Chapter VII: The Frame-Up

Jake Hines couldn’t forget what he had seen down at Coney Island the previous evening; the look of affection which had been in the eyes of Dallas Worthington as she gazed up into the face of Owen Sheridan; the trusting, intimate manner in which she hung on her escort’s arm. Consequently Coggswell’s declaration that the young carrier must be got rid of appealed to him tremendously.

He wondered just what the boss meant by those words. He was in hopes that the latter was about to propose some dark scheme for kidnaping Sheridan. To have the young man shanghaied and cast away on some desert island was a plan which, in his present jealous frame of mind, would have suited Jake to a T.

He made no suggestion, however. He waited for Coggswell to speak. He knew from the way those telltale ears were wiggling that the boss’ fertile brain was busy hatching a plan to bring about the desired result.

After a prolonged silence, Coggswell said suddenly: “There must be no foul play, Jake--understand that.”

“Eh?” exclaimed Hines, in incredulous astonishment. “No foul play?”

“No rough work, I mean,” the boss explained. “No violence. You know very well that I don’t like that sort of thing, Jake.”

A look of disappointment flitted across Jake’s beefy countenance. “What, then, boss?” he inquired.

“Sheridan must be silenced by legitimate means,” declared the district leader. “We don’t want to go against the law, Jake. We don’t want to forget that we are decent, law-abiding citizens. I could not think of countenancing foul play in dealing with this man.”

Hines scratched his head in perplexity, and stared blankly at Coggswell. He was relieved to see that, although there was a virtuous expression upon the latter’s face, those ears were still wiggling at a furious rate.

“What do you mean by legitimate means, boss?” he asked.

“Let me explain, Jake.” Coggswell sat down in his desk chair and motioned his disciple to a chair at his right hand. His agitation had now completely disappeared. Once more he was the calm, dignified, benevolent-appearing original of the portrait in oils which hung in the reception hall downstairs.

“Now, as you have correctly pointed out, Jake,” he went on, “the only danger of my becoming implicated in this regrettable post-office affair is through the testimony of this carrier, Owen Sheridan. Greene and Hovey have been caught red-handed, it is true; but I agree with you that they are not the kind of fellows who can be made to squeal. They will deny emphatically that they were obeying my orders when they tampered with Judge Lawrence’s mail. Hovey will insist that he had reasons of his own for wanting to see the contents of those letters.”

Hines nodded. “Yes, I’m quite sure that both those fellows can be relied on, boss. Pretty tough, though, ain’t it, that they’ll have to go to prison?”

Coggswell smiled confidently. “They won’t go to prison. They’re quite safe. They’ll be admitted to bail, of course, and I’ll see that there’s somebody to go on their bond, no matter what the amount--somebody who won’t mind when the bail is forfeited after those fellows have skipped beyond the jurisdiction of the courts.”

Hines nodded again. “Yes, that ought to be easy. And, now, how about Sheridan? How are you going to prevent him from dragging you into this mess?”

Coggswell smiled. “Let me answer that by asking you a question, Jake. Suppose you were on a jury, trying a criminal case: would you believe the testimony of a jailbird? Suppose the chief witness for the prosecution was a young man who had just been tried, convicted, and sentenced for being a thief: would you, as a juryman, take any stock in what he had to say?”

“I would not,” declared Hines virtuously.

Boss Coggswell laughed grimly. “Very well, then; that’s the answer to your question.”

Hines looked bewildered. “But I don’t quite get you, boss. Sheridan ain’t a jailbird.”

“Not yet, you mean, Jake,” corrected Coggswell, in his quiet, smooth voice.

The eyes of the younger man suddenly lighted up. His was not a quick-moving brain, but he fully grasped the idea now. It appealed to him greatly, too. A prison was even better than a desert island, as a means of putting the kibosh on a rival in love.

“I get you, boss!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “We’ll have to get busy and dope out a scheme for----”

“I’ve got one already, Jake,” broke in the district leader smilingly. “One that can’t fail to work successfully. All that you’ll have to do is to carry it out.”

For the next thirty minutes Jake Hines listened attentively while his chief explained in detail the plan which he had evolved. It was a plan which met with the former’s warm approval and admiration, and when the interview was at an end, he went out with great enthusiasm to put it into execution immediately.