CHAPTER XXXITHE ADVERTISEMENT
If there was anyone of whom Tom Burns stood in fear it was Luke Robbins. When he found himself in the grasp of his dreaded enemy, he grew weak with terror.
It was no longer a question of successful robbery. It was a matter of personal safety.
“Well, what have you to say for yourself?” demanded Luke, tightening his grasp.
“Have mercy on me, Mr. Robbins! Don’t kill me!” ejaculated Burns, half choked.
“What did you come here for?”
“I—I had no money, and——”
“You thought you could get some here?”
“Ye-es,” faltered Burns.
“You thought you would be more than a match for the boy. Well, you have no boy to deal with.”
“I know that very well,” confessed Burns.
“How long have you been in Oreville?”
“I only came this morning.”
“You have improved your time,” said Luke dryly. “You have stolen a gold watch, besides making this attempt at robbery.”
Tom Burns could not deny it, though he was surprised at Luke’s knowledge.
“Hand over that watch!” said Luke in a tone of authority.
“Will you let me go if I do?”
“I will make no conditions with you. Hand over the watch!”
Burns drew it from his inside pocket and handed it over.
“Humph! So far so good. Now how about that dollar you took to buy eggs?”
“It is the only money I have, except a few pennies. Please let me keep it.”
“If I tell what you have done to the miners you won’t need any more money,” said Luke grimly.
“Why not?” asked Burns, trembling.
“Why not?” repeated Luke. “Because they will hang you to the nearest tree. You won’t need to trouble about money matters after that.”
“You won’t give me up, Mr. Robbins,” pleaded Burns, in an agony of terror. “I—I am not fit to die. Besides, I am a young man. I am not yet forty. I will turn over a new leaf.”
“It’s high time you did. It is a long time since you earned an honest living.”
“I know it, Mr. Robbins. I have been a bad man, but it is not too late to reform. If you’ll let me go I will leave Oreville to-night, and I will never trouble you again.”
“It isn’t me you have troubled. It is the boy. You robbed him, or tried to do it, at Oak Forks, and now you have turned up here.”
“I didn’t know he was here.”
“You didn’t know I was here, or I think you would have given the place a wide berth.”
“I am very sorry for what I did, and if you’ll only spare my life, I’ll promise to reform.”
“I haven’t much faith in your promises, but I’ll leave it to the boy. Ernest, what shall I do with this man?”
Ernest had come forward, and was standing but a few feet from Luke and his captive.
“If he promises to reform,” said Ernest, “you’d better give him another chance, Luke.”
“I am not sure that I ought to, but it is you to whom he has done the most harm. If you give him over to the miners we shall never be troubled by him again.”
Tom Burns turned pale, for he knew that life and death were in the balance, and that those two—Luke and the boy—were to decide his fate.
Ernest could not help pitying the trembling wretch. He was naturally kind-hearted, and at that moment he felt that he could forgive Burns all that he had done.
“Since you have left it to me, Luke,” he said, “let him go.”
“It shall be as you say, Ernest.”
As he spoke he released his hold, and Tom Burns stood erect. He breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“May I go?” he asked submissively.
“Yes.”
Before leaving he turned to Ernest.
“You are a good-hearted boy,” he said, “and I shall not forget that you have saved my life. If I am ever able to do anything for you, I will do it. You will find that Tom Burns, bad as he has been, knows how to be grateful.”
“I think you mean what you say,” returned Ernest. “I hope you will keep your promise and will turn over a new leaf. Is it true that you are penniless?”
“Not quite. This is all I have.”
Burns drew from his pocket a handful of small change—less than a dollar in all—and held it out for inspection.
“Then I will help you along.”
Ernest took from his pocket a five-dollar gold piece, and offered it to the tramp.
“That is more than I would do for him,” said Luke.
“It is more than I deserve,” replied Burns, “but you won’t be sorry for your kindness. If ever you see me again, I shall be a different man.”
He passed out of the window, and they saw him no more.
Luke and Ernest said very little of their night’s adventure, but the gold watch and the Mexican dollar were returned to the man from whom they had been taken.
Six months passed. Oreville had doubled its population, the mines had yielded a large sum in gold-dust, and the store presided over by Ernest was considerably enlarged.
His services had been so satisfactory that Horace Ames, whose time was taken up elsewhere, had raised his share of the profits to one-half.
At the end of six months, besides defraying his expenses,Ernest found himself possessed of a thousand dollars.
“Luke, I feel rich,” said he, when his faithful friend came round for a chat.
“You’ve done better than I have,” rejoined Luke. “The most I have been able to scrape together is four hundred dollars.”
“I will give you a part of my money, so that we may be even.”
“No, you won’t, Ernest. What do you take me for?”
“Mr. Ames has been very liberal, and that is why I have got so much. I don’t feel that I ought to have so much more than you.”
“Don’t bother about me, lad; I feel rich with four hundred dollars. I never was worth so much before, though I’m almost three times your age. And I wouldn’t have that but for you.”
“How do you make that out, Luke?”
“Because I never had any ambition till I met you. I never thought of saving money; as long as I got enough to eat I cared for nothing else. I should have died without enough to bury me if you had not set me the example of putting something by for a rainy day.”
“I am glad if I have done you any good, Luke, for you have been a kind friend to me.”
A week later Luke came into the store, holding a letter in his hand.
“Here is a letter for you, Ernest,” he said. “I was passing the post-office just now when I was hailed by the postmaster, who asked me if I would take the letter to you. I didn’t know that you had any correspondents.”
“Nor I, Luke. I think it is the first letter I ever received. Whom can it be from?”
“From some one who knows you are here. It is post-marked St. Louis.”
“Well, I can easily discover who wrote it,” said Ernest, as he cut open the envelope with his penknife.
He turned at once to the signature, and exclaimed, in great surprise, “Why, it’s from Tom Burns.”
“The man who tried to rob the store?”
“Yes.”
“He has probably written to ask you for some money.”
“No, Luke, you are mistaken. I will read it to you.”
The letter started thus:
Ernest Ray: You will probably be surprised to hear from me. Let me begin by saying that I have kept the promise I made to you and Mr. Robbins when you let me off six months ago. I have turned over a new leaf, and have been strictly honest ever since, as I promised you I would be.I won’t trouble you with an account of my struggles to get along. I will only say that I am employed at present as a waiter at the Planters’ Hotel, and though I can’t save up much money, I am able to live comfortably. But you will wonder why I am writing to you. It is because I have seen your name mentioned in an advertisement in one of the St. Louis daily papers. I inclose the advertisement, and hope it is something to your advantage. I have taken the liberty to write to Mr. Bolton, telling him where you were six months since, and I now write to you so that you may communicate with him also. Yours respectfully,Tom Burns.
Ernest Ray: You will probably be surprised to hear from me. Let me begin by saying that I have kept the promise I made to you and Mr. Robbins when you let me off six months ago. I have turned over a new leaf, and have been strictly honest ever since, as I promised you I would be.
I won’t trouble you with an account of my struggles to get along. I will only say that I am employed at present as a waiter at the Planters’ Hotel, and though I can’t save up much money, I am able to live comfortably. But you will wonder why I am writing to you. It is because I have seen your name mentioned in an advertisement in one of the St. Louis daily papers. I inclose the advertisement, and hope it is something to your advantage. I have taken the liberty to write to Mr. Bolton, telling him where you were six months since, and I now write to you so that you may communicate with him also. Yours respectfully,
Tom Burns.
Tom Burns.
The advertisement appended ran thus:
Information Wanted.—Should this meet the eye of Ernest Ray, some time residing at Oak Forks, Iowa, he is requested to communicate with Benjamin Bolton, Attorney at Law, 182 Nassau Street, New York City.
Information Wanted.—Should this meet the eye of Ernest Ray, some time residing at Oak Forks, Iowa, he is requested to communicate with Benjamin Bolton, Attorney at Law, 182 Nassau Street, New York City.
CHAPTER XXXIIMR. BOLTON AS A HUSTLER
When Benjamin Bolton left the house of Stephen Ray with a hundred dollars in his pocket, it was his clearly defined purpose to find the boy who had been so grossly wronged, and force the present holder of the Ray estate to make restitution.
Only a few hours previous he had been nearly penniless. Even now, though he was provided with a sum of money that made him feel comparatively rich, he knew it would not last long.
He provided himself with a respectable suit of clothing, and took the next train for New York. He had been in the metropolis two or three times in the course of his life, but knew no one there.
While other paths might be open to him, for he was a man of education and worldly experience, he felt that he should like to get back into his own profession. He flattered himself that if properly started he could make himself valuable to an established attorney in the way of hunting up cases, and taking part in any legal work that might be intrusted to him.
But how could he, an unknown man, recommend himself to any lawyer whose standing and business would make a connection with him desirable? Perhaps in any other business there would be less difficulty in making a start.
But Mr. Bolton was resolute and determined, and fortune favored him.
Within thirty miles of the city a stout gentleman of perhaps fifty entered the car and sat beside him. He looked like a well-to-do business man, free from care, but for the anxious expression on his face. He appeared like a man in trouble who stood in need of advice.
The train had gone several miles before he decided to confide in the quiet man who sat beside him. He had already taken stock of Bolton in furtive glances.
“There is something on his mind,” thought Bolton. “He looks as if he wished to speak to some one.”
He addressed a casual remark to his companion, who instantly responded.
“I don’t like to trouble you,” he said, “but I am somewhat perplexed.”
“My dear sir, if in any way I can help you I shall be glad to do so,” answered Bolton. “I am a lawyer——”
“Are you?” said the other eagerly. “I want to meeta good, honest and smart lawyer, who will undertake a case for me.”
Bolton pricked up his ears. This seemed to be a providential opportunity, of which he resolved to avail himself.
“I should not like to praise myself,” he said modestly, “but I think you will find me faithful to your interests.”
“No doubt of it, sir. Are you a New York lawyer?”
“I am about to connect myself with a law firm in the city,” answered Bolton, hoping that this statement might prove accurate.
“Then you will be able to help me.”
“State your case, if you don’t mind.”
Bolton took out a small memorandum-book, and, pencil in hand, sat ready to take down the important points.
“Twenty years ago my father died, leaving an estate of fifty thousand dollars. It was divided equally between my sister Martha and myself. I married, and Martha for the last twenty years has been a member of my family. Being a spinster, with only herself to provide for, her property has doubled, while I, having several children, have barely held my own. Of course I expected that my children and myself would inherit Martha’s money when she died.”
“Very natural, sir, and very just.”
“Well, Martha died last August. Imagine my dismay when her will was opened and proved to bequeath her entire estate to various charities in which she never took any particular interest when living.”
“Do you suspect anyone of influencing her to this disposition of her property?”
“Yes, she had various conversations with a collector for these societies, who resided in the town during the summer, who sought an introduction when he learned that she was a lady of independent fortune. He called frequently, and flattered my sister, who had lately shown signs of mental weakness.”
“Did she cut off your family entirely in her will?”
“Yes, she didn’t leave even a dollar to any one of my children, though one of my daughters was named for her.”
“Was the collector entitled to a commission on sums secured for the societies which he represented?”
“Yes, that is the cause of his zeal. He would make a very handsome percentage on an estate as large as my sister’s.”
“But for him would she have been likely to cut off her relatives?”
“No. We should probably have received every dollar.”
“Do you think the collector cherished any matrimonial designs with reference to your sister?”
“I did think so at one time, but Martha’s condition as an invalid led her to discourage his attentions, though she was evidently flattered by them.”
“Of course you wish to break the will?”
“Yes. Do you think it can be done?”
“Upon the basis of what you have told me I should think the chances were greatly in your favor.”
His companion brightened up very perceptibly at this assurance.
“Have you ever been employed in any similar cases?” he asked.
“My dear sir, I have a very important case of the kind on my hands at this moment. The amount involved is quarter of a million dollars.”
Mr. Bolton rose greatly in the estimation of his new client after this statement.
“Is the case at all similar?”
“Hardly. It is the case of a will concealed, or rather suppressed, and acting upon a will previously made. I cannot go into details, as I wish to keep our enemy in the dark.”
“I understand. Have you your card with you, so that I can call at your office?”
This was a puzzling question for Bolton, but he was equal to the occasion.
“Tell me what hotel you propose to stop at, and I will call upon you at eleven o’clock to-morrow morning.”
“I don’t know much about the New York hotels.”
“Then let me recommend a house,” naming a comfortable but not expensive hostelry on upper Broadway.
“I will go there.”
“I think you have not yet mentioned your name.”
“My name is Ephraim Paulding.”
Bolton noted it down in his memorandum-book, and soon after the train ran into the station at Forty-second Street.
There was no time to lose. Bolton made inquiries and obtained the name of a successful lawyer, with an office at 182 Nassau Street. He did not wait till the next day, but made a call that same evening at his house on Lexington Avenue.
Mr. Norcross, the lawyer, entered the parlor with Bolton’s card in his hand, and a puzzled expression on his face.
“Have I ever met you before, Mr. Bolton?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
“Please state your business.”
“I should like to enter your office. I am a lawyer with fifteen years’ experience.”
“I should hardly think so, considering the strange proposal you are making.”
“I am quite aware that it seems so, but I can make it worth your while.”
“How?”
“By bringing you business. I can put in your hands now a will case involving an estate of fifty thousand dollars, and further on probably a much more important case.”
“You seem to be a hustler.”
“I am.”
“Where has your professional life been spent?” asked Norcross.
“At Elmira. Now I wish to remove to this city. It will give me a larger and more profitable field.”
“Give me some idea of the case you say you can put in my hands.”
Bolton did so. His terse and crisp statement—for hewas a man of ability—interested the lawyer, and disposed him favorably toward the matter.
The result of the interview was that he engaged Bolton at a small salary and a commission on business brought to the office for a period of three months.
“Thank you,” said Bolton as he rose to go. “You will not regret this step.”
The next morning Bolton brought his railroad acquaintance to the office, and Mr. Norcross formally undertook his case.
“I think we shall win,” he said. “It is an aggravated case of undue influence. Mr. Bolton will from time to time communicate to you the steps we have taken.”
It is unnecessary to go into details. It is enough to say that the will was broken, and a goodly sum found its way to the coffers of Lawyer Norcross.
By this time Benjamin Bolton had established himself in the favor of his employer, who at the end of three months made a new and much more advantageous arrangement. Bolton had not yet taken any steps in Ernest’s case, but he now felt that the time had come to do so. He wrote to the postmaster at Oak Forks, inquiring if he knew a boy named Ernest Ray, but learned in reply that Ernest had left the place some months before, and had not since been heard from.
CHAPTER XXXIIIANSWERING THE ADVERTISEMENT
The advertisement for Ernest in a St. Louis daily paper came about in this way.
Bolton was in the habit of inquiring from time to time of Western clients if they were acquainted with any persons bearing the name Ray. One gentleman, who frequently visited St. Louis, answered, “Yes, I know a boy named Ray.”
“Tell me all you know about him,” said Bolton eagerly.
“I was staying at the Southern Hotel last winter,” answered Mr. Windham, “when my attention was called to a bright-looking newsboy who sold the evening papers outside. I was so attracted by him that I inquired his name. He said it was Ray, and that he was alone in the world.”
“What was his first name?”
“I can’t recall. I am not sure that I heard it.”
“Was it Ernest?”
“I cannot speak with any certainty.”
“How old did the boy appear to be?”
“About sixteen.”
“That would have been the age of Dudley Ray’s son,” said Bolton to himself.
“I suppose you didn’t learn where the boy lived?”
“No.”
This was all the information Mr. Windham was able to impart, but Bolton felt that it was possibly of importance. It was the first clue he had been able to obtain.
That Dudley Ray’s son should be forced by dire necessity to sell newspapers was not improbable. Bolton therefore inserted the advertisement already mentioned.
A few days later he received two letters post-marked St. Louis.
He opened them with a thrill of excitement. He felt that he was on the verge of making an important discovery.
One letter was addressed in a schoolboy hand, and ran thus:
Dear Sir: I saw your advertisement in one of the morning papers. I hope it means me. My name is not Ernest, but it may have been changed by some people with whom I lived in Nebraska. I am sixteen years old, and I am obliged to earn my living selling papers. My father died when I was a baby, and my mother three years later. I am alone in the world, and am having a hard time. I suppose you wouldn’t advertise for me unless you had some good news for me. You may send your answer to this letter to theSouthern Hotel. The clerk is a friend of mine, and he says he will save it for me.Yours respectfully,Arthur Ray.
Dear Sir: I saw your advertisement in one of the morning papers. I hope it means me. My name is not Ernest, but it may have been changed by some people with whom I lived in Nebraska. I am sixteen years old, and I am obliged to earn my living selling papers. My father died when I was a baby, and my mother three years later. I am alone in the world, and am having a hard time. I suppose you wouldn’t advertise for me unless you had some good news for me. You may send your answer to this letter to theSouthern Hotel. The clerk is a friend of mine, and he says he will save it for me.
Yours respectfully,Arthur Ray.
Yours respectfully,
Arthur Ray.
“That isn’t the boy,” said Bolton, laying down the letter in disappointment. “The name is different, and, besides, the writer says that his father died when he was a baby. Of course that settles the question. He is a different boy.”
He opened the second letter, hoping that it might be more satisfactory.
It was the letter of Tom Burns, setting forth his meeting Ernest at Oak Forks, and afterward at Oreville in California.
“Eureka!” exclaimed Bolton, his face beaming with exultation. “This is the boy and no mistake. I will at once answer this letter, and also write to Ernest Ray in California.”
This was the letter received by Burns:
Dear Sir: I am very much indebted to you for the information contained in your letter of two days since. I have reason to think that the boy you mention is the one of whom I am in search. If it proves to be so, I am free to tell you that he will be much benefited by your communication. There is a considerable estate, now wrongfully held by another, to which he is entitled. Should things turn out as I hope, I will see that you lose nothing by the service you have rendered him and myself. I will write to him by this mail. Should you change your address, please notify me.Yours truly,Benjamin Bolton.182 Nassau Street, New York.
Dear Sir: I am very much indebted to you for the information contained in your letter of two days since. I have reason to think that the boy you mention is the one of whom I am in search. If it proves to be so, I am free to tell you that he will be much benefited by your communication. There is a considerable estate, now wrongfully held by another, to which he is entitled. Should things turn out as I hope, I will see that you lose nothing by the service you have rendered him and myself. I will write to him by this mail. Should you change your address, please notify me.
Yours truly,Benjamin Bolton.
Yours truly,
Benjamin Bolton.
182 Nassau Street, New York.
The letter written to Ernest ran thus:
Ernest Ray, Oreville, California:I have for some time been seeking to find you. In response to an advertisement inserted in a St. Louis daily paper, I learn that you are at present living in Oreville, California. This information was given me by one Thomas Burns, who is employed at the Planters’ Hotel. The name is, I hope, familiar to you. It is very desirablethat I should have an interview with you. If you are the son of Dudley Ray, formerly residing at or near Elmira, what I have to say will be greatly to your advantage.Will you write me at once, letting me know whether this be the case? Also state your present circumstances, and whether you need pecuniary help. It is unfortunate that we are so far apart. I am connected with a New York legal firm, and cannot very well go to California; but I might assist you to come to New York, if as I suppose, your means are limited. Will you write to me at once whether this is the case? I shall anxiously await your reply.Benjamin Bolton,Attorney at Law.182 Nassau Street, New York City.
Ernest Ray, Oreville, California:
I have for some time been seeking to find you. In response to an advertisement inserted in a St. Louis daily paper, I learn that you are at present living in Oreville, California. This information was given me by one Thomas Burns, who is employed at the Planters’ Hotel. The name is, I hope, familiar to you. It is very desirablethat I should have an interview with you. If you are the son of Dudley Ray, formerly residing at or near Elmira, what I have to say will be greatly to your advantage.
Will you write me at once, letting me know whether this be the case? Also state your present circumstances, and whether you need pecuniary help. It is unfortunate that we are so far apart. I am connected with a New York legal firm, and cannot very well go to California; but I might assist you to come to New York, if as I suppose, your means are limited. Will you write to me at once whether this is the case? I shall anxiously await your reply.
Benjamin Bolton,Attorney at Law.
Benjamin Bolton,
Attorney at Law.
182 Nassau Street, New York City.
Ernest read this letter with eager interest, and showed it to Luke Robbins.
“What do you think of it, Luke?” he asked.
“What do I think of it? It looks very much as if you were entitled to some money.”
“What shall I do?”
“Write this Mr. Bolton that you will go at once to New York, and call upon him.”
“But how about the store? I should not like to leave Mr. Ames in the lurch.”
“I will take your place here, and to qualify myself for it I will come in to-morrow, and begin to serve an apprenticeship.”
Ernest wrote to Bolton that he would start for New York in a week. He added that he had the money necessary for the journey. He said also that he was the son of Dudley Ray, and that he remembered visiting Elmira with his father.
When Bolton received this letter, he exclaimed triumphantly: “Now, Stephen Ray, I have you on the hip. You looked down upon me when I called upon you. In your pride, and your unjust possession of wealth, you thought me beneath your notice. Unless I am mistaken, I shall be the instrument under Providence of taking from you your ill-gotten gains, and carrying out the wishes expressed in the last will of your deceased uncle.”
Ernest left Oreville with four hundred dollars in his pocket. The balance of his money he left, in the hands of his friend Horace Ames, upon whom he was authorized to draw if he should have need.
“I don’t intend to carry all my money with me,” he said to Luke Robbins. “I might lose it all.”
“Even if you did, Ernest, you could draw on me. If you need it, do so without any hesitation.”
“You are a good friend, Luke,” said Ernest warmly. “What should I do without you?”
“I am beginning to wonder what I should do without you, Ernest. Suppose, now, this lawyer puts a fortune in your hands?”
“If he does, Luke, I am sure to need your help in some way.”
“Thank you, Ernest. I know you mean what you say. You may find a better friend, but you won’t find one that is more ready to serve you than Luke Robbins.”
“I am sure of that, Luke,” said Ernest with a bright smile as he pressed the rough hand of his faithful friend.
Ernest did not loiter on his way, though he was tempted to stop in Chicago, but he reflected that he would have plenty of chances to visit that bustling city after his business had been attended to.
As he approached Buffalo on the train his attention was attracted to two persons sitting a little distance in front of him. They were a father and son, as he gathered from the conversation.
The son was about his own age and size apparently, but rather more slender in figure. He had a peevish expression, and Ernest doubted whether he would like him.
“Father,” Ernest heard him say, “won’t you give me a little money? I am dead broke.”
“I gave you five dollars when we set out on this journey,” he said.
“Well, five dollars won’t last forever,” was the pert rejoinder.
“It ought to last more than four days, Clarence.”
Ernest started. He knew that his cousin’s name was Clarence. Could this be Stephen Ray and his son?
Even if it were so, he felt that it would not be advisable to make himself known. This business which was carrying him to New York might bring him into conflict with Stephen Ray. If so, he would not care to let his presence be known.
On arriving at Buffalo Ernest left the train. He had never visited Niagara, and being now so near he felt that he could not forego the opportunity.
He registered at the Tefft House, and decided to remain for a day. This would give him time to see the Falls.
Ernest had a room assigned to him, and went up to it at once to have the luxury of a good wash.
Five minutes afterward Stephen Ray and his son Clarence entered the hotel.
Mr. Ray, in a pompous manner, went up to the desk and said to the clerk: “Can you give me a good room?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want a front room if you have it.”
“I can’t give you a front room, but I can give you a good side room.”
Stephen Ray grumbled a little, but finally decided to take the room offered him. He saw that his haughty manner did not impress the clerk, who was accustomed to men of his class.
Clarence looked over his father’s shoulder as he registered.
“Why, pa,” he exclaimed in surprise, “there’s another guest of our name.”
“Where?” asked his father.
“There, three names above your signature.”
CHAPTER XXXIVA STRANGE MEETING
Stephen Ray looked at the register, and started violently as he read the entry:
“Ernest Ray, Oreville, California.”
“What’s the matter, pa?” asked Clarence, noticing his father’s agitation.
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” answered his father with an effort.
“Haven’t we a cousin named Ernest Ray?”
“We had, but he is dead.”
“It is strange that there should be another person of the name.”
“Not at all. The world is large, and there are a good many persons of one name.”
“This one is from California.”
“So I see. By the way,” here Mr. Ray addressed the clerk, “did you observe the person who registered under the name of Ray?”
“Yes. It is a boy about the size of this young gentleman.”
“It is strange,” said Clarence. “It may be our cousin.”
“Didn’t I tell you that the person you refer to is dead?” said his father testily.
“I don’t believe it,” thought Clarence, but he did not express his unbelief. He determined, however, to have an interview with the boy, and find out all about him.
He saw Ernest at the table soon after, and so did Stephen Ray. The latter noted with alarm the resemblance of the boy to his cousin Dudley Ray, whose estate he had usurped.
“I hope Bolton won’t get hold of him,” he said to himself. “It would be dangerous to me.”
After supper Mr. Ray went out, leaving Clarence to himself.
He improved the opportunity. Seeing Ernest sitting alone, he went up to him.
“Is your name Ray?” he asked.
“Yes, Ernest Ray.”
“My name is Clarence Ray.”
“So I thought. We are cousins.”
“That’s what I told pa, but he said it was not so—that Ernest Ray was dead.”
“Your father’s name is Stephen Ray?”
“Yes.”
“I have known of him and you since I was old enough to remember anything.”
“Then you are really my Cousin Ernest?”
“Yes.”
“I wonder why pa said you were dead. I will tell pa he is mistaken.”
“No, Clarence, I would rather you wouldn’t. There are reasons why it is better not to say anything about it.”
“All right. Are you well off?”
Ernest smiled.
“I am not rich,” he said, “but I am comfortably fixed.”
“Do you live in California?”
“I have lived there for the last few months.”
“Why did you come East?”
“On a little business.”
“I am glad you are well off. I think pa was afraid you were a poor relation.”
“Your father is rich?”
“Yes, ever so rich. We’ve got a fine place near Elmira. If pa wasn’t so cranky I would invite you there to visit me.”
“Thank you all the same,” said Ernest, smiling.
Later in the evening, when Stephen Ray came in, Ernest noticed that he looked at him critically. He, too, examined the man who, he had reason to believe, was enjoyingthe estates that should be his, and was not attracted toward him.
“What will he say,” thought Ernest, “when I make a formal demand for the property?”
“What in the name of all that’s unlucky can have brought that boy here at this time?” Stephen Ray was saying to himself.
He never for an instant doubted Ernest’s identity—in fact, he could not well have done so, for he bore a strong resemblance to Dudley Ray.
Stephen Ray’s curiosity was excited. Ernest did not appear like the average poor relation. He was quite as well dressed as Clarence. Besides, he had registered at a high-priced hotel, which showed that he was not cramped for means.
This gave him satisfaction, as it made it less likely that he would appeal to him for assistance.
Stephen Ray was rather surprised that Clarence made no further reference to Ernest. Had he known that the two had had a conversation he would have been seriously disturbed. He hoped that Bolton would not get hold of the boy.
CHAPTER XXXVMR. BOLTON AND HIS CLIENT
Benjamin Bolton sat at his desk in the law office of Albert Norcross, on Nassau Street. He was well, even handsomely dressed, and looked very unlike the shabby tramp who had called months before at the house of Stephen Ray.
He was really a man of ability which his employer had found out. He had raised Bolton’s salary to a liberal figure, and felt that in securing his services he had made a real acquisition.
Bolton was absorbed in preparation for a case whichhad been assigned to him, when a boy came to his desk with a card.
Bolton no sooner read the name, “Ernest Ray,” than he became eager and excited.
“Tell him to come in,” he said.
Ernest, quiet and self-possessed, entered the office and approached the lawyer’s desk.
“Are you Mr. Bolton?” he asked.
“Yes, and you——”
“I am Ernest Ray.”
Benjamin Bolton looked keenly at the boy, admiring his handsome face and manly bearing.
“I see your father’s looks in you,” he said.
“Then you knew my father?” said Ernest.
“Yes. We were young men together.”
“I am glad to meet you, then.”
“You come from California?”
“Yes.”
“I judge from your appearance that you have not suffered from poverty.”
“I have been fortunate at Oreville. At Oak Forks I lived very humbly with Peter Brant, an old servant of my father.”
“Yes, I remember Peter. Is he alive still?”
“No, he died a little less than a year since. Till his death I thought him my uncle and knew no other relatives. Before he died he told me who I was.”
“How did he live?”
“On a small sum left by my father. When he died it was all exhausted except a hundred dollars. I took that and went to California with a man named Luke Robbins, who has proved my faithful friend.”
“What were you doing in California? Were you working at the mines?”
“No. I was keeping a store where I sold miners’ supplies.”
“Did it pay you well?”
“I was very well paid for a boy. When I left Oreville I was worth a thousand dollars.”
“That is well, but it is only a drop in the bucket compared with the fortune you are entitled to.”
“Now held by Mr. Stephen Ray?”
“Yes; he will be surprised to see you in the East.”
“He has seen me,” said Ernest quickly.
“What!” exclaimed the lawyer. “You have not called upon him?”
“No. I met him on the train and afterwards at a Buffalo hotel. My Cousin Clarence was with him.”
“Did you have any conference with them?”
“I talked with Clarence, not with his father.”
“Did you think the father knew you?”
“Yes, but he did not speak to me.”
“He told me when I called upon him some time ago that you were dead—that you died in Georgia.”
“What could have been his object?”
“He did not wish me to find you, for I had the proof that the estate was rightfully yours.”
“What led you to think I was alive?”
“I cross-examined Clarence, who did not know his father’s desire to keep us apart.”
“Is the estate a large one?”
“Quarter of a million, at least.”
Ernest’s eyes opened wide with amazement.
“But I will introduce you to Mr. Norcross, my principal, and we will talk over our plan of operations. You must assert your rights, and demand that your grandfather’s will be carried out. Are you content to place yourself in our hands?”
“Entirely so. But I am sorry for Cousin Stephen. It will be a great blow for him.”
“Don’t waste any pity upon him. He defrauded your father, and meant to defraud you.”
CHAPTER XXXVISTEPHEN RAY ALARMED
“A gentleman to see you, sir.”
This was the message brought to Stephen Ray by the servant one morning.
“Did he give his name?”
“No, sir.”
“Very well; bring him up.”
Mr. Ray was sitting at the desk in his library. He was looking over some plans for the improvement of his handsome residence.
He proposed to enlarge a lower room by a bay window and to carry the piazza round on each side. It would cost something, but his income was ample—at least four times his expenditure.
He looked up as a handsomely dressed gentleman entered the room.
“What is your business, sir?” asked Stephen Ray formally.
The visitor smiled.
“You don’t recognize me, Stephen Ray?” he said.
“Benjamin Bolton!” exclaimed the other, his countenance changing.
“The same.”
“I judge from your appearance that your circumstances have improved,” said Mr. Ray coldly.
“Fortunately, yes.”
“I congratulate you.”
“Thank you. The money you kindly loaned me when I was last here did me a great deal of good.”
“I presume you have come to repay it,” said Ray, with a sneer.
“You are right,” and Bolton drew from his pocket two fifty-dollar bills, which he tendered to his host.
Stephen Ray was fond of money, and he received the notes with satisfaction.
“You have acted honorably,” he said more graciously. “Are you located in the neighborhood?”
“No, in New York City. I am in a law office there.”
“I am pleased with your success. I would ask you to remain, but I am quite busy this morning.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Ray, but the repayment of the loan was not my only errand. I am here on more important business.”
Stephen Ray’s countenance changed. He began to fear that Bolton had found Ernest.
“When I was here last year you told me that Dudley Ray’s son, Ernest, was dead.”
“Yes, he died in Alabama.”
“When I was here before you told me he died in Georgia.”
“I believe it was Georgia,” said Stephen Ray, disconcerted.
“You will be glad to hear that it is a mistake—about the death, I mean. He is as much alive as you are.”
“Mr. Bolton,” said Ray angrily, “you are trying to impose upon me. The boy is dead, I tell you.”
“And I tell you he is not dead. I saw him only yesterday.”
“You may have seen some one who pretended to be Ernest Ray.”
“I should not be easily deceived. He is the image of his father.”
“I don’t believe the boy is alive.”
“Shall I bring him here?”
“You need not trouble yourself. I can have nothing to say to him, whether he is really Ernest Ray, or an impostor.”
“I beg your pardon. If he is Ernest Ray, under the will which I have in my possession, he is the owner of this property.”
Bolton spoke firmly, and looked Ray resolutely in the eye.
Stephen Ray flushed and paled. There was a great fear in his heart, but he resolved to brave it out.
“This is a base conspiracy. Your share in it ought to land you in State’s prison.”
“I am willing to take my chance of it,” said the lawyer. “Didn’t you recognize the boy when you saw him?”
“What do you mean?”
“You saw him in the hotel at Buffalo. He recognized you, and had a conversation with your son.”
“Had a conversation with Clarence? That is a lie. Clarence never spoke to me about it.”
“You had better question him. But there is no need of sparring. I tell you confidently that Ernest Ray is alive, and demands the estate under his grandfather’s will, which you hold.”
“This is ridiculous. There is but one answer to such a proposal.”
“What is that?”
“I refuse absolutely to make any concession to an impostor.”
“That is your final answer?”
“It is.”
“Then I give you notice that the boy will at once bring suit for the restoration of the estate and the vindication of his rights.”
“I suppose you are his lawyer?” sneered Ray.
“The firm with which I am connected has undertaken the case.”
“What is the firm?” asked Stephen Ray with an anxiety which he could not conceal.
“Norcross & Co.,” answered Bolton.
Great drops of perspiration appeared on the brows of Stephen Ray. He knew well the high reputation and uniform success of the firm in question.
He did not immediately answer, but began to pace the room in agitation. Finally he spoke.
“This has come upon me as a surprise. I thought the boy dead. I may be willing to make some arrangement.Bring him here next week—say Tuesday—and we will talk the matter over.”
“You must do more than talk the matter over, Stephen Ray. A great injustice has been done, the wrong must be righted.”
“Come here next Tuesday,” was the only answer.
The lawyer bowed and withdrew.