"Mr. Wainwright showed me the letter you wrote to him," went on Fred.
Excuse me, said Sinclair, looking puzzled, "but you seem very young to be taken into Mr. Wainwright's confidence."
I am only seventeen.
I don't understand it.
Nor do I, answered Fred, smiling, "but Mr. Wainwright is right in supposing that I will do my best for him."
Does he give you full powers in this matter?
Read this letter and you can judge for yourself.
The sick man eagerly held out his hand, and read carefully the letter which Fred placed in it. It ran thus:
JAMES SINCLAIR: The bearer of this letter has full powers to treat with you. I am glad you realize the wrong you have done me, and am prepared to consider your case in a generous spirit. The theft is known only to those who committed it, my young messenger and myself. On the return of the bonds I will take you back into my employment.
JOHN WAINWRIGHT.
Tears came to the eyes of Sinclair.
How kind and considerate Mr. Wainwright is! he said in a tone of emotion. "Read this letter."
You are right, but I would do the same.
Sinclair extended his hand which Fred shook cordially.
I am not as bad as you may suppose. It was Bowman who, by his artful hints and allurements, induced me to rob my employer. I have never ceased to repent it.
Are you prepared to restore the bonds? That will set you right.
When I wrote the letter I was prepared, but now I must depend on you to find them.
You don't know where they are? asked Fred in dismay.
No. You see that trunk at the other end of the room?
Yes.
They were there until three days ago. Then Bowman, who kept the key, opened the trunk in my presence, and took out the package of bonds, locking the trunk after him.
"
'What are you doing?' I asked. 'Going to put these bonds into a place of security,' he answered.
""
'Are they not safe in the trunk?' I asked. 'No;' he replied, 'suppose, during my absence, a thief should enter the house? You are confined to the bed by rheumatism. What resistance could you make?'
""
'But that is very improbable,' I persisted. 'I don't know about that. This is a lonely cottage, and might be entered at any time,' he rejoined.
""
'Where are you going to put the bonds?' I asked uneasily, He evaded a reply, but promised to tell me when I recovered my health. I protested, for we were jointly concerned in the robbery, and half the proceeds belonged to me. At any rate, I had as much title to them as he. But the contest was not an equal one. Had I been a well man I would have forcibly prevented his carrying out his purpose, but what could I do, racked with pain as I was, and unable to sit up in bed? I was worse off then than I am now.""
"
So he carried off the bonds?
Yes, and I don't know where he carried them. You see, that complicates matters.
I do see, answered Fred, perplexed, "and I don't see the way out of the difficulty. Have you any idea where he can have concealed the securities?"
No.
Do you think he would keep them in his room at the hotel? It is just across the hall from mine, on the second floor.
No, I don't. A hotel room would be a much less secure place than this cottage, and Bowman is a shrewd man.
That is true.
He has probably found some outside place of concealment. Where, of course, I can give you no hint. But I would advise you to follow him, watch his movements, and learn what you can. He will be sure to visit the place where the bonds are hidden from time to time, if only to make sure that they are still safe.
Then I shall have to do some detective work?
Precisely.
I have read a good many detective stories, but I don't know that any of them will help me in this matter. There is one thing I am afraid of.
What is that?
You say Bowman is a shrewd man. He will be likely to find out that I am following him and become suspicions.
He would if you were a man, but as you are a boy he won't be likely to think that you are interested in the matter.
Mr. Wainwright was of opinion that I should be less likely to excite suspicion than a grown man.
The old man is smarter than I gave him credit for.
I see no other way than to follow your directions. Are you in much pain to-day?
No, less than for some time. I think it is my mental trouble that aggravates my physical malady. Now that you are here, and something is to be done to right the wrong I have committed. I am sure I shall rapidly recover. Were you with Bowman this morning?
Yes, we went out in the woods together. I had a few New York papers which he read with interest.
Have you them with you? asked Sinclair eagerly. "You don't know how I hunger for home news."
Yes, I brought them along, as I thought you might like to read them.
I will read them after you are gone. Now we will converse.
Have you a family? asked Fred.
I am not a married man but I have a mother, answered Sinclair, his eyes filling.
Does she know----
Of my disgrace? No, I was obliged to tell a falsehood and represent that I was going to Canada on business. I have been in constant dread that my crime would get into the papers and she would hear it. Poor mother! I believe that it would kill her!
You didn't think of that when you took the bonds?
I thought of nothing. Bowman gave me no time to think. What I did was done on the impulse of the moment without consideration. Oh, if I had only stopped to think! he concluded with a sigh.
For Fred it was a great moral lesson. He was honest by nature, but there is no one who cannot be strengthened against temptation. The sum taken by Sinclair was large, but it had not made him happy. Probably he had never been more miserable than in the interval that had elapsed since his theft. Judging between him and Bowman. Fred felt sure that it was Sinclair who had been weak, and Bowman who had been wicked. Now his only hope was to recover his lost position, to get back to where he stood when he yielded to temptation and robbed a kind and considerate employer.
Where is Bowman this afternoon? asked Sinclair.
He told me he was going to ride to Hyacinth with the landlord. He seems to find time hanging heavy on his hands.
He is much better off than I am. It is bad enough to be sick but when to this is added a burden of remorse, you can imagine that my position is not enviable.
At five o'clock Fred rose from his chair and took his hat.
I must be going, he said. "We have supper at the hotel at six, and I may as well be punctual."
Will you call again? asked Sinclair, eagerly.
Yes, but perhaps I had better not spend too much time with you. It may give rise to suspicions on the part of your partner.
Don't call him my partner! I don't want to admit any connection between us. There has been a connection, it is true, but as soon as I can bring it about it will be closed, and then I hope never to see or hear of Paul Bowman as long as I live.
I shall get to work to-morrow, said Fred. "I think it will be best for me not to call here till the day after. We must not appear to be too intimate."
When Fred returned to the hotel he found Bowman just arrived.
Where have you been all the afternoon? asked Bowman.
Part of the time I spent with your friend, Mr. Sinclair.
What did he find to talk about? asked Bowman, eying Fred sharply.
Chiefly about New York and his health. He doesn't seem contented here.
No wonder. It's the dullest hole I was ever in. Is he any better?
He thinks so.
I wish he'd get well quick. I want to go to some larger place.
I suppose Montreal is a more interesting town.
Yes, there is something going on there. We were fools to leave it.
After supper Fred played a few games of billiards with Bowman. Evidently he was not suspected as yet.
The object which Fred had in view now, was to ascertain where Bowman had hidden the securities taken from the trunk in Sinclair's cottage. Precisely how to set about it he did not know. He had never had any experience in detective work, and had only his native shrewdness to depend upon.
It occurred to him, however, that Bowman would be likely from time to time to visit the place where he had secreted the bonds in order to make sure that they were safe. This he was hardly likely to do when in Fred's company, but only when alone. When, therefore, he should see Bowman starting off on a solitary expedition he decided if possible to follow him.
Do you feel like going out on the river this morning? asked Bowman, as they rose from breakfast.
I don't mind. It will help to fill up the time.
For many years such an open winter had not been known. The unusual warmth had left the lake as free from ice as in the early fall. But for a slight covering of snow there would have been nothing to indicate that it was winter.
Your vacation is likely to be a slow one here, suggested Bowman.
Yes; St. Victor isn't a very lively place.
I wonder you are willing to stay here, said Bowman, with momentary suspicion.
I have so much excitement in New York and in my daily rides on the Erie road, that I don't mind the dulness as much as many would. Still if you and Mr. Sinclair were not here, I should cut short my visit at once.
Bowman did not understand the hidden meaning of this speech, and naturally interpreted it in a sense complimentary to himself.
Sinclair isn't much company, he said. "He is down in the dumps on account of his rheumatism. I suppose he thinks I ought to stay in the cottage with him, but I couldn't stand it."
I suppose you are in business together, observed Fred, innocently.
Did he say so?
Not exactly, but I inferred from what he did say that you had some business connection.
Yes, answered Bowman, hesitatingly. "We have a joint investment. I don't think, however, that we shall remain connected long. He doesn't suit me. He is too slow and cautious."
Fred did not think it necessary to comment on this statement.
They went down to the lake, and were soon rowing to the middle of it. Here they tried fishing, but did not meet with much success. They gave it up and rowed across to the opposite side.
Will you take charge of the boat for half an hour? asked Bowman, turning to Fred. "I am going on shore."
Certainly, if you wish it.
I have a fancy for exploring these woods. I would invite you to go with me, but the boat might be taken, and that would subject us to some inconvenience.
I would just as soon stay here, said Fred carelessly.
Then it's all right.
Fred watched Bowman as he made his way in among the trees, and it struck him at once that ha had secreted the bonds somewhere in the neighborhood and was about to visit the hiding-place.
If I could only leave the boat and follow him, he said to himself eagerly. But he decided at once that this would never do. It would inevitably excite Bowman's suspicion, and then his chance of success would be wholly gone. He must be cautious at all hazards.
He did not return to the middle of the lake, but rowed lazily along the shore, from time to time directing a glance toward the woods.
To-morrow I will make an excuse for not going with Bowman, and will come out here and do a little exploring myself, he resolved.
At one point his attention was drawn to a boy who was sitting under a tree near the edge of the water.
May I get into your boat? he asked.
For a short time. A gentleman is with me who has gone on shore for a little while.
I know. I've seen him here often.
Have you? asked Fred with interest. "So he comes here a good deal, does he?"
Yes, he comes here mostly alone, and goes into the woods. Once me and another boy got into the boat and rowed while he was gone.
I suppose he enjoys walking in the woods.
It ain't that, said the boy significantly.
What is it, then? asked Fred, trying to repress his excitement.
I think he's got business in the woods.
What business can he have there?
I think he's got something hidden there.
What makes you think so?
You won't tell him what I say, will you?
I saw him when he first came here. He had a bundle done up in paper. He left the boat and went into the woods, and when he came back he didn't have the paper.
He may have had it in his pocket.
No, he didn't. It was a big package, and if it had been in his pocket it would have made it bulge out.
I see you are quite an observing boy. I dare say you are right. What do you think there was in the package?
I guess it was money. If I had a lot of money I wouldn't hide it in the woods.
Nor I, answered Fred, laughing.
I'd buy a trunk and keep it inside.
Somebody might open the trunk.
Any way it would be safer than hiding it in the woods.
I don't know but you are right. I hope the time will come when you and I will have a lot of money to conceal.
Is the man a friend of yours? asked the boy.
We are boarding at the same hotel. I have only known Mr. Bowman two days.
Is he from the States?
Yes. I believe he came from New York.
Where do you come from?
I live in New York too.
I'd like to see New York. I'd go there if my father would let me.
I am not sure but you are better off here. Some boys have a hard time making a living in New York.
I thought everybody in New York was rich.
If you ever come to New York you'll find out your mistake, rejoined Fred, laughing.
If you ain't a friend of Mr. Bowman, as you call him, said the boy, lowering his vice, "I'll tell you something."
I wish you would. Mr. Bowman is not a friend of mine, but there is no one else to keep company with, so I go round with him.
I know where he has hidden his money.
Is this true? asked Fred in excitement.
Yes.
But how did you find out?
One day I followed him. I dodged behind trees and kept out of sight. Once he came near seeing me when he looked back, but I was just in time. By and by he came to the place.
What sort of a place?
Did I say I would tell you? asked the boy shrewdly.
No, but I will make it worth your while.
The boy eyed Fred with suspicion, and his manner became cold.
Do you want to rob him? he asked.
No.
Then why do you want to know where he has hid his money?
Fred deliberated hurriedly. There was no way except to take the boy into his confidence.
I see you are an honest boy, he said, "and I like you better for it."
That's all right, but why do you want me to tell you where Mr. Bowman has hidden his money?
Can you keep a secret?
Is there a secret?
Yes; the package which this man has hidden contains bonds which he stole from a New York banker.
How do you know that?
Because I am sent to get them back, if possible. That is why I have come to St. Victor, and that is why I have formed the acquaintance of Mr. Bowman.
Is this true? asked the boy, not wholly without suspicion.
Listen and I will tell you the story. I must be quick, for Mr. Bowman may be back any minute.
There he is now.
Meet me to-morrow at ten in the morning just back of the place where you were sitting when I took you on board the boat, and I will tell you all. In the name of Mr. Wainwright I will agree to pay you a hundred dollars, if by your help I recover the bonds.
It's a bargain! said the boy, his eyes sparkling.
"Who is that boy?" asked Bowman carelessly, as he re-entered the boat.
I don't know. He asked me to take him for a little row, and I was glad to have him for company.
I have been taking a stroll through the woods. In fact, I was brought up in the woods, said Bowman with a laugh.
Fred understood that he was trying to give a plausible explanation of his absence.
I like the woods myself, he rejoined. "Do they extend far?"
Not very far. I enjoyed my stroll in among the trees, even barren as they are now of leaves, very much. It brought back to my mind my schoolboy days.
Bowman seemed in quite good spirits. Evidently he had found that his secret hiding-place had not been discovered.
How much longer are you going to stay in St. Victor? he asked after a pause.
I don't know, answered Fred slowly. "I may take a fancy to go away any day."
I wish I could go too. I am tired of this place.
I suppose you are waiting for Mr. Sinclair to recover.
Yes, answered Bowman, but there was hesitation in his tone.
A sudden suspicion entered Fred's mind. Was Bowman meditating giving his confederate the slip, and deserting him, taking the bonds with him? Had he perhaps taken the package from its hiding-place and got it concealed about his person? A careful scrutiny satisfied Fred that this was not the case. But it was quite possible that he would make another visit the next day, and remove the bonds then.
I must lose no time, he thought, "or I shall lose my opportunity."
They reached the hotel in time for dinner.
What are you going to do this afternoon? asked Bowman.
I haven't thought particularly, answered Fred indifferently.
Suppose we play poker? The landlord has a pack of cards.
I don't know the game.
It won't take long to learn. I will show you how it is played.
I don't care for cards. I may call on Mr. Sinclair.
Bowman shrugged his shoulders.
You must enjoy his society, he said.
I don't go there for enjoyment. My visit may cheer the poor man.
All right! I'll see if the landlord isn't going to drive somewhere.
I hope he is, thought Fred. "It will get Bowman out of the way."
About half-past two Bowman entered the public room where Fred was reading.
I'm going for a drive, he announced. "I'll see you at supper."
Very well!
Fred waited till Bowman drove out of the yard, and then, taking his gun, went off himself. But he did not turn his steps in the direction of Sinclair's cottage. He had ascertained that there was a way of going by land to that part of the woods where he had met his young companion of the morning. He had made up his mind to repair to the spot now on the chance of finding the boy, and securing the bonds that very afternoon. He felt that there was no time to be lost.
It would have been easier and shorter to take the boat, and the landlord would have made no objection. But some one might see him out on the lake, and this would excite Bowman's suspicions, especially when he discovered that the bonds were missing. So Fred chose the land route as the wiser one to take under the circumstances.
The distance was quite two miles, but Fred did not mind that. The prize for which he was striving was too great for him to shrink from such a trifle as that.
He reached the other side of the pond, but no one was in sight. He walked about anxiously looking here and there.
I hope I shall not have my walk for nothing, he said to himself.
But luck was in his favor. Walking at random he all at once heard a boy's whistle. He quickened his steps, and almost directly, to his great delight, he recognized, sauntering along, the very lad he had taken out in the boat in the morning.
Hallo, there! he cried.
The boy turned quickly.
Oh, it's you, is it?
Yes.
I thought you were to meet me to-morrow morning.
So I was, but I did not dare to wait. I think Bowman will get the bonds to-morrow, and make a bolt of it.
Then what do you propose to do?
I want you to get the package for me to-day.
Do you think I will get into any trouble? asked the boy cautiously. "It won't be stealing, will it?"
It would be if the bonds were Bowman's, but they are not. They belong to a rich banker in New York, as I have already told you, and in showing me where they are you are aiding justice.
Will I get the hundred dollars, sure?
Yes, I will guarantee that. What is your name?
John Parton.
I will take it down. As soon as I get back to New York I will see that the money is sent you.
I'll chance it, said the boy. "You look honest, and I believe you."
Go on, then, and I will follow you.
John led the way into the thickest part of the wood. He paused in front of a large tree, partly gone to decay. The trunk was hollow, containing a large cavity.
The package is there, he said.
Get it for me, returned Fred, "and there your task will end. I will undertake the rest."
In less than five minutes the package was placed in Fred's hands.
He opened his vest and placed it inside, carefully pinning it to the waistcoat, so that it might not slip down.
It will be awkward to carry, he said, "on account of its size. I wish it were safe in Mr. Wainwright's possession."
Then a new idea came to him.
Is there any express office near here? he asked.
The nearest is at Hyacinth, five or six miles away.
I should like to go there. Do you know where I can hire a team?
We are not using ours to-day, said John.
Then, said Fred promptly, "I will hire it, paying any price your father considers satisfactory, and I will engage you to drive me over. You know the way?"
I've been there hundreds of times.
Then it is all right. Do you think we can have the team? I'll pay two dollars for that, and a dollar for your services as driver.
It's a go! Come right along! Our house is less than half a mile away.
Then the two boys emerged from the woods, and made their way to a comfortable farmhouse, situated in the midst of fertile fields. John went into the house, and presently came out with his mother.
Are you the young man that wants to go to Hyacinth? she asked.
Yes, ma'am.
Well, I don't know of any objection. Don't stay too long.
I'll be back in time for supper, mother.
Did your mother ask you what I was going for? asked Fred.
No; I told her you wanted to take a ride.
That will answer. I wish there was enough snow left for sleighing.
The horse was quickly harnessed to an open buggy, and the two boys got in. John took the reins, and turned out of the yard. Soon they were speeding over the road that led to Hyacinth. It was a pleasant drive, but Fred was too much occupied by thoughts of what he carried to pay much attention to the scenery.
At length they turned into the principal street of Hyacinth.
The express office was just across the way from the railway depot.
Fred entered and inquired, "How soon will a package start for New York?"
In about an hour.
As it is valuable, I will get you to put it up securely, and seal it.
Very well.
The agent wrapped it up in some thick brown paper, gave it to Fred to direct, and then laid it carefully away.
Do you wish to insure it? he asked. "What is the value?"
I will insure it for five hundred dollars.
Fred knew that this would secure extra care, and he did not care to name the real worth lest it might tempt some employee to dishonesty.
Now, he said, as they left the office, "I feel easy in my mind."
But when the boys were half way home, they overtook another buggy, containing two occupants. One of them was the landlord of the Lion Inn, the other was Paul Bowman.
Paul Bowman, who was driving, the landlord having given up the reins to him, checked the horse and hailed Fred in evident surprise.
Where have you been? he inquired abruptly.
I have been to ride, answered Fred, with an appearance of unconcern.
I thought you were going to call on Sinclair.
So I was, but after you left I decided to take a walk in another direction. I met John, and engaged him to take me to drive.
Are you going home now?
Yes, I think so. Can you take me to the hotel, John?
Yes, answered his companion readily.
Then we will follow along behind Mr. Bowman.
Of course there could be no private conversation, so John and he spoke on indifferent topics. When they reached the hotel Fred jumped from the buggy.
Good-by, John, he said. "You will hear from me soon," he added in a significant tone.
Then he joined Bowman, who was wholly unsuspicious of the disaster that had befallen him.
I should like to go over to Sinclair's, thought Fred, "but I suppose Bowman will expect me to keep him company."
But in this he was agreeably disappointed.
At seven o'clock the landlord drove round, and Bowman sprang into the buggy.
Sorry to leave you, Fred, he said, "but we are going to Vaudry on a little business. Hope you won't be lonely."
Never mind me, Mr. Bowman. I think I will go over to see Mr. Sinclair. He will probably expect me. Have you any message?
Bowman looked significantly at the landlord.
Tell him I will call to-morrow or next day, he said. "At present I am very busy."
The two drove away, leaving Fred and a stable boy named Jack looking after them.
He's going to skip to-morrow, said Jack confidentially.
Who?
Mr. Bowman.
How do you know? asked Fred in excitement.
I heard him say so to the boss. He doesn't want you to know it.
Why not?
He is afraid you will tell his partner, the sick man.
Fred whistled.
That is news, he said. "I suspected it might be so, but didn't know for sure."
Shall you tell Mr. Sinclair?
Yes, I think I ought to do so.
That's so! He's a nicer man than old Bowman.
Fred, immersed in thought, walked over to the cottage. James Sinclair received him with evident joy.
I expected you this afternoon, he said. "The hours seemed very long."
I was employed on very important business, said Fred significantly.
You don't mean----
I mean, said Fred, bending over and whispering in the sick man's ear, "that I have found the bonds."
Where are they?
On the way to New York, by express.
What a burden off my heart! ejaculated Sinclair fervently. "Tell me about it," he added, after a pause.
Fred did so.
Now, he added, "there will be nothing to prevent your coming to New York and taking your old place."
I think I shall recover now, responded Sinclair. "Your news makes me feel fifty per cent. better."
I have more news for you.
What is it?
Bowman is planning to leave St. Victor to-morrow, without a word to you. He means to leave you in the lurch.
He can go now. I shall be glad to part with him--and forever.
That is his intention, but when he finds the bonds have disappeared, I don't know what he may decide to do.
When do you mean to start for New York?
I would start to-night if I could.
You can. There is a train which passes through St. Victor at ten o'clock this evening. But, no, on second thought it goes to Ottawa.
I don't care where it goes. I don't wish to remain in St. Victor any longer than is absolutely necessary. Besides, if Bowman suspects and follows me he will be likely to think I have gone in a different direction.
I am sorry to have you go, Mr. Fenton.
We shall meet again soon, I hope in New York.
Fred reached the inn at nine o'clock, left the amount of his bill in an envelope with the boy Jack, and walked over to the station, where he purchased a ticket for Ottawa. While he was in the depot building Bowman and the landlord drove by. Before they had reached the inn the train came up and Fred entered the rear car.
He breathed a sigh of relief as the cars quickened their speed and St. Victor faded in the distance.
Meanwhile Bowman and the landlord reached the hotel. Jack, the stable-boy, came forward and took charge of the team.
Here is a letter for you, Mr. Bluff, he said.
A letter! repeated the landlord, with a look of wonder. He opened it and uttered a cry of surprise.
The boy's gone! he ejaculated.
What boy? asked Bowman, not suspecting the truth.
Young Fenton.
Gone away! What do you mean?
Read that.
He passed the note to Bowman, who read as follows:
DEAR SIR:--I am called away on business. I enclose the amount due you. If it is not right I will communicate with you as soon as I have reached New York. Remember me to Mr. Bowman.
FRED FENTON.
Called away on business! repeated Bowman suspiciously. "That is queer. What did the boy say?" he asked of Jack. "When did he first speak of going away?"
I think he made up his mind sudden, sir.
Did he say where he was going?
He said he was goin' back to New York.
Received a summons from his employer, I suppose.
Very likely, sir.
Do you know if he went to see Mr. Sinclair?
Yes, sir. He went fust part of the evenin'.
Then Sinclair can tell me about it.
Very likely, sir.
Not daring to take Jack too deeply into his confidence, Fred had told him that he was going to New York, which was true, or would be very shortly.
If he had waited till to-morrow we might have gone together, thought Bowman, "at least a part of the way. It will be some time before I shall dare to set foot in New York."
Bowman went to bed with a vague feeling of uneasiness for which he could not account. He felt that it would be impossible for him to remain in the dull little village any longer. Should he, or should he not, go to see Sinclair before he went away? On the whole he resolved to secure the bonds first, and then decide.
The next day after breakfast he strolled down to the lake, got out the boat, and rowed rapidly toward the farther shore. There was no time to waste now. He tied the boat to a sapling growing close to the bank, and struck into the woods.
He made his way at once to the tree which he had used as a safe deposit vault, and with perfect confidence thrust in his hand. But the package which his fingers sought for seemed to have slipped out of reach. He continued his search anxiously, with increasing alarm, but in vain.
A terrible fear assailed him. He peered in through the cavity, but neither sight nor touch availed. Gradually the terrible thought was confirmed--the parcel had been stolen! Thirteen thousand five hundred dollars, nearly the entire proceeds of his crime, had vanished--but where?
He staggered to a stump close by, and sitting down, buried his face in his hands. What was he to do? He had but twenty-five dollars left.
Who can have taken it? he asked himself with feverish agitation.
He rose and made his way mechanically back to the boat.
An hour later he staggered into the little cottage occupied by his sick partner. His hair was disheveled, his manner wild.
What is the matter, Bowman? asked Sinclair.
We are ruined! said Bowman in a hollow voice. "The bonds are gone!"
When did you miss them? asked Sinclair quickly.
To-day. They were safe yesterday. Do you think it was the boy?
What could he know of the bonds? Did you ever speak to him about them?
Of course not. What shall I do?
Inquire whether any one has been seen near the place where you hid them. Do your best to recover them.
This advice struck Bowman favorably. He devoted the remainder of the day to the inquiry, but learned nothing. There was no further occasion to remain in St. Victor. He left the inn in the evening, forgetting to pay his reckoning.
John Wainwright, the wealthy banker, sat in his office looking over the letters that had come by the morning mail. Some of them he turned over to his confidential clerk to answer. Others, more important, he reserved to reply to with his own hand.
Busy, Wainwright? asked a gentleman, Arthur Henderson, entering without ceremony.
I always have something in hand, but I have time enough for an old friend.
By the way, have you heard anything of the bonds you lost some time since?
I know where they are.
You do?
Yes, they are in Canada.
Henderson laughed.
That means that you will never get them back.
I don't know. I have sent a messenger to recover them.
Who is it?
My office boy.
Henderson stared.
I suppose that is a joke.
By no means.
What is the age of your office boy?
I should judge from his appearance that he is sixteen.
Do you mean to say that you have intrusted a boy of sixteen with so important a commission?
I do.
Really, Wainwright, I don't like to criticise, but it appears to me that you have taken leave of your senses.
The banker laughed good-humoredly.
Perhaps I ought not to be surprised at that.
Then you acknowledge your lack of wisdom?
By no means. What I have done I would do again.
Couldn't you find a more suitable messenger?
Not readily.
It would have been worth while to go yourself, as the amount is considerable.
That would never have answered. I should be recognized, and excite suspicion.
Do you really expect that boy to recover the bonds?
I think it possible, at any rate.
Suppose he does, what is to hinder his keeping them himself?
His honesty.
Pardon me, Wainwright, but I have had a pretty extensive experience, and I would be willing to wager ten to one that you will never see your bonds again.
I never bet, and hold that betting is no argument. But I too have had some experience of men and consider my chance of recovering the stolen property fairly good.
How long since your messenger started on his expedition?
About two weeks.
Have you heard from him?
Yes, once. There are reasons why it is imprudent for him to write too often.
Henderson smiled significantly.
I dare say he is having a good time at your expense. What was the amount of your loss?
About fifteen thousand dollars.
Since you won't bet, I will make you a proposal. If the boy recovers your bonds and restores them to you I will offer him a place in my own counting-room at twenty dollars a week.
I don't think in that case I should be willing to lose his services. I would pay him as much as he could get elsewhere.
There is very little chance of my being called upon to redeem my promise.
At that moment an express messenger entered the office.
Here is a parcel for you, sir, he said.
It was a small package wrapped in brown paper, carefully tied and sealed.
John Wainwright paid the express charges, receipted for the package, and then eagerly opened it.
It was the same package which Fred had expressed from Hyacinth.
The banker's eyes were full of triumph.
What do you say to that, my friend? he asked.
What is it?
The missing bonds. Nothing could have happened more apropos.
You don't mean to say--
Listen. Let me read you this letter from the messenger you thought me foolish in sending to Canada.
Here is a copy of Fred's letter.
JOHN WAINWRIGHT, ESQ.
MY DEAR SIR: I have at length recovered the bonds which were stolen from you, and send them by express herewith. I have not time to go into details, but will only say that I found them in a hollow tree. I secured them in the nick of time, for I have reason to think that to-morrow they would have been removed by Bowman, who has got tired of St. Victor, and will probably leave the neighborhood to-morrow. I do not dare to keep the bonds in my possession, as I may be followed, but consider it safer to express them to you at once. I shall go back to New York by a roundabout way, but shall probably arrive very nearly as soon as the package.
Yours respectfully,
FRED FENTON.
P. S. The money and U. S. bonds have been used, but you will find $13,500 in other securities in this package. They would have been spent too, but the holder found it impossible to negotiate them.
There, Henderson, what do you think of that? asked Mr. Wainwright, in a quiet tone of triumph. "I was a fool, was I, to trust this boy?"
I don't know what to say, but my offer holds good. If you will release the boy I will take him into my employment at twenty dollars a week.
I will give him as much as he can get elsewhere, repeated the banker.
There was a quick step heard outside, and Fred Fenton entered the office.
Good morning, Mr. Wainwright, he said. "Did you receive the package?"
It just reached me, Fred. Shake hands, my boy. You have justified my confidence in you.
I did my best, sir.
Tell me all about it. My curiosity is excited.
Fred gave a rapid account of his adventures in search of the missing bonds. It was listened to with equal interest by the banker and his friend.
Wainwright, introduce me, said Henderson abruptly.
Fred, said the banker smiling, "let me make you acquainted with my friend, Arthur Henderson. He is a commission merchant. He may have a proposal to make to you."
Young man, if you will enter my employment I will pay you twenty dollars a week, said merchant.
Fred looked amazed.
That is a great deal more than I am worth, said.
Then you accept?
Fred looked wistfully at Mr. Wainwright.
I should not like to leave Mr. Wainwright, he said.
Especially as he has raised your pay to twenty-five dollars a week, said the banker smiling.
You can't be in earnest, sir?
When you get your first week's salary on Saturday, you will see that I am in earnest.
I see, then, that I must do without you, said the merchant. "Wainwright, I take back all I said. I advise you to keep Fred by all means as long as he will stay with you."
The banker had opened his check book and was writing out a check. He tore it from the book and handed it to Fred. It ran thus:
No. 10,531
PARK NATIONAL BANK.
Pay to the order of FRED FENTON
ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS.
1000
JOHN WAINWRIGHT.
Is this for me? asked Fred in amazement.
Yes. I ought perhaps to make it more, for it is less than ten per cent. of the value of the bonds.
How can I thank you, sir? ejaculated Fred, feeling uncertain whether he was awake or dreaming. "I feel like a millionaire."
Have you been home yet, Fred?
No, sir; I came here at once.
Go home, then, and spend the rest of the day with your mother. Do you want to cash the check this morning?
No, sir.
Indorse it, then, and I will hand you the money in bills to-morrow.
Fred, his face radiant with joy, left the office, and going to the nearest station on the Sixth Avenue Elevated Road bought a ticket and rode up town.
There a surprise awaited him.
When Fred presented himself at home, after a fortnight's absence, his mother and little brother were overjoyed.
It's been awfully lonely since you went away, Fred, said Albert.
I have felt like Albert, said Mrs. Fenton. "But it was not that that worried me most. I was afraid you might meet with some accident."
I've come home safe and sound, mother, as you see. But you don't ask me whether I succeeded in my mission.
I don't know what your mission was.
No; it was a secret of Mr. Wainwright's, and I was bound to keep it secret. I can tell you now. I was sent to Canada to recover over ten thousand dollars' worth of stolen bonds.
Mrs. Fenton looked amazed.
A boy like you! she said.
I don't wonder you are surprised. I was surprised myself.
But who had the bonds, and how did you recover them?
Two men were in the conspiracy. One of them was sorry for the theft, and ready to help me. The other meant to keep them. He had taken them away from his partner and hidden them in the forest.
And you found them?
Yes; sit down and I will tell you the story.
Fred did so, and when it was finished he added: "How much do you think Mr. Wainwright paid me for my trouble?"
He ought to pay you handsomely.
What would you consider paying me handsomely?
Fifty dollars, answered his mother.
He gave me a thousand dollars!
A thousand! ejaculated Mrs. Fenton, incredulous.
Yes.
Where's the money? asked Albert.
He gave it to me in a check. I shall collect it to-morrow, and invest it in some safe way.
I can't realize it, Fred, said Mrs. Fenton. "Why, it will make us rich."
But that isn't all. My salary is raised to twenty-five dollars a week.
I never heard of such wages being given to a boy like you.
It was my second offer this morning. A merchant, a friend of Mr. Wainwright, offered me twenty dollars to go into his office.
That is better than being a train boy, Fred.
Yes; but I was glad to work on the trains when I had nothing better to do.
Just then the peculiar whistle of the postman was heard.
Run down-stairs, Albert, and see if there are any letters for us, said Fred.
The little boy returned in a moment with an envelope directed to Fred Fenton, and postmarked Central City, Colorado. He opened it hastily, and exclaimed: "This is from Mr. Sloan, who visited us a few months since."
Read it, Fred.
The letter was written in rather an illegible hand, and the spelling was rather eccentric, for Mr. Sloan was not a scholar. As corrected it ran thus:
FRIEND FRED--I suppose you haven't forgotten your old friend Tom Sloan. I have often thought of how I enjoyed myself at your home, and wished I could call in and take a cup of tea with you and your mother.
About that land you asked me to see, I've got good news for you. There's a town built around it, and the price has gone up to fancy figures. There's a party here that wants to buy it for five thousand dollars, but I think I can get a little more. If your mother will send me a power of attorney, I will sell it, and send you on the money. I'll do my best for you. No wonder that old skinflint, your uncle, wanted to buy it. He'd have made a big thing out of it. He was a fool not to take it at your own figures.
I hope you are all well, and I shouldn't wonder if I might see you pretty soon. I've been lucky myself, and made a respectable pile. Old Tom Sloan doesn't get left if he can help it.
Well, good-by. Send on the power of attorney by return of mail.
Yours till death,
TOM SLOAN.
Five thousand dollars! ejaculated Mrs. Fenton. "I can't believe it."
You will, mother, when you get the money. There's no time to be lost. I'll go out at once and get the power of attorney, and we'll write at once, telling Mr. Sloan to do whatever he thinks best. Do you agree to that, mother?
Yes, Fred. He is a good man and I trust him entirely.
In a fortnight Fred received from Colorado an order on a New York banker for six thousand five hundred dollars, being the purchase money on the Colorado lands.
He at once carried it to Mr. Wainwright, and invested it in securities recommended by that gentleman.
I congratulate you heartily, Fred, said the banker. "I didn't know that I was taking into my employ a young man of fortune."
It has come upon me so suddenly that I can't realize it myself.
I consider you worthy of your good luck, my boy. You ought to save up money out of your wages.
I intend to sir, but I am going to give my mother a better home now that I can afford it, and will see that my little brother has a better education than I have had.
It is not too late to supply the deficiency in your own case. You cannot do better than join the evening classes of the Young Men's Christian Association, and do what you can to improve yourself.
I will follow your advice, Mr. Wainwright. Now that I am no longer anxious about money matters, I want to qualify myself for a better social position.
Only two days after the receipt of the money from Colorado, another letter, as unexpected as Mr. Sloan's, reached Mrs. Fenton. The substance of it was comprised in the closing paragraph "Send your son round to my house this evening I am prepared to make you a better offer for the Colorado laud. It's of little value, but some day may be worth more than at present. As you are straitened in means I can better afford to wait than you, and I shall feel satisfaction in relieving your necessities."
Fred read this letter attentively. "I hate a hypocrite," he said. "Mr. Ferguson pretends that he wants to help us, while he is scheming to cheat us out of a large sum, relying upon our ignorance of the increased value of the land."
Shall I write and tell him that we have sold the land? asked Mrs. Fenton.
No, I will call and see him this evening, as he requests.
But it will do no good.
I want to find out how much he is willing to give. I shan't let him know that the land is sold till he has made an offer.
Don't say anything to provoke Cousin Ferguson, Fred.
Don't worry, mother. I will be perfectly respectful.
About half-past seven Fred rang the bell at the door of the house on East Thirty-Ninth Street. Evidently he was expected, for, on his inquiring for Mr. Ferguson, he was shown at once into the presence of his rich relation.
Good evening, Frederick, said Mr. Ferguson, With unusual graciousness. "How is your mother?"
Very well, thank you, sir.
I hope you are getting along comfortably.
Yes, sir; we have no right to complain.
That is well, said Mr. Ferguson condescendingly. "I presume the boy is making five dollars a week or some such matter," he soliloquized. "That is very well for a boy like him."
I made you an offer for your father's land in Colorado a few months ago, he went on carelessly.
Yes, sir.
You thought my offer too small.
Yes, sir. Twenty-five dollars would be of very little value to us.
There I disagree with you. Twenty-five dollars to a family situated as yours is, is no trifle.
A faint smile flickered over Fred's face. He wondered what Mr. Ferguson would say if he knew precisely how they were situated.
Still, resumed the merchant, "you did right to refuse. I am inclined to think the land is a little more valuable than I supposed."
Fred was rather surprised. Was Cousin Ferguson going to act a liberal part, and offer anything like a fair price for the land? He waited curiously to hear what he would say next.
Yes, continued Mr. Ferguson magnanimously, "I admit that I offered you too little for your land."
So I thought at the time, sir, Fred said quietly.
And I am now prepared to rectify my mistake. You may tell your mother that I will give her a hundred dollars for it.
A hundred dollars?
Yes; that is probably more than it is worth at present, but I can afford to wait until it increases in value.
Mr. Ferguson sat back in his armchair and fixed his eyes on Fred with the air of one who has made a most generous offer.
Did your mother authorize you to make a bargain? he inquired.
No, sir.
She wished you to report to her, I suppose. This offer will hold good for twenty-four hours. You can come around to-morrow evening, and the matter can be settled at once. It may be well for your mother to come round also, as her signature will be required to the bill of sale.
I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Ferguson, but I don't think we will sell.
Young man, said Ferguson severely, "if you advise your mother to reject this offer, you will take upon yourself a great responsibility."
Mr. Ferguson, rejoined Fred, fixing his eyes on the merchant, "do you advise my mother, as a friend, to accept this offer?"
Of course, of course. It is the best thing she can do.
I have no right to doubt your sincerity, but I think the land is worth more than you offer.
What can you know about it? demanded Ferguson impatiently.
A gentleman who had traveled in Colorado called on us a while ago. He seems to think the land is quite valuable.
Stuff and nonsense! The man was humbugging you.
He was a miner, continued Fred placidly. "He promised to look up the matter for us."
You were very rash to trust a stranger. The best thing you can do is to disregard any advice he may have given you, and accept my offer.
There is one difficulty in the way, said Fred.
What is that?
_We have sold the land!_
Conclusion
"You have sold the land?" repeated Mr. Ferguson in dismay.
Yes, sir.
Then permit me to say that you and your mother have acted like fools! said Ferguson harshly. "In a matter like this you should have consulted ME. What do you or your mother know about business?"
I think we did pretty well, said Fred placidly.
What did you sell for? asked Ferguson abruptly.
Six thousand five hundred dollars! answered the ex-train boy.
Robert Ferguson stared at Fred in amazement and incredulity.
Don't play any of your practical jokes on me! he said sternly.
I don't intend to, sir. We gave Mr. Sloan a power of attorney, and he sold it for us.
He _says_ he did! sneered Ferguson. "You will never get the money."
Excuse me, Mr. Ferguson. We have received the money already.
When? gasped the merchant.
Two days ago.
The face of Robert Ferguson was a study. Disappointed cupidity succeeded his first incredulity. He began to consider that he must convince Fred that he had acted in good faith. With an effort he smoothed down his face and conjured up a smile.
You quite take my breath away, he said. "I can hardly believe that the land which I thought worthless should have realized such a sum. Have any mines been discovered on them?"
No, sir; but a village has sprung up in the immediate neighborhood.
I am heartily glad of it. Tell your mother so. How could I have been so deceived? By the way, it will be best for you to put the money in the hands of some responsible person to take care of for you. As a near relative I shall be glad to invest the amount for you safely along with my own.
Thank you, sir, but we have already invested it.
Mr. Ferguson frowned.
I predict that you will lose half of it, he said.
I don't think so. I had advice in the investment.
Who advised you?
John Wainwright, the banker.
Do you know him?
Yes; he is my employer.
I believe I remember that Raymond told me so. Of course he is a good adviser. How much does he pay you?
Twenty-five dollars a week.
Do you take me for a fool? demanded Ferguson angrily.
No, sir; and you have no right to take me for a liar, answered Fred, firmly.
But such a salary for a boy of sixteen is ridiculous!
It does seem so; but Mr. Wainwright sent me to Canada to recover over ten thousand dollars' worth of stolen bonds, and I succeeded in bringing them back.
Slowly it dawned upon Mr. Ferguson that the youth before him was not only a favorite of fortune, out a remarkably smart boy. He was evidently on the rise. Would it not be politic to take notice of him?
Fred, he said with sudden friendliness, "I am pleased to hear of your good fortune. You have done credit to the family. We ought to be more intimate. In proof of my desire for closer relations I shall send cards to you and your mother for my Daughter Luella's wedding. She is to be married next Thursday evening to an Italian count. Probably you have suitable attire, or, if not, you can easily obtain it. Give me your address."
Thank you, sir. I am not sure whether my mother will attend, but I shall be happy to do so.
The door opened, and Raymond Ferguson entered.
Good evening, Raymond, said Fred pleasantly.
Good evening, answered Raymond, coldly.
Your cousin Frederick has been very fortunate, said the elder Ferguson genially. "He and his mother have come into some thousands of dollars, and he is receiving a handsome salary from Mr. Wainwright, the banker. I shall be glad to see you two intimate."
Is that so? asked Raymond, thawing.
I am glad to say it is, answered Fred.
Would you like to invite your cousin to attend the theater, Raymond?
Just what I was going to ask. There is a good play on at Wallack's.
Very well! Here is a five-dollar bill.
Come along, Fred, said Raymond, who had made up his mind it would be wise to cultivate the acquaintance of his once despised relative.
Before they parted for the evening, Raymond borrowed five dollars of Fred, and struck up a close friendship with him. While Fred understood perfectly well what had produced this remarkable change in his cousin he was philosophical enough to take the world as he found it, and accepted Raymond's advances.
The next day wedding cards, elaborately engraved were received at Fred's modest home, requesting Mrs. Fenton and her son's presence at the marriage ceremony of Luella Ferguson and Count Vincento Cattelli. But an unexpected circumstance prevented the nuptials from being celebrated.
One evening the count and Miss Ferguson were sitting at supper at Delmonico's. At a table near by sat a gentleman, who watched the young couple with curious attention. He rose finally and approached them.
Miss Ferguson, I believe, he said.
Yes, sir.
I don't know if you remember me, but I dined at your father's house one evening in February. My name is Stanwood.
I remember you now, Mr. Stanwood. Let me make you acquainted with Count Cattelli.
I am honored, said Stanwood with a curious smile.
This lady is my affianced bride, said the count,
Indeed! I congratulate you. By the way, haven't I met you before?
If you have been in Italy, sare. I am Count Cattelli of Milan.
Stanwood smiled slightly, and returned to his own table.
The next day Miss Ferguson received the following note:
MY DEAR MISS FERGUSON:
What I am about to write will pain you, but I cannot permit you to be grossly deceived. The gentleman whom you introduced to me as Count Cattelli at Delmonico's last evening shaved me last March in a barber-shop in Chicago. He may be a count, but I advise you to speak to your father on the subject. Your well wisher,
CHARLES STANWOOD.
Miss Ferguson went into a fit of hysterics, but followed the advice of her correspondent. The count, on being taxed with his deception, first indulged in bravado, but finally acknowledged that he had served as a barber, but still claimed to be a count. Mr. Ferguson, intensely mortified, agreed to give him two hundred dollars if he would leave the city at once. Notices that the wedding had been indefinitely postponed were sent to all who had received cards, and Luella disappeared for a time. There were numerous reports as to the cause of the marriage being postponed, but the secret was well kept. Luella is still unmarried, and is likely to remain so, unless some one marries her for her money.
Ruth Patton is now the wife of Alfred Lindsay. The young lawyer made a private call on Mr. Ferguson, which resulted in the latter disgorging the ten thousand dollars of which he had defrauded Ruth's mother, so that she did not come to her husband portionless.
All goes well with Fred Fenton. He is still in the employ of John Wainwright, on a largely increased salary, and is always a welcome guest at the home of the banker. Rose is as partial to him as ever, and it would not be surprising if she should some day marry the ex-Erie train-boy. Fred and his mother live in a handsome flat up town, and Albert, his younger brother, is making rapid progress as a designer. It looks as if the clouds had passed away, succeeded by the sunshine of permanent prosperity.
The End