The affairs of Florence Douglas are so interwoven with the fortunes of my young hero that I find myself obliged to devote a part of my space to their record. I confess that I have no pleasure in detailing the schemes of Orton Campbell, who seems to me a very disagreeable character, but it seems necessary.
After leaving the presence of Miss Douglas he took a walk, to consider the situation and decide what it was most expedient to do. He was spending considerable time and money in the effort to recover his father's ward, and he did not like to fail. Yet it was not easy to decide upon any plan which would bring success. It was not a matter in which he could invoke the assistance of the law. The young lady's manner convinced him that shewould not of her own free will consent to accompany him back. What, then, was to be done?
On the principle that two heads are better than one, he resolved to take his companion, Jones, into his confidence and ask him to make a suggestion.
"How did you find the young lady, Mr. Orton?" asked his follower on his return to the hotel.
"Very offish, Jones."
"Then she wasn't glad to see you?" said Jones, with a grin.
"By no means. She hardly treated me with civility."
"That's because of the other man," said Jones, sagaciously.
"You are right. Mr. Dewey, as I learned, is in California."
"Then maybe they have an understanding together."
"No; she doesn't know where he is."
Jones was puzzled, and showed it in a way common to men of his class. He scratched his head and looked perplexed.
"Then, what good is it for her to stay here?" he asked, after a pause.
"She is taking steps to find this Dewey, who is somewhere at the mines, though she would not tell me what they were. He may turn up any time, and then good-bye to all my hopes."
"You want to marry her yourself, Mr. Orton?"
"Of course. Otherwise I wouldn't have come so far in search of her."
"The young lady is very rich, isn't she?" asked Jones, shrewdly.
"She has a moderate fortune," replied Orton, guardedly; "but that doesn't influence me."
"Of course not," said Jones; but there was something in his tone which made Campbell eye him sharply.
"I am no fortune-hunter," said he, stiffly.
"You'd want to marry her just the same if she hadn't a cent?"
"Of course I would," snapped Orton.
"Now, that's what I call real love," said Jones. "To be sure, you're rich yourself, and needn't mind."
"Precisely so. I may not be rich, but I can support a wife."
"As the young lady prefers some one else, I suppose we may as well go home?"
"That's what I want to talk to you about, Jones. Very likely this Dewey is dead; at any rate, he's a mere fortune-hunter. Now, although Florence doesn't care to marry me now, if our marriage could be brought about she would no doubt be reconciled to it after a while. Now, Jones, have you anything to suggest?"
Orton Campbell threw himself back in his chair and eyed Jones. He had formed a plan, but, if possible, he wanted the proposal to come from Jones.
Jones was not over-scrupulous; he had never been so, and the months he had spent in the mines in the company of adventurers of all kinds had not improved him. Even law-abiding citizens often lost their regard for law in California, and Jones had fewer scruples to overcome than most.
He suggested a plan which met with the approval of his employer, and promised his co-operation on the understanding that if successful Campbell should properly reward him.
It may be added that of the thousand dollars which he was to receive for his information he had actually received but three hundred, Orton Campbell having on various pretexts put off paying him. He received the assurance that this also should be paid him without further delay as soon as the plan referred to was successfully carried out.
Florence Douglas felt somewhat uneasy after the visit of Orton Campbell. Though he had no legal right to interfere with her, even as the representative of his father, she knew the unscrupulous character of the man, and that he would not have spent time and money in a visit to California unless he had a strong hope of carrying her back with him. Her chief fear was that he would carry out his father's threat and try to have her pronounced of unsound mind, in which case he could have her confined in an asylum.
"If I could only hear from Richard Dewey!" she fervently ejaculated. "If he were here I would have nothing to fear."
Two days passed, and, considerably to her relief, she heard nothing from Campbell. She began to hope that he had given up his purpose and madearrangements to return to the East. She was determined to refuse him an audience if he should call upon her again, either with or without companions. That she might feel more secure, she took her landlady, Mrs. Armstrong, into her confidence.
This lady had become much attached to her guest, and listened with great indignation to the account which Florence gave her. "My dear Miss Douglas," she said, "if that man Campbell calls, leave me to deal with him."
"How would you propose to do it?" asked Florence, smiling.
"I would give him a piece of my mind, you may depend upon that."
"He would be rude to you."
"In that case I would order him out of the house," said Mrs. Armstrong, resolutely. "The man needs a lesson, and I should like to be the one to give it to him."
"I shall be very glad to have you meet him in my place," said the young lady. "An interview with him is something which I would gladly avoid."
"That you shall! I only hope he'll come soon. He'll find one woman that isn't afraid of him."
"I am not afraid of him, Mrs. Armstrong, but I own that I am apprehensive of what he may do. It would not surprise me at all if he should make his appearance with some needy physician who for a fee will be ready to pronounce me insane."
"Don't be alarmed, Miss Florence. I'll send the doctor packing, as well as his employer. Perhaps he will pronounce me insane. If he does, he is welcome to. I think he would find me an unsatisfactory patient."
"I think so too," said Florence, smiling, as she scanned the firm, determined face and the tall and muscular form of her hostess, who certainly would never be classed as a weak or timid woman.
On the afternoon of the third day a knock was heard at the door, for as yet it was unprovided with a bell.
Mrs. Armstrong and Florence were sitting together.
The two glanced at each other, and the same thought came to each.
"It may be Orton Campbell," said Florence, who was the first to speak.
"Then let me go to the door. Stay where you are, Miss Douglas; I will receive the gentleman."
But when the landlady opened the door she saw a man who looked like a coachman. A covered carriage was at the gate, which he had evidently driven.
"Well, sir, what can I do for you?" demanded the landlady, sharply.
"Is there a young lady living with you named Florence Douglas?" asked the man.
"Miss Florence Douglas boards here," answered Mrs. Armstrong.
"I've got a message for her, ma'am."
"If it's from Mr. Orton Campbell, you can go back and tell him that she won't receive any messages from him," said the landlady, resolutely.
"I don't know who you mean, ma'am," replied the man, in apparent surprise. "I don't know any such gentleman."
"Then who sent you?" inquired the landlady, whose turn it was to be surprised.
"It's a man just come from the mines," said the driver—"a Mr. Dewey."
Florence had drawn near to the head of the stairs in her interest to hear who had called, and she caught the name of her lover. She came flying down stairs, and demanded breathlessly, "What about Richard Dewey? I am Miss Douglas, and your message is for me."
Jones, for it was he, touched his hat respectfully, and held out a note penned on rough paper and written in pencil.
"This will explain everything, miss," he said.
Florence took the paper, and with some difficulty read it. It ran thus:
"Dear Florence: I have struggled to reach you, but have been struck down by fever when I was nearly at the end of my journey. I have had bad luck at the mines, and was almost discouraged, when I learned that you were in San Francisco. Poor as I was, I determined to come to you, even at the risk of your misjudging me. I am not able to write much, and must defer particulars till Isee you. I am staying at the house of a kind stranger a few miles from the city. The man whom I send with this note is trustworthy. If you will trust yourself to his guidance, he will bring you to me. I know that I am asking a great deal of you, but I think you will not fail me."Yours, with love,"Richard Dewey."
"Dear Florence: I have struggled to reach you, but have been struck down by fever when I was nearly at the end of my journey. I have had bad luck at the mines, and was almost discouraged, when I learned that you were in San Francisco. Poor as I was, I determined to come to you, even at the risk of your misjudging me. I am not able to write much, and must defer particulars till Isee you. I am staying at the house of a kind stranger a few miles from the city. The man whom I send with this note is trustworthy. If you will trust yourself to his guidance, he will bring you to me. I know that I am asking a great deal of you, but I think you will not fail me.
"Yours, with love,
"Richard Dewey."
The writing was hurried—indeed, it was hardly more than a scrawl.
"He must be very weak," thought Florence, her heart swelling with painful emotions.—"My good friend," she said to the landlady, "Richard is sick and poor. He asks me to come to him. I must go."
"But can you trust that man? Is the letter genuine?" asked Mrs. Armstrong, suspiciously.
"I am sure it is genuine. It is written as Richard would write."
"But don't be in haste, Miss Douglas—Florence. Make some inquiries, and find out whether this news can be depended upon."
"Would you have me hesitate when Richard needs me?" asked Florence, reproachfully. "No, Mrs. Armstrong, I must go, and at once. I have waited so long to see him!"
"He will be very glad to see you, miss," said Jones respectfully. "He has been talking about you constant."
"Were Ben and Mr. Bradley with him? Why didn't one of them come?"
"Because, miss," said Jones with ready invention, though he had never heard of either of the persons mentioned, "one went for the doctor, and the other stayed to take care of him."
This seemed very plausible. Without a particle of suspicion Florence Douglas hastily dressed herself and entered the carriage in waiting.
The thought that she was so soon to see Richard Dewey, and to minister to his comfort, was a source of pleasure to Florence. Her patient waiting was at length to be rewarded. What mattered it to her that he was poor and sick? He had all the more need of her.
"It's a long ride, miss," said Jones as he closed the carriage-door. "I hope you won't be tired before we get there."
"I shall not mind it," said Florence. "How far is it?"
"I don't rightly know. It's a matter of ten miles, I'm thinkin'."
"Very well."
Jones resumed his seat, and Florence gave herself up to pleasant thoughts. She felt thankful that she was blessed with abundant means, sinceit would enable her to spare no expense in providing for the sick man. Others might call him a fortune-hunter, but that produced no impression upon her, except to make her angry. She had given her whole love and confidence to the man whom her heart had chosen.
The carriage rolled onward rapidly: as from time to time she glanced out of the window, she saw that they had left behind the town and were in the open country. She gave herself no concern, however, and did not question Jones, taking it for granted that he was on the right road, and would carry her to the place where Richard Dewey had found a temporary refuge.
"It is some poor place, probably," she reflected, "but if he can be moved I will have him brought into town, where he can see a skilful doctor daily."
At the end of an hour and a half there was a sudden stop.
Florence looked out of the carriage-window, and observed that they were in front of a shabby-looking dwelling of two stories.
Jones leaped from his elevated perch and openedthe door of the carriage. "This is the place, miss," he said. "Did you get tired?"
"No, but I am glad we have arrived."
"It's a poor place, miss, but Mr. Dewey was took sick sudden, so I was told, and it was the best they could do."
"It doesn't matter. Perhaps he can be moved."
"Perhaps so. Will you go in?"
"Yes."
The door was opened, and a slatternly-looking woman of sinister aspect appeared at the threshold. Florence took no particular notice of her appearance, but asked, hurriedly, "How is he?"
"Oh, he'll get along," answered the woman, carelessly. "Will you come in?"
"He is not dangerously sick, then?" said Florence, relieved.
"He's got a fever, but ain't goin' to die this time."
"This is Mrs. Bradshaw, Miss Douglas," said Jones, volunteering an introduction.
"I thank you, Mrs. Bradshaw, for your kindness to a sick man and a stranger," said Florence, earnestly. "Can I see him now?"
"Yes, miss, if you'll just walk up stairs. I hope you'll excuse the looks of things; I haven't had time to fix up."
"Oh, don't mention it."
In a tumult of emotion Florence followed her guide up a rough staircase.
On the landing Mrs. Bradshaw opened a door and, standing aside, invited Florence to enter.
On a sofa, with his back to her, lay the figure of a man covered with a shawl.
"Richard!" said the visitor, eagerly.
The recumbent figure slowly turned, and revealed to the dismayed Florence, not the face of the man she expected to see, but that of Orton Campbell.
"Mr. Campbell!" she ejaculated, in bewilderment.
"I see you know me, Miss Douglas," said Orton Campbell, throwing off the shawl and rising from the couch.
For the first time it dawned upon Florence that she had walked into a trap. She hurried to the door and strove to open it, but Mrs. Bradshaw had locked it.
"What does this mean, Mr. Campbell?" she demanded with spirit, in spite of her terror. "Is this unworthy trick of your devising?"
"I am afraid I must confess that it is," said Orton, coolly.
"And it was all a falsehood about Richard Dewey's sickness?"
"Yes."
"And the note?"
"I wrote it myself."
"Then, sir, you have acted shamefully," said Florence, indignantly.
"I am afraid I have," said Orton Campbell, smiling, "but I couldn't help it!"
"'Couldn't help it'?" repeated Miss Douglas.
"No; you would not receive me, and I had to contrive an interview."
"Do you know anything of Richard Dewey?"
"No; he is perfectly well, so far as I know, or he may be dead. Pray be seated."
"I would rather stand. May I ask what you expect to gain by this base deception?"
"Your consent to a marriage with me."
"Then it is clear you don't know me, Orton Campbell."
"It is quite as clear, Miss Florence Douglas, that you don't know me."
"I believe you capable of any atrocity."
"Then you do know me. I am capable of anything that will break down your opposition to my suit."
"Do you propose to keep me here?"
"Yes, until you give me a favorable answer."
"That will never be."
"Then you will stay here an indefinite period."
"Are there no laws in California?"
"None that will interfere with me. The people who live here are devoted to my interests, as you will find. I don't wish to hurry you in your decision, and will therefore leave you for the present. Your meals will be sent you at regular times, and I will call again to-morrow."
He drew a key from his pocket, opened the door, and left the room, locking the door behind him.
Florence sank into a chair, almost in despair.
Florence soon recovered a degree of self-possession, and began to consider the situation. The room in which she so unexpectedly found herself a prisoner was about fifteen feet square. There were two front windows, from which she took a survey of the neighborhood, which she had but slightly observed from the windows of the carriage. She could see no other house, and naturally concluded that this had been selected on account of its lonely location.
The distance from the window-sill to the ground was not over twelve feet, and Florence began to consider whether she could not manage to escape in this way.
She tried to open one of the windows, but could not stir it. Closer examination showed her thatit had been nailed down. She went to the second window, and found that secured in a similar way.
"They evidently anticipated that I would try to escape," she thought to herself.
Next her thoughts recurred to the woman who appeared to be the mistress of the house. Not that she had any intention of appealing to her kindness of heart, for the hard-featured Mrs. Bradshaw was not a woman likely to be influenced by any such considerations. Florence had enjoyed but a transient view of the lady's features, but she already had a tolerably correct idea of her character.
"She is probably mercenary," thought Florence, "and is in Orton Campbell's pay. I must outbid him."
This thought inspired hope, especially when from the window she saw her persecutor ride away on horseback. This would gave her a fair field and a chance to try the effect of money upon her jailer without risk of interruption. She would have felt less sanguine of success if she had heard the conversation which had just taken place between Mrs. Bradshaw and her captor:
"Mind, Mrs. Bradshaw, you must not let the young lady leave her room on any consideration."
"All right, sir."
"I take it for granted, Mrs. Bradshaw, you are not easily taken in?"
"I should say not, sir," said the woman, emphatically.
"The young lady will try to impose upon you while I am away."
"Then she'd better save her trouble," said Mrs. Bradshaw, tossing her head.
"She's very artful," said Orton. "Most crazy people are."
"You don't mean to say she's crazy?" said Mrs. Bradshaw in surprise. "She don't look like it."
"You are quite right. She doesn't look like it, but she wrong here," continued Campbell, tapping his forehead. "Why, she fancies herself immensely rich, Mrs. Bradshaw, when, as a matter of fact, she's a penniless cousin of mine, who would have gone to the poorhouse but for my father's charity."
"You don't say so!" exclaimed Mrs. Bradshaw, interested.
"Sometimes she thinks she's worth millions of dollars. I wish she were, for in that case my father would be relieved of the burden of supporting her."
"To be sure, sir!"
"Some time since she managed to elude our vigilance and escaped from our home in Albany. Knowing how feeble-minded she was, we felt very anxious about her, but for some time were unable to get a trace of her. Finally, we learned that she had been seen in California, and I came out at great personal inconvenience to bring her back."
"Very kind of you, sir, I am sure: but how could she travel so far without money?"
"That is easily explained. She opened my father's desk and took out some hundreds of dollars," answered Orton Campbell, with unblushing falsehood. "Of course, we don't consider her responsible, as she is of unsound mind. Otherwise, we should look upon her as very ungrateful."
"She seems to be very good-looking," observed Mrs. Bradshaw.
"So she is, and if her mind were healthy I can imagine that she would be admired. As it is, her beauty counts for nothing."
"To be sure!"
"I hope to calm her down, and induce her without a violent disturbance to embark on the next steamer for New York with me. She won't listen to me now, but I shall call to-morrow forenoon and see how she appears. Meanwhile, she will probably try to bribe you to release her. She may promise you thousands, perhaps millions, of dollars, for it's all the same to her, poor thing! But of course you're too sensible a woman to be taken in by the promises of a crazy girl?"
"I should say so!" returned Mrs. Bradshaw, who was thoroughly deceived by the artful story of her employer, who, by the way, had promised her one hundred dollars for her co-operation in his scheme.
"She will probably tell you that she came to California in search of her lover, who is at themines. Of course there is no such person, but she thinks there is."
"I understand," said the woman, confidently.
"I thought you would. Well, Mrs. Bradshaw, I will see you to-morrow. I am sure you are to be relied upon."
About six o'clock Mrs. Bradshaw carried up some supper to her prisoner.
"I hope you've got an appetite, miss," she said.
"Stay a moment," said Florence, eagerly. "I want to speak to you."
"Now it's coming," thought Mrs. Bradshaw, with some curiosity. She was rather taken aback by the first words of her prisoner:
"How much money has Mr. Orton Campbell promised to pay you for assisting him in his plot?"
"Well, I declare!" said Mrs. Bradshaw, bridling, for though she had been bribed she did not like to confess it.
"He is to pay me rent for this room," she said, after a pause.
"Then I am your lodger, am I?" asked Florence.
"I suppose so," answered the woman, rather embarrassed by this unexpected question.
"Very well, then. I don't think I care to occupy the room. I will pay you a week's rent out of my own purse, and leave you after supper."
"I think not," said Mrs. Bradshaw, decidedly.
"Then I am to consider myself your prisoner?"
"You may call it so if you like."
"It is just as well to call things by their right names. Of course Mr. Campbell has hired you to detain me here. Tell me how much he is to pay you, and I will pay you more to release me."
"Then you are rich, I suppose?" said the woman.
"Yes, I am rich."
Mrs. Bradshaw laughed. "You are worth several millions, I suppose?" she said, mockingly.
"Certainly not. Who told you so?"
"Mr. Campbell warned me that you would pretend you were rich."
"It is no pretence; I am rich, though at present his father has the greater part of my fortune under his charge."
"Oh, of course!" said the woman, laughing again. "I understand all about it."
"What has Orton Campbell told you?" asked Florence, suspiciously.
"He said you would pretend to be rich, and try to bribe me, though you were only a poor relation of his who would have gone to the poorhouse unless his father had supported you out of charity."
"He has deceived you, Mrs. Bradshaw. His father wanted me to marry this man in order to keep my fortune in his own family. That is why I ran away from his house."
"What made you come to California?" asked the woman.
"Because the man whom I really loved was at work somewhere in the mines."
"Ho! ho!" laughed Mrs. Bradshaw, loudly.
"Why do you laugh?"
"Because you are as crazy as a loon. Mr. Campbell told me just what you would say. He told me all about your stealing money from his father's desk, and running off to California after a lover in the mines. It's turned out exactly as he said."
"Did he dare to slander me in that way?" demanded Florence, so indignantly that her jailer drew back in some alarm.
"No violence, miss, if you please," she said. "You'd better be quiet, or you'll have to be tied."
"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Florence, "I would not have believed Orton Campbell so false and artful!"
"He's acting for your good, miss. So you'd better not make a fuss;" and the landlady left the room, not failing to lock the door securely behind her.
Meanwhile, though things looked dark for Florence and favorable for her persecutor, there was one circumstance that threatened failure to the latter's plans. Orton Campbell was a mean man, and his meanness in this instance worked against him. He had promised his confederate, Jones, a thousand dollars as the price of his information and co-operation, but intended all the while to avoid paying it if it were a possible thing. Of this sum seven hundred dollars were still due, besides an extra sum for the services of Jones in making Florence a captive.
It was in regard to these sums that Jones called on Mr. Campbell on the evening succeeding the success of the plot.
Orton Campbell was about to go out when Jones appeared at his hotel.
"I would like to see you a few minutes, Mr. Orton," said the man respectfully.
"You must come some other time, Jones," said Campbell, carelessly; "I've got an engagement."
"I must see you now, sir," said Jones, still respectfully, but in a resolute tone.
"'Must'?" repeated Orton Campbell, arching his brows. "You are impertinent."
"Call me what you please," said Jones, doggedly; "I'm not to be put off."
"What do you mean?" demanded his employer, angrily.
"You know well enough. I want the money you are owing me."
"You seem to be in a hurry," said Campbell, with a sneer.
"You don't," retorted Jones. "All I ask is that you will keep your promise."
"What promise do you refer to?"
"'What promise do I refer to?' You said if I would join you inkidnapping—"
"Hush!" said Orton looking around, apprehensive of listeners.
"The young lady," Jones continued, "you would pay me the seven hundred dollars you owed me, and two hundred dollars extra for my help."
Now, Orton Campbell knew very well that he had made this promise, but the payment of nine hundred dollars he dreaded as much as some of my readers would dread the extraction of half a dozen teeth. He had got all he needed from Jones, and he decided that it would be safe to throw him off. It might be dishonorable, but for that he cared little.
"I suppose you have my promise in writing, Jones?" he said, with a sneer.
"No, I haven't, Mr. Campbell."
"Then you can't prove that I owe you anything, I take it."
"You don't mean to say, Mr. Orton, you'd cheat a poor man out of his hard-earned money?" ejaculated Jones, who, in spite of his knowledge of his employer's character, could hardly believe his ears.
"I never intended to give you such an enormous sum for the little you have done for me."
"Didn't you promise it, sir?" demanded Jones, exasperated.
"Not that I remember," answered Campbell, coolly. "I should have been a fool to promise so large a sum. I paid your expenses out to California and three hundred dollars. That, I take it, is pretty liberal pay for your services for a month."
"I'll have justice if I live!" said Jones, furiously.
He looked so threatening that Orton Campbell thought it might be best to placate him, even at the expense of a small extra sum. "Don't be a fool, Jones," he said. "You know very well that your demands are beyond all reason. I've treated you very liberally already, but I don't mind doing a little more. I'll go so far as to give you fifty dollars down, and a further sum of one hundred dollars on my wedding-day if I marry Florence Douglas, if you'll be content with that."
"I won't be content with it, Orton Campbell," said Jones, indignantly; "I won't be content with anything less than the full sum you promised me.You'd better pay me at once, or you may see trouble."
Orton Campbell should have known that it was dangerous to trifle with a man so thoroughly roused as Jones was, but his love of money and dislike to part with it overcame every other consideration, and he said, "You've refused my offer, and I have done with you. You needn't come near me again."
"Do you mean this?" asked Jones, slowly.
"Of course I do. You have served my purpose, and been paid. I have offered you more, and you have refused it. That ends everything."
"I understand you now, Orton Campbell."
"Mr.Campbell, if you please," interrupted Campbell, haughtily.
"Mr.Campbell, then; and I am sorry I didn't know you better before, but it isn't too late yet."
"That's enough: you can go."
As Jones walked away Campbell asked himself, "What is the fellow going to do, I wonder? I suppose he will try to annoy me. Never mind: I have saved nine hundred dollars. That will more than cover all the damage he can do me."
It was about the same hour that a party of three, dusty and shabby, entered San Francisco, and made their way to a respectable but not prominent hotel.
"We look like three tramps, Ben," said Bradley. "Anywhere but in San Francisco I don't believe we could get lodged in any respectable hotel, but they'll know at once that we are from the mines, and may have a good store of gold-dust in spite of our looks."
"If my friends at home could see me now," said Ben, laughingly, "they wouldn't think I had found my trip to California profitable. It would give my friend Sam Sturgis a good deal of pleasure to think that I was a penniless adventurer."
"He might be disappointed when he heard that you were worth not far from a thousand dollars, Ben."
"He certainly would be. On the other hand, Uncle Job would be delighted. I wish I could walk into his little cottage and tell him all about it."
"When you go home, Ben, you must have more money to carry than you have now. A thousanddollars are all very well, but they are not quite enough to start business on."
"A year ago I should have felt immensely rich on a thousand dollars," said Ben, thoughtfully.
"No doubt; but you are young enough to wait a little longer. After our friend Dewey has seen his young lady and arranged matters we'll dust back to our friends, the miners who came near giving us a ticket to the next world, and see whether fortune won't favor us a little more."
"Agreed!" said Ben; "I shall be ready.—Shall you call on Miss Douglas this evening, Mr. Dewey?" asked Ben.
"Yes," answered Dewey. "I cannot bear to feel that I am in the same city and refrain from seeing her."
"Will she know you in your present rig?" suggested Bradley.
"I shall lose no time in buying a new outfit," said Dewey. "There must be shops where all articles of dress can be obtained ready-made."
"I was afraid you were going as you are," said Bradley. "Of course she'd be glad to see you, butshe might be sensitive about her friends; and that wouldn't be agreeable to you, I'm thinkin'."
"I thank you for your kind suggestion, my good friend," said Dewey; "no doubt you are right."
Richard Dewey swallowed a hasty supper, and then sought the clothing shops, where he had no difficulty in procuring a ready-made outfit. So many persons came from the mines in his condition, desiring similar accommodation, that he was not required to go far to secure what he wanted.
Then, having obtained from Ben the proper directions, he took his way to the house of Mrs. Armstrong, which he reached about eight o'clock.
"Can I see Miss Florence Douglas?" he asked.
Mrs. Armstrong, hearing the request, came herself to the door. She was feeling anxious about the prolonged absence of her young friend.
"May I ask your name, sir?" she inquired.
"Richard Dewey."
"'Richard Dewey'?" repeated Mrs. Armstrong, in amazement. "Why, I thought you were sick in bed!"
"What made you think so?" asked Dewey, in equal amazement.
"Your own note. Miss Douglas, on receiving it, went away at once with the messenger, and has not returned."
"I have sent no note, and no messenger has come from me. I don't understand you," said Richard Dewey, bewildered.
It was soon explained, and the bitter disappointment of Dewey may well be imagined. This feeling was mingled with one of apprehension for the personal safety of the young lady.
"This is indeed alarming," he ejaculated. "Who can have planned such an outrage?"
"I will tell you, sir," said a voice.
Turning quickly, Richard Dewey's glance rested upon Jones.
"Who are you?" inquired Richard Dewey, not favorably impressed by the appearance of the man who addressed him.
"You wouldn't know if I should tell you," said Jones; "so I may as well say that I came out to San Francisco with Orton Campbell."
"Orton Campbell in the city?" exclaimed Dewey, apprehensively. "Had he anything to do with the disappearance of Miss Douglas?"
"Everything, sir; but I can't tell you about it in the street. I will go with you to your hotel."
"Tell me on the way," said Richard Dewey. "First, has any harm befallen Florence—Miss Douglas?"
"None as yet."
"Is any threatened?"
"The loss of her liberty; but I will help you to thwart Orton Campbell."
Jones told the story, which need not be repeated here, as it is already known to the reader. He had difficulty in restraining Mr. Dewey from starting out instantly to the rescue of the young lady, but on his representing that she was safe, and that it would be soon enough to go out in the morning, Richard Dewey yielded.
A little before eight o'clock, Jones, driving the same carriage in which he had conveyed Florence to her place of captivity, halted in front of Mrs. Bradshaw's dwelling.
"Remain in the carriage, Mr. Dewey," he said, "and I will see if I can't secure the young lady without any fuss."
"Won't it be better for me to accompany you?"
"I think not, sir. Mrs. Bradshaw knows I am the one who brought Miss Douglas here, and she will think it is all right. Stay!" he continued, with a sudden thought. "I have an idea. Mr. Campbell told Mrs. Bradshaw that the young lady was insane. I will make her think that you arethe doctor from the asylum come to take Miss Douglas back with you."
"Did Orton Campbell really intend such an outrage?" asked Richard Dewey, in a tone of horror.
"Yes, if Miss Douglas wouldn't consent to marry him."
"Go, then, and lose no time."
Jones knocked at the door, which was opened by Mrs. Bradshaw in person. She naturally regarded Jones with surprise, not anticipating so early a call.
"How is Miss Douglas?" he asked.
"Very contrary," answered the landlady. "I can't get her to eat. It's my belief she means to starve herself."
"It's a crazy freak," said Jones, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, I've come to take her away."
"To take her away—so soon?" asked Mrs. Bradshaw, in surprise.
"Yes, Mr. Orton thought it best."
"Is he with you?"
"No."
"I think I see some one in the carriage."
"To be sure. It's the mad doctor from the asylum. Don't let Miss Douglas know it," continued Jones, lowering his voice, "or she wouldn't consent to go with us."
"I see," answered the landlady, nodding. "Do you want to go up now?"
"Yes; let me see her alone, so that I can tell her a story which will quiet her suspicions."
"Mr. Campbell hasn't paid me all he promised yet," said Mrs. Bradshaw, rather uneasily.
"Oh, that's all right," said Jones. "He never forgets his promise—and seldom keeps it," he said to himself.
Florence was sitting on the lounge in her room in rather a despondent state of mind when the door opened, and she looked up, expecting to see Orton Campbell.
Jones closed the door behind him, and then, putting his hand over his lips, said, "Miss Douglas, I bring you good news."
"Are you not the man who brought me out here yesterday?"
"The same one."
"Then how have you the face to show yourself in my presence?"
"Because I am come to free you from your imprisonment."
Florence started to her feet in some excitement. "If this were true!" she exclaimed. "But no; you are an agent of Orton Campbell, and this is some new trick of his."
"I was an agent of Orton Campbell, but he deceived me, and I am his enemy."
"Is he with you?" asked Florence, suspiciously.
"No; but in the carriage outside is one whom you will be glad to meet."
"Who is it?"
"Richard Dewey."
"You brought me a note from him which he never wrote. How do you expect me to believe you now?"
"If he is not there, don't get into the carriage. Not a word to Mrs. Bradshaw. She is in the employ of Mr. Campbell, who represented you as insane, and I told her that Mr. Dewey, whom I did not dare to bring in, was a doctor from the insane asylum."
"Are you sure you are not deceiving me?" said Florence, earnestly.
"I am on the square, miss, but you can easily convince yourself by coming down stairs. If you prefer to remain here till nine o'clock, when Orton Campbell will be here, you can do so."
"No, no! anything better than that!"
Mrs. Bradshaw watched the exit of her guest with a peculiar look. "She little knows where she's going," thought the woman. "Well, if she's crazy, it's the best place for her."
As may easily be imagined, there was scant leave-taking. Florence was eager to leave this shabby cabin, where she had passed a night of anxious solicitude.
She approached the carriage, and Jones opened the door. She looked in, and saw Dewey, who said in a low voice, "Get in at once, Florence, but keep silent till we are on our way."
An expression of joy came over her face as she saw this most convincing proof of her driver's good faith. He mounted the box and drove rapidly off.
On their way back to San Francisco the two who had been so long separated had ample time to compare notes and form plans for the future.
"Florence," said Richard Dewey, "after this treachery of Orton Campbell there is but one way of safety for you."
"And what is that?"
"Let me become your legal protector, and at once. When we are married your guardian will be powerless. He will have me to deal with then, not a defenceless girl."
"But, Richard, this seems so sudden!"
"It ought not to, Florence. Have we not waited for each other long enough? Have we not been separated long enough? I am not much richer than when I left you—not so rich," he added, smiling, "as your other suitor, Orton Campbell."
"I will marry you if only to get rid of him, Richard," said Florence, impetuously.
"I won't quarrel with your motives, since you consent."
So it happened that on their arrival in San Francisco they directed Jones to drive to thehouse of a clergyman, and were speedily united in marriage, the clergyman's wife and daughter being witnesses. Circumstances compelled them to dispense with the usual "cards and cake."
At nine o'clock, Orton Campbell, secure of his prey, drove up to Mrs. Bradshaw's door and leisurely descended.
"Well, and how is Miss Douglas this morning?" he asked of the astonished landlady.
"How is she? She's gone."
"What!" ejaculated Orton, furiously; "you have dared to let her escape?"
"You sent for her yourself. She went away with the mad doctor."
"'The mad doctor'? I don't know anything about any mad doctor. Woman, you are deceiving me."
"Don't call mewoman!" said Mrs. Bradshaw, offensively, putting her arms akimbo. "I'm no more a woman than you are."
"Then you'd better dress differently," sneered Campbell. "Tell me what all this means."
"The man that drove the lady out here yesterdaycame here more than an hour ago and said you had sent for her. He said there was a doctor in the carriage who would take her to the asylum. That corresponded with what you told me, and I let her go."
"That scoundrel Jones!" exclaimed Orton Campbell. "So this is his revenge? I must go back to the city at once and circumvent him if I can."
He was about to go when Mrs. Bradshaw said, "Before you go you'd better pay me what you promised."
"I won't pay you a cent," said Campbell, angrily.
"Jack!"
The word spoken by the woman brought a rough-looking man to the carriage-door.
"This man says he won't pay me a cent, Jack," said Mrs. Bradshaw.
"You'd better reconsider that, stranger," said Jack, pulling out a revolver and fingering it significantly.
"I owe her nothing," said Orton Campbell, surveying the revolver uneasily. "If she had keptthe young lady here, it would have been different."
"If there's a trick been played on you, my wife ain't goin' to suffer by it. She's earned the money, stranger, and I'll give you just two minutes to pay it over."
Orton Campbell read something in the man's face that convinced him he was not to be trifled with. With many an inward groan he drew out one hundred dollars from his purse and handed it over.
"That's all right, stranger," said Jack, coolly. "I thought you'd be reasonable. Short reckonings make long friends."
With a muttered imprecation Orton Campbell sharply ordered his driver to turn the horses' heads toward San Francisco and make his way there as quickly as possible. His thoughts were by no means pleasant company. He had just been forced to pay out a considerable sum without value received, and was beginning to think the sum paid to Jones also money thrown away.
Orton Campbell cursed his folly in arousing the hostility of Jones. He concluded that the latter had released Florence in order to obtain a hold upon him, and would be ready to assist him again if satisfactorily paid. In that event all was not lost. It was necessary to see Jones as early as possible and make matters right with him.
He was not quite clear as to where Jones could be found, but concluded that he had carried Florence back to her boarding-house. He therefore ordered his driver to proceed at once to the house of Mrs. Armstrong.
He hastily descended from the carriage and rang the bell.
It was answered by Mrs. Armstrong in person, who regarded him with no very friendly eye.
Orton Campbell, knowing his own treachery, andconscious that it was also known to the lady before him, asked, in some embarrassment, "Is Miss Douglas here?"
"No, sir."
Orton Campbell looked surprised. "I—I thought she might be here," he stammered.
"Were you the person who lured her from my house yesterday by a false letter?" demanded Mrs. Armstrong, sternly.
"No," answered Campbell, unblushingly; "it was an agent of mine, who has deceived and betrayed me."
"Then, you had nothing to do with the disappearance of the young lady?"
"Certainly not," answered Orton Campbell, boldly. "I assure you it has given me great concern, and I have been riding hither and thither this morning in search of her."
"Won't you come in, sir? Perhaps we may be able to throw some light on this mystery."
"She believes me," thought Orton Campbell, congratulating himself on the effect of his duplicity.—"Certainly," he answered; "I shall be most happy to do so."
He was ushered into the parlor, into which, five minutes later, entered Florence, Richard Dewey, and a gentleman of clerical appearance.
"Miss Douglas!" exclaimed Orton Campbell, in astonishment.—"I thought you said," turning to Mrs. Armstrong, "that Miss Douglas was not here?"
"I am not Miss Douglas," said Florence, quietly.
"I don't understand you."
"Perhaps I can explain the mystery," said Richard Dewey, coming forward.
"I wish you would, if you can," said Orton Campbell, with a sneer.
"This young lady is my wife."
"Your wife? And who are you?"
"Richard Dewey, at your service."
Orton Campbell had never known Dewey well, and his life at the mines had so changed his appearance that it was not surprising he did not recognize him.
"Is this true?" he asked, in visible dismay. "When were you married?"
"Half an hour since, by this gentleman;" andRichard Dewey waved his hand in the direction of the clerical gentleman already referred to.
"You have done a good stroke of business, sir," said Campbell, with a sneer and a look of baffled hatred. "The lady's fortune makes her a good match."
"So you evidently thought, sir," answered Dewey. "Your unscrupulous methods have not succeeded, and I beg to warn you that the lady now has a protector who will punish any such persecution as that with which you have recently visited her."
"You are quite mistaken. My agent—"
"Only followed your instructions," said an unexpected voice, as Jones, who was within hearing, now entered from the adjoining room. "Mr. Orton, I have confessed all, so you needn't try to humbug this gentleman."
"You are a scoundrel," said Campbell, wrathfully, excited by the appearance of the man who, in return for being cheated, had betrayed him.
"Then there's a pair of us, Mr. Campbell," said he, coolly. "I admit that I behaved like a rascal, but I've tried to set matters right."
"You can find your way back to New York as you can; I have done with you," said Campbell, hardly conscious that this very remark betrayed him.
"Mr. Dewey has kindly offered to take me back with him," said Jones, not at all disturbed by this notice.
"If you are going back by the next steamer, Mr. Campbell," said Richard Dewey, "I will thank you to apprise your father of his ward's marriage, and ask him to arrange for the surrender of her property at the proper time."
"You may attend to your own messages, sir," said Orton, irritably. "I will have nothing to do with them."
Without any further words he hurried out of the house, and drove at once to the office of the steamship company, where he secured passage by the earliest vessel eastward bound.
That same evening Mr. and Mrs. Richard Dewey held an informal reception at their boarding-house.
It was not largely attended, for Florence hadmade but few acquaintances during her stay in the city. Uncertain as her prospects were, she had thought it best to keep aloof from her friends, who might possibly make known her residence to her guardian. Among those present, however, were Richard Dewey's tried friends, Bradley and Ben Stanton.
Bradley tried to excuse himself, on the ground that he was only a rough miner and not accustomed to society, but his objection was overruled both by Florence and her husband.
"You are a true friend, Mr. Bradley," said Florence, gratefully, "and I should miss you more than any one else except my young friend and cousin, Ben."
"Ben's different from what I am," said Bradley. "He ain't such a rough specimen."
"I'm only a miner, like you," said Ben. "I am a country boy and not used to society, but I don't believe Cousin Ida will care for that."
"Cousin Ida" was the name by which Ben had been instructed to call Florence when she came out to California under his escort.
The upshot of it all was that both Bradley and Ben were present at the bride's reception, and were made so thoroughly at home by Mrs. Richard Dewey that neither felt in the least awkward.
Two weeks later Richard Dewey and his wife sailed for New York, but Ben and Bradley remained behind.
"Come with us, Ben," said Florence. "I don't like to leave you behind."
"Thank you, Miss Florence—I mean Mrs. Dewey," said the boy—"but I am not ready to go yet."
"Don't let the thought of money keep you here, Ben. I am rich, or I shall be in a few months, when my guardian surrenders his trust, and I will take care that you are well provided for."
"Thank you again," said Ben; "but I've promised to go back to the mines. I've got a claim reserved for me, and so has Bradley. We'll go back now and try to gather a little more gold-dust."
"But you'll let us see you in New York before long?"
"Yes, I shall go home in a few months, even if I come back again later. I want to see Uncle Job and Cousin Jennie, and all my old friends, not forgetting Sam Sturgis," added Ben, smiling.
"We must be content with that, I suppose," said the young lady. "I hope you will have good luck, but even if you don't, remember that you have two friends who will only be too glad to be of service to you.—Please consider, Mr. Bradley, that this is said to you also."
"Thank you, ma'am," said Jake Bradley, awkwardly, for with all his good traits he was not quite at ease in the society of ladies.
Ben and Bradley saw the young couple off on the steamer, and then prepared to go back to the mines.
"It's made me feel kind of lonesome to part with Dick Dewey," said Bradley, thoughtfully. "He's a whole-souled feller, and he's 'struck it rich' in a wife."
"That's so, Jake."