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from the apartment hall-way just a little before eleven o'clock. Looking in,
he had seen a man bent over the lock of the Hammett door, and behind him a
woman, looking up and down the hall-way nervously. It had taken the man
several minutes to breach the lock (this was imparted with scorn, and the
aside that the lad telling this part of the story had an uncle who could have
done it in half the time). They had been inside the apartment just a few
minutes, and come out with the woman slipping something into her hand-bag.
They had pulled the door to behind them, and left in a hurry.
Master Garcia and seven of his boys had been arrayed in wait. They followed as
far as Market Street and saw the two turn west; Garcia had then divided his
troops: two with him to summon help, the others to follow their quarry.
The lad paused in his story to look at Holmes with wrinkled brow. "I shoulda
asked do you got any two-bits with you?"
"Yes, I have some quarter-dollars. Why?"
"It's just that I told my guys that, if them two make too many turns, we're
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gonna run out of boys, and they should ask someone who looks like they can use
two bits to stand on the corner and let us know which way they've gone. So you
might have to hand quarters out to a few bums."
We all three looked at him with respect, and he blushed for a moment before
throwing back his head with a cocky expression. "Only makes sense," he
asserted.
"How very true, " Holmes said. "And when we're through with this, you might
talk to Mr Hammett here about local employment opportunities for promising
lads."
The taxi drove through the Market Street traffic for nearly a mile before the
lad came upright on his seat. "There's Mick! Stop, up there, " he told the
driver. The man cast a look at Holmes, who nodded. The motor pulled over and
arms dragged another boy inside. This one was quite small and so excited he
could not get his words to come out in any kind of order until Ricky grabbed
his arm and shook him hard. The child gulped in gratitude and loosed a great
torrent of words: "They went down Market and they got on a street-car and Rudy
said we couldn't get on too they'd see us but then Kurt he said he could hang
on the back he did it all the time but I don't think he did I think it was his
brother who's bigger than him but anyway he ran over to the street-car and
grabbed on and Rudy went with him and then Vince tried but you know Vince he's
too fat so he fell off and I couldn't reach the thing it was too tall so Vince
and Markie and me got left behind and Rudy shouted that we should wait until
you came along and tell you where we'd gone but Vince and Markie said they
could run as fast as the street-car and that I should wait until you came
along and so even though I can run faster than Vince I did what they said I
waited. "
The full stop at the end of that sentence came so abruptly, we all took a
moment to recover, then everyone in the motor drew a simultaneous breath.
"Good lad, " Holmes said, and handed him a bright quarter-dollar. That shut
the child up for good I never heard another syllable from him.
We picked up the boy named Vince a short distance down Market, his plump face
red as he stumped along with more determination than speed. He piled into the
motor as well (which suddenly began to seem rather warm and crowded) and
pantingly informed Ricky that Markie had run ahead but he'd thought he should
go more slowly to lead us all when we came. Ricky gave a snort but the rest of
us made soothing noises of understanding and appreciation, and Holmes handed
Vince a silver quarter with great ceremony.
Just then some oddity in the city landscape caught the corner of my eye, and
when I glanced out of the back window, I noticed a thin and ragged boy
clinging to the back of a street-car that was headed in the opposite
direction. "Is this a generally accepted means of travel for young males?" I
asked with curiosity. Several of the others in the motor followed my gaze, and
young Rick Garcia gave a great shout.
"Rudy! That's Rudy, " he repeated, but Holmes was already in action, exhorting
the taxi driver to turn about and follow the trolley. The man grumbled,
declared that if he got caught by a cop that it wasn't him that was going to
pay the fine, and pulled over to the middle of the wide street to wait for a
gap between the on-coming cars. Then just as he began to pull forward, all
five of our younger companions began to shout furiously. "There's Kurt!" and
"Wait, don't leave Kurt" contradicted by "No, go on, he'll be okay" and "Wait,
here comes Markie too, c'mon, Markie, run faster!"
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At that, Holmes told the driver to pull over to the side and stop for a
moment. He dug two more silver coins from his apparently endless supply and
whipped a five-dollar note out of his bill-fold, handing both coins and bill
to the leader. "Mr Garcia, I shall have to ask you to leave us here for the
time being. I should appreciate it if you would present yourself to the St
Francis desk at nine o'clock tomorrow morning for a final accounting."
The boy, naturally enough, protested, but Holmes was already propelling small
and angry bodies out of the motor, assisted willingly by Hammett, and he
overrode the protests. "Mr Garcia, if you wish to hear the details of what has
taken place all the details, even those in which you were not involved you
will appear at the hotel in the morning. If you continue protesting now, I
shall give you nothing but your money and send you on your way."
It has always amazed me, how Holmes the bachelor understood so thoroughly the
workings of the childhood mind. Here yet again he hit on exactly the thing
that got the boys out of the motor without another word of protest. The
leader's eyes merely narrowed with consideration for a moment, then he climbed
out of the motor. As we drove away from the five standing lads and two more
approaching at a run, we heard Ricky's voice call, "If you don't give over,
you'll be really sorry."
Holmes brushed himself off and gave me a grin. "I shall, too."
We quickly caught the trolley up, and Holmes had the driver pull just close
enough for him to give a sharp whistle, then drop away again. The dangling boy
looked around, spotted Holmes, and instantly let go his precarious hold to
stand in the midst of the traffic waiting for us to catch him up. Hammett
kicked the door open and the boy scrambled in, without the taxi actually
coming to a halt. We continued after the trolley while Holmes interrogated his
final Irregular.
"You're Rudy, yes? We just dropped your friends down the street. May I take it
that the two people you've been following are in this street-car?"
We'd have been well and truly wrecked if the lad said he'd just decided to
ride the street-car on a whim, I reflected, but he was nodding. "They got off
down near Sixteenth, went into a hotel and walked right out again about two
minutes later with a coupla bags, and got onto another trolley going the other
way. I left Kurt there to tell Ricky."
"He found us, " Holmes reassured him, handing over the shiniest coin yet, this
one an entire silver dollar. "We'll let you out here, lad. And you tell your
friends that they should bring their appetites with them in the morning. I'll [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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