Slow and Sure: The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-MerchantAlger, Horatio, Jr.
General
Slow and Sure: The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-Merchant
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Boys -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Juvenile fiction
They never dreamed of any opposition which they would be unable to
withstand. Paul was, of course, no match for them, and as to Mrs.
Hoffman, she might go into a fit of hysterics, or might give the
alarm. It would be easy to dispose of her. Since, therefore, there was
nothing to fear, the two confederates thought it best to face the
enemy at once and put him _hors de combat._
Thereupon Marlowe opened the door at once, and, to his dismay, found
himself confronted by four stalwart policemen.
"The game's up, Jack!" he shouted. "Save yourself!"
He made a spring, eluding the grasp of the officers, and plunged
downstairs at a breakneck rate. Meanwhile Jack had snapped a pistol at
one of the policemen, but it missed fire. By a return shot he was
wounded in the shoulder, and his right arm hung useless. He broke into
a volley of execrations.
"Do you surrender?" demanded the officer, at whom he had fired.
"I must," said Jack, in a surly tone. "You're four to one."
Only one policeman had followed Marlowe downstairs. Circumstances
favored the escape of this, the more dangerous villain of the two. At
the foot of the basement stairs was a door, and on the outside was a
bolt. This Marlowe had noticed on going up, and the knowledge stood
him in good stead. He got downstairs sufficiently in advance of the
policeman to bolt the door and so obstruct his progress. This gave him
time, and time was all-important to him. While the officer was kicking
at the door and trying to burst it open, as he finally did, Marlowe
dashed through the kitchen and got out at the open window. Then he had
to scale the wall; but this was easy to do on the inside, for there
was a narrow ledge midway. In less than a minute he was on the
pavement outside, and fleeing from the danger under cover of the
darkness.
When he had got far enough to dare to slacken his pace time also came
for thought, and he was able to consider how it happened that four
officers were concealed in the house. There was but one possible
explanation.
"It was that cursed boy!" he muttered, grinding his teeth in a fierce
rage. "He betrayed us. He upset the likeliest plan I've joined in for
years. He shall suffer for it, curse it! Before I go to sleep this
night I'll give him a lesson. He won't need but one."
His soul thirsting for revenge, he hurried back to the miserable room
in which Julius was confined. He had no doubt of finding him, for he
was satisfied the boy could not get out.
Meanwhile Jack Morgan was compelled, by superior force, to surrender
at discretion. The blood was trickling from the wound in his shoulder,
and on the whole, he looked the burglar to perfection. While they were
slipping on the handcuffs the officer who had pursued Marlowe returned
and reported that he had escaped.
"Bully for him!" said Jack. "He's smart, Marlowe is!"
"So his name is Marlowe, is it?"
"You knew it before," said Jack, in a surly tone. "Who told you about
our coming here to-night?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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