CHAPTERXXX.HOWDR.FOX WAS FOOLED.NANCY was not likely to turn pale, even if she had been frightened. Really, however, she was not frightened, having considerable nerve."Is that you, Massa Fox?" she replied composedly, pushing the boat off at the same time. "Where did you come from?""Who have you got with you?" demanded the doctor, in a peremptory tone."Lor', doctor, what's the matter? It's my sister Chloe from 'cross the river. She cum over to see me yes'day, and I'm agwine to take her home."Dr.Fox surveyed the pretended sister critically, and was inclined to believe the story. The dress, the stuffed form, and general appearance certainly resembled Nancy. But he was not satisfied."Are you sure that you haven't got oneof my runaways in the boat with you?" he asked suspiciously.Nancy's fat sides shook with laughter."One of them crazy critters!" she exclaimed. "Chloe, he thinks you're a crazy critter run away from his 'sylum. Won't Dinah laugh when you tell her!"Mrs.Kenyon possessed an admirable talent for mimicry, though she had not exercised it much of late years. Now, however, the occasion seemed to call for an effort in that direction, and she did not hesitate. She burst into a laugh, rich and hearty, so like Nancy's that the latter was almost startled, as if she heard the echo of her own amusement. No one who heard it would have doubted that it was the laugh of a negro woman.The laugh convincedDr.Fox. He no longer entertained any doubt that it was really Nancy's sister."It's all right, Nancy," he said apologetically. "I see I am mistaken. If you see either of the runaways let me know," and he turned his horse from the bank.Not a word passed between Nancy and herpassenger till they had got beyond earshot of the pursuer. Then Nancy began:"You did dat well, Mis' Kenyon. Ef I hadn't knowed I'd have thought it was ole Chloe herself. Where did you learn dat laugh?""I think I might make a pretty good actress, Nancy," saidMrs.Kenyon, smiling. "I knew something must be done asDr.Fox's suspicions were aroused. But I didn't dare to speak. I was not so sure of my voice.""Lor', how we fooled Massa Fox!" exclaimed Nancy, bursting once more into a rollicking laugh."So we did," saidMrs.Kenyon, echoing the laugh as before."You almost frighten me, Mis' Kenyon," said Nancy. "I didn't think no one but a nigger could laugh like dat. Are you sure you aint black blood?""I think not, Nancy," saidMrs.Kenyon. "I don't look like it, do I?""No, Mis' Kenyon; you're as white as a lily; but I can't understand dat laugh nohow."Presently they reached the other shore, and Nancy securely fastened the boat."How far is it to the depot, Nancy?" asked the runaway."Only 'bout a mile, Mis' Kenyon. Are you tired?""Oh, no; and if I were, I wouldn't mind, so long as I am escaping from that horrible asylum. I can't help thinking of that poor Cleopatra. I wish she might be as fortunate as I, but I am afraid she will be taken back.""She an' you's different, Mis' Kenyon. She's crazy, an' you aint.""Then you think I can be trusted out of the doctor's hands?""How came you there, anyway, Mis' Kenyon?" asked Nancy curiously."It is too long a story to tell, Nancy. It is enough to say that I was put there by a cruel enemy, and that since I have been confined I have met with a great loss.""Did you lose your money, Mis' Kenyon?" asked Nancy sympathetically."It was worse than that, Nancy. My only boy is dead.""Dat's awful; but brace up, Mis' Kenyon. De Lor' don't let it blow so hard on de sheep dat's lost his fleece.""I feel that I have very little to live for, Nancy," continuedMrs.Kenyon, in a tone of depression."Don't you take it so much to heart, Mis' Kenyon. I've had three chil'en myself, an' I don't know where they is.""How does that happen, Nancy?""When we was all slaves dey was sold away from me, down in Alabama, I reckon, and I never expec' to see any of 'em ag'in.""That is very hard, Nancy," saidMrs.Kenyon, roused to sympathy."So it is, Mis' Kenyon," said Nancy, wiping her eyes; "but I hope to see 'em in a better land."Then Nancy, pausing in her rowing, began to sing in an untrained but rich voice a rude plantation hymn:"We'se all a-goin',We'se all a-goin',We'se all a-goin',To de Promised Land."We shall see our faders.We shall see our moders,We shall see our chil'en,Dead an' gone before us,In de Promised Land."Don't you cry, poor sinner,Don't you cry, poor sinner,We'se all a-goinTo de Promised Land.""It makes me feel better to sing them words, Mis' Kenyon," said Nancy; "for it's all true. De Lord will care for us in de Promised Land.""I am glad you have so much faith, Nancy," said her companion. "Your words cheer me, in spite of myself. For the first time, I begin to hope.""Dat's right, Mis' Kenyon," said Nancy, heartily. "Dat's de way to talk."They were walking while this conversation took place, and soon they reached the station—a small rude hut, or little better.A man with a flag stood in front of it, while a gentleman and lady were standing just in the door-way.Mrs.Kenyon had on the way disencumbered herself of the gown and other disguises whichshe had worn in the boat, and appeared a quiet, lady-like figure, who might readily be taken for a Southern matron, with a colored attendant."When will the next train start, sir?" she asked, addressing the flagman."In five or ten minutes.""Going South?""Yes, ma'am.""Can I get a ticket of you?""The ticket agent is away. You will have to buy one on board the train.""Very well, sir."They went into the small depot and waited till the train arrived. ThenMrs.Kenyon bade a hurried good-by to Nancy, pressed another piece of gold into her not unwilling hand, and was quickly on her way.As the train started she breathed a sigh of relief."At last I feel that I am free!" she said to herself. "But where am I going and what is to be my future life?"They were questions which she could not answer. The future must decide.Nancy bent her steps toward her humble home, congratulating herself on the success with which their mutual plans had been carried out."I wonder how Miss Clopatry is gettin' along," she reflected.We can answer that question.Dr.Fox, on his way back, thought he would again visit Nancy's cottage. The two refugees might possibly be in the neighborhood, although he no longer suspected Nancy's connivance with them. He was destined to be gratified and at the same time disappointed.As he approached the house he caught sight of Cleopatra looking out of the window."Is that you, Antony?" she called.Dr.Fox's face lighted up with satisfaction."There they are! I've got them!" he exclaimed, and quickened his horse's pace."Open the door, Cleopatra!" he ordered.She meekly obeyed.He peered round for her companion, but saw no one else."Where is Antony?" asked Cleopatra."Where isMrs.Kenyon?" he demanded sternly."Gone away with Nancy," answered Cleopatra simply.Dr.Fox swore fearfully."Then it was she!" he exclaimed, "after all; and I have been preciously fooled. I'd like to wring Nancy's neck!""Where is Antony?" asked Cleopatra anxiously."He is at the asylum, waiting to see you," said the doctor. "Come with me, and don't keep him waiting!"That was enough. Poor Cleopatra put on her bonnet at once, and went back with the doctor, only to weep unavailing tears over the disappointment that awaited her."I'd rather it was the other one," mutteredDr.Fox. "Who would have thought she was so cunning? Where did she get that laugh? I'd swear it was a nigger!"For three months Nancy was not allowed any work from the asylum, but she contented herself with the fifteen dollars in gold whichMrs.Kenyon had given her.
NANCY was not likely to turn pale, even if she had been frightened. Really, however, she was not frightened, having considerable nerve.
"Is that you, Massa Fox?" she replied composedly, pushing the boat off at the same time. "Where did you come from?"
"Who have you got with you?" demanded the doctor, in a peremptory tone.
"Lor', doctor, what's the matter? It's my sister Chloe from 'cross the river. She cum over to see me yes'day, and I'm agwine to take her home."
Dr.Fox surveyed the pretended sister critically, and was inclined to believe the story. The dress, the stuffed form, and general appearance certainly resembled Nancy. But he was not satisfied.
"Are you sure that you haven't got oneof my runaways in the boat with you?" he asked suspiciously.
Nancy's fat sides shook with laughter.
"One of them crazy critters!" she exclaimed. "Chloe, he thinks you're a crazy critter run away from his 'sylum. Won't Dinah laugh when you tell her!"
Mrs.Kenyon possessed an admirable talent for mimicry, though she had not exercised it much of late years. Now, however, the occasion seemed to call for an effort in that direction, and she did not hesitate. She burst into a laugh, rich and hearty, so like Nancy's that the latter was almost startled, as if she heard the echo of her own amusement. No one who heard it would have doubted that it was the laugh of a negro woman.
The laugh convincedDr.Fox. He no longer entertained any doubt that it was really Nancy's sister.
"It's all right, Nancy," he said apologetically. "I see I am mistaken. If you see either of the runaways let me know," and he turned his horse from the bank.
Not a word passed between Nancy and herpassenger till they had got beyond earshot of the pursuer. Then Nancy began:
"You did dat well, Mis' Kenyon. Ef I hadn't knowed I'd have thought it was ole Chloe herself. Where did you learn dat laugh?"
"I think I might make a pretty good actress, Nancy," saidMrs.Kenyon, smiling. "I knew something must be done asDr.Fox's suspicions were aroused. But I didn't dare to speak. I was not so sure of my voice."
"Lor', how we fooled Massa Fox!" exclaimed Nancy, bursting once more into a rollicking laugh.
"So we did," saidMrs.Kenyon, echoing the laugh as before.
"You almost frighten me, Mis' Kenyon," said Nancy. "I didn't think no one but a nigger could laugh like dat. Are you sure you aint black blood?"
"I think not, Nancy," saidMrs.Kenyon. "I don't look like it, do I?"
"No, Mis' Kenyon; you're as white as a lily; but I can't understand dat laugh nohow."
Presently they reached the other shore, and Nancy securely fastened the boat.
"How far is it to the depot, Nancy?" asked the runaway.
"Only 'bout a mile, Mis' Kenyon. Are you tired?"
"Oh, no; and if I were, I wouldn't mind, so long as I am escaping from that horrible asylum. I can't help thinking of that poor Cleopatra. I wish she might be as fortunate as I, but I am afraid she will be taken back."
"She an' you's different, Mis' Kenyon. She's crazy, an' you aint."
"Then you think I can be trusted out of the doctor's hands?"
"How came you there, anyway, Mis' Kenyon?" asked Nancy curiously.
"It is too long a story to tell, Nancy. It is enough to say that I was put there by a cruel enemy, and that since I have been confined I have met with a great loss."
"Did you lose your money, Mis' Kenyon?" asked Nancy sympathetically.
"It was worse than that, Nancy. My only boy is dead."
"Dat's awful; but brace up, Mis' Kenyon. De Lor' don't let it blow so hard on de sheep dat's lost his fleece."
"I feel that I have very little to live for, Nancy," continuedMrs.Kenyon, in a tone of depression.
"Don't you take it so much to heart, Mis' Kenyon. I've had three chil'en myself, an' I don't know where they is."
"How does that happen, Nancy?"
"When we was all slaves dey was sold away from me, down in Alabama, I reckon, and I never expec' to see any of 'em ag'in."
"That is very hard, Nancy," saidMrs.Kenyon, roused to sympathy.
"So it is, Mis' Kenyon," said Nancy, wiping her eyes; "but I hope to see 'em in a better land."
Then Nancy, pausing in her rowing, began to sing in an untrained but rich voice a rude plantation hymn:
"We'se all a-goin',We'se all a-goin',We'se all a-goin',To de Promised Land."We shall see our faders.We shall see our moders,We shall see our chil'en,Dead an' gone before us,In de Promised Land."Don't you cry, poor sinner,Don't you cry, poor sinner,We'se all a-goinTo de Promised Land."
"We'se all a-goin',We'se all a-goin',We'se all a-goin',To de Promised Land."We shall see our faders.We shall see our moders,We shall see our chil'en,Dead an' gone before us,In de Promised Land."Don't you cry, poor sinner,Don't you cry, poor sinner,We'se all a-goinTo de Promised Land."
"We'se all a-goin',
We'se all a-goin',
We'se all a-goin',
To de Promised Land.
"We shall see our faders.
We shall see our moders,
We shall see our chil'en,
Dead an' gone before us,
In de Promised Land.
"Don't you cry, poor sinner,
Don't you cry, poor sinner,
We'se all a-goin
To de Promised Land."
"It makes me feel better to sing them words, Mis' Kenyon," said Nancy; "for it's all true. De Lord will care for us in de Promised Land."
"I am glad you have so much faith, Nancy," said her companion. "Your words cheer me, in spite of myself. For the first time, I begin to hope."
"Dat's right, Mis' Kenyon," said Nancy, heartily. "Dat's de way to talk."
They were walking while this conversation took place, and soon they reached the station—a small rude hut, or little better.
A man with a flag stood in front of it, while a gentleman and lady were standing just in the door-way.
Mrs.Kenyon had on the way disencumbered herself of the gown and other disguises whichshe had worn in the boat, and appeared a quiet, lady-like figure, who might readily be taken for a Southern matron, with a colored attendant.
"When will the next train start, sir?" she asked, addressing the flagman.
"In five or ten minutes."
"Going South?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Can I get a ticket of you?"
"The ticket agent is away. You will have to buy one on board the train."
"Very well, sir."
They went into the small depot and waited till the train arrived. ThenMrs.Kenyon bade a hurried good-by to Nancy, pressed another piece of gold into her not unwilling hand, and was quickly on her way.
As the train started she breathed a sigh of relief.
"At last I feel that I am free!" she said to herself. "But where am I going and what is to be my future life?"
They were questions which she could not answer. The future must decide.
Nancy bent her steps toward her humble home, congratulating herself on the success with which their mutual plans had been carried out.
"I wonder how Miss Clopatry is gettin' along," she reflected.
We can answer that question.
Dr.Fox, on his way back, thought he would again visit Nancy's cottage. The two refugees might possibly be in the neighborhood, although he no longer suspected Nancy's connivance with them. He was destined to be gratified and at the same time disappointed.
As he approached the house he caught sight of Cleopatra looking out of the window.
"Is that you, Antony?" she called.
Dr.Fox's face lighted up with satisfaction.
"There they are! I've got them!" he exclaimed, and quickened his horse's pace.
"Open the door, Cleopatra!" he ordered.
She meekly obeyed.
He peered round for her companion, but saw no one else.
"Where is Antony?" asked Cleopatra.
"Where isMrs.Kenyon?" he demanded sternly.
"Gone away with Nancy," answered Cleopatra simply.
Dr.Fox swore fearfully.
"Then it was she!" he exclaimed, "after all; and I have been preciously fooled. I'd like to wring Nancy's neck!"
"Where is Antony?" asked Cleopatra anxiously.
"He is at the asylum, waiting to see you," said the doctor. "Come with me, and don't keep him waiting!"
That was enough. Poor Cleopatra put on her bonnet at once, and went back with the doctor, only to weep unavailing tears over the disappointment that awaited her.
"I'd rather it was the other one," mutteredDr.Fox. "Who would have thought she was so cunning? Where did she get that laugh? I'd swear it was a nigger!"
For three months Nancy was not allowed any work from the asylum, but she contented herself with the fifteen dollars in gold whichMrs.Kenyon had given her.
CHAPTERXXXI.MRS.KENYON FINDS FRIENDS.MRS. KENYON thought it best to put two hundred miles between herself andDr.Fox. She left the cars the next morning at a town of about three thousand inhabitants, which we will call Crawford."Is there a hotel here?" she enquired of the depot-master."Yes, ma'am.""Is it far off?""About three-quarters of a mile up in the village.""Can I get a carriage to convey me there?""Certainly, ma'am," answered the depot-master briskly. My son drives the depot carriage. There it is, near the platform."Peter!" he called. "Here's a lady to go to the hotel. Have you a check for your trunk, ma'am?"Mrs.Kenyon was rather embarrassed. She had no luggage except a small bundle which she carried in her hand, and this, she feared, might look suspicious. She had a trunk of clothing at the asylum, but of course it was out of the question to send for this."My luggage has been delayed," she said; "it will be sent me.""Very well, ma'am."Mrs.Kenyon got into the carriage and was soon landed at the hotel. It might be called rather a boarding-house than a hotel, as it could hardly accommodate more than a dozen guests. It was by no means stylish, but looked tolerably comfortable. InMrs.Kenyon's state of mind she was not likely to care much for luxury, and she said to herself wearily:"This will do as well as any other place."She enquired the terms of board, and found them very reasonable. This was a relief, for she had but two hundred dollars with her, and a part of this must be expended for the replenishing of her wardrobe. This she attended to at once, and, though she studiedeconomy, it consumed about one-half of her scanty supply.Four weeks passed.Mrs.Kenyon found time hanging heavily upon her hands. She appeared to have no object left in life. Her boy was dead, or at least she supposed so. She had a husband, but he had proved himself her bitterest foe. She had abstained from making acquaintances, because acquaintances are apt to be curious, and she did not wish to talk of the past.There was one exception, however. One afternoon when out walking, a pretty little girl, perhaps four years of age, ran up to her, crying:"Take me to mamma. I'm so frightened!"She was always fond of children, and her heart opened to the little girl."What is the matter, my dear?" she asked soothingly."I've lost my mamma," sobbed the little girl."How did it happen, my child?""I went out with nurse, and I can't find her."By enquiryMrs.Kenyon ascertainedthat the little girl had run after some flowers, while the careless nurse, not observing her absence, had gone on, and so lost her."What is your name, my little dear?" she asked."Florette.""And what is your mamma's name?""Her name is mamma," answered the child, rather surprised. "Don't you know my mamma?"Then it occurred toMrs.Kenyon that the child was the daughter of aMrs.Graham, a Northern visitor, who was spending some weeks with a family of relatives in the village. She had seen the little girl before, and even recalled the house where her mother was staying."Don't cry, Florette," she said. "I know where mamma lives. We will go and find mamma."The little girl put her hand confidingly in that of her new friend, and they walked together, chatting pleasantly, till suddenly Florette, espying the house, clapped her tiny hands, and exclaimed joyfully:"There's our house. There's where mamma lives."Mrs.Graham met them at the door. Not having heard of the little girl's loss, she was surprised to see her returning in the care of a stranger."Mrs.Graham," saidMrs.Kenyon, "I am glad to be the means of restoring your little girl to you.""But where is Susan—where is the nurse?" askedMrs.Graham, bewildered."I lost her," said little Florette."I found the little girl crying," continuedMrs.Kenyon, "and fortunately learned where you were staying. She was very anxious to find her mamma.""I am very much indebted to you," saidMrs.Graham warmly. "Let me know who has been so kind to my little girl.""My name is Conrad, and I am boarding at the hotel," answeredMrs.Kenyon.She had resumed the name of her first husband, not being willing to acknowledge the tie that bound her to a man that she had reason to detest.Mrs.Graham pressed her so strongly to enter the house that she at length yielded. In truth she was longing for human sympathy and companionship. Always fond of children, the little girl attracted her, and for her sake she wished to make acquaintance with the mother.This was the beginning of friendship between them. AfterwardMrs.Kenyon, or Conrad, as we may now call her, called, and, assuming the nurse's place, took Florette to walk. She exerted herself to amuse the child, and was repaid by her attachment."I wish you'd come and be my nurse," she said one day."I hope you will excuse Florette," saidMrs.Graham apologetically. "She is attached to you, and is too young to know of social distinctions.""I am very much pleased to think that she cares for me," saidMrs.Conrad, looking the pleasure she felt. "Do you really like me, then, Florette?"The answer was a caress, which was very grateful to the lonely woman."It does me good," she said toMrs.Graham. "I am quite alone in the world, and treasure more than you can imagine your little girl's affection.""I am sure she has suffered," thoughtMrs.Graham, who was of a kindly, sympathetic nature. "How unhappy I should be if I, too, were alone in the world!"Mr.Graham was a merchant in Chicago, where business detained him and prevented his joining his wife. She was only to stay a few weeks, and the time had nearly expired when little Florette was taken sick with a contagious disease. The mercenary nurse fled.Mrs.Graham's relations, also concerned for their safety, left the sorrow-stricken mother alone in the house, going to a neighboring town to remain till the danger was over. Human nature was unlovely in some of its phases, asMrs.Graham was to find out.But she was not without a friend in the hour of her need.Mrs.Conrad presented herself, and said:"I have heard of Florette's sickness, and I have come to help you.""But do you know the danger?" asked the poor mother. "Do you know that her disease is contagious, and that you run the risk of taking it?""I know all, but life is not very precious to me. I love your little daughter, and I am willing to risk my life for her."Mrs.Graham made no further opposition. In truth, she was glad and encouraged to find a friend who was willing to help her—more especially one whom the little girl loved nearly as much as herself.So these two faithful women watched by day and by night at the bedside of little Florette, relieving each other when nature's demand for rest became imperative, and the result was that Florette was saved. The crisis was safely past, and neither contracted the disease.When Florette was well enough,Mrs.Graham prepared to set out for her Northern home."How lonely I shall feel without you," exclaimedMrs.Conrad, with a sigh."Then come with us," saidMrs.Graham."Florette loves you, and after what has passed I look upon you as a sister. I have a pleasant home in Chicago, and wish you to share it.""But I am a stranger to you,Mrs.Graham. How do you know that I am worthy?""The woman who has nursed my child back from death is worthy of all honor in my household.""But your husband?""He knows of you through me, and we both invite you."Mrs.Conrad made no further opposition. She had found friends. Now she had something to live for.By a strange coincidence, she and Oliver reached Chicago the same day.
MRS. KENYON thought it best to put two hundred miles between herself andDr.Fox. She left the cars the next morning at a town of about three thousand inhabitants, which we will call Crawford.
"Is there a hotel here?" she enquired of the depot-master.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Is it far off?"
"About three-quarters of a mile up in the village."
"Can I get a carriage to convey me there?"
"Certainly, ma'am," answered the depot-master briskly. My son drives the depot carriage. There it is, near the platform.
"Peter!" he called. "Here's a lady to go to the hotel. Have you a check for your trunk, ma'am?"
Mrs.Kenyon was rather embarrassed. She had no luggage except a small bundle which she carried in her hand, and this, she feared, might look suspicious. She had a trunk of clothing at the asylum, but of course it was out of the question to send for this.
"My luggage has been delayed," she said; "it will be sent me."
"Very well, ma'am."
Mrs.Kenyon got into the carriage and was soon landed at the hotel. It might be called rather a boarding-house than a hotel, as it could hardly accommodate more than a dozen guests. It was by no means stylish, but looked tolerably comfortable. InMrs.Kenyon's state of mind she was not likely to care much for luxury, and she said to herself wearily:
"This will do as well as any other place."
She enquired the terms of board, and found them very reasonable. This was a relief, for she had but two hundred dollars with her, and a part of this must be expended for the replenishing of her wardrobe. This she attended to at once, and, though she studiedeconomy, it consumed about one-half of her scanty supply.
Four weeks passed.Mrs.Kenyon found time hanging heavily upon her hands. She appeared to have no object left in life. Her boy was dead, or at least she supposed so. She had a husband, but he had proved himself her bitterest foe. She had abstained from making acquaintances, because acquaintances are apt to be curious, and she did not wish to talk of the past.
There was one exception, however. One afternoon when out walking, a pretty little girl, perhaps four years of age, ran up to her, crying:
"Take me to mamma. I'm so frightened!"
She was always fond of children, and her heart opened to the little girl.
"What is the matter, my dear?" she asked soothingly.
"I've lost my mamma," sobbed the little girl.
"How did it happen, my child?"
"I went out with nurse, and I can't find her."
By enquiryMrs.Kenyon ascertainedthat the little girl had run after some flowers, while the careless nurse, not observing her absence, had gone on, and so lost her.
"What is your name, my little dear?" she asked.
"Florette."
"And what is your mamma's name?"
"Her name is mamma," answered the child, rather surprised. "Don't you know my mamma?"
Then it occurred toMrs.Kenyon that the child was the daughter of aMrs.Graham, a Northern visitor, who was spending some weeks with a family of relatives in the village. She had seen the little girl before, and even recalled the house where her mother was staying.
"Don't cry, Florette," she said. "I know where mamma lives. We will go and find mamma."
The little girl put her hand confidingly in that of her new friend, and they walked together, chatting pleasantly, till suddenly Florette, espying the house, clapped her tiny hands, and exclaimed joyfully:
"There's our house. There's where mamma lives."
Mrs.Graham met them at the door. Not having heard of the little girl's loss, she was surprised to see her returning in the care of a stranger.
"Mrs.Graham," saidMrs.Kenyon, "I am glad to be the means of restoring your little girl to you."
"But where is Susan—where is the nurse?" askedMrs.Graham, bewildered.
"I lost her," said little Florette.
"I found the little girl crying," continuedMrs.Kenyon, "and fortunately learned where you were staying. She was very anxious to find her mamma."
"I am very much indebted to you," saidMrs.Graham warmly. "Let me know who has been so kind to my little girl."
"My name is Conrad, and I am boarding at the hotel," answeredMrs.Kenyon.
She had resumed the name of her first husband, not being willing to acknowledge the tie that bound her to a man that she had reason to detest.
Mrs.Graham pressed her so strongly to enter the house that she at length yielded. In truth she was longing for human sympathy and companionship. Always fond of children, the little girl attracted her, and for her sake she wished to make acquaintance with the mother.
This was the beginning of friendship between them. AfterwardMrs.Kenyon, or Conrad, as we may now call her, called, and, assuming the nurse's place, took Florette to walk. She exerted herself to amuse the child, and was repaid by her attachment.
"I wish you'd come and be my nurse," she said one day.
"I hope you will excuse Florette," saidMrs.Graham apologetically. "She is attached to you, and is too young to know of social distinctions."
"I am very much pleased to think that she cares for me," saidMrs.Conrad, looking the pleasure she felt. "Do you really like me, then, Florette?"
The answer was a caress, which was very grateful to the lonely woman.
"It does me good," she said toMrs.Graham. "I am quite alone in the world, and treasure more than you can imagine your little girl's affection."
"I am sure she has suffered," thoughtMrs.Graham, who was of a kindly, sympathetic nature. "How unhappy I should be if I, too, were alone in the world!"
Mr.Graham was a merchant in Chicago, where business detained him and prevented his joining his wife. She was only to stay a few weeks, and the time had nearly expired when little Florette was taken sick with a contagious disease. The mercenary nurse fled.Mrs.Graham's relations, also concerned for their safety, left the sorrow-stricken mother alone in the house, going to a neighboring town to remain till the danger was over. Human nature was unlovely in some of its phases, asMrs.Graham was to find out.
But she was not without a friend in the hour of her need.
Mrs.Conrad presented herself, and said:
"I have heard of Florette's sickness, and I have come to help you."
"But do you know the danger?" asked the poor mother. "Do you know that her disease is contagious, and that you run the risk of taking it?"
"I know all, but life is not very precious to me. I love your little daughter, and I am willing to risk my life for her."
Mrs.Graham made no further opposition. In truth, she was glad and encouraged to find a friend who was willing to help her—more especially one whom the little girl loved nearly as much as herself.
So these two faithful women watched by day and by night at the bedside of little Florette, relieving each other when nature's demand for rest became imperative, and the result was that Florette was saved. The crisis was safely past, and neither contracted the disease.
When Florette was well enough,Mrs.Graham prepared to set out for her Northern home.
"How lonely I shall feel without you," exclaimedMrs.Conrad, with a sigh.
"Then come with us," saidMrs.Graham."Florette loves you, and after what has passed I look upon you as a sister. I have a pleasant home in Chicago, and wish you to share it."
"But I am a stranger to you,Mrs.Graham. How do you know that I am worthy?"
"The woman who has nursed my child back from death is worthy of all honor in my household."
"But your husband?"
"He knows of you through me, and we both invite you."
Mrs.Conrad made no further opposition. She had found friends. Now she had something to live for.
By a strange coincidence, she and Oliver reached Chicago the same day.
CHAPTERXXXII.MR.DENTON OF CHICAGO.IN due time, Nicholas Bundy and Oliver arrived at Chicago. They took up their residence at a small hotel, andMr.Bundy prepared to search for some trace of Rupert Jones. He couldn't find the name in the directory, but after diligent search ascertained that such a man had been in business in Chicago ten years before. Where he went or what became of him could not immediately be learned. Time was required, and it became necessary to prolong their stay in the city.Mr.Bundy did not care to make acquaintances. With Oliver he was not lonely. But one evening, while sitting in the public room, a stranger entered into conversation with him."My dear sir," he said toMr.Bundy, "I perceive that you smoke. Won't you oblige meby accepting one of my cigars? I flatter myself that you will find it superior to the one you are smoking."If there was one thing that Nicholas Bundy enjoyed it was a good cigar."Thank you, sir," he said. "You are very obliging.""Oh, don't mention it," said the other. "The fact is I am rather an enthusiast on the subject of cigars. I would like your opinion of this one."Nicholas took the proffered cigar and lighted it. He was sufficient of a judge to see that it was really superior, and his manner became almost genial toward the stranger who had procured him this pleasure."It is capital," he said. "Where can I get more like it?""Oh, I'll undertake that," said the other. "How many would you like?""A hundred to begin with.""You shall have them. By the way, do you remain long in the city?""I can't tell. It depends upon my business.""Why do you stay at a hotel? You would find a boarding-house more comfortable and cheaper.""Do you know of a good one?""I can recommend the one where I am myself living. There is a chamber next to my own that is vacant, if you would like to look at it."The proposal struck Nicholas favorably and he agreed to accompany his new acquaintance the next morning to look at it.The house was one of fair appearance, with a tolerably good location. The chamber referred to by Denton (this was the stranger's name) was superior to the room in the hotel, while the terms were more reasonable."What do you say, Oliver?" askedMr.Bundy. "Shall we remove here?""Just as you like, sir. It seems a very pleasant room."The landlady was seen, and the arrangement was made for an immediate removal. She was a woman of middle age, bland in her manners, but there was something shifty and evasive in her eyes not calculated to inspireconfidence. Neither Nicholas nor Oliver thought much of this at the time, though it occurred to them afterward."You'll find her a good landlady," said Denton, who seemed pleased at the success of the negotiations. "I have been here over a year, and I have never had anything to complain of. The table is excellent.""I am not likely to find fault with it," said Nicholas. "I've roughed it a good deal in my time, and I aint much used to luxury. If I get a comfortable bed, and good plain victuals, it's enough for me.""So you've been a rolling stone,Mr.Bundy," said the stranger enquiringly."Yes, I have wandered about the world more or less.""They say 'a rolling stone gathers no moss,'" continuedMr.Denton. "I hope you have gathered enough to retire upon.""I have got enough to see me through," said Nicholas quietly."So have I," said Denton. "Queer coincidence, isn't it? When I was fifteen years old I hadn't a cent, and being without shoes I hadto go barefoot. Now I've got enough to see me through. Do you see that ring?" displaying at the same time a ring with an immense colorless stone. "It's worth a cool thousand,—genuine diamond, in fact,—and I am able to wear it. Whenever I get hard up—though there's no fear of that—I have that to fall back upon."Nicholas examined the ring briefly."I never took a fancy to such things," he said quietly. "I'd as soon have a piece of glass, as far as looks go.""You're right," said Denton. "But I have a weakness for diamonds. They are a good investment, too. This ring is worth two hundred dollars more than I gave for it.""Is it?" asked Nicholas. "Well, all have their tastes. I'd rather have what the ring cost in gold or Government bonds."Denton laughed."I see you are a plain man with plain tastes," he said. "Well, it takes all sorts of men to make a world, and I don't mind confessing that I like show."The same day they moved into the boarding-house.It was arranged that Oliver, as before, should occupy the same room with his newguardian, and for his use a small extra bed was put in."We are next-door neighbors," said Denton, "I hope you won't find me an unpleasant neighbor. The fact is, I sleep like a top all night. Never know anything from the minute I lie down till it's time to get up. Are you gentlemen good sleepers?""I sleep well," said Nicholas. "It's with me very much as it is with you.""Of course you sleep well, my young friend," said the new acquaintance to Oliver. "Boys of your age ought not to wake up during the night.""I believe I am a pretty good sleeper," said Oliver. "Why is he so particular about enquiring whether we sleep well?" thought our hero.He was not particularly inclined to suspicion, but somehow he had never likedMr.Denton. The man's manner was hearty and cordial, but there was a sly, searching, crafty look which Oliver had occasionally detected,which set him to thinking. Not so with Nicholas. He had seen much of men's treachery, he had suffered much from it also, but at heart he was disposed to judge favorably of his fellow-men, except where he had special reason to know that they were unreliable."Our neighbor seems very obliging," he said to Oliver, after Denton had left the room."Yes, sir," answered Oliver. "I wonder why I don't like him.""Don't like him!" repeated. Nicholas in surprise."No. I can't seem to trust him.""He appears pleasant enough," saidMr.Bundy. "A little vain, perhaps, or he wouldn't wear a thousand dollars on his finger. There wouldn't be many diamonds sold if all were like me.""I wonder what his business is?""He has never told me. From what he says he probably lives upon his means."Oliver did not continue the conversation. Very likely his distrust was undeserved by the man who inspired it, and he did not feeljustified in trying to prejudiceMr.Bundy against him.Finding Nicholas was tired in the evening, Oliver went out after supper by himself. He was naturally drawn to the more brilliantly lighted streets, which, even at ten o'clock in the evening, were gay with foot passengers. Sauntering along, he found himself walking behind two gentlemen, and could not avoid hearing their conversation."Do you see that man in front of us?" asked one."The one with the diamond ring?" for the stone sparkled in the light."Yes; he is the one I mean.""What of him?""He is one of the most notorious gamblers and confidence men in Chicago.""Indeed! What is his name?""He has several—Denton, Forbes, Cranmer, and half a dozen others."Naturally Oliver's curiosity was excited by what he heard. Passing the speakers, he scanned the man of whom they had been conversing.It was Denton—the man who had been so friendly to Nicholas Bundy and himself."I was right in distrusting him," he thought. "He is a dangerous man. Now, what shall I do?"Oliver decided not to tellMr.Bundy immediately of what he had heard; but, for his own part, he decided to watch carefully, lest Denton might attempt in any way to injure them.
IN due time, Nicholas Bundy and Oliver arrived at Chicago. They took up their residence at a small hotel, andMr.Bundy prepared to search for some trace of Rupert Jones. He couldn't find the name in the directory, but after diligent search ascertained that such a man had been in business in Chicago ten years before. Where he went or what became of him could not immediately be learned. Time was required, and it became necessary to prolong their stay in the city.
Mr.Bundy did not care to make acquaintances. With Oliver he was not lonely. But one evening, while sitting in the public room, a stranger entered into conversation with him.
"My dear sir," he said toMr.Bundy, "I perceive that you smoke. Won't you oblige meby accepting one of my cigars? I flatter myself that you will find it superior to the one you are smoking."
If there was one thing that Nicholas Bundy enjoyed it was a good cigar.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "You are very obliging."
"Oh, don't mention it," said the other. "The fact is I am rather an enthusiast on the subject of cigars. I would like your opinion of this one."
Nicholas took the proffered cigar and lighted it. He was sufficient of a judge to see that it was really superior, and his manner became almost genial toward the stranger who had procured him this pleasure.
"It is capital," he said. "Where can I get more like it?"
"Oh, I'll undertake that," said the other. "How many would you like?"
"A hundred to begin with."
"You shall have them. By the way, do you remain long in the city?"
"I can't tell. It depends upon my business."
"Why do you stay at a hotel? You would find a boarding-house more comfortable and cheaper."
"Do you know of a good one?"
"I can recommend the one where I am myself living. There is a chamber next to my own that is vacant, if you would like to look at it."
The proposal struck Nicholas favorably and he agreed to accompany his new acquaintance the next morning to look at it.
The house was one of fair appearance, with a tolerably good location. The chamber referred to by Denton (this was the stranger's name) was superior to the room in the hotel, while the terms were more reasonable.
"What do you say, Oliver?" askedMr.Bundy. "Shall we remove here?"
"Just as you like, sir. It seems a very pleasant room."
The landlady was seen, and the arrangement was made for an immediate removal. She was a woman of middle age, bland in her manners, but there was something shifty and evasive in her eyes not calculated to inspireconfidence. Neither Nicholas nor Oliver thought much of this at the time, though it occurred to them afterward.
"You'll find her a good landlady," said Denton, who seemed pleased at the success of the negotiations. "I have been here over a year, and I have never had anything to complain of. The table is excellent."
"I am not likely to find fault with it," said Nicholas. "I've roughed it a good deal in my time, and I aint much used to luxury. If I get a comfortable bed, and good plain victuals, it's enough for me."
"So you've been a rolling stone,Mr.Bundy," said the stranger enquiringly.
"Yes, I have wandered about the world more or less."
"They say 'a rolling stone gathers no moss,'" continuedMr.Denton. "I hope you have gathered enough to retire upon."
"I have got enough to see me through," said Nicholas quietly.
"So have I," said Denton. "Queer coincidence, isn't it? When I was fifteen years old I hadn't a cent, and being without shoes I hadto go barefoot. Now I've got enough to see me through. Do you see that ring?" displaying at the same time a ring with an immense colorless stone. "It's worth a cool thousand,—genuine diamond, in fact,—and I am able to wear it. Whenever I get hard up—though there's no fear of that—I have that to fall back upon."
Nicholas examined the ring briefly.
"I never took a fancy to such things," he said quietly. "I'd as soon have a piece of glass, as far as looks go."
"You're right," said Denton. "But I have a weakness for diamonds. They are a good investment, too. This ring is worth two hundred dollars more than I gave for it."
"Is it?" asked Nicholas. "Well, all have their tastes. I'd rather have what the ring cost in gold or Government bonds."
Denton laughed.
"I see you are a plain man with plain tastes," he said. "Well, it takes all sorts of men to make a world, and I don't mind confessing that I like show."
The same day they moved into the boarding-house.It was arranged that Oliver, as before, should occupy the same room with his newguardian, and for his use a small extra bed was put in.
"We are next-door neighbors," said Denton, "I hope you won't find me an unpleasant neighbor. The fact is, I sleep like a top all night. Never know anything from the minute I lie down till it's time to get up. Are you gentlemen good sleepers?"
"I sleep well," said Nicholas. "It's with me very much as it is with you."
"Of course you sleep well, my young friend," said the new acquaintance to Oliver. "Boys of your age ought not to wake up during the night."
"I believe I am a pretty good sleeper," said Oliver. "Why is he so particular about enquiring whether we sleep well?" thought our hero.
He was not particularly inclined to suspicion, but somehow he had never likedMr.Denton. The man's manner was hearty and cordial, but there was a sly, searching, crafty look which Oliver had occasionally detected,which set him to thinking. Not so with Nicholas. He had seen much of men's treachery, he had suffered much from it also, but at heart he was disposed to judge favorably of his fellow-men, except where he had special reason to know that they were unreliable.
"Our neighbor seems very obliging," he said to Oliver, after Denton had left the room.
"Yes, sir," answered Oliver. "I wonder why I don't like him."
"Don't like him!" repeated. Nicholas in surprise.
"No. I can't seem to trust him."
"He appears pleasant enough," saidMr.Bundy. "A little vain, perhaps, or he wouldn't wear a thousand dollars on his finger. There wouldn't be many diamonds sold if all were like me."
"I wonder what his business is?"
"He has never told me. From what he says he probably lives upon his means."
Oliver did not continue the conversation. Very likely his distrust was undeserved by the man who inspired it, and he did not feeljustified in trying to prejudiceMr.Bundy against him.
Finding Nicholas was tired in the evening, Oliver went out after supper by himself. He was naturally drawn to the more brilliantly lighted streets, which, even at ten o'clock in the evening, were gay with foot passengers. Sauntering along, he found himself walking behind two gentlemen, and could not avoid hearing their conversation.
"Do you see that man in front of us?" asked one.
"The one with the diamond ring?" for the stone sparkled in the light.
"Yes; he is the one I mean."
"What of him?"
"He is one of the most notorious gamblers and confidence men in Chicago."
"Indeed! What is his name?"
"He has several—Denton, Forbes, Cranmer, and half a dozen others."
Naturally Oliver's curiosity was excited by what he heard. Passing the speakers, he scanned the man of whom they had been conversing.
It was Denton—the man who had been so friendly to Nicholas Bundy and himself.
"I was right in distrusting him," he thought. "He is a dangerous man. Now, what shall I do?"
Oliver decided not to tellMr.Bundy immediately of what he had heard; but, for his own part, he decided to watch carefully, lest Denton might attempt in any way to injure them.
CHAPTERXXXIII.A MIDNIGHT ATTACK.OLIVER and his guardian retired about ten o'clock.Mr.Bundy was not long in going to sleep. Unlike Oliver, he had no care or anxiety on his mind. As we have said, he was not a man to harbor suspicion.With our hero it was different. He knew the real character of Denton, and could not help fancying that he must have some personal object in bringing them to this house, and installing them in a room adjoining his own.Oliver carefully locked the door, leaving the key in the lock. There was but one door, and this led into the hall."Now," thought our hero, "Denton can't get in except through the keyhole."This ought to have quieted him for the night, but it did not. An indefinable suspicion, which he could not explain, made himuneasy. It was this, probably, that prompted him to go to the closet in which he knew that Nicholas Bundy kept a pistol. At times he placed the pistol under his pillow, but he had not done so to-night, considering it quite unnecessary in a quiet boarding-house."I don't suppose there's any need of it," thought Oliver; "but I'll take it and put it under my own pillow."Nicholas Bundy was already asleep. He was a sound sleeper and did not observe what Oliver was doing, otherwise he would have asked an explanation.This might have been hard to give, except the chance knowledge he had gained of Denton's character.An hour passed and still Oliver remained awake. At about this time he heard a noise in the adjoining room as of someone moving about."It is Denton come home," he said to himself.Presently the noise ceased, and Oliver concluded that his disreputable neighbor had gone to bed.He began to be rather ashamed of his suspicions."Of course he can't get in here, since there is but one door, and that locked," he reflected. "It is foolish for me to lie awake all night. I may as well imitateMr.Bundy's example and go to sleep."Oliver was himself fatigued, having been about the streets all day, and now that his anxiety was relieved he, too, soon fell into a slumber. But his sleep was neither deep nor refreshing; it was troubled by dreams, or rather by one dream, in which Denton figured.It was this, perhaps, that broke the bonds of sleep. At any rate, he found himself almost in an instant broad awake, with his eyes resting on a figure, clearly seen in the moonlight, standing beside Nicholas Bundy's bed examining the pockets of his coat and pantaloons, which rested on a chair close beside.Immediately all his senses were on the alert. In one swift glance he saw all. The figure was that of Denton, and an opening in the panelbetween the two rooms showed how he had got in. It was clear that this was a decoy house, especially intended to admit of such nefarious deeds.Denton's back was turned to Oliver, and he was quite unaware, therefore, that the boy had awakened. Bundy lay before him in profound sleep, and from a careless glance he had concluded that the boy also was asleep."Now," thought Oliver, "what shall I do? Shall I shoot at once?"This course was repugnant to him. He had a horror of shedding blood unless it were absolutely necessary, but at the same time he was bold and resolute, and by no means willing to lie quietly and see his guardian robbed.It was certainly a critical moment, and required some courage to face and defy a midnight robber, who might himself be armed. But Oliver was plucky, and didn't shrink.In a clear, distinct voice he asked:"What are you doing there?"Denton wheeled round and saw Oliver sittingup in bed. He had a black mask over his eyes, and thought he was not recognized."Confusion!" Oliver heard him mutter, under his breath. "Cover up your head, boy, and don't interfere with me, or I'll murder you!" he said in a low, stern voice."I want to know what you are doing?" demanded our hero, undaunted."None of your business. Do as I tell you!" answered Denton, in a menacing tone."It is my business," said Oliver firmly. "You have no business here,Mr.Denton. Go back into your own room."Denton started, and was visibly annoyed to find that he was recognized after all."Denton is not my name," he said. "You mistake me for somebody else.""Denton is the name by which we know you," said Oliver. "Whether it is your real name or not I don't know or care. I know you have no business here, and you must leave instantly."Denton laughed, a low, mocking laugh."You crow well, my young bantam," he said; "but you're a fool, or you would knowthat I am not a man to be trifled with. Cover up your head, and in five minutes you may uncover it again, and I will do you no harm.""No, but you'll robMr.Bundy, and I don't intend you shall do it.""You don't!" exclaimed the ruffian, in a tone of suppressed passion. "Come, I must teach you a lesson!"He sprang toward Oliver's bed, with the evident intention of doing him an injury, but our hero was prompt and prepared for the attack which he anticipated. He seized the pistol and presented it full at the approaching burglar, and said coolly:"Don't be in a hurry,Mr.Denton. This pistol is loaded, and if you touch me I will shoot."Denton stopped short, with a feeling bordering on dismay. It was a resistance he had not anticipated. Indeed, he was so far from expecting any interference with his designs that he had come unprovided with any weapon himself."The boy's fooling me!" it occurred tohim. "I don't believe the pistol is loaded. I'll find out. You must be a fool to think I am afraid of an empty pistol," he said, looking searchingly at the boy's face."You will find out whether it is loaded or not," said Oliver coolly; "but I wouldn't advise you to try. Just go through the same door you came in at, and I won't shoot."If it had been a man, Denton would have seen that there was no further chance for him to carry out his design; but it angered him to give in to a boy. He felt that it was disgraceful to a man, whose strength could outmatch Oliver twice over. Besides, he had felt Bundy's pocket-book, and he hated to leave the room without it."I'll bribe the boy," he thought. "Look here, boy," said he; "put down that weapon of yours. I want to speak to you.""Go ahead!" said Oliver."You haven't laid down your pistol.""And I don't intend to," said Oliver firmly. "I am not in the habit of entertaining company in my chamber at midnight, and I prefer to be on my guard."Denton was enraged at the boy's coolness, but he dissembled the feeling."Oh, well," he said carelessly, "do as you please. Now, I've got a proposal to make to you.""Go ahead.""I'm very hard up, and I want money.""So I supposed.""The man you're with has plenty of it.""How do you know?""Confound you, why do you interrupt me? You know it as well as I. Now, I want some of that money.""That is what you came in for.""Yes, that is what I came in for. Now, I'll tell you what I will do. I will take the money out of the pocketbook, and give you half, if you won't interfere. You can tell the old man that a burglar took the whole, and he'll believe you fast enough. So you see you will profit by it as well as I.""You don't know me,Mr.Denton," said Oliver. "I am not a thief, and if I were I wouldn't rob the man that has been kind to me. I've heard all I want to, and you havestayed in this room long enough. If you don't disappear through that panel before I count three, I'll shoot you."With a muttered execration, Denton obeyed, and once more Oliver found himself alone. He got up and looked at his watch. It indicated a quarter to one. What should he do? The night was less than half-spent, and Denton might attempt another entrance."There is no help for it," thought Oliver. "I must remain awake the rest of the night."
OLIVER and his guardian retired about ten o'clock.Mr.Bundy was not long in going to sleep. Unlike Oliver, he had no care or anxiety on his mind. As we have said, he was not a man to harbor suspicion.
With our hero it was different. He knew the real character of Denton, and could not help fancying that he must have some personal object in bringing them to this house, and installing them in a room adjoining his own.
Oliver carefully locked the door, leaving the key in the lock. There was but one door, and this led into the hall.
"Now," thought our hero, "Denton can't get in except through the keyhole."
This ought to have quieted him for the night, but it did not. An indefinable suspicion, which he could not explain, made himuneasy. It was this, probably, that prompted him to go to the closet in which he knew that Nicholas Bundy kept a pistol. At times he placed the pistol under his pillow, but he had not done so to-night, considering it quite unnecessary in a quiet boarding-house.
"I don't suppose there's any need of it," thought Oliver; "but I'll take it and put it under my own pillow."
Nicholas Bundy was already asleep. He was a sound sleeper and did not observe what Oliver was doing, otherwise he would have asked an explanation.
This might have been hard to give, except the chance knowledge he had gained of Denton's character.
An hour passed and still Oliver remained awake. At about this time he heard a noise in the adjoining room as of someone moving about.
"It is Denton come home," he said to himself.
Presently the noise ceased, and Oliver concluded that his disreputable neighbor had gone to bed.
He began to be rather ashamed of his suspicions.
"Of course he can't get in here, since there is but one door, and that locked," he reflected. "It is foolish for me to lie awake all night. I may as well imitateMr.Bundy's example and go to sleep."
Oliver was himself fatigued, having been about the streets all day, and now that his anxiety was relieved he, too, soon fell into a slumber. But his sleep was neither deep nor refreshing; it was troubled by dreams, or rather by one dream, in which Denton figured.
It was this, perhaps, that broke the bonds of sleep. At any rate, he found himself almost in an instant broad awake, with his eyes resting on a figure, clearly seen in the moonlight, standing beside Nicholas Bundy's bed examining the pockets of his coat and pantaloons, which rested on a chair close beside.
Immediately all his senses were on the alert. In one swift glance he saw all. The figure was that of Denton, and an opening in the panelbetween the two rooms showed how he had got in. It was clear that this was a decoy house, especially intended to admit of such nefarious deeds.
Denton's back was turned to Oliver, and he was quite unaware, therefore, that the boy had awakened. Bundy lay before him in profound sleep, and from a careless glance he had concluded that the boy also was asleep.
"Now," thought Oliver, "what shall I do? Shall I shoot at once?"
This course was repugnant to him. He had a horror of shedding blood unless it were absolutely necessary, but at the same time he was bold and resolute, and by no means willing to lie quietly and see his guardian robbed.
It was certainly a critical moment, and required some courage to face and defy a midnight robber, who might himself be armed. But Oliver was plucky, and didn't shrink.
In a clear, distinct voice he asked:
"What are you doing there?"
Denton wheeled round and saw Oliver sittingup in bed. He had a black mask over his eyes, and thought he was not recognized.
"Confusion!" Oliver heard him mutter, under his breath. "Cover up your head, boy, and don't interfere with me, or I'll murder you!" he said in a low, stern voice.
"I want to know what you are doing?" demanded our hero, undaunted.
"None of your business. Do as I tell you!" answered Denton, in a menacing tone.
"It is my business," said Oliver firmly. "You have no business here,Mr.Denton. Go back into your own room."
Denton started, and was visibly annoyed to find that he was recognized after all.
"Denton is not my name," he said. "You mistake me for somebody else."
"Denton is the name by which we know you," said Oliver. "Whether it is your real name or not I don't know or care. I know you have no business here, and you must leave instantly."
Denton laughed, a low, mocking laugh.
"You crow well, my young bantam," he said; "but you're a fool, or you would knowthat I am not a man to be trifled with. Cover up your head, and in five minutes you may uncover it again, and I will do you no harm."
"No, but you'll robMr.Bundy, and I don't intend you shall do it."
"You don't!" exclaimed the ruffian, in a tone of suppressed passion. "Come, I must teach you a lesson!"
He sprang toward Oliver's bed, with the evident intention of doing him an injury, but our hero was prompt and prepared for the attack which he anticipated. He seized the pistol and presented it full at the approaching burglar, and said coolly:
"Don't be in a hurry,Mr.Denton. This pistol is loaded, and if you touch me I will shoot."
Denton stopped short, with a feeling bordering on dismay. It was a resistance he had not anticipated. Indeed, he was so far from expecting any interference with his designs that he had come unprovided with any weapon himself.
"The boy's fooling me!" it occurred tohim. "I don't believe the pistol is loaded. I'll find out. You must be a fool to think I am afraid of an empty pistol," he said, looking searchingly at the boy's face.
"You will find out whether it is loaded or not," said Oliver coolly; "but I wouldn't advise you to try. Just go through the same door you came in at, and I won't shoot."
If it had been a man, Denton would have seen that there was no further chance for him to carry out his design; but it angered him to give in to a boy. He felt that it was disgraceful to a man, whose strength could outmatch Oliver twice over. Besides, he had felt Bundy's pocket-book, and he hated to leave the room without it.
"I'll bribe the boy," he thought. "Look here, boy," said he; "put down that weapon of yours. I want to speak to you."
"Go ahead!" said Oliver.
"You haven't laid down your pistol."
"And I don't intend to," said Oliver firmly. "I am not in the habit of entertaining company in my chamber at midnight, and I prefer to be on my guard."
Denton was enraged at the boy's coolness, but he dissembled the feeling.
"Oh, well," he said carelessly, "do as you please. Now, I've got a proposal to make to you."
"Go ahead."
"I'm very hard up, and I want money."
"So I supposed."
"The man you're with has plenty of it."
"How do you know?"
"Confound you, why do you interrupt me? You know it as well as I. Now, I want some of that money."
"That is what you came in for."
"Yes, that is what I came in for. Now, I'll tell you what I will do. I will take the money out of the pocketbook, and give you half, if you won't interfere. You can tell the old man that a burglar took the whole, and he'll believe you fast enough. So you see you will profit by it as well as I."
"You don't know me,Mr.Denton," said Oliver. "I am not a thief, and if I were I wouldn't rob the man that has been kind to me. I've heard all I want to, and you havestayed in this room long enough. If you don't disappear through that panel before I count three, I'll shoot you."
With a muttered execration, Denton obeyed, and once more Oliver found himself alone. He got up and looked at his watch. It indicated a quarter to one. What should he do? The night was less than half-spent, and Denton might attempt another entrance.
"There is no help for it," thought Oliver. "I must remain awake the rest of the night."
CHAPTERXXXIV.DENTON SEES HIS INTENDED VICTIMS ESCAPE.OLIVER was rejoiced to see the sunshine entering the window. He felt that his long vigil was over, and the danger was passed. He saw Bundy's eyes open, and he spoke to him."Are you awake,Mr.Bundy?""Yes, Oliver; I have slept well, though this is a new place.""I have not slept since midnight," said our hero."Why not? Are you sick?" asked Bundy anxiously."No, I was afraid to sleep."Then, in a few words, Oliver sketched the events of the night, and added what he had heard about Denton's character."The skunk!" exclaimed Bundy indignantly."But why didn't you wake me up, Oliver?""I would, if there had been any need of it. I was able to manage him alone.""You're a brave boy, Oliver," said Bundy admiringly. "Not many boys would have shown your pluck.""I don't know about that,Mr.Bundy," said Oliver modestly. "You must remember that I had a pistol in my hand and had no need to be afraid.""It needed a brave heart and steady hand for all that. But now you must get some sleep. I am awake and there is no danger. If that skunk tries to get in he'll get a warm reception."Oliver was glad to feel at liberty to sleep. He closed his eyes and did not open them again till nine o'clock. When he opened his eyes he saw Bundy, already dressed, sitting in a chair beside the window."Hallo! it's late," he exclaimed; "isn't it,Mr.Bundy?""Nine o'clock.""Haven't you had your breakfast?""No; I am waiting for you.""Why didn't you wake me up before? I don't like to keep you waiting.""My boy," said Bundy in an affectionate tone, "it is the least I can do when you lay awake for me all night. I shall not soon forget your friendly devotion.""You mustn't flatter me,Mr.Bundy," said Oliver. "You may make me vain.""I'll take the risk.""Have you been out?""Yes; I went out to get a paper, and I have seen our landlady. I gave her warning—told her I should leave to-day.""What did she say?""She seemed surprised and wanted to know my reasons. I told her that I wasn't used to midnight interruptions. She colored, but did not ask any explanation. I paid her, and we will move to-day back to our old quarters. Now, when you are dressed, we will go and get some breakfast.""Suppose we meet Denton?""He will keep out of our way. If he don't, I may take him by the collar and shake him out of his boots.""I guess you could do it,Mr.Bundy," said Oliver, surveying the wiry, muscular form of his companion."I should not be afraid to try," said Nicholas, with a grim smile.After breakfast they arranged to remove their trunks back to their old quarters."Our stay here has been short, but it has been long enough," said Nicholas. "Next time we will put less confidence in fair words and a smooth tongue."They did not meet Denton, but that gentleman was quite aware of their movements. From the window of his chamber he saw Oliver and his guardian depart, and later he saw their luggage carried away."So they've given me the slip, have they?" he soliloquized. "Well, that doesn't end it. The old man is worth plucking, and the boy I am paid to watch. Confound the young bantam! I will see that he don't crow so loud the next time we meet. But why does Kenyon take such an interest in him? That's what I don't understand."Denton took from his pocket a letter signed"Benjamin Kenyon," and read carefully the following passage:When you find the boy—and I think you cannot fail with the full description of himself and his companion which I send you—watch his movements. Note especially whether he appears to have any communication with a woman who may claim to be his mother. Probably they will not meet, but it is possible that they may. If so, it is important that I should be apprised at once, I will send you further instructions hereafter.Denton folded the letter, and gave himself up to reflection."Why don't he take me into his confidence? Why don't he tell me just what he wants, just what this woman and this boy are to him? I suppose I have made a mistake in showing my hand so soon, and incorporating a little scheme of my own with my principal's. But I was so very hard up I couldn't resist the temptation of trying to obtain a forced loan from the old man. If that cursed boy hadn't been awake I should have succeeded, and could then have given my attention to Kenyon's instructions. I wonder, by the way, why he calls himself Kenyon. When I knew him he was Rupert Jones, and he didn't particularlyhonor the name, either. Well, time will make things clearer. Now I must keep my clue, and ascertain where my frightened birds are flitting to."He went downstairs just as the expressman was leaving the house, and carelessly enquired where he was carrying the luggage. Suspecting no harm, the expressman answered his question, and Denton thanked him with a smile."So far, so good," he thought. "That will save me some trouble."The explanation ofMr.Kenyon's letter is briefly this. His visit South had done no good. He had had an interview withDr.Fox, in which he had so severely censured the doctor that the latter finally became angry and defiant, and intimated that if pushed to extremity he would turn against Kenyon, and make public the conspiracy in which he had joined, together with Kenyon's motive in imprisoning his wife.This threat had the effect of coolingMr.Kenyon's excitement, and a reconciliation was patched up.An attempt was made to traceMrs.Kenyon through old Nancy, but the faithful old colored woman was proof alike against threats, entreaties, and bribes, and steadily refused to give any information as to the plans of the refugee. Indeed, she would have found it difficult to give any information of value, having heard nothing ofMrs.Kenyon since they parted at the railroad station.Nancy would have been as much surprised as anyone to hear of the subsequent escape of her guest to Chicago.Mr.Kenyon's greatest fear was lest Oliver and his mother should meet. He knew the boy's resolute bravery, and feared the effects of his just resentment when he learned the facts of his mother's ill-treatment at the hands of his step-father. These considerations led to his opening communication with Denton, whom he had known years before, when he was Rupert Jones.
OLIVER was rejoiced to see the sunshine entering the window. He felt that his long vigil was over, and the danger was passed. He saw Bundy's eyes open, and he spoke to him.
"Are you awake,Mr.Bundy?"
"Yes, Oliver; I have slept well, though this is a new place."
"I have not slept since midnight," said our hero.
"Why not? Are you sick?" asked Bundy anxiously.
"No, I was afraid to sleep."
Then, in a few words, Oliver sketched the events of the night, and added what he had heard about Denton's character.
"The skunk!" exclaimed Bundy indignantly."But why didn't you wake me up, Oliver?"
"I would, if there had been any need of it. I was able to manage him alone."
"You're a brave boy, Oliver," said Bundy admiringly. "Not many boys would have shown your pluck."
"I don't know about that,Mr.Bundy," said Oliver modestly. "You must remember that I had a pistol in my hand and had no need to be afraid."
"It needed a brave heart and steady hand for all that. But now you must get some sleep. I am awake and there is no danger. If that skunk tries to get in he'll get a warm reception."
Oliver was glad to feel at liberty to sleep. He closed his eyes and did not open them again till nine o'clock. When he opened his eyes he saw Bundy, already dressed, sitting in a chair beside the window.
"Hallo! it's late," he exclaimed; "isn't it,Mr.Bundy?"
"Nine o'clock."
"Haven't you had your breakfast?"
"No; I am waiting for you."
"Why didn't you wake me up before? I don't like to keep you waiting."
"My boy," said Bundy in an affectionate tone, "it is the least I can do when you lay awake for me all night. I shall not soon forget your friendly devotion."
"You mustn't flatter me,Mr.Bundy," said Oliver. "You may make me vain."
"I'll take the risk."
"Have you been out?"
"Yes; I went out to get a paper, and I have seen our landlady. I gave her warning—told her I should leave to-day."
"What did she say?"
"She seemed surprised and wanted to know my reasons. I told her that I wasn't used to midnight interruptions. She colored, but did not ask any explanation. I paid her, and we will move to-day back to our old quarters. Now, when you are dressed, we will go and get some breakfast."
"Suppose we meet Denton?"
"He will keep out of our way. If he don't, I may take him by the collar and shake him out of his boots."
"I guess you could do it,Mr.Bundy," said Oliver, surveying the wiry, muscular form of his companion.
"I should not be afraid to try," said Nicholas, with a grim smile.
After breakfast they arranged to remove their trunks back to their old quarters.
"Our stay here has been short, but it has been long enough," said Nicholas. "Next time we will put less confidence in fair words and a smooth tongue."
They did not meet Denton, but that gentleman was quite aware of their movements. From the window of his chamber he saw Oliver and his guardian depart, and later he saw their luggage carried away.
"So they've given me the slip, have they?" he soliloquized. "Well, that doesn't end it. The old man is worth plucking, and the boy I am paid to watch. Confound the young bantam! I will see that he don't crow so loud the next time we meet. But why does Kenyon take such an interest in him? That's what I don't understand."
Denton took from his pocket a letter signed"Benjamin Kenyon," and read carefully the following passage:
When you find the boy—and I think you cannot fail with the full description of himself and his companion which I send you—watch his movements. Note especially whether he appears to have any communication with a woman who may claim to be his mother. Probably they will not meet, but it is possible that they may. If so, it is important that I should be apprised at once, I will send you further instructions hereafter.
Denton folded the letter, and gave himself up to reflection.
"Why don't he take me into his confidence? Why don't he tell me just what he wants, just what this woman and this boy are to him? I suppose I have made a mistake in showing my hand so soon, and incorporating a little scheme of my own with my principal's. But I was so very hard up I couldn't resist the temptation of trying to obtain a forced loan from the old man. If that cursed boy hadn't been awake I should have succeeded, and could then have given my attention to Kenyon's instructions. I wonder, by the way, why he calls himself Kenyon. When I knew him he was Rupert Jones, and he didn't particularlyhonor the name, either. Well, time will make things clearer. Now I must keep my clue, and ascertain where my frightened birds are flitting to."
He went downstairs just as the expressman was leaving the house, and carelessly enquired where he was carrying the luggage. Suspecting no harm, the expressman answered his question, and Denton thanked him with a smile.
"So far, so good," he thought. "That will save me some trouble."
The explanation ofMr.Kenyon's letter is briefly this. His visit South had done no good. He had had an interview withDr.Fox, in which he had so severely censured the doctor that the latter finally became angry and defiant, and intimated that if pushed to extremity he would turn against Kenyon, and make public the conspiracy in which he had joined, together with Kenyon's motive in imprisoning his wife.
This threat had the effect of coolingMr.Kenyon's excitement, and a reconciliation was patched up.
An attempt was made to traceMrs.Kenyon through old Nancy, but the faithful old colored woman was proof alike against threats, entreaties, and bribes, and steadily refused to give any information as to the plans of the refugee. Indeed, she would have found it difficult to give any information of value, having heard nothing ofMrs.Kenyon since they parted at the railroad station.
Nancy would have been as much surprised as anyone to hear of the subsequent escape of her guest to Chicago.
Mr.Kenyon's greatest fear was lest Oliver and his mother should meet. He knew the boy's resolute bravery, and feared the effects of his just resentment when he learned the facts of his mother's ill-treatment at the hands of his step-father. These considerations led to his opening communication with Denton, whom he had known years before, when he was Rupert Jones.
CHAPTERXXXV.ON THE TRACK.ONE day Nicholas Bundy entered the apartment occupied jointly by himself and Oliver, his face wearing an expression of satisfaction.Oliver looked up from the book he was engaged in reading."I've found a clue, Oliver," he exclaimed."A clue to what,Mr.Bundy?""To Rupert Jones. I have ascertained that when he left Chicago he settled down at the town of Kelso, about seventy-five miles from Chicago, in Indiana.""What do you propose to do?""To go there at once. Pack up your carpet-bag, and we will take the afternoon train.""All right,Mr.Bundy."Oliver was by no means averse to a journey.He had a youthful love of adventure that delighted in new scenes and new experiences.At two o'clock they were at the depot, and bought tickets for Kelso. They did not observe that they were watched narrowly by a red-headed man, whose eyes were concealed by a pair of green glasses. Neither did they notice that he too purchased a ticket for Kelso.This man was Denton, who had so skilfully disguised himself with a red wig and the glasses that Oliver, though his eyes casually fell upon him, never dreamed who he was.Denton bought a paper and seated himself just behind Oliver and his guardian, so that he might, under cover of the paper, listen to their conversation."What business can they have at Kelso?" he soliloquized. Then partially answering his own question, "Rupert Jones once lived there, and their visit must have some connection with him. There's something behind all this that I don't understand myself. Perhaps I shall find out. Jones was always crafty, and, as far as he could, kept his own counsel."Denton did not glean much information from the conversation between Oliver and Bundy. The latter, though he had no suspicion of being watched, did not care to converse on private matters in a public place. He was a man of prudence and kept his tongue under control.I have said that the three passengers bought tickets to Kelso. Kelso, however, was not on the road, and a stage for that place connected with the station at Conway. Through tickets, however, had been purchased, including stage tickets.It was about half-past five when the cars halted at Conway. There was a small depot, and a covered wagon stood beside the platform.Oliver, Bundy, and Denton alighted."Any passengers for Kelso?" asked the driver of the wagon."Here are two," said Oliver, pointing to Bundy."Anyone else?"Denton came forward, and in a low voice intimated that he was going to Kelso.These three proved to be the only passengers.Now, for the first time, Oliver and his guardian looked with some curiosity at their fellow-traveller."He's a queer-looking customer," thought Oliver.Bundy thought, "Perhaps he lives at Kelso, and can tell us something about it. I may obtain the information I want on the way there. I'll speak to him.""It's a pity we couldn't go all the way by cars," he said."Yes," said Denton briefly."Do you know if our ride is a long one?""Six miles," answered Denton, who had enquired."May I ask if you live in Kelso?""No, sir," answered Denton."Perhaps you can tell me if there is a hotel there?""I don't know."By this time the stranger's evident disinclination to talk had attracted Oliver's attention.He looked inquisitively at the man with green glasses."There's something about that man's voice that sounds familiar," he said to himself. "Where can I have seen him before?"Still, the red wig and the glasses put him off the scent.Denton grew uneasy under the boy's fixed gaze."Does he suspect me!" he thought. "It wouldn't do for me to speak again."When Bundy asked another question, he said:"I hope you'll excuse me, sir, but I have a severe headache, and find it difficult to converse.""Oh, certainly," apologized Bundy.Denton leaned his head against the back of the carriage in support of his assertion.The road was a bad one, jolting the vehicle without mercy. To Oliver it was fun, but Denton evidently did not relish it. At last one jolt came, nearly overturning the conveyance. It dislodged the green spectacles from Denton's nose, and for a moment his eyes wereexposed. He replaced them hurriedly, but not in time. Oliver's sharp eyes detected him."It's Denton!" he exclaimed internally, but he controlled his surprise so far as not to say a word."He is on our track," thought our hero. "What can be his purpose?"
ONE day Nicholas Bundy entered the apartment occupied jointly by himself and Oliver, his face wearing an expression of satisfaction.
Oliver looked up from the book he was engaged in reading.
"I've found a clue, Oliver," he exclaimed.
"A clue to what,Mr.Bundy?"
"To Rupert Jones. I have ascertained that when he left Chicago he settled down at the town of Kelso, about seventy-five miles from Chicago, in Indiana."
"What do you propose to do?"
"To go there at once. Pack up your carpet-bag, and we will take the afternoon train."
"All right,Mr.Bundy."
Oliver was by no means averse to a journey.He had a youthful love of adventure that delighted in new scenes and new experiences.
At two o'clock they were at the depot, and bought tickets for Kelso. They did not observe that they were watched narrowly by a red-headed man, whose eyes were concealed by a pair of green glasses. Neither did they notice that he too purchased a ticket for Kelso.
This man was Denton, who had so skilfully disguised himself with a red wig and the glasses that Oliver, though his eyes casually fell upon him, never dreamed who he was.
Denton bought a paper and seated himself just behind Oliver and his guardian, so that he might, under cover of the paper, listen to their conversation.
"What business can they have at Kelso?" he soliloquized. Then partially answering his own question, "Rupert Jones once lived there, and their visit must have some connection with him. There's something behind all this that I don't understand myself. Perhaps I shall find out. Jones was always crafty, and, as far as he could, kept his own counsel."
Denton did not glean much information from the conversation between Oliver and Bundy. The latter, though he had no suspicion of being watched, did not care to converse on private matters in a public place. He was a man of prudence and kept his tongue under control.
I have said that the three passengers bought tickets to Kelso. Kelso, however, was not on the road, and a stage for that place connected with the station at Conway. Through tickets, however, had been purchased, including stage tickets.
It was about half-past five when the cars halted at Conway. There was a small depot, and a covered wagon stood beside the platform.
Oliver, Bundy, and Denton alighted.
"Any passengers for Kelso?" asked the driver of the wagon.
"Here are two," said Oliver, pointing to Bundy.
"Anyone else?"
Denton came forward, and in a low voice intimated that he was going to Kelso.
These three proved to be the only passengers.
Now, for the first time, Oliver and his guardian looked with some curiosity at their fellow-traveller.
"He's a queer-looking customer," thought Oliver.
Bundy thought, "Perhaps he lives at Kelso, and can tell us something about it. I may obtain the information I want on the way there. I'll speak to him."
"It's a pity we couldn't go all the way by cars," he said.
"Yes," said Denton briefly.
"Do you know if our ride is a long one?"
"Six miles," answered Denton, who had enquired.
"May I ask if you live in Kelso?"
"No, sir," answered Denton.
"Perhaps you can tell me if there is a hotel there?"
"I don't know."
By this time the stranger's evident disinclination to talk had attracted Oliver's attention.He looked inquisitively at the man with green glasses.
"There's something about that man's voice that sounds familiar," he said to himself. "Where can I have seen him before?"
Still, the red wig and the glasses put him off the scent.
Denton grew uneasy under the boy's fixed gaze.
"Does he suspect me!" he thought. "It wouldn't do for me to speak again."
When Bundy asked another question, he said:
"I hope you'll excuse me, sir, but I have a severe headache, and find it difficult to converse."
"Oh, certainly," apologized Bundy.
Denton leaned his head against the back of the carriage in support of his assertion.
The road was a bad one, jolting the vehicle without mercy. To Oliver it was fun, but Denton evidently did not relish it. At last one jolt came, nearly overturning the conveyance. It dislodged the green spectacles from Denton's nose, and for a moment his eyes wereexposed. He replaced them hurriedly, but not in time. Oliver's sharp eyes detected him.
"It's Denton!" he exclaimed internally, but he controlled his surprise so far as not to say a word.
"He is on our track," thought our hero. "What can be his purpose?"