CHAPTER V
AT THE JAIL
The rest of the evening following such an eventful day passedpleasantly. Joe had usually been in the habit of strolling down town fora chat with his friends at the hotel. But he knew that the whole townwould be buzzing with the exciting adventure of the afternoon and that,if he made his appearance, he would be dragged into the center of thelimelight. He shrank from the hero worship likely to be called forth anddecided to remain in the home circle.
But he could not wholly cheat the village people of a chance to showtheir enthusiasm, and all that evening friends came trooping in, torehearse the story of his exploit, so that it was very late when hefinally was able to get to bed.
He rose early the following morning and after a hearty breakfast tookhis hat and left the house. At almost every step he had to stop and talkto some one who hailed him, so that it was considerably later when hestood in the lobby of the Park Hotel.
"By jiminy! that was a crack shot you made yesterday, Joe," said SolCramer, the proprietor.
"It had to be," laughed Joe. "If I hadn't winged him that first time, Iwouldn't have had another chance. He'd have got suspicious and thrownthe baby down on the tracks."
"Was that what you call your 'bean ball,' Joe?" drawled Ed Wilson.
"I suppose you might call it that," answered Joe with a grin. "Itcertainly 'beaned' him all right. I've had to send them in pretty closesometimes to keep some fresh batter from crowding the plate, but thisis the first time I ever hit a man in the head. By the way, how is hegetting on today? It isn't the poor fellow's fault that he's crazy andI'm awfully sorry that I had to hit him at all. I hope he'll soon be aswell as ever."
"Oh, I don't think you need to worry about it," returned Sol. "DoctorAllison has been down to the jail to see him, and though there's a lumpon the man's head as big as an egg, the doc says it's nothing serious."
"How long has he been staying here?" asked Joe.
"Nearly a week," replied Sol. "It would be a week tonight if he'dstayed."
"And hadn't you noticed anything that might make you think he was offhis head?" queried Joe.
"Not the least thing," was the answer. "He was as quiet and well behavedas any man could be. He kept a good deal to himself and didn't seem toknow any one in town, so that I wondered sometimes just what his ideawas in coming here. But that's none of my business as long as he payshis bills, and I didn't have any complaint on that score. Paid me a weekin advance as soon as he had planked down his grip and registered. Paidit from a big roll of bills, too, so that it probably wasn't money worrythat made him go mad. I thought he might be one of them literary fellowsthat come to a quiet town sometimes to write a book."
"And you're sure his name is Talham Tabbs?"
"That's the name he registered by," answered Sol, at the same timeturning the hotel register around so that the group could plainly seethe name written in a firm business hand. "Then too, his laundry has theinitials T. T., and the same letters are on his valise. I guess that'shis handle all right."
"You ought to know his name, Joe," jibed Tom Davis. "You're both membersof the same secret society."
There was a roar of laughter as they recalled the ridiculous signs thatJoe had made and the gravity with which the madman had imitated them.
"I'd hate to have Joe initiate me into his lodge," said Sam Berry. "Ionly have one head and I need it in my business."
"Same here," chuckled Ed Wilson. "I believe in the strenuous life, butJoe's methods can hardly be called ladylike. Almost rough, you mightsay."
"It was too bad," said Joe, half remorsefully. "I hated to do it, but itseemed the only way, and it was a matter of life and death."
"You needn't have any qualms of conscience about it," said Sol. "It wasthe finest thing that has been done in this old town for many a moon,and it'll be a long time before people get through talking about it."
"If you hadn't done it, there would probably be crepe on the Bilkinsdoorbell this morning," added Sam. "I tell you it made my blood run coldwhen he swung the baby in the air. I thought it was a goner sure."
"'All's well that ends well,'" quoted Joe, lightly. "I think I'll rundown to the jail and take a look at this Talham Tabbs. I may get someinkling of what he had in mind when he kidnapped the baby."
"You have a swell chance of getting anything from that chap," said EdWilson, skeptically. "But perhaps it won't do any harm to try."
Joe said goodby to his companions and sauntered down to the jail, whichwas located on the southeast edge of the town. A few minutes' walkbrought him within sight of it.
It was not an impressive structure. In the little town of Riversidecrimes were few and far between. The chief function of the jail wasto take charge of wandering hoboes and to house some participant ina brawl such as took place from time to time between the laborers atthe Harvester works. Once in a great while, something more importantwas charged against some reluctant dweller in the jail, and on suchoccasions there was more than ordinary stir within its sleepy precincts.
It was a small two-story building. The upper part was set apart asliving quarters for the warden and his family. On the lower floor, therewere a number of cells, and a large room in which the occupants of thejail were allowed to gather at stated periods for meals and recreation.In addition, there was a room set aside as a hospital room or infirmaryfor prisoners who might be ill or disabled, and it was in this that Joeexpected to find the victim of his shot the day before.
He was admitted by Hank Bailey, the warden, who shook his hand warmlyand repeated the congratulations that Joe was getting tired of hearing.
Hank was a stout, rubicund person and quite advanced in years. Hehad gained his position not because of any special fitness, but as ahenchman of the political party that at that time ruled the county.He was slow and easy going and would have been utterly out of place ina larger jail, where strict supervision and discipline were demanded.But in this sleepy little jail he fitted in well enough, and, as hewas good-natured and a general favorite in town, there were no specialcomplaints against his administration.
"Well, Hank," said Joe, after greetings had been exchanged. "I supposeyou know pretty well whom I've come to see."
"Sure thing," replied Hank. "You want to see the lunatic that youbrought off his perch yesterday in the lumber yard. He's in the hospitalroom now by the doctor's orders. Come along and I'll let you take asquint at him."
"How does he seem to be today?" asked Joe, as he followed his conductorthrough the corridor on the lower floor of the jail.
"Oh, he's doing well enough," responded Hank. "Doc Allison was here thismorning and said he'd be as good as ever in a day or two. Said thoughthat if that snowball had hit him a fraction of an inch nearer the leftear his skull would have been fractured sure."
"Does he seem to be in his right mind?" asked Joe, as the warden fittedthe key into the lock.
"Sometimes he does," replied his guide, "and then again he doesn't.The doc kind o' sounded him as to his doin's yesterday, but he eitherdidn't recollect or he was shammin', one or the other. But you can seehim now and judge for yourself."
The jailer passed in and Joe followed.
On a bed in the further corner of the room, Talham Tabbs was lying. Itwas the first time that Joe had had a chance to examine his face closelyand he embraced the opportunity.
It was by no means an unpleasant face nor did it bear any marks ofcriminality. It was long and lean, but the features were good. If Joehad passed him on the street and noticed him at all, he would have sethim down as a keen business or professional man. The only thing atall queer or abnormal were his eyes, that, as he turned them on hisvisitors, glowed beneath his eyebrows like twin coals.
His glance passed indifferently over the warden, but when he caughtsight of Joe there was a flash of recognition. And what surprised Joewas that the recognition was a friendly one. There was no glint ofmalice or revenge. It was clear that he did not know that it was Joe'shand that had brought about his downf
all, and again Joe had that halfremorseful twinge that bothered him before, although his common sensetold him he had acted rightly.
This feeling was intensified when Tabbs favored him with a solemn winkand then raised his left hand and twiddled the fingers as Joe had doneyesterday. Joe was stumped for a minute, but quickly recovered himselfand returned the signal. Then Tabbs went through the same flummerywith his right hand, then with both hands, and would have concludedthe ritual by turning his back to Joe, if the attempt to do so had notrevealed that he was strapped to the bed.
Hank Bailey all this time had looked on with growing bewilderment.
"What does all this monkey business mean?" he demanded, helplessly.
Joe nudged him with his foot.
"It's all right," he affirmed. "Mr. Tabbs is a member of the same lodgewith me, and because we are brothers he's going to tell me all aboutwhat happened yesterday."
A doubtful look came into Tabbs' face.
"How can I with him here," he asked, pointing to the warden. "He isn't amember, and he might give away our secrets if we talked them over beforehim."
"That's right," agreed Joe with another nudge at Hank. "Please stepoutside, Mr. Warden, while Brother Tabbs and I confer."
Hank, although still bewildered, complied.
"Now," said Joe, turning to Tabbs and speaking with impressiveness, "Iconjure you by the great Te-To-Tum to answer me truly."
Tabbs' face became as grave as an owl's. It was evident that he took achildish delight in this solemn nonsense.
"Speak, brother," he said, "and I will answer truly."
"It is well," said Joe. "Do you know a man named Bilkins?"
Tabbs' face was blank.
"No," he answered. "Never heard the name before."
"Why did you take his baby yesterday?" continued Joe.
"Was that his baby?" the prisoner asked. "I just took it for a lark. Thebaby needed exercise and so did I."
Joe thought to himself that what the baby needed might well be left tothe judgment of its mother, but he continued:
"Do you know a man named Varley?"
A cunning look came into the prisoner's eyes and he no longer lookedstraight at Joe, as he answered evasively:
"I've known several people by that name in my time."
"This man was Reginald Varley, and he lives at Goldsboro, NorthCarolina," Joe went on, relentlessly.
"No," snapped Tabbs. "Never met him."
Joe felt sure that the man was not telling the truth, but he wasgetting so restless and angry under his questioning that Joe felt it wasuseless just then to pursue the matter further.
"All right, brother," he concluded, as he rose to go. "I'll see youlater."
"Perhaps," said Tabbs, and it was not till afterwards that Joe sensedthe meaning that lay behind that final word of Talham Tabbs.
He rejoined Hank Bailey, who was waiting in the corridor.
"Well," that worthy greeted him, "did you get anything out of him?"
"Not so you could notice it," replied Joe. "There isn't much nourishmentin talking to a madman."
"By the way, Hank," he went on, as they walked toward the streetentrance, "there's no chance of any one breaking out of here, I suppose?"
"Leave that to me," answered Hank, swelling with a sense of hisimportance. "Nobody ain't ever broke out of this jail yet, and bycrikey, they won't, as long as I'm the keeper!"