A Call in the Night

A CALL IN THE NIGHT By D. T. Praigg It is well for us that the thorns, which prick us so sorely to-day, do not mar the beauty of the rose, which in anticipation blooms for us tomorrow, else many of us would be given over to despair, whereas we are sustained by an enlivening hope. Thanks to a cheerful dis- position, I looked for and found a silver lining to every cloud that lowered over my path in the darkest hour of my life. The knowledge that I was innocent, though the circumstances were strongly against me, gave me comfort and courage throughout the trying ordeal; and though I could not anticipate the end from the beginning, one followed so close upon the other that it seemed a natural, if not a logical sequence, and justified the hope that budded into solace and later bloomed into a rare content. It was a sultry night in early spring. I had gone to my room, after attending a picture show, and had thrown up the window to get a breath of outside air. When I turned on the light to prepare for sleep, I saw a piece of paper on the table near the head of my bed. I picked it up and read: "Center 1345." I recognized it at once as a telephone number and assumed that I was expected' to ask for it. I did not know how it came to be on my table. I did not recognize it as one I had ever called. But I assumed it had been placed there by the janitor of the building or by one of the roomers on the same floor. I looked at my watch. It was 10:30 o'clock. I hesitated a moment, on account of the lateness of the hour, but took the receiver from the hook and asked for the num- ber. It was quite a while before a voice at the other end of the line responded to my "hello." "Is this Center 1-3-4-5?" I asked. "Yes. What do you want?" The voice, I thought, showed irritation. "I find this number on my table and I assume I was expected to call it," I replied. "Who wishes to speak with me?" "This is a private residence. No one here left such a call, sir." The receiver went into the hook at the other end of the line with a bang. Evidently a mistake had been made. It was not a matter of much concern and I dismissed it from my mind without further thought. As I turned away I mechanically rolled the piece of paper into a little ball between my fingers and tossed it out of the window. The incident did not recur to me again till noon the next day. While eating my lunch I was attracted by the headlines in an early edition of an afternoon paper. The home of Mr. James Parentree had been entered sometime in the night by a burglar. Miss Julia Parentree,

326 IMPROVEMENT ERA presumably waking while the burglar was in her room, had been struck on the head and was found unconscious when her mother entered in the morning. She was still unconscious and her recovery was re- garded as doubtful. The burglar had escaped with Julia's jewelry and a large sum of money. The only possible clew was a telephone call between 10 and 11 o'clock in which the speaker said he had been asked to call the Parentree number. I turned to a telephone directory. The Parentree number was Center 1345. My first thought was to notify the police that it was I who had called the Parentree home and explain why I had done so. But it in- stantly occurred to me that I had no evidence, except my unsupported word, and I ought to learn who had placed the call on my table before going to the officers with my story. I hurried to the rooming-house and began an investigation, for I believed the police would try to trace the call and, in all probability, would locate it. The janitor knew nothing about it. No one on the second floor had heard my telephone ring or had received a request for me to call such a number. I was at my wits' end. I hurried out and bought a later edition of the afternoon paper. The story there given went more into detail. The Parentrees had been away for several weeks and had gotten home late in the afternoon. Miss Parantree had evidently struggled with the burglar, for chairs were overturned and her bed was disarranged. A blank book, dropped by the burglar, was found near the door. It contained nothing, how- ever, that would give a clew to the owner. Miss Parentree was still unconscious. The physicians gave little encouragement. She had probably been struck with the butt of a pistol and it was thought the skull was fractured. I thought over the strangeness of the affair and the possible awk- ward predicament in which I might be placed as I went back to the rooming-house. Two men were standing on the sidewalk as I entered. I had hardly reached my room and closed the door when I heard foot- steps in the hall outside. My heart began to pound. The door opened and the two men entered. One stood with his back against the closed door while the other advanced and confronted me. He looked at me earnestly — savagely, I may say — and my eyes fell under his penetrating gaze. "You called Center 1-3-4-5 at 10:33 last night," he said. It was a statement of fact as though he was positive of it. "Y-e-s," I hesitatingly admitted. "And you said a call for that number had been left for you?" "Y-e-s." "Do you know Mr. Parentree or his daughter?" "No, I never heard of them before to-day." The next question came like a bullet out of a gun:

A CALL IN THE NIGHT 327 "Are you in the habit of calling people you don't know, late at night?" Up to that moment I had tried to get a grip on myself. But I could not think consecutively and every question took me by surprise. My hesitation, my whole manner, I was sure, confirmed my guilt in the minds of the two officers. But I rose at last to the demands ®f the situation and explained the circumstances attending the call. I added that I had tried to learn who had placed it on my table but had failed to do so. I realized as I went along that not one word I uttered was believed. The next question convinced me of it. "You lock your door when you go away in the morning, don't you?" "Not always," I said. "Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't." "Why did you try to find out if the number you called was the Parentree home?" Here again I blundered. Had I answered candidly I would have said I read the account of the burglary in an early edition and. knowing I had called a number at the hour indicated, I wanted to see if it were the Parentree home. But I knew I would be asked why I wanted to prepare for a defense before a charge had been made against me. Un- fortunately, I tried to dodge. "Because," I said, "I wanted to know who had placed the call on my table. When I discovered that no one at the number wanted me, I concluded to investigate." "But you had read the account of the burglary before you in- quired of the janitor and the roomers, hadn't you?" "No, I hadn't. Yes, of course I had. I had read a short account of it in an early edition of the afternoon paper." I had stumbled and was sadly conscious of it. "And the first edition said someone had called between 10 and II o'clock, didn't it?" "Yes, I believe it did, but it didn't give the Parentree number." "And you looked at the directory to see what the number is?" "Yes," I admitted. "Why did you think you might have called the Parentree num- ber?" "Why, the coincidence between my calling and it being the Paren- tree home." He laughed in my face. The man leaning against the door an- swered him with a low chuckle. I moved uneasily on my chair. "But you didn't know that till you linked it up, did you?" He smiled ironically. "Of course, not. How could I have known it?" "You found the call on that table over there?" He pointed to the table at the head of the bed. "Yes, when I came in from the show."

328 IMPROVEMENT ERA He leaned over me, his face very close to mine. "Where is that paper?" he asked. "I don't know. I rolled it up and threw it out of the window." He went to the window and looked out. He did not speak as he passed out at the door. I heard him walking around on the cement passageway under my window. He returned in a few moments and spoke to the officer at the door in a low tone as he entered. He had the piece of paper in his hand. The guard at the door took a blank book from his pocket and handed it to him. He opened it and fitted the piece to a torn page in the book. I looked at the table. Not till then did I know it wast my blank book which had been found in the room of Julia Parentree. I trembled violently in spite of heroic ef- forts to appear calm. "Is that your trunk?" he asked, pointing to a wardrobe trunk in the corner. "Yes," I replied. I took my keys from my pocket and gave them to him. He smiled as he realized I had anticipated his demand for them. The examination of the contents of my trunk was very thorough. Every piece of clothing, every collar, tie, shirt and handkerchief was carefully looked at. Nothing was found to justify the search. I thought his voice showed disappointment when he said: "We'll have to take you to the police station. If you'll go quietly, I'll not put the nippers on you." I could only say I was in their power and it was useless to protest. Twenty persons were around the auto when I went to it, walking be- tween the two officers. Another crowd was present at the police station and newspaper cameras were leveled against me as I was as- sisted from the police machine. I felt the humiliation but, conscious of innocence, I believed I would eventually be freed from the charge. After I was searched and registered I asked that the office manager be called to the station. He came without delay and I talked to him through the iron bars of my cell. I protested innocence and he heard me patiently but without comment. Somehow, I felt that he accepted what I said with a few grains of salt. He finally said he would ar- range for bail, but a new difficulty was presented when he consulted the chief. He declined to accept a bond till the result of Miss Paren- tree's injuries were definitely known. If she should die, he said, it would not be a bailable case. .... I had been the agent of an insurance company in a small town and six months before my arrest I had come to the city to< take a clerical position in the home office. I was an entire stranger, knowing no one except the office employees and the few persons I had met at the rooming-house. The manager had given evidence of appreciation of my services, but I felt that his willingness to go on my bond was due to my lack of friends rather than a firm conviction that I was innocent.

A CALL IN THE NIGHT 3 29 Ten days passed. Miss Parentree recovered consciousness, re- lapsed, rallied again and, it was believed, would recover. Every even- ing I was taken to the detectives' room and put through a grilling process. But I had but one story to tell and adhered to it. I came gradually to believe that the police had abandoned the theory that I had committed the robbery and assault on Miss Parentee, but their questions indicated that they did believe I was a confederate. My greatest humilation came when I was taken to the Bertillion room to have my measurements and finger-prints and photograph taken. I protested that I was not a robber and that the whole proceedings was an outrage on an honest man. It was the first exhibition of temper that I had given and the chief was impressed by my earnestness. "If the charge against you is not sustained," he said, "these rec- ords will be destroyed. We don't put the pictures of innocent men in the rogues' gallery and you have nothing to fear if your innocence is finally established." In the meantime, William Page, a young attorney, had visited me several times and had undertaken my defense. I told him I had noth- ing with which to pay a big attorney fee, as I was working on a salary and had saved nothing. He replied that the fee could be arranged at some future time, and said that the most important thing was to lay out our line of defense. He told me my past had been thoroughly investigated and the police were by no means certain that I was the burglar. On the morning of the 13 th day of my incarceration I was taken from my cell to the police auto. The chief and two detectives and Mr. Page were seated in the machine. A drive of a few minutes brought us to an elegant home in one of the aristrocratic suburbs. As we entered the driveway the officers watched me closely. Nothing in my manner indicated that I had even seen the place before. Their countenances showed disappointment. Mr. Page indicated pleasure with an encouraging smile. With an officer on either side I was led up a broad stairway to a room on the second floor. A young lady was seated in a large upholstered chair. The officers stopped me within three feet of her. I looked at her and smiled. How on earth, I wondered, could I be suspected of striking such a girl. Her eyes were on me. She showed no agitation. In an instant she turned her eyes from me and said: "No, this is not the man who struck me." "Are you perfectly satisfied, Julia, that he is not the man?" asked Mr. Page. "I am absolutely sure. The man was larger and wore a stubby beard. I would recognize him anywhere. This is not the man. He does not resemble the burglar in any way." "I certainly thank you, Miss Parentree," I said, "and regret that our meeting is under such humiliating conditions."

330 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Not at all," she replied. "It is simply an act of justice, and I am glad to be able to serve you." I was taken from the Parentree home directly to the police court. Mr. Page stated that, though Miss Parentree had positively declared I was not the robber, he would not ask a dismissal of the case at that time, but would insist on an immediate trial unless I were released on a mere nominal bond. The police admitted they were not prepared to go into trial and the court released me to the custody of my attorney, and I left the courtroom confident of an early acquittal. When I returned to the rooming-house I was cordially received by the few whose acquaintances I had formed. They had been deeply interested in my "case," as they called it, and a lady on the first floor gave me the first clew to the person who had left the tele- phone number on my table. In the absence of the janitor she had shown a man and his wife a room on the second floor on the afternoon of the day preceding my arrest. She could not say that he had entered my room but she had an impression — but it was an impression only — that she had seen him come out of it as she and his wife re-entered the hall from another room. At any rate, the opportunity had ex- isted. But why should he have left the telephone number on my table? What could he have gained from my calling the telephone at the home of the Parentrees? I was soon painfully conscious, after resuming my desk at the office, that I was an object of suspicion. The lady stenographers absolutely refused to recognize me except in the most formal way. The bookkeeper and his assistants were hardly polite. I endured the ostracism for two weeks and then went to the manager and asked to be transfered to some other position. "The board of directors will meet this afternoon," he said, "and I will take the matter up with them. I have noticed the attitude of other employees towards you but 'I have not thought it advisable to interfere. One of our adjusters died last week and I have you in mind for the vacancy." The new position took me out on the road and I was at the home office but seldom, and then only for conferences with the mana- ger. He complimented my industry and expressed pleasure at adjust- ments I had made. I had settled a loss in a distant part of the state when I received a telegram, telling me to go at once to a small lake resort and call at the postoffice for a letter. I caught the night train and was at the office when it opened in the morning. The letter stated that Mr. James Robinson, who owned a number of summer cottages at the lake, had recently insured a group of five and all of them had been destroyed by a fire of mysterious origin. The manager thought the valuation was excessive and asked me to investigate values and also to inquire into the origin of the fire. I went to a hotel and was seated at an unoccupied table reading the letter a second time

A CALL IN THE NIGHT 331 when I became conscious of someone near me. I looked up. A hand was extended and a musical voice said: "Why, how do you do? I didn't know you were here!" I was dumbfounded to see Julia Parentree standing by me, her eyes looking into mine and a smiling face beaming on me. I managed to take her hand and say something, but I could not have told a moment afterwards what it was. Her father entered a moment later, and she called him over and introduced me. They seated themselves at my table. I was with her a great deal for a week. So much of my time was given to her, in fact, that the investigation almost stood still. I made one partial report to the office and then another, and finally closed up the matter, though I did it reluctantly. I had learned that strolling in the parks and rowing on the lake were not calculated to expedite business; but, somehow, I didn't care for business; if I could stroll and row. We were seated in the park the night before I was to leave to adjust another loss. The shadow of the coming separation oppressed me. I wanted to say many things but fear possessed me. I had a purpose in mind but I did not know how to accomplish it. I could adjust a loss but this, if accomplished, would be a gain, and I was not equal to it. I compromised. "May I write to you?" I asked. The reply was so cordial I was actually stunned. "Yes, do," she said, "I shall be delighted to hear from you!" "And you will write to me?" "Why, certainly! I could hardly expect you to write unless I answered you letters." We were seated in the park, and I was about to take her hand when we saw Mr. Parentree coming towards us. He had a telegram in his hand. He spoke to Julia: "I have a telegram from our mana- ger saying it is imperative that you come home at once. We will take the early morning train." "It's the robbery!" she said with womanly intuition. "I feel as if something is going to happen. I wonder if they really have caught him." "I apprehend it is connected up with it in some way," said her father. He turned to me: "You'd better arrange to go with us. If the robber is in custody your presence may be quite as necessary as Julia's." "But the manager has ordered me to investigate another loss," I said. "I'll take care of that," he replied. "I'll leave a call for six in the morning." He turned away as he spoke and Julia and I sat down on the rude settee from which we had risen at his approach for it was still early and the night was warm. I was glad of the opportunity to ac- company her and her father, but I questioned if I could afford to

332 IMPROVEMENT ERA ignore the manager's order. When I referred to it she laughed and replied, "You are perfectly safe when you take orders from father. He's president of the company." We reached home the following afternoon and Mr. Parentree called up the office from the railway station. He was asked to get into communication at once with the chief of detectives. When he rejoined us in the wating-room, he said a man had been arrested and was being held as a suspect. The chief asked him to bring Julia to the police station at 3:30 to identify the suspect, if he were the man who struck her. When we entered the police station, twenty men, including some of the largest on the force and all in citizens' clothes, were lined up against the corridor wall. Julia ran her eyes along the line and, without a moment's hesitation walked towards a man in a grey suit of clothes. Pointing to him, she said: "That's the man who struck me." "Are you positive, Miss Parantree?" asked the chief. "Yes, I am positive. I would know him among a thousand." "It's important that we do not make a mistake. You are sure, are you?" "Yes, I am sure. I can not be mistaken. I know he is the man! I am positive!" The burglar's countenance did not change. As Julia stepped back he smiled, but his voice was cold and even when he spoke: "I guess you've got me and it isn't worth while to deny it. I did not mean to strike the girl, though. I thought the house was unoccupied and when I entered her room and sh« jumped out of bed and con- fronted me, I was taken by surprise and struck her before I realized it. I really did not know whether she was a man or a woman." "Did you leave a telephone number on a table in a rooming-house that afternoon?" asked the chief. "Yes, but that was an accident, too. I had called the number in the morning but had gotten no answer. I had seen in the paper that the family had been away but would come home that day, and I wanted to be sure they had returned. I had the telephone number in mind but seeing the note-book on the table while my wife was looking at a room, it occurred to me to write it down so I could refer to it without going to a directory. Hearing my wife and the woman with her coming towards the room, I tore out the leaf and put the book in my pocket and laid the torn leaf on the table, just the op- posite of what I had intended to do." We did not stay to hear more. My exoneration was complete. The officers congratulated me heartily and I left the station with Mr. Page and accompanied him to his office. I was about to say that I would pay his fee in installments as I received my salary, when he interrupted me. "Mr. Parentree is my uncle and is president of the company,"

A CALL IN THE NIGHT 333 he said, "and asked me to investigate and, if I believed you were innocent, to undertake the defense. He thought the company should pay my fee and any other expense incident to the case, and there is nothing for you to worry over." I thanked him cordially and went to confer with the manager. As I entered the office he handed me a slip of paper, smiling signifi- cantly as I took it from his hand and looked at it. On it was written: "Center 1345." "That's pretty risky, isn't it?" I asked looking up into his face. "It might be if it were 10:33 p.m.," he replied with a laugh. He pushed the telephone towards me and I asked for the number. Julia's voice came to me over the wire: "You got away before I had a chance to speak to you," she said. "Father and I want you to dine with us this evening." I thanked her and accepted the invitation. We passed a pleasant hour at the table, and I took advantage of the opportunity to thank Mr. Parentree for the confidence which had provided so generously for my defense. "It was an obligation we owed you as an employee of the company," he replied, "provided an investigation showed a strong probability of your innocence. Mr. Page did not question it and I told him to spare no legitimate expense." What occurred between Julia and me in the parlor that evening need not be revealed here. But as I was leaving, and while I still held her hand at the door, I said: "I must leave early in the morning May I call you up for a goodby word?" "Why certainly! I'll be at the telephone. Call Center 1-3-4- 5." She laughed as she slowly pronounced the figures. "The luckiest of unlucky numbers!" I exclaimed with enthusiasm as I pressed her hand, "but I can never tell you how glad I am you failed to identify me as the burglar." Indianapolis, Indiana. Don't Give Up When the trail ahead looks gloomy, and the sun seems mighty dim, When the sky is overshadowed and you feel that you won't win, Just keep yourself a moving; don't give up the game, The chap with sand, is sure to land; he'll get there just the same. When the snow is still a-snowing, or the rain is pouring down, When the cold north wind's a-blowing, 'til ye can't stick to the ground, Just set your teeth and bear it: don't make the slightest wail, The lad with pluck, is never stuck, there's no such thing as fail. When your mighty tired and hungry, and you're almost down and out, When your friends begin to shun you, and your mind seems full of doubt. Don't even think of failure, lad; it's the worse thing you can do, Make up your mind that you're the kind that's go'no stick like glue. Moab, Utah. F. M. SHAFER.