Jerrys Reward | Page 7

disturbed.
"Tell him it's a serious matter," said Jerry.
Upon receiving this message Mr. Morton invited him in, and, closing the door of the little private office where he was in the habit of holding confidential interviews with his clients, he prepared to listen with a bored air.
"I'm Jerry, sir," the visitor began, "Jerry Myer. You may not know me, sir, but I know you, and your children--they call me Paddy--'Paddy on the Turnpike.'"
"Oh, it's Paddy, is it?" said Morton, remembering.
"Yes, sir; no, sir--that is, it's Jerry, sir."
"Well, Jerry, be quick; what can I do for you this afternoon?"
And Jerry began:
"You see, sir, my wife, being poorly, has to sit all the time indoors. Our little cottage is just across the street from your fine house, sir; next to the convent wall with only a bit of a passway between; and Peggy, she's my wife, overheard two men, hiding there, talking and planning as how they would rob you to-night and drug you, and there's no telling what else besides."
"How is this?" cried Mr. Morton, "I'm to be robbed and drugged, am I?" and the great lawyer looked as if he thought the man was losing his wits.
But Jerry began and told a straight tale; told it so circumstantially and truthfully that Mr. Morton, forced to believe it, was genuinely alarmed.
He immediately summoned the police, and, after a rapid consultation, a plan was formed to capture the thieves.
Jerry was to unlock the big iron gates in the convent wall, where the coal-carts were in the habit of driving in. Two of the police were to hide there, and keep an eye on the house opposite until they saw a burglar number one admitted by the traitorous nurse-girl. Then they were to return at dark and guard the front of the house, so as to cut off all retreat from that direction. Two more of the force were to hide in the Mortons' stable, and prevent escape from the rear. Mr. Morton was to remain inside to avert suspicion and to give the alarm in case any violence was attempted. He was also to practise a little stratagem to prevent any of the family from drinking the drugged coffee.
"Don't seem to do anything unusual," counselled the chief. "Go to bed, and pretend to sleep. Let them rob you, and when they come out we will take care of them and their booty."
"And what am I to do, sir?" asked Jerry.
"You have done enough, man; you go home and stay with your sick wife. She will be anxious if we expose you to danger."
You see, the officers wished to put both Mr. Morton and Jerry out of the affair, so that they could have all the glory of the capture.
CHAPTER VII.
WHERE WAS PEGGY?
When told to go home to his sick wife, Jerry obeyed. But what was his surprise, on reaching his tiny cottage, to find the shutters all closed, though it was early afternoon, and the front door held fast on the outside by two great tenpenny nails.
Where was Peggy? For the nailed door showed that she was not inside. To be sure, smoke was still coming out of the chimney, but this was accounted for when he remembered the big fire he had built before he left. Where, where was Peggy?
Perhaps one of the neighbours had been kind enough to come over and, finding her frightened and alone, had wheeled her away. But reflection told him that not one of the neighbours had ever been near her except the Outcasts, and the discovery of the plot was an absolute secret. There would be no occasion for such sudden neighbourliness.
Then Jerry's heart stood still, for he heard a sound like a muffled cry. It seemed to come from behind the convent wall; so he crept softly into the narrow passageway just as the burglars had done. Here he could see without being seen.
At first everything was so still that he thought he must have imagined the cry, but soon heard the murmuring sound of voices so low that he could not tell whether of men or women.
Jerry was frightened to death. If he alone had been in danger he would have been brave, but with his delicate wife away, he knew not where, and more conspiracies going on behind the convent wall, he found it hard to decide just what he ought to do. Conflicting feelings put him in a sort of panic, but he had sense enough left to keep absolutely still.
Before going in search of his wife he must find out what new plan the rascals were hatching, so he stood, hardly daring to breathe.
The wind was sharp and keen. It swept across the wide common, whirling up the dust, lifting the paper and rags and making them waltz. Ashes fell like