | Page 4

those who had heard the story of the swindling of the countryman were several reporters for the great metropolitan afternoon papers, and as the burly policeman dragged the pathetic figure of the grocer's boy to the cell, one of these, a particularly clean-cut, wide-awake young fellow, exclaimed:
"Sergeant, that's the rawest thing I ever saw you do. I don't believe that boy knows anything more about those 'con' men, and probably not as much, as you do. It's a shame to lock him up, and I am going to give you the hottest roast for doing so that the paper will stand for."
"You do, and you'll never set foot inside this station while I'm in charge," retorted the officer. "If you knew as much about old Dardus as I do, you wouldn't be so keen to champion this boy. The old man has been mixed up in many a questionable transaction, and I shouldn't be surprised if it turned out that he was in league with these fellows who got that country bumpkin's seven hundred and fifty dollars, and that he put the boy up to playing the part he did."
"I don't know anything about Dardus," announced the reporter who had taken up the cudgel in Bob's behalf, "and I don't care. If he is mixed up in questionable dealings, that doesn't mean that the boy is necessarily a party to them. You can't tell me that a chap, with a face as honest as that boy has, is a criminal."
"When you've been doing police stations longer, Foster, you will learn that you can't judge criminals by their faces," snarled the sergeant, and as the other reporters heard this caustic comment, they laughed uproariously.
"Laugh if you want to," returned Bob's champion, "but I am going to prove the boy's innocence of any complicity in the swindle."
And without more ado, the reporter left the police station.
Although the representatives of the other papers had sided in with the police official who announced his belief in Bob's guilt, they nevertheless experienced a feeling of uneasiness, lest Foster might after all be right, and they were holding consultation as to the advisability of investigating the story more thoroughly, when the sergeant exclaimed:
"Don't let that fellow worry you. I've known Len Dardus for years. He's as crooked as they make them, and he never had an honest man work for him that I know of."
As the acceptance of the police official's theory would save them the necessity of investigating the story further, the reporters agreed to accept his version, and to accord with it they wrote their stories.
As Jack Foster left the police station, his anger at the system which made it impossible for a person without influence or money to obtain justice, was strong, and his heart went out to the boy, as he thought how he would feel, were he himself in his place.
"If that boy isn't honest from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, I shall be the most surprised man in New York," he said to himself, "and if my paper has any influence, I am going to get him out of his trouble."
Occupied with considering various plans for aiding Bob, Foster quickly reached the store of Len Dardus, but as he entered and caught sight of an old, gray-haired man, with a face in which craftiness was the chief characteristic, he wondered if, after all, the police sergeant could have been right.
"Is this Mr. Len Dardus?" asked Foster, walking up to the counter, behind which this repelling creature stood.
"That's my name," snapped the proprietor of the store, adding as he scrutinized his questioner closely:
"What do you want?"
"I want to know if you have a boy working for you by the name of Bob Chester."
"I have, but I won't have after to-night, I can tell you. I have no use for lazy boys, and for laziness he can't be beaten. Here I sent him to deliver some goods more than two hours ago, and he hasn't got back yet, and this is my busiest day."
So disagreeable was the tone in which the old man spoke that Foster could not refrain from remarking:
"Well, you do not seem to be overrushed with trade just now. However, that is neither here nor there. How long have you had Bob in your employ?"
"Ever since he was big enough to be of any service to me."
"He's a good boy, isn't he?"
"No, he's not. Didn't I just tell you he has been gone over two hours, delivering an order that should not have taken him more than fifteen minutes at the most? No good boy would dawdle so about his business. But why do you ask?"
Foster, however, was not ready to tell Bob's employer of his predicament until he had obtained more information