VERNON'S UNWELCOME VISITOR.
When another day had passed and no letter came to Frederic Vernon, the young man began to grow desperate.
"I've got to raise money somehow," he said to himself.
But the question was a difficult one to settle, since he had already used his friends as much as he dared.
He was a late riser, and it was after ten o'clock when he was preparing to go out to a nearby restaurant for breakfast, when there came a hasty knock on his door.
He was expecting Remington, and unlocked the door without a second thought--to find himself confronted by Richard Anderson. The face of the capitalist was stern, and in one hand he carried the horsewhip he had recently purchased.
"Well, Vernon, I reckon you did not expect to see me," said the president of the lumber company coldly.
"Why--er--no, I did not," stammered the young man.
"I want to have a little talk with you, young man."
"Yes, sir," answered Vernon, with a shiver. "What--er--what about?"
"I want to know why you have been circulating a report calculated to hurt our lumber company."
"Me?" cried Vernon, pretending to be astonished.
"Yes, you."
"I have circulated no report."
"It is useless for you to deny it, young man. I have it upon the best authority that the report came from you."
"What report?"
"That our company was in a bad way financially and liable to go to pieces at any time."
As Richard Anderson finished he closed and locked the door and placed the key in his pocket.
"Hi! what are you doing that for?" gasped Frederic Vernon in alarm.
"So that nobody can interrupt me while I am teaching you a lesson."
"I--I don't understand."
"You will understand when I begin to use this horsewhip."
Vernon grew white and trembled so that he could scarcely stand up.
"You won't dare to--to hit me," he faltered.
"Won't I? You just wait and see. Do you know that I could have you arrested for what you have done?"
"I deny doing anything."
"And I can prove what you have done. If it wasn't for that kind-hearted aunt of yours I would let you go to prison."
"Did Mrs. Vernon tell you what I--I mean did she accuse me?" ejaculated the young man, so astonished that he partly forgot himself.
"No, she hasn't told me anything that you may have written to her. My information came from an outside party who happened to be my friend. But your slip just now proves what my friend told me. You are a rascal, Vernon, but instead of having you locked up, I am, for your aunt's sake, going to take it out of your hide."
As Richard Anderson concluded he threw back his arm, and down came the lash of the horsewhip across Vernon's shoulder.
"Ouow!" yelled the young man. "Oh, murder! Stop! stop! I'll be cut to pieces!"
Swish! swish! swish! down came the horsewhip again and again, over Vernon's shoulders, his back, around his legs, and one cut took him around the neck and face. The lumber dealer was thoroughly in earnest, and though the young man tried to fight him off it was useless.
"I will have you arrested for this!" shrieked Vernon, as he danced around with pain. "Oh, my neck! Oh, my legs! Stop! stop!"
"I hope this proves a lesson you never forget," returned Richard Anderson, with a final cut over Vernon's quivering back. "And now take my advice, and don't go to law over it, for if you do I shall expose you and make you pay the full penalty of your evil doings."
"I'll--I'll kill you when I get the chance!" roared Vernon, in a wild rage.
"No, you won't touch me. You just behave yourself, and stop being a fool and a spendthrift, and perhaps you'll get along better."
With these final words Richard Anderson unlocked the door again and walked out, taking his whip with him. As soon as the lumber dealer had departed Vernon closed the door, and not only locked but bolted it, and then sank into an easy chair, the picture of misery and despair.
"Oh, the rascal," he groaned, as he nursed his cuts, which smarted like fire. "I won't get over this in a month!" He gazed into a handy looking-glass. "Everybody at the club will ask where I got that cut on the neck and cheek. I wish I could kill him, yes, I do!"
But his rage, although intense, was useless, and after a while he cooled down a little, and then set to work to bathe his cuts and put something soothing on them. During this time there was a knock on the door, at which Vernon instantly became quiet.
"Hullo, Frederic, are you asleep yet?" came in Dr. Remington's voice.
"He mustn't see me in this condition," thought the young man, and continued quiet.
There followed another knock and a pause. "Guess he's out for breakfast," muttered the doctor, and stalked away.
"Breakfast," murmured Vernon. "I don't feel as if I could eat a mouthful in a week."
For the thrashing had made him sick all over. It was nearly noon when he did venture out, and then he got his first meal of the day at a restaurant where he was unknown.
He wondered greatly who had informed Richard Anderson of what was going on. Strange to say, he never suspected Mr. Farley.
"It must have been that Robert Frost," he said, at last. "He has read my letter to aunt, and wants to get me into trouble. I wish he was at the bottom of the ocean!"
All day long Vernon brooded over the way he had been treated.
"If this whole affair comes out and aunt hears of it, she will treat me worse than ever," he reasoned. "I wish I could get to her and have a talk." He felt certain that he would be able to persuade Mrs. Vernon into treating him more liberally, not suspecting that she had discovered the plot to send her to an insane asylum.
At last a bold, bad plan entered his head, and he resolved to act upon it the very next morning. He would draw up a check for himself for six hundred dollars, and sign Mrs. Vernon's name to it. He was a clever penman, and felt he could imitate her signature closely. He had frequently received large checks from her, and the forgery would never be suspected at the bank.
His first move was to get the necessary blank check at the bank. This was easy, as such blanks are always to be found on the desks provided for the use of the public.
Having obtained several blanks he hurried home and brought out a number of letters Mrs. Vernon had written. With these as a guide to the style of writing, he filled in one of the blanks and signed her name. Then, from his knowledge of her private business, he filled in the number, making it high enough to clear all checks below it. His first effort was a complete success, and so he threw the other blanks away.
Noon found him again at the bank, and having endorsed the check with his own name he walked to the window and asked to have it cashed. The teller knew him, and passed out the six hundred dollars without comment.
When Vernon found himself on the sidewalk it must be confessed that the cold perspiration stood out on his forehead. He was a high-handed criminal, and he knew it. For what he had done the law could send him to state's prison for a long term of years.
"And now to get away from Chicago, and from the United States," he told himself, and took a hack for his bachelor apartment. Once in the rooms, he packed his trunk and valise and donned a traveling suit. Before night he was on his way to New York, and forty-eight hours later he had secured passage on an ocean liner for England.
A FIGHT AND A FIRE.
To go rowing on the River Thames became a favorite amusement with Robert, and many an hour was spent thus, when Mrs. Vernon did not need him.
Occasionally the lady would go with our hero, but she was now suffering from rheumatism, and the dampness affected her so that she soon preferred to remain in the cozy boarding house.
"But do not remain in on my account, Robert," she said one day, on declining his suggestion to go out. "A boy like you needs all the fresh air and exercise he can get."
"I hate to go and leave you alone," he replied.
"You are with me enough. While you are gone I shall do a little fancy work and read, and perhaps lie down for a nap."
Secretly Mrs. Vernon was much worried over the outcome of her letter to Mr. Farley concerning Frederic's communication, but she did not let on to her young secretary.
"It will do no good," she thought. "There is already enough trouble as it is."
There was a brisk wind blowing when Robert made his way to the dock where he usually hired his boat, but otherwise the day promised to be a perfect one.
Our hero generally obtained his craft from an old tar named Jack Salter, but on reaching the landing place he was disappointed to find Salter nowhere in sight.
"He must have gone out to fish," he said to himself. "I wonder if I dare take a boat without asking him? I suppose it will be all right."
He was looking the boats over when suddenly several big boys came rushing out of a building nearby and surrounded him. The leader of the crowd was Sammy Gump, the bully of the village.
"Hi, there!" bawled Sammy. "What are you doing among Jack Salter's boats?"
"I was going to hire one," answered Robert quietly, although he did not like the looks of the crowd that surrounded him.
"Hire one?" sneered Sammy. "It's more than likely you were going to take one without hiring it."
Robert's face flushed and his eyes blazed as he faced the bully.
"Do you mean to say that I was going to steal one?" he demanded.
"Never mind what I meant. You leave Jack Salter's boats alone."
"I believe I have as much right here as you."
"Hear him!" sneered several. "Don't the Yankee think he's big!"
"Jack Salter isn't going to let you have any more boats," put in Bob Snipper, who was Sammy Gump's particular toady.
"And why not?"
"Because we told Jack not to," answered Sammy Gump. "We haven't any boats for such fellows as you."
"I think Jack Salter will let me have all the boats I want if I pay for them," returned Robert sharply. "Anyway, this is a public dock and a public business, and you have no right to interfere with my affairs."
"Don't you talk like that, or you'll catch it," growled Sammy.
"From you?" answered Robert quickly. "Perhaps you have forgotten our encounter of the other day."
"You took an unfair advantage of me then," went on the bully. "I'm going to teach you a lesson for it."
He made a signal to his companions and of a sudden all of the English boys hurled themselves upon our hero.
Robert was not expecting such a combined attack, and before he could save himself he was down on his back, with three of his tormentors on top of him.
"Now give it to him, fellows!" cried Sammy. "Pound him as hard as you can!"
"Not much!" answered Robert, as he let out with his foot. The blow landed on the bully's knee and made him howl with pain.
But Robert could not throw the others off at once, and they hit him half a dozen times. At last he got up with a quick side movement, and hauling off he hit Bob Snipper such a blow that the toady lost his balance and went backward with a loud splash into the river.
"Bob's overboard!" was the cry. "He'll be drowned!"
"Save me! save me!" yelled Snipper. "I--I can't swim!" And then throwing up both arms he disappeared from view.
"You've killed him!" cried Sammy hoarsely.
"He had no right to attack me," answered Robert. "But he is not dead yet, and I think we can get him ashore if we hurry."
He leaped from the dock into the nearest boat. As he cast off he looked at the others, expecting one or more to follow him to the rescue, but nobody volunteered. Nearly all were too dazed to act.
Snipper had gone down, and when he came up it was fully twenty feet from where the boat rode. Seizing an oar, Robert paddled toward the unfortunate youth.
"Keep up!" he cried encouragingly. "I will help you in half a minute!"
Bob Snipper saw Robert approaching and it gave him a little hope. He had forgotten all about how badly he had treated our hero. He made a clutch at the oar Robert extended toward him, and having secured a firm hold was quickly drawn aboard of the rowboat.
"Now, I guess you are all right," said Robert, who was hardly excited at all.
"I--I--suppose I am," gasped the bully's toady. "I--I--am much obliged to you for hauling me out of the water."
"So you got him out, eh?" remarked Sammy, as Robert paddled back to the dock.
"Yes."
"It wasn't much to do. I would have gone for him myself if you had given me the chance."
"There was no time to waste," was Robert's brief reply. "Come, you can jump ashore now," he added, to his dripping passenger.
"Aren't you coming ashore?" said Snipper slowly.
"No, I am going out on the river. I don't think any of you will stop me from using this boat now."
"You can take it so far as I am concerned," answered the bully's toady, with a face full of shame. "I shan't set myself up against you again, I can tell you that!"
"Yes, go on and take the boat, Frost," put in one of the other boys. "You're the right sort, and I'm sorry we attacked you."
One of the other boys also spoke up, expressing his regrets at the encounter. But Sammy Gump remained silent, his face just as sour as before.
"I'm awfully thankful he pulled me out," said Bob Snipper, after Robert had left the vicinity of the dock. "If he hadn't I would have been drowned."
"That's right, Bob," said one of the others.
"Humph!" muttered Sammy. "You are trying to make a regular hero out of him, when he is nothing of the sort."
"Well, why didn't you come and pull me out?" asked Bob.
"I was going to--but he got ahead of me."
"I can't swim, and it wouldn't have taken me long to drown, I can tell you that."
"He did very well," said another lad of the crowd. "After this I am going to be friendly with him."
"All right, Dick Martin, do as you please. I'll never be friendly with him," answered Sammy Gump, and strode away in as bad a humor as ever.
As Bob Snipper was soaked to the skin, there was nothing for him to do but to either go home and change his clothes, or else go bathing and let his suit dry in the meantime.
Afraid of a scolding if he went home, the boy concluded to go bathing, and Dick Martin and one other lad accompanied him, while the others hurried away after Sammy Gump.
"I don't believe the American boy is half a bad sort," said Dick Martin, as the three moved up the Thames to where there was a tiny inlet well screened with trees and bushes. "He had a perfect right to hire a boat if he wanted it and could pay for it."
"We made a big mistake to follow Sammy into the game," said Harry Larkly, the third boy. "Sammy was mad at him because of a row the two had on the road some time ago."
"After this I am going to treat him as a friend," said Dick Martin. "It's all tom-foolery to give him the cold shoulder just because he's an American. Why, I've got half a dozen cousins in America."
"So have I," put in Bob Snipper. "And when my father went to Boston last year the folks over there treated him first-rate. We were fools to let Sammy lead us around by the nose."
"Well, we'll know better next time," said Harry Larkly. "If Sammy won't do the right thing by him, why, I'm going to cut Sammy, that's all."
The swimming place was soon gained, and having placed his garments in the sun to dry, Bob Snipper went in for a second bath, but this time taking very good care not to go out over his depth.
The others soon followed, and went out a considerable distance, for both were good swimmers.
"Why can't you swim, Bob?" asked Dick.
"I don't know, I'm sure. Every time I try my head goes down like a lump of lead."
"That's queer."
"My brother is the same way--and my father says he could never learn either."
"It must run in the family," said Harry, with a grin. "Like wooden legs among soldiers. I think you can learn if you'll only try and keep cool. You get too excited."
The boys remained in the water for nearly an hour. By this time the wind and the sun had about dried Bob's garments, and then all began to dress.
"Hullo, what's that?" cried Dick suddenly, as he pointed toward the village. "See the heavy smoke."
"It's some place on fire!" burst out Bob. "I wonder what place it can be?"
All three boys ran toward the river road, putting on the last of their garments on the way.
"It's Mrs. Barlow's boarding house!" ejaculated Dick Martin. "Say, fellows, this wind is going to sweep the house to the ground!"
"Mrs. Barlow's?" repeated Harry Larkly. "Why, that is where that American boy and his lady companion board."
"That's so, Harry," said Bob. "And that is where Norah Gump, Sammy's sister, works, too," he added. "I hope none of those people are in danger of being burnt up."
ROBERT SHOWS HIS BRAVERY.
Robert was hardly in a fit mental condition to enjoy his row, and his face was very serious as he drew away from the crowd that had molested him.
"I don't see what they want to act so for?" he mused, as he pulled up the broad stream. "I never tried to harm any of them, or interfered with their amusements."
Crossing to the other side of the Thames he started to fish for a while.
But the fish were not biting well just then, and after bringing up one small stickleback, a fish very common to England's streams, he drew in his lines and gave it up.
Close to where the rowboat rode was a grassy bank, filled with moss and several species of ferns, and presently Robert jumped ashore to investigate.
"Those ferns are very pretty," he thought. "I guess I'll dig some up, put them in a flowerpot and place them in one of our windows. I am certain Mrs. Vernon will be pleased to watch them grow."
He was prowling around, and had already dug up half a dozen ferns and some moss to wrap them in, when he discovered the smoke drifting over the village.
"That looks pretty close to our boarding house," he said to himself. "Can it be possible that it is Mrs. Barlow's place?"
Much alarmed, he leaped into his boat and seized the oars. A few strokes took him well out into the stream, and then he made out that it was the boarding house beyond the possibility of a doubt.
With desperate energy he began to row for the nearest landing to the house.
"If only Mrs. Vernon is safe," he said to himself, over and over again.
He knew only too well how badly she was suffering from rheumatism, and also knew that at this time of day she was probably lying down trying to catch a nap.
At last the landing was gained, and our hero leaped from the boat and ran at top speed for the boarding house.
By this time the alarm had been given through the village, and the inhabitants were hurrying to the scene of the conflagration from all directions.
There was but one fire engine in the place, and this was a very primitive affair, so, with such a strong wind blowing, it was speedily seen that Mrs. Barlow's resort was doomed.
When Robert came up he ran plump into the landlady, who was rushing out of the house with a lamp in one hand and a canary bird cage in the other.
"Mrs. Barlow, is Mrs. Vernon safe?" he asked breathlessly.
"Mrs. Vernon?" repeated Mrs. Barlow, in a semi-dazed fashion. "Sure, Mr. Frost, I don't know where she is."
Robert waited to hear no more, but ran into the boarding house and began to mount the stairs, three steps at a time.
"Mrs. Vernon!" he called out. "Mrs. Vernon, where are you?"
Getting no reply, he made his way through the upper hallway, which was rapidly filling with smoke. The fire was in the rear of the dwelling and so far the wind had blown it away, but now the wind was shifting and the fire was leaping from cellar to garret.
Robert, as we know, was naturally brave, and now the thought that the lady who had been so kind to him might be in peril of her life, lent him additional courage.
He tried Mrs. Vernon's door, to find it locked.
"Mrs. Vernon!" he repeated. "Mrs. Vernon!"
"What is it, Robert?" came sleepily from inside.
"Get up, quickly! The house is on fire!"
"On fire!" came with a gasp. "Oh, Robert!"
"Open the door and I will help you to get downstairs," went on the youth.
There was a hasty movement within the apartment and then the key turned in the lock. Robert threw the door open, to behold Mrs. Vernon standing before him, clad in a morning wrapper and her slippers.
Having just roused up from a sound sleep, she was bewildered and gazed at him questioningly.
"Come, there is no time to lose," he said, and took hold of her arm.
"My jewels and money----" she began, and pointed to the dresser. With one clutch he caught up the jewel case and her money box and placed them under his arm.
They hurried into the hallway. The smoke was now so thick that Robert could scarcely see the stairs. In her excitement Mrs. Vernon forgot all about her rheumatism. She clutched the young secretary tightly by the arm.
"Bend down and the smoke won't blind you so much," said Robert. "Lean on me if you are afraid of falling."
They passed downstairs as rapidly as the lady's condition permitted. In the lower hallway they again met Mrs. Barlow, along with several others, all carrying out furniture and other household effects.
Once outside, Robert conducted Mrs. Vernon to a place of safety, and set her down on a garden bench. She was still bewildered, but gradually her excitement left her.
The pair had hardly reached the bench when a piercing scream rang out, coming from the garret of the boarding house. At the small dormer window stood a young girl, waving her hands piteously for help.
"It is Norah Gump!" shouted somebody in the crowd. "What is she doing up there?"
"She went up for her bag of clothing," answered Mrs. Barlow. "She used to sleep in the garret."
Robert recognized the girl as one who had assisted the cook of the boarding house. He had heard her called Norah, but had never supposed that she was a sister to the bully of the village.
"She will be burnt up!" he cried, in horror.
"Oh, I trust not!" cried Mrs. Vernon. "See if you cannot aid her, Robert."
"I will," he returned, and dropping her jewel casket and her money box in her lap, he made again for the burning building.
"No use of trying to go up there," cried one of the firemen. "The stairs is burning already."
"Then why not get a ladder and put it up to the window?" asked Robert.
"Aint got no ladder," came from another man. "Maybe she had better jump."
"She'll break her neck if she jumps," said Robert. He looked up at the window and then at a tree which grew nearby. One of the branches of the tree was within four feet of the opening.
"Please save me!" shrieked the girl. "The room is full of smoke already!"
"Don't jump!" answered Robert. He turned to the firemen. "Give me a boost up into the tree."
"You can't reach the window from there," said one of the men.
"I think I can. But hurry, or it will be too late."
The firemen did as requested, and up the tree went Robert with the agility of a cat. He felt that it was a veritable climb for life.
The fire was now coming out of a parlor window, and this sent the smoke and sparks into the tree and up to the window at which the girl was standing.
"I can't stay here," moaned the girl, wringing her hands. "I must jump!" And she placed one foot on the window sill.
"Wait a few seconds longer," urged Robert, as he climbed nearer to her.
"The fire is coming up through the floor!"
With a jump, our hero gained the branch which grew out toward the window. Luckily it was a heavy limb, or it would not have sustained his weight. The end had originally pressed on the roof of the house, but this had been sawed off.
At last our hero was within four feet of the window sill, and somewhat below the opening. The girl watched him in a frenzy of terror. Buckling his feet under the tree limb Robert held out his arms.
"Now, jump and I will catch you," he said.
The girl needed no second bidding, for the flames were already licking the floor under her. Standing on the window sill she cast herself forth, and our hero caught and steadied her. It was no easy thing to do, and for one brief instant it looked as if both would fall to the ground. But Robert kept his hold, and soon they were safe and descending to the ground.
A cheer went up.
"He's a brave lad!" was the cry. "He deserves a medal!"
The women folks standing around said but little, yet all were deeply affected.
When Norah Gump reached the ground her emotions were such that she fainted dead away.
Restoratives were speedily applied, and while they were being administered Sammy Gump appeared on the scene, followed by the boys who had helped him in his attack on Robert.
"Is Norah dead?" he asked, in a quivering voice. He thought a good deal of his sister.
"No, she has only fainted from excitement," answered one of the women standing by. "She'll be all right in a little while. But she would have been burnt up if it hadn't been for that young gent yonder."
Sammy looked in the direction pointed out, and beheld Robert, who had rejoined Mrs. Vernon.
"Do you mean to tell me he saved her?" he demanded, in amazement.
"Yes, he did," put in one of the men, and gave the bully the particulars. These particulars were also corroborated by Bob Snipper and his chums.
"I can't understand it at all," said Sammy, a little while later, when he was taking his sister to his mother's house. "He's a good bit better chap than I dreamed he was."
A DIAMOND SCARFPIN.
Robert found Mrs. Vernon resting comfortably on the garden bench. She smiled broadly when he came up.
"Robert, you are a regular hero," she observed. "Nobody could have done a braver deed."
"It was not so very much to do," he answered, with a blush. "I simply saw how the girl might be saved, and I set to work to do it."
"But it was no easy matter to catch the girl," went on the lady warmly. "You ran a big risk."
The firemen were now hard at work, and a steady stream of water was being poured on the conflagration. But the wind had caught the house fairly, and but little could be saved. Soon the men directed their efforts toward saving the adjoining property, and fortunately nothing but the boarding house was consumed.
As soon as the fire was over Mrs. Vernon and our hero set about finding another boarding place. This was an easy matter, for Mrs. Barlow's sister also took boarders. To Mrs. Cabe, therefore, they went, and procured rooms which were just as desirable as those which they had formerly occupied.
"It's too bad we couldn't save your trunks, Mrs. Vernon," observed Robert, after the boarding place question had been settled. "You've got only what you have on."
"Well, I am no worse off than you, Robert," she answered, with a peculiar smile.
"Oh, it doesn't matter so much for a boy."
"I suppose not. Still we both need outfits, and I shall see to it that we get them as soon as possible."
"There are not many stores in this town--I mean stores of any importance."
"We will take a journey to Oxford. We can get about all we want there, and it will give you a chance to look at the most celebrated English institutions of learning."
"I shall like that."
"You ought to have a college education, Robert. It would prove very useful to you. Not but what I am satisfied with you, however," added the lady hastily.
"I would like to go to Yale or Harvard first-rate."
"Perhaps we will be able to arrange that later." Mrs. Vernon paused for a moment. "Robert, I feel that I owe you a good deal for saving my life."
"You don't owe me anything, Mrs. Vernon. I did no more than my duty."
"I think otherwise. To free myself from pain I took a double dose of my medicine, and I was in an extra heavy sleep when you aroused me. If you had not come I would have slept on until it was too late."
And the lady closed her eyes for a moment and shuddered.
Taking her jewel case from her bureau drawer, Mrs. Vernon opened it and brought forth a neat but costly diamond scarf-pin.
"I am going to make you a present of this, Robert," she went on. "It will look very well on the new scarf I am going to purchase you."
"Oh, Mrs. Vernon, it is a diamond pin!"
"So it is, Robert."
"It must be worth a good deal of money."
"It cost me two hundred dollars at one of the leading Chicago jewelers. I don't mind telling you that I got the pin to give to Frederic on his birthday. But I have changed my mind about giving him a present."
"It's too valuable a gift for me to wear, Mrs. Vernon."
"Let me be the judge of that, Robert. Of course, you will be careful and not lose it."
"I'll take the best possible care of it," he answered, and then she gave it to him, and he thanked her heartily.
That evening after supper Mrs. Cabe came to Robert and told him that a boy was downstairs and wanted to see him very much. Robert went down and found Sammy Gump, who stood there hat in hand, and with a face full of shame.
"Excuse me for troubling you, Robert Frost," said the bully humbly. "But--but I wanted to thank you for saving Norah's life, and mother and father want me to thank you, too. They can't come themselves, because father's a stoker on the railway, and mother has got to stay home and take care of Norah."
"You are welcome to whatever I did, Gump," answered Robert. "I am glad I was of service."
"Did you know she was my sister?" asked Sammy curiously.
"No, I confess I did not."
"Oh!"
"But I would have saved her anyhow," added Robert hastily.
"Honest?"
"Yes, Gump, honest."
The bully of the town looked sharply into our hero's honest eyes, and his face grew redder than ever.
"I believe you; yes, I do," he observed, in a choking voice. "Say, do you know what? I'm awfully sorry I pitched into you. I was a big fool to do it. You're the right sort, and you'll never find me standing in your way again."
"I am glad to hear you talk so, Gump," answered Robert.
There was an awkward pause, and then our hero put out his hand. Sammy Gump clutched it eagerly and gave it a tight squeeze. From that instant the two boys were firm friends.
Nor was this all. Robert's generous action set Sammy Gump to thinking how mean and overbearing he had been, and the bully ended up by giving up all his overbearing manners, and treating everybody as he himself wished to be treated. He soon made a score of friends, and was as well liked as anybody in the town.
Two days later Robert and Mrs. Vernon set out for Oxford. The journey was a delightful one, and nightfall found them located at one of the principal hotels.
On the day following they went shopping, and Mrs. Vernon insisted upon having her young secretary measured for two business suits, a traveling suit, and also a dress suit, and likewise bought him a generous supply of other things to wear.
"As my private secretary, you must dress well," she said. "And I owe it to you to foot the bills myself."
"My old friends will hardly know me when they see me," said Robert, as he surveyed himself in one of his new suits. "I wonder what your nephew would say if he heard of this."
To this Mrs. Vernon did not reply, and quickly changed the subject. Little did they dream that Frederic Vernon was already on his way to see them.
Two more days were spent in Oxford, and Robert visited many places of interest, including several famous colleges, the cathedral, and the great library. Then Mrs. Vernon and our hero returned to Chishing.
"I am feeling ever so much better," she declared. "I believe the excitement of the fire and the traveling to Oxford helped me."
"I am glad of it," answered Robert. "But to have a fire to help a sick person is rather costly medicine."
At this Mrs. Vernon laughed outright. "Quite true, Robert, and I want no more fires. But we can travel. How would you like to go to Paris?"
"I will go anywhere you say, Mrs. Vernon."
"Paris is one of the most beautiful cities in the whole world. Perhaps we will go there before long."
"I am afraid my knowledge of French is rather limited," said our hero, with a faint smile.
"That will not matter much, since we can stop at an English hotel. I can speak French fluently."
"Have you any idea how long you will remain in Europe?"
"No, Robert. It will depend somewhat upon what Frederic does."
"It is queer that you do not get some word back from Mr. Farley."
"We may get a letter to-day."
Mrs. Vernon was right,--a letter came in the evening mail. In this the lawyer stated that he had investigated the charges brought against the Great Lakes Lumber Company, and found them to be utterly without foundation.
Mrs. Vernon grew very sober when she read the communication.
"What do you think of this?" she asked, after letting Robert read the letter.
"It is as I thought," answered the young secretary. "It was a ruse to get you back to the United States."
"Do you know what I feel like doing? I feel like writing to Mr. Farley to tell Frederic that he may expect no more remittances from me."
"If you cut him off entirely what will he do?"
"He will have to do as thousands of others do, go to work for a living."
"Does he know anything--I mean anything special?"
"He is an expert bookkeeper, and could get a position at that, if he would only apply himself."
On the day following Mrs. Vernon had some special business to be transacted in London, and sent Robert down to the metropolis to attend to it.
It was a fine day, and, left to herself, the lady prepared to go out for a short walk when a visitor was announced.
She went down to the parlor to see who it was, and was nearly struck dumb to behold Frederic Vernon.
VERNON PLAYS THE PENITENT.
"What, you!" cried Mrs. Vernon, when she could speak.
"Yes, aunt," replied Frederic Vernon awkwardly. "I suppose you didn't expect to see me."
"I certainly did not." And the lady sank in a chair.
"Aren't you going to shake hands with me?"
He came to her side and held out his hand, and she grasped it mechanically.
"When did you come over?" she asked.
"I arrived at Liverpool yesterday, and went directly to London. At the Charing Cross Hotel I found out that you had come here."
"I see."
She said no more, but stared hard at him.
"Dear aunt, cannot you forgive me," he said, trying to put on a sad face. "I have done wrong, I know, but I--I--couldn't help it."
"Sit down, Frederic, and tell me why you reported to me that the lumber company was in bad shape."
"Because I was told that it was a fact."
"Who told you that?"
"Some of the men at the Pioneer Club. They knew I, or rather you, were interested in the company."
"The report is absolutely false."
"So I have since heard, and I have come to you for the purpose of setting myself straight in your eyes."
Frederic Vernon had carefully rehearsed his part, and his manner was such that his aunt almost believed him.
"You wish to set yourself straight?" she asked slowly.
"Yes, dear aunt. I know I have done wrong, but I am not the rascal you may think I am."
"I have never said you were a rascal, Frederic."
"But you turned me away, and had that young Frost take my place."
"I did that because you neglected my business. Somebody had to attend to that business."
"And then you left Chicago without letting me know where you were going."
"I had my reasons for that."
"I trust you didn't do it on my account, aunt. I may have been neglectful, but I--well, I never tried to do you any harm, no matter what that young Frost or others may say against me." Frederic Vernon began to cough, and sank back on a sofa as if partly exhausted.
"You are not well?" she asked, in alarm.
"I am not very sick now. But I have been quite ill," he answered, telling the falsehood without a blush.
"And you have a scar on your neck and cheek."
"I was taken sick on the street, and fell down and cut myself on a stray barrel hoop," he answered. "But I guess I'll pull through."
Mrs. Vernon was alarmed, for he did look sick, and she at once began to question him about what he had done for himself.
"I haven't done much--I was too anxious to find you and set myself straight with you," he said. "Since you sent me off I have had no peace of mind at all."
"Perhaps I was a little hasty," said Mrs. Vernon, whose heart was a tender one. "You must consult a doctor at once, and settle down where you can have it comfortable."
The conversation between the pair lasted for fully an hour, and the upshot of the matter was that Mrs. Vernon engaged a room for Frederic at the boarding house opposite to that maintained by Mrs. Cabe, the latter resort being full.
"I will pay all of your expenses," she said. Then a doctor was ordered.
The physician was a man of small practice, and Frederic Vernon fooled him easily.
"He is, indeed, quite sick," said the doctor to Mrs. Vernon. "But rest and medicine will make him pull through, I feel certain of it." Then he wrote out a prescription, and a boy was sent to procure it at the apothecary shop. When the medicine came Frederic Vernon pretended to take it, but not a mouthful of it did he ever swallow.
"You'll not catch me swallowing any such dose," he said to himself, when he was alone, and poured the medicine out of the window.
He was highly elated over his success in fooling his aunt, and when left to himself felt like dancing a jig.
"I'll work my cards all right enough," he thought. "My next move must be to get rid of young Frost, and when my aunt takes me back I'll make sure that I am not thrown aside again."
Of course Robert was astonished to hear of Frederic Vernon's arrival. He listened gravely to what Mrs. Vernon had to tell him.
"It's too bad if he is sick, Mrs. Vernon," he said. "But take my advice and be careful how you trust him."
"I will be careful, Robert. But I am really afraid that I have been too hard on Frederic."
"Have you questioned him about that scheme he and Dr. Remington were hatching out?"
"No. I will bring that around when he is real well again."
"Of course he will deny it."
"It may be that you were mistaken, Robert."
"I don't think so."
It was not until two days later that Robert and Frederic Vernon met. In the meantime Mrs. Vernon had called upon her nephew a number of times.
"Glad to see you, Frost," said Frederic, extending his hand cordially. "I hear you are getting along first-rate as my aunt's private secretary."
"Thank you, I am doing very well," answered Robert stiffly. "How do you feel?"
"Oh, I am coming around slowly. But I've had a pretty bad spell of sickness."
"That isn't very nice."
"It's beastly. But sit down, I want to talk to you. How do you like things over here?"
"Oh, I am suited very well."
"Say, but that's a nice scarfpin you are sporting."
"It is a nice pin."
"Looks like a real diamond."
"It is."
"Where did you get it?"
"Mrs. Vernon gave it to me."
"You are in luck." Frederic Vernon laughed nervously. "By the way, I understand you have been playing the part of a hero."
"Who told you that?"
"The landlady here. She says you saved my aunt and a servant girl when that other boarding house burnt down."
"Well, I did what I could."
"You've lined your nest nicely," went on Frederic Vernon, eyeing Robert in a peculiar manner.
Robert's face flushed.
"What do you mean by that?"
"The first thing you know, Mrs. Vernon will be making you her heir."
"If she does it will be a complete surprise to me."
"Do you deny that you are working for that end?"
"I do deny it, most emphatically. I want no more than I am entitled to."
"Bah, you talk well, Frost, but don't think I can't see through your little plot. Has my aunt changed her will lately?"
"I don't know."
"You ought to know; you have charge of her private papers."
"I haven't seen anything of a will."
"Then she must have left it with Mr. Farley, in Chicago." And Frederic Vernon breathed a long sigh of relief.
He was very anxious to learn if his aunt had cut him off, but could get absolutely nothing out of Robert. If she had made no new will, however, the chances were that he was safe.
"How long is my aunt going to remain in England?" he went on.
"I cannot say. Why don't you ask her yourself?"
"I will. She left in a big hurry, didn't she?"
"I admit she did."
"What was the reason?"
"Perhaps you had better ask her that, too."
"Don't get saucy, Frost."
"I am not saucy. I wasn't hired to answer your questions."
"I want to be friends with you, not enemies. But you seem to wish otherwise."
"No, Mr. Vernon. But I am your aunt's private secretary, and it won't do for me to expose her business, or her motives for doing certain things."
Frederic Vernon looked daggers at Robert, but controlled himself.
"All right, as you please," he said carelessly. "But you may find it to pay to make a friend of me some day."
"I do not wish to be your enemy. But I must do my duty to your aunt," concluded Robert, and a minute later bowed himself away.
When our hero was gone Frederic Vernon grated his teeth.
"He's a clever one," he muttered. "But he shan't get the best of me. He knows all of her business, but he intends to keep it to himself. I must watch my chances and see if I cannot overhear what they talk about from time to time. Hang me, if I don't follow him now!"
And putting on his hat, Frederic Vernon did so. He saw Robert enter the garden attached to Mrs. Cabe's place and join Mrs. Vernon in the summerhouse overlooking the broad river. Taking care so that he would not be seen, he came up close to a tree near the summerhouse. From this point he could hear every word that passed between his aunt and our hero.
MRS. VERNON'S BANK ACCOUNT.
"How did you find Frederic?" was Mrs. Vernon's first question when Robert joined her.
"He seems to be doing very well," answered the young secretary. "I don't think he was quite as sick as he made out to be."
"He was certainly sick when he came here. And he must have been very sick to fall and hurt himself on the neck and cheek."
"Perhaps you are right, Mrs. Vernon, I never had much to do with sick people."
"Did he ask you anything about yourself?"
"He asked me about the diamond scarfpin. I told him that you had given it to me."
"If Frederic really reforms I will get him one, too. What else did he ask about, Robert?"
"Well, he asked about you."
"And what did you say?"
"Maybe I had better not repeat our talk, Mrs. Vernon."
"Did you quarrel?"
"He was quite angry because I would not tell him about your will. He wanted to know if you had changed it lately."
"And what did you tell him?"
"That I knew nothing of a will."
Mrs. Vernon became thoughtful.
"I presume it would be a shame to cut him off," she said slowly.
"Have you done that?"
"Not yet. In my last will, which Mr. Farley holds, he is almost my sole heir. But I have been thinking of changing my will and leaving him only a quarter of my estate,--one-half of the whole estate to go to charitable institutions, and the remaining quarter to go to my friends, including yourself."
"I did not expect anything to be left to me, Mrs. Vernon. You have given me enough--in fact, more than enough--already."
"You have been like a son to me, Robert. But about Frederic--if he really and truly reforms, I think I will leave him the bulk of my fortune."
"I would not be too hasty. You see, I haven't forgotten the plot he and the doctor hatched against you."
"I will be very careful. I shall watch him for a year, and if during that time he does not reform thoroughly, I shall cut him off with a very small allowance, say a thousand dollars."
"A thousand dollars wouldn't be bad for most young fellows. But to him it will be nothing. By the way, he seems to have quite some money."
"I have noticed that, too, and it has puzzled me greatly, for, as you are aware, I have cut down his allowance."
"Perhaps somebody has loaned him some money."
"It is possible. But I know, through Mr. Farley, that he was in debt to many of his friends, and these folks will not go on loaning money forever."
"They may be banking on his prospects."
"Then they may get left, as the saying goes. I sincerely wish that Frederic would settle down to some business and make a man of himself."
Here the conversation changed, and soon after Mrs. Vernon went into the house, while Robert walked down to the river to take a row. Left to himself, Frederic Vernon stole back to his boarding quarters.
"So she will cut me off with a paltry thousand dollars unless I reform, eh, and she is going to watch me for a whole year," he muttered to himself. "I wonder when she will hear from that forged check? I hope it doesn't come in before I have time to arrange my future plans."
The more he thought of the matter, the more did the forged check worry him. He had hoped to get possession of his aunt's mail by applying at the local post-office, but this scheme had fallen through, as the mail was delivered only to Mrs. Vernon or to Robert, and orders were to deliver it to no one else.
Several days went by, and now Frederic came to see his aunt regularly morning, afternoon, and evening. From her he learned that she thought of going to Paris, and he eagerly favored the scheme, hoping that through the change he might be able to get the mail.
But he was doomed to bitter disappointment. Before any change could be made there came a long letter from Mr. Farley, showing how money matters stood. Among other things, this showed a deficiency in one bank account of six hundred dollars.
Robert looked over this communication with the lady, for this was a part of his work, Mrs. Vernon trusting him more and more every day with her private affairs.
"I cannot understand this," she said, after referring to her various bank accounts.
"Understand what, Mrs. Vernon?" he asked.
"The account at the American Exchange Bank is just six hundred dollars short."
"Are you certain the stubs have been footed up properly?" asked Robert, in much surprise.
"You footed them up yourself."
"So I did. But I will foot them up again."
The young secretary did so. "According to your check book, you have a balance there of two thousand and three hundred dollars," he said, when he had concluded his calculations.
"Exactly, and according to the bank rendering, made through Mr. Farley, the sum is seventeen hundred dollars--just six hundred dollars less. I cannot understand it."
Robert shook his head slowly, for he was as much puzzled as the lady.
"Let us look over the other accounts," he ventured. "Perhaps the money was transferred without a showing being made,--although I don't see how that could be."
There were six other bank accounts, running up to many thousands of dollars, but each was correct to the cent.
"You never drew a check and forgot to charge it up against the account, did you?" asked Robert.
"There is the book. Aren't all the stubs filled--I mean those from which the checks have been detached?"
Robert looked through the book with care.
"Yes, every one is filled out," he said.
"Then I don't understand it." Mrs. Vernon leaped to her feet suddenly. "Unless----" She stopped short.
"Unless----" repeated Robert, and then he, too, became silent. Both had thought of Frederic Vernon at the same time.
"I do not think he would do it," went on the lady, almost pitifully. "He has our family blood running in his veins. He would not be guilty of such a terrible crime."
Robert said nothing, but he had his own opinion of the nephew who would plot to put his aunt in the insane asylum just to get hold of her money.
"What do you advise, Robert?" she asked, as she began to pace the floor nervously.
"I would advise you to send to Chicago at once for an accounting from the bank, giving the numbers of the checks you have really issued. If you don't want the bank to know that something is wrong, transact the business through Mr. Farley."
"I will do so. I will send a cablegram to America this very day."
Mrs. Vernon set to work to prepare her cablegram with great care. Of course, the sending of such a message way off to Chicago would be expensive, but just now she did not think of the money, she wanted to know the truth concerning the shortage.
"If Frederic is guilty I will cut him off without a dollar," she said quietly, but so firmly that Robert felt she meant what she said.
Robert was commissioned to take the cablegram to the nearest telegraph office which could forward it, and on the way he met Frederic Vernon, who was out walking.
"Hullo, Frost, come and take a walk with me," said the young man patronizingly, as our hero approached.
"Thank you, but I just as lief walk alone," answered Robert shortly.
"Don't want to be sociable, eh? All right. Where are you bound?"
"That is my business."
"Humph!" Frederic Vernon stared at him for a moment. Then he walked on without further words. But at the corner he looked back and saw Robert enter the telegraph office.
"Something is in the wind," he muttered to himself, and retraced his steps. Getting behind several other people, he drew close to the youth and saw him send the message and pay a good round price for it.
"That message is going to Chicago, and I know it," he told himself, after following Robert to the road once more. "Now what did it contain? Has my aunt got wind of that forged check already? If so, I must act quickly, or my cake will be dough. Whatever comes, she must never live to alter her will."
All that night he brooded over the way matters had turned. He felt that he would be made a beggar did his aunt discover the forgery. But so far the only will she had made was in his favor. She must not be allowed to make another.
"I must watch her closely," he told himself. "She frequently goes out driving, and along the cliff back of the town, too. What if some day her team took fright and went over the cliff? I don't believe she would ever live to tell the tale, and the fortune would be mine!"
If Frederic Vernon was bitter against his aunt, he was also bitter against Robert, for he now knew that our hero had exposed the plot to get Mrs. Vernon into an insane asylum.
"He goes driving with her," thought the desperate man. "They can both go over the cliff together!"
THE RUNAWAY ALONG THE CLIFF.
The discovery of the shortage in her bank account made Mrs. Vernon very nervous, and for two nights the lady slept but little.
Robert noticed the change in her condition, and pitied her greatly.
"It's a shame that Frederic Vernon can't turn over a new leaf," he thought. "But I am afraid that it isn't in him."
On the day that Mrs. Vernon expected a reply to her cablegram she felt worse than ever, and Robert suggested that they take a drive together.
"We can go along the river road, and then along the cliffs," he said. "I am certain the morning air will do you good, for it promises to be very clear."
"Very well, Robert. I will go with you, and you can get a team without delay," she answered.
"And shall I drive?"
"If you want to."
Mrs. Vernon spoke thus, for Robert had taken her out a number of times and had always proved a very careful and reliable driver.
In a few minutes Robert was on his way to the livery stable. He met Frederic Vernon on the street, bound for his aunt's boarding place.
"Hullo, Frost, how is my aunt to-day?" cried the young man.
"Not so well, Mr. Vernon."
"That's too bad. What seems to be the trouble?"
"She can't sleep nights, so she says."
As Robert spoke he looked sharply at the fellow, but Vernon did not change color.
"You ought to take her out for a drive," said the young man.
"That is just what I am going to do."
"Indeed! This morning?"
"Yes, just as soon as I can get a team and a carriage."
"Good for you. I would take her out myself but somehow I never made a fist at driving."
"That is strange. I thought all young men in your station of life liked to drive."
"Well--er--the trouble is, I was scared by a horse when I was a little boy. I've never liked horseflesh since."
"I see. Well, I have never yet seen the team I was afraid of," answered Robert, telling the exact truth.
"Is that so? Well, your time may come."
There was a significance in Frederic Vernon's words which was lost upon our hero.
"Where are you going to drive?" went on the spendthrift.
"Along the river road first, and then along the cliffs."
And with these words Robert passed on. He was afraid that if he stopped to talk longer Frederic Vernon might invite himself to go along, and he was quite certain the ride would do Mrs. Vernon no good were such the case.
Watching his opportunity, Vernon followed our hero and saw Robert hire a team of white and gray horses, and have them hooked up to a light road carriage.
Then he hurried to his boarding house with a peculiar smile on his evil face.
"I can see that team coming a long way off," he said to himself. "And I won't make any mistake."
With quite a little flourish Robert drove around to Mrs. Cabe's boarding place, and tied up at the block. Soon Mrs. Vernon came out, and he handed her to a seat.
"I met your nephew when I went to the livery stable," he observed, as he drove away. "Did he come in?"
"No," answered Mrs. Vernon. "Where was he going?"
"I thought he was coming to see you."
"Did he want to know if I was going out?"
"He suggested I take you for a drive, after I told him you were not very well again."
"I wonder he never offers to take me driving," mused the lady.
"He said he didn't like to drive--that he was afraid of horses."
"What, Frederic? Why, he used to own a very fast horse and go out driving in Lincoln Park at home nearly every day."
"He told me he had been frightened when a boy by a horse, and had never cared for horseflesh since."
"That is not true, Robert. How queer that he should tell such a falsehood. Do you suppose he did it just to get out of driving me?"
"I don't know what to think, Mrs. Vernon. On the whole, I think your nephew is a very peculiar young man."
"It's too bad." Mrs. Vernon gave a deep sigh. "And he is the only near relative I have!"
Fearful that the drive would do the lady small good if they continued to talk about Frederic Vernon, Robert changed the subject, and so skillfully did he manage it that presently Mrs. Vernon grew quite cheerful. Down along the river they stopped for a few minutes, and the boy picked a bunch of wild flowers and presented them to his companion.
At length they left the river road and took to that running up along the cliffs previously mentioned. This road was but little used, but its wildness was attractive to both Mrs. Vernon and the youth, for from the upper heights they could see for many miles around.
"I would not mind owning a summer home up here," said Mrs. Vernon, as they halted at the highest point in the road. "See how beautiful the Thames looks, winding along through the meadows and woods below us."
"It is nice," answered Robert. "But as for a summer home, I rather think I would prefer one in the United States."
The lady smiled.
"I can see you are an out-and-out Yankee lad, Robert. Well, I cannot blame you. I agree that our life at home is good enough for anybody."
Presently Robert started the team again, and they bowled along the edge of the cliff at a rapid gait.
To one side was a mass of rocks and shrubbery, while to the other was a valley or gorge forty or fifty feet deep, at the bottom of which flowed a tiny brook on its way to the River Thames.
The team was a fresh one, and the drive along the river had just warmed them up. They went along at a spanking pace, and Robert had his hands full holding them in. But it was a pleasant task.
"I love a good team," he said, as they sped along. "No old slow-pokes for me."
"You are certain you can control them?" asked Mrs. Vernon, as the horses stepped out livelier than ever.
"Oh, yes, they are all right," he answered.
A quarter of a mile more was covered, when they reached a point where the cliff road wound around a sharp bend.
Mrs. Vernon had just called Robert's attention to a pretty scene in the valley far below, when of a sudden somebody leaped out in the road in front of the horses.
It was a man wrapped in a white sheet and with a pistol in his hand.
The pistol was discharged, and one end of the sheet waved wildly at the same time.
The mettlesome horses were badly frightened and reared and plunged wildly.
"Oh, Robert, we will be killed!" burst from Mrs. Vernon's lips. "We will be thrown over the cliff!"
"Don't jump!" he answered, as he saw her rise up as if to leap from the carriage.
He held the reins tightly and spoke to the team as gently as possible. But now another pistol shot rang out, and off sped the team on a furious gallop down the cliff road, with the carriage bumping and rocking after them.
Robert felt that a crisis in his life had suddenly arisen. Should he lose all control of the horses it was more than likely that they would leap over the cliff, and that would mean death for both Mrs. Vernon and himself. All in a flash it came to him that Frederic Vernon must have been the man wound in the white sheet who had fired the pistol.
"The scoundrel!" he thought. "If we get out of this alive, he'll have a big score to settle with me!"
On and on plunged the team, the carriage jolting from side to side, and Mrs. Vernon prepared to leap out at the first move the horses might make toward the gorge. Robert held on to the lines like grim death, his feet braced firmly against the dashboard. It was truly a ride for life or death. In the meantime the man in the white sheet had disappeared as suddenly as he had come.
So far the road had been tolerably even, but now came a stretch which was rough, and the carriage came closer and closer to the edge of the cliff.
"We are going!" shrieked Mrs. Vernon.
"Not yet," answered Robert, and tried to pull the team around. He had partly succeeded when snap! went one of the reins, and he was thrown backward.
The breaking of the rein presented a new obstacle to be overcome, and for the second our hero did not know what to do. The team were now out of control, and even the youth was afraid they might leap over the cliff at any instant.
But then a new thought occurred to him, and as quick as a flash he stood up and leaped to the back of one of the horses.
"Whoa!" he shouted. "Whoa!" and clapped his hat over the creature's eyes.
A rearing and a plunging followed. But the horse slowed up and brought the carriage around to the thicket opposite to the cliff. A crashing of bushes followed, and in a few seconds more the team was halted. One of the wheels of the carriage was badly shattered and one horse was cut about the legs, but otherwise no damage was done.