Rensselaer Republican, Volume 16, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 March 1884 — BILL SMILEY'S SCARE. [ARTICLE]

BILL SMILEY'S SCARE.

Bill Smiley was a light-figured, enterprising young man, who improved his leisure by appropriating other peoples property, whenever he got the chance. He was a jobbing carpenter by trade, but his chief occupation was that of a railway thief. The method he adopted was to travel short distances on the different suburban lines, with the object of picking up stray umbrellas, hand-bags, and other portable articles which were insufficiently guarded by their owners. He had an innocent way of rushing from a railway carriage just as the train was moving off, seizing, in his hurry and confusion, somebody else's hat-box or umbrella from the rack. On the comparatively rare occasions when his mistake was discovered before it was too late to rectify it, his profuse apologies were generally accepted with more or less credulity. But, as a rule, he managed to get clear away with his spoil, and so skilfully and cautiously did he conduct his operations, that he had never been convicted, though he was painfully conscious that the police had their eye upon him. One evening, feeling inclined for a little excitement, he took a third-class ticket at the Charing Cross Station on the District Railway, and strolled down on the platform. Keeping a sharp lookout, as he lounged about w aiting for a train to the West End, his attention was attracted by the suspicious demeanor of a tall Yankee-looking man, who seemed anxious to avoid observation, and made his way to the far end of the station. He carried a carpet-bag, which he carefully placed on the ground while he walked up and down in front of it. Bill remarked that when anyone ohanced to approach, the man mounted guard over the carpet-bag in a very resolute manner. He tried the experiment himself, and felt convinced that the contents of the bag must lie valuable. As the result of deliberate observation, he came to the conclusion that the mysterious stranger was not easy in his mind about having the bag in his possession, from which it was not difficult to surmise that he had not come by it lawfully. When these reflections were crofc&mgd3iß’»-.m«wlv a train -earner r into the station, and in the midst of the confusion which ensued, he saw the stranger take a step forward and accost a passing guard. A few words were exchanged between them, during which Bill yielded to a sudden impulse which prompted him to seize hold of the stranger’s bag and make off with it. Before there was a chance of his delinquency being discovered, Bill had leapt into the train, which was already beginning to move. He felt a little bit dismayed at what he had done, for he was accustomed to act with much more circumspection. The chances were that '<£ie stranger would immediately communicate his loss to the railway officials, who would at once telegraph down the line. This uncomfortable prospect caused Bill to break jnto a cold prespiration, for familiarity with the danger of being, appreheuded for robbery had not bred contempt for the ordeal. But by degrees he began to breathe more freely as he recollected the stranger’s evident reticence. If, as Bill suspected, the man had reasons to conceal his identity, he might prefer to put up with his loss rather than create a disturbance. But still Bill did not feel at all comfortable, and he hastened to stow the bag underneath the seat, so that it might not attract the attention of the guard in ,pase he was warned to look out for it. While he was thus occupied the passenger who was seated opposite to him observed facetiously: “That ain't dynamite, is it, mate?” “No,” replied Bill, with a grin, though he was secretly vexed at his movements having been noticed. “It’s the coat I’m going to wear to-night when I have supper with the Prince of Wales and the rest of the Royal family.” A But, strange to say r the facetious remark ofliis fellow passenger made an uncomfortable impression upon Bill* Smiley, by suggesting to the mind a very dis-

quieting suspicion. He had hitherth assumed that the bog contained valuables of some kind op other; but on that point of course, he had no actual knowledge. Now he came to think of it, it was possible that the contents of the bag were very different from what he had bargained for. This view of the question assumed an ominous signiiiance when he recollected the demeanor of the stranger and his outlandish appearance. Bill was familiar, like every one else, with the reeeitt Fenian outrages. Suppose the stranger belonged to the dastardly gang who went about causing deatli and desolation by means of infernal machines! Bill could noFEelp - shifting uneasily in his seat when he thought of the bag reposing snugly underneath him. It was very easy to scoff at the notion of its being tire instrument of a diabolical outrage. For reason or other, he found it impossible to dismiss the suspicion from his mind. His fellow passengers’ aimless remark seemed to have acted upon him like a revelation, and, in spite of himself, his suspicions began growing to a sort of dreadful foreboding. He now recollected that when lie lifted the bag lie heard a strange rattle inside it, and the sound was repeated when lie put it under the seat. Trifling as this circumstance was, it helped to increase his uneasiness. Whether his adventure had flurried his nerve, or his state of health rendered him liable to morbid fears, it is certain that he soon became firmly convinced that the prize for which he had risked his liberty was an infernal machine which might blow him to atoms at any moment. The facetious fellow-passenger, remarking Bill’s pertubatiou, which plainly showed itself in his pale face, good-naturedly asked if he was ill, and wanted to put the window down. This friendly interference caused Bill to collect his scattered wits, and to reflect seriously wliat he had better do. His impulse was to seize the bag and hurl it into the darkness. But he was restrained from doing this partly from fear of the consequences, and partly from a lingering hope that his booty might be really valuable after all. If an explosion resulted from the bag being dropped into the tunnel, he would he immediately apprehended as the author of the outrage. On the other hand, some fiendish machinery might be at work inside the bag at that very moment, which rendered his hesitation almost suicidal. This last reflection brought on a sort of frenzied desperation which impelled him to take immediate action. He felt he could not sit still another moment and risk being blown up, even on the chance of his booty proving valuable. He resolved to get out at the next station, and leave the bag to it 3 fate. After all, he whispered to himself, it was more than probable that even if the contents of the bag turned out to be inocuous, they would not compensate him for the risk the possession of the bag would involve. Bill did not stop to reflect that his last argument was rather of the “sour grapes” order, nor did it occur to him that he was perhaps imperilling the lives of his fellow-passengers by leaving the bag behind him. His only anxiety was to get away from it, and consequently, on reaching the next station, which was Victoria, he suddenly jumped up and got out of the train; but before he had time to make good his escape, he was hailed from behind by several voices, including the guard, who came and touched him on the shoulder. “Hi! You’ve left your baggage/’ said the official, curtly. Bill turned round involuntarily, and beheld his facetious fellow-passenger standing in the doorway of the carriage he had just left, holding the fatal bag in one hand and gesticulating violently with the other. It was a trying moment, for while Bill shrank from laying a finger on the bag, he did not knovy how to avoid doing so. To repudiate all knowledge of it would at once arouse suspicion which would lead to unpleasant disclosures, inasmuch as several persons had seen in his possession. A wild idea of seeking safety in flight crossed his mind for an instant, hut on looking round lie perceived that several of the passengers it in the train, and nearly all the people on the platform, including the porters and guards, were staring at him. The publicity was toa.mueiffar-IlilL..iimilcyiay: v modesty;aud he hastened to put an end to the scene by his property. He walked up to the railway carriage, and received the bag from his late fellow passengers, who remarked: “Toung man, if it hadn’t been for me you would have had to dine at Marlborough House in your second-best suit, which would have been a pity.” Bill thought this was the most ghastly joke he had ever heard in his life; but he did not say so. In fact he was too agitated to speak at all, for directly the hag was put into his hands ho again heard the ominous rattle inside it. He thought he should have dropped it, so frightened was he by the sound. But all the while lie was conscious that a good many people were looking at him, w hich xyas a new source of danger, for, as we know, he had . the strongest reason for not -obtruding himself too much upon the public gaze. He therefore made his wav as quickly as possible through the crowd and up the stair-case. Once in the street lie imagined he would have no dificulty in disposing of the bag. Meanwhile, how - ever, every time he moved, the rattling souud inside it sent a thrill through his nerves, and he almost gave himself up for lost. So cruel was his suspense that an explosion would have been almost a relief, if it had left him in a condition to realize his sensations. At length lie reached the streets, hut under the first lamp post stood a policeman, who eyed him very suspiciously as he approached. Perhaps he knew feill by sight, or guessed from some subtile indicaitons that the bag was not in its proper ownership. Bill would have handed over the bag with his most fervent blessing jf that would have satisfied the official; but, of course, it would have been sheer folly to do so. The very nature of the contents of the bag might get him into serious difficulties. There was nothing for it but to assume an air of bravado, and swagger past a

though he had a perfectly easy conscience This lie succeeded in doing to his own satisfaction, but unfortunately the constable still seemed to have liis doubts about him. When Bill glanced over his shoulder he perceived? that the officer was strolling leisurely after him, apparently for the purpose of keeping him in vigilance was especially embarrassing, for it compelled him to avoid any appearance of has£e, and prevented him from carrying out his design of despositing his burden on the first convenient doorstep.' • Half dead with sheer fright, and in a fever of suppressed excitement, Bill made his wav in the direction of Victoria street, holding the bag with the utmost tenderess, yet longing to drop it and take to his heels. On turning round shortly, however, he preceived that the policeman was still steadily following in his wake. Probably the truth was that the officer was only pursuing his beat, and had forgotten Bill long ago. But unfortunately this soothing reflection did not occur to Bill at the moment, and in his desperation he availed himself of an expedient which suddenly presented itself. The street door of a house happened to be open just as he was passing, and a maid servant came out on the door-step and looked up and down the street. Befofl she had preceived him, Bill had coolh placed the bag in her hands, and was preparing to hurry away. “Hi!” exclaimed the girl. “What is this?” “For you master,” answered Bill,over his shoulder. “I ain’t got no master. Hi! Stop!” cried the girl, raising her voice as he vanished. “I say, mate, somebody’s a calling you!” said an officious errand boy, as Bill plunged across the road. “Hi! Stop there! You’re wanted!” cried another passer-by, in stentorian tones. There seemed to his excited imagination, a general disposition on the part of the bystanders to impede his flight, and he hastily concluded that it would he wiser to yield to the hue and cry. He would stick to his story that he was told to leave the bag at that particular house, and probably would succeed in making the girl believe him. With this object he retraced his steps, gathered assurance as he walked; but, as ill-luck would have it, who should .stroll up at the same moment but hij vigilant enemy, the constable. “Hi! You’ve made a mistake. Thi* does not belong here. There’s no nam* on it,” said the girl as he ' approached. “What is the matter?” inquired thi constable, in a casual way. “Oh, nothing. I’ve made a mistake I suppose, as the young lady says so,” answered Bill, hastily. He mechanically held out his had for the hag as he spoke, but failed to grasp the handle, and it fell through his fingers on the ground. Bill started back in consternation, fearing his last moment had come, and simultaneously he felt himself collared by the constable. “Hello, young fellow what does this mean?” exclaimed the officer.

Bill, who had closed his eyes in an agony of apprehension, ventured to open them again, and preceived that the shock of the fall had bursted open the bag, the oontents of which were scattered upon the doorstep. To his amazement they consisted of a miscellaneous collection of silver plate and jewelry, which made quite an imposing display. The articles had evidently been unceremoniously bundled into the bag, and were no doubt, the proceeds of some recent robbery. The constable naturally concluded that it was his duty to escort Bill to the nearest police-station, to make the necessary explanations. During the journey, Bill’s reflections inclined to bitterness as Tie realized how foolishly he had abandoned a rich prize. The metalic rattle, which had startled him, had clearly been due to careless packing, and altogether he perceived he had fallen a victim to a senseless scare. Needless to say, his ingenious story of having received the bag from a nameless stranger was not considered satisfactory, and as the valuables were identified by a pawn-broker in the Strand, whose premises had been burglariously entered during the evening. Bill received the full credit of the transaction, and was rewarded accordingly. —London Truth. - .