Oswald Langdon Part 41

Thought that past concealments and ident.i.ty known, he now is closely trailed by New York police for the crime of Paul Lanier rouses Oswald's fighting temper to fierce heat.

There is no doubt that under such momentary emotional pressure this guiltless fugitive then would have incurred homicidal accounting by resisting to the death any attempted arrest.

Little Jack's fright at that awful stare was natural.

The scared newsboy again resumes his stereotyped yell at corner of Na.s.sau and Wall Streets.

Oswald had turned back, intending to procure a paper and learn about this reported murder. Returning to Trinity Church, he sees the boy, farther down on opposite side of Broadway, waiting pay for copy then so tenaciously gripped by that careful old financier, who had insisted upon a.s.surance of positive "rigor mortis" as condition precedent to purchase.

Oswald starts across in direct line to where these are standing. At sight of Oswald, little Jack, speedily waiving payment, cuts across Broadway, down Exchange Alley, where he jostles reveries of that bra.s.s-b.u.t.toned official, and, through official duress, pilots him back to the street. Here Michael Patrick O'Brien hastily fits Jack's description of Oswald to that dazed old man, whom he pompously arrests and valiantly escorts toward "Old Slip" police station.

At a distance of a few rods, Oswald had watched the whole proceeding, and followed, curious to learn cause of the arrest.

Sight of that "willanous-lookin' rascal" still trailing him causes Jack to sidle over Broadway, and ignoring Michael's loud command, disappear at the next crossing.

Oswald concluded that there must be some mistake about this arrest. The man's conduct had appeared void of all criminal intent. The boy seemed to shun Oswald himself, through some unaccountable aversion. Probably the policeman's zeal had caused a serious blunder. The little fellow's strange scare, with hasty, ill-advised official action, resulted in arrest and possible detention of this harmless old gentleman.

Oswald paused to reflect. Why should he concern himself, in a strange land, about such an affair? This mistake soon would be righted. For Oswald to show any interest or make inquiries, might lead to complications. What if he should be required to testify? His real name, former home, and antecedents might be asked. These must be given or he would be committed for contempt. Better not to meddle with this matter.

Oswald boards a Broadway car and gets off at Thirty-third Street. Going to his room, he ponders over the incidents of that morning absence.

Recollections of his conduct are not pleasant. The experiences were annoying, but only his own action seems blameworthy. In some way he was responsible for the circ.u.mstances leading to arrest of that feeble old man, yet made no explanation or protest. What an initiative in a new world was such selfish, unfeeling discretion! Why hope for exalted aid in his own troubles, while s.h.i.+rking opportunity to help the helpless?

Oswald left the hotel, returning to corner of Wall Street and Broadway.

Inquiring of a shop-keeper, "Where are persons arrested in this neighborhood taken by the police?" he receives the answer:

"To police precinct station No. 2."

Going there, Oswald asks about an old man, that morning arrested on Broadway, near Trinity Church.

No such prisoner had been brought to that station.

He learns there will be a session of police court that afternoon at the new Criminal Court Building. The prisoner will be there for arraignment.

Oswald takes the elevated train to Franklin Street, goes over to this building, and awaits opening of that afternoon's session.

Looking about the court-room, he sees that same innocent-appearing old chap, still expostulating with his stern captor, who soothes him with the a.s.surance:

"Yez will warble a different chune at Sing Sing!"

Oswald decides to await the court's action in this case before making any explanations. Possibly no interference may be necessary. He observes that the newsboy is not present.

For over two hours Oswald listens to the proceedings of this tribunal.

The docket is cleared of many trivial cases, and more serious matters are sent to the Special or General Sessions.

All this seems strangely offhand and informal, but he reasons that such, being of daily occurrence, sentimental scruples are in natural abeyance.

Michael Patrick O'Brien is signaled by a court official, steps proudly forward, and makes an explanation of his morning's prowess.

With skeptical smile the magistrate looks at that felonious, would-be kidnaper of a juvenile innocent, and asks for the boy.

Michael explains little Jack's sprinting performance, adding:

"It was ivident, yer honner, that the skeert child feart that owld vilyun more than the noime of the law."

Just then an officer who had been on duty near the South Ferry stepped forward and cleared the situation.

"This old man is a peaceful, respected resident, living a little way from Battery Park. He has grown sons and daughters in the city. With a score of grandchildren making bedlam at his home, it is not likely he would steal a newsboy."

The old man looked both relieved and vexed. This unexpected intervention would help him out of trouble, but he preferred not being recognized in such a role. At the station he had refused to tell his name or residence.

With a smile, the judge said:

"Turn your kidnapper loose!"

Escorted by the crestfallen Michael, he left, returning to the station for money and watch.

The last words Oswald heard from this diplomatic representative of New York man-catchers were:

"Indade yez in luck to have inflooenz! It was me own resarve that yez did not git the limits! If iver Oi nades a rickomindashun, yer noime will head the soobscripshun!"

Oswald learned that in the vicinity of this arrest, Broadway was the dividing line between police precincts Nos. 1 and 2. Having been arrested on the east side of Broadway, the old man was taken to precinct station No. 1, or "Old Slip."

Michael Patrick O'Brien was not a member of the regularly appointed city police force. He was a special, this being his initial exploit.

Oswald viewed numerous objects of interest while awaiting that letter from Sir Donald Randolph. Though aware that through uncertainty of Sir Donald's stay at any particular place there might be prolonged delay, he feels sure that when his letter is received, answer will be prompt.

Often is felt unutterable loneliness. There is nothing like immense crowds of strangers in a strange land to make individual segregation absolute.

At times only that image-something, somehow, from somewhere, reflected into recesses of his consciousness, avails against childish fretting and petulant protest. From outer or inner depths, occasionally come suggestive glimpses and a.s.suring voices.

The first Sabbath after his arrival in New York Oswald attended church.

Not since that Northfield visit had this son of a clergyman heard a sermon or prayer.

The familiar ritual of the Episcopal Church is not used, yet responsive chords vibrate to some mystic touch. The church is plain and music faulty. In pulpit utterances there is nothing strikingly trite or profound. The preacher has none of oratorical gifts. Oswald cannot account for his own interest. While those imperfectly sharped and flatted notes are sounding, he wonders if that peculiarly adjusted, harmonious Sense, quickening at scream of seagull or roar of ravenous beast, would not miss these poorly pitched tones more than Gabriel's highest or Creation's ever-echoing oratorio.

Listening to doctrinal directions as to ceremonial observances radically differing from other beliefs, Oswald thinks of the big-hearted Father, tenderly amused at zeal of His children in their many ways of seeking that coveted smile.

Despite these surroundings, the morning's moods had been so comfortable that in the evening Oswald attended services at one of New York's prominent churches, where he listened to grand music by a skillful choir, and a scholarly sermon from an able preacher.

But the emotional key ranged capriciously.

A good-looking a.s.sistant, in dictatorial tones, told the world's Helper what was expected. The choir sang well a hymn, the burden of which was expressed in oft-repeated phrase:

"Save Thy servant who trusteth in Thee."

Oswald found himself wondering if there ever were any real need for such prayer. Loss of one such trusting, faithful soul would drape the stars in blackest bunting.

After the reading of scriptural selections, a slim, consumptive-looking youth, with a sympathetic, long-range voice, exquisitely sang a solo, the most effective part of which was: