The Young Bridge-Tender Part 27

The constable and Uriah took a lamp, and the search began. Every nook and corner of the cottage was gone over, but nothing that looked like what had been taken--money and registered letters--came to light.

"I hope you are satisfied now," said Mrs. Nelson, in a tone of half-triumph. "Ralph hasn't a grain of dishonesty in him."

"Let's take a look outside," suggested Uriah. "Maybe he knew better than to bring it in the house."

So outside he and the constable went. They looked around under the stoops and around the woodshed.

"Not a thing," murmured Jack Rodman.

Uriah did not reply to this. His sharp eyes had caught sight of a leather bag, half-concealed under a clump of raspberry bushes. He ran forward and dragged the bag out.

"Look here!" he cried. "What did I tell you?"

"A leather valise, true enough!" exclaimed the constable. "But it may be one belonging to the family."

"Would they leave a good valise out under them bushes?" growled Uriah. "Not much!"

"I shouldn't think they would."

"And, besides, this looks like the one Benjamin Hooker kept in the post office for his trips to the Chambersburgh Bank."

The constable began to examine the bag. Soon he ran across a tag inside, upon which was printed in ink:

Property of Benjamin Hooker, Postmaster, Westville.

"That settles it," he said, in a harder tone than he had before employed.

"I guess it looks black enough against Ralph Nelson now," said Uriah.

"So it does."

"I positively know nothing of that bag," cried Ralph, when confronted with it. "I never saw it before."

"You will have to go with me," returned Jack Rodman.

"Do you place me under arrest?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Ralph.

"Hardly that. But you must go with me to the post office. There we will see what Mr. Hooker has to say. It is his affair--and the Government's."

"Oh, Ralph!" cried Mrs. Nelson, in alarm. "They think you are really one of the robbers!"

"I know it, mother. But I am not, and I do not see how they can hold me."

"You won't go along?" asked Uriah, quickly.

"Oh, yes, I will. I am not afraid of the consequences."

It was now drawing toward daylight, and after completing his hastily-made toilet, Ralph accompanied the constable and the others to the Westville post office.

Here they found all in confusion. The safe doors had been blown open with gunpowder, and the explosion had damaged the entire office. The plaster from the ceiling had come down, and this lay over a ma.s.s of letters, papers and wrecked furniture.

In the midst of the ma.s.s was the postmaster and his clerk, Henry Bott, doing what they could to straighten matters out and ascertain the exact loss sustained.

Squire Paget was also present. He seemed particularly anxious about the registered letters which had been ready for the morning mail, and groaned aloud when he heard that all of them had disappeared.

"Not one of them left?" he asked, of Henry Bott. "You don't see anything of the one I addressed to New York?"

"No, squire; all have disappeared together," replied the clerk.

"Too bad! That letter was worth a small fortune to me."

"What did it contain?" asked the clerk.

The squire did not answer, but walked away in deep perplexity.

There was an additional excitement when Ralph was brought in by Jack Rodman. Soon it became whispered about that the boy was one of the robbers.

"Who is it?" questioned several.

"Easy to see that. It's Ralph Nelson."

"Say, is he really guilty, do you think?"

"That's what Uriah d.i.c.ks says."

"Rather guess Uriah is mistaken."

"And that's what I think. Uriah is down on the boy."

"That's so. Ralph is honest enough."

"Eddy Harmes saw Ralph around the post office."

"Maybe he is mistaken."

"Eddy is willing to swear to it."

"Yes, I saw him," said Eddy Harmes, a teamster.

"Eddy was driving over to the Eastport market for garden truck."

"Randolph Newell saw him, too," put in another in the crowd. "Saw him not over five minutes after the explosion."

And so the talk ran on, while Ralph was taken inside of the building, there to be examined by Postmaster Hooker and Squire Paget.

The squire grew pale when he heard what Jack Rodman had to say.

"Didn't you find any--any registered letters?" he asked of the constable.