AlthoughMark was inclined to pity any man deprived of his liberty, he felt pleased to think that Buffington's career was cut short for a time. There was little doubt that he would be imprisoned for a time more or less extended.
"How much better it would be for him," thought Mark, "if he had earned his living in some honest way!"
Stealing may seem an easy way of obtaining money, but the one who depends on it is likely to be brought up with a round term at last.
When Mark went down in the morning the clerk said to him, "So you had a little excitement in your room last night, the watchman tells me."
"Yes; I had a visitor, but fortunately he was caught without securing anything. He was about to take my pocketbook when I woke up. I was lucky, for I might have found myself unable to pay my bill here."
"We would have given you time. We can tell by your face that you are honest."
"Thank you. Has Buffington been taken from his room yet?"
"Buffington? I don't know any such name."
"That is what he gave me as his name."
"He is down on our books as Lawrence Perkins."
"He seems to have more than one name."
"He may have a dozen. Such gentry usually do. I will send you a couple of policemen and have him taken round to the station-house."
Two policemen were summoned and soon made their appearance. They went up-stairs, preceded by the clerk. He opened the door of the adventurer's room and entered.
"He isn't here!" he exclaimed in surprise, turning to the two officers.
"Not here?"
There was no need to ask how Perkins, or Buffington, whichever name he claimed, had escaped. He had made use of the fire-escape and had disappeared.
"He seems to have slept here," remarked one of the policeman, pointing to the bed.
"Yes."
"He must have escaped early this morning."
"I wonder I did not think of the fire-escape."
"He didn't call at the office and pay his bill, I suppose."
"No. He was probably in too great a hurry."
"If you will give us a description of him we can warn the public against him."
"I didn't notice him particularly. I have to deal with so many that I don't scrutinize any one closely, unless there seems to be especial reason for doing so. This boy," pointing to Mark, "saw him on the car, and can describe him to you."
Mark gave what information he could and then went to breakfast.
"I hope I shan't meet him again," he reflected. "I am not anxious to keep up the acquaintance."
About noon he took a train for Niagara Falls, and didn't leave it till he reached Suspension Bridge. He arrived too late to see the cataract, and proceeded at once to a modest hotel in the village where the price charged was two dollars per day.
He might have gone to the International Hotel, and would have been justified in doing so, but he thought it right to be careful of his employer's money. He looked over the book, half expecting to meet the name of Buffington or Perkins, but found neither.
"I hope I have seen my last of him," he said to himself.
He did not feel obliged to take any extra precautions,but slept peacefully and long. After breakfast he started out to see the Falls. He was resolved to see them thoroughly no matter how much time might be required in the process.
"I wish mother were here," he thought. "Some time if I can afford it I will bring her here."
This resolve gave him satisfaction, though there seemed little prospect of his soon being in a condition to carry out his wish.
Mark had no idea of meeting any one whom he knew. He was but a boy, and his acquaintance was limited. Already, however, it included three persons whom he would have been glad to be assured he would never meet again. One of these was Buffington, the other two were Hamilton Schuyler and Jack Minton, the nephew of old Mrs. Mack, who lived in the same tenement house in New York with his mother.
He supposed Jack to be in New York and therefore his surprise may be imagined when he heard a hoarse voice behind him saying, "Well, I'll be blowed, if it isn't the kid! How are you, kid?"
Mark did not suppose that he was referred to, but with natural curiosity he turned to observe the speaker.
He saw Jack Minton, rough and uncouth as when he last met him, advancing to meet him.
"You're about the last bloke as I expected to see here, kid," observed Jack, his face still betraying surprise. "What brought you here?"
"Business," answered Mark briefly.
"They don't send telegraph boys as far as this, do they?"
"Well, not often, but I was sent here, and I came."
"What were you sent for?"
"That is my employer's business, and I don't feel at liberty to tell."
"Oh well, I ain't at all partic'lar to know. But it seems good to meet a friend so far away."
"How long have I been his friend?" thought Mark.
"I say, kid, we'll celebrate on that. Come in and have a drink."
They were passing a saloon, and Minton turned his steps towards it.
"No, thank you, Mr. Minton. I am not thirsty."
"Oh, hang it! Who cares whether you are thirsty or not? You ain't goin' to turn against a friend, are you?"
It was clear that Jack Minton had already satisfied his thirst two or three times, for his face was flushed and his step unsteady.
Mark saw that his refusal would make Minton angry, and he accepted his invitation.
"What will you have, kid?" asked Jack, staggering to the counter.
"A glass of sarsaparilla."
"Oh, don't have sarsaparilla? It's only fit for old women and young children. Take whisky."
"No; it must be sarsaparilla or nothing."
"Just as you say. Barkeeper, give me some whisky straight, and give the kid sarsaparilla if he wants it."
The orders were filled. Jack tossed down a glass of fiery whisky, which made his face even redder than before, and then drawing from his pocket a roll of bills, settled for both drinks.
Mark was surprised at the abundance of money his companion seemed to have. When they met in New York Jack was very hard up, and had only succeeded in obtaining twenty five-cents from his parsimonious aunt.
After drinking the whisky Jack sank into a chair, finding a sitting position more comfortable under the circumstances.
"Have you seen your aunt lately, Mr. Minton?" Mark asked.
"Who's my aunt?" hiccoughed Jack, "I ain't got no aunt."
"I mean Mrs. Mack, the old lady who lives in St. Mark's place."
"I don't know anything about—'bout Mrs. Mack," answered Minton with a cunning look. "What sh'd I know of Miss—Mrs. Mack?"
"She's your aunt, isn't she?"
"She used to be, but she's a bad old woman. I don't want to see her again."
"She would be very glad to hear that," thought Mark.
"When did you come to Niagara?"
"I d'n'ow, do you? Don't ask me any more of your fool questions," answered Jack with uncontrollable irritation. "Did I pay you for the drinks?" he asked, turning to the barkeeper.
"Yes, you paid me."
"Thought I did—didn't know."
As he spoke, Jack Minton's head fell forward on the table, and he closed his eyes. The last potation was too much for him.
"You'd better take your friend away," said the barkeeper, eying Jack without much favor. "I don't want him to go to sleep here!"
"He's no friend of mine," answered Mark.
"Didn't you come in with him? Didn't he treat you?"
"Yes, but I only accepted because he looked quarrelsome, and I was afraid he might take offense if I refused."
"If I let him stay here I shall charge him extra."
"Do as you like! I never saw him but once before, and I don't care to have anything to do with him. I wish you would let me pay for that sarsaparilla I had. I don't want to feel that he treated me."
"He has paid, and I can't take pay twice."
"Then take the money and return it to him."
Mark without waiting to see if his proposal was accepted put a dime on the counter, and left the saloon. He met a newsboy with copies of a morning Buffalo paper. He bought one, and turning to New York news, his eyes fell upon a paragraph which surprised and excited him.
Thiswas the paragraph that attracted Mark's attention:
"This morning Mrs. Rachel Mack, an old woman over seventy years of age, living in an upper room at No. 174 St. Mark's Place, was found insensible in her room, as the result of an attack made by some person unknown. When found she seemed very much frightened and was unable to give a coherent account of what had happened.
"From marks upon her throat it was clear that her assailant had nearly strangled her. His intention was obvious. Though living in a poor room amid squalid surroundings, neighbors testified that Mrs. Mack is comparatively rich, being in fact a female miser, and this was doubtless known to her assailant. The old woman testified that she kept one hundred dollars in bills in the bureau drawer. This sum was missing, having evidently been taken by the person who attacked her.
"She was not in a condition to throw much light upon the affair, being dazed and confused. When she recovers from her temporary stupefaction she may be able to give the police a clew that will lead to the arrest of the man who robbed her."
When Mark read this paragraph he decided at once that Jack Minton, Mrs. Mack's nephew, was the old woman's assailant. Jack had evidently left the city by the first outgoing train, considering that at Niagara he would be safe. So indeed he might have been but for the chance that threw Mark and himself together. So it happened that the telegraph boy held in his hand the clew to the mysterious attack. In his hand probably lay the liberty of Minton.
What should he do?
While Mark was not especially fond of the old woman, he felt indignant with her burly nephew for attacking her, and was clearly of the opinion that he ought to be punished. After a little consideration he decided to call at the office of the local police and put the matter in their hands.
He inquired the way to the police office. A pleasant-looking man in the uniform of a sergeant was on duty.
"Well, young man, what can I do for you?" he asked.
"Please read this paragraph, sir, and then I will tell you."
The sergeant read the newspaper notice attentively.
"Well?" he said inquiringly.
"The man who I think committed the assault is in a saloon only a quarter of a mile distant."
"Who is it?"
"A nephew of the old lady."
"But what makes you think he is the guilty party?"
"He has once before visited Mrs. Mack, and tried to extort money from her."
"How do you know this?"
"Because I live in the same house with Mrs. Mack. She occupies the room directly over where my mother and myself live."
"Then you live in New York?"
"Yes, sir."
"How do you happen to be here?"
"I came on business for a New York jeweler."
"What is the name of the party you suspect?"
"Jack Minton."
"Do you know anything of his character or antecedents?"
"He is a criminal. He has been confined at Sing Sing prison for a term of years."
"That alone is a ground of suspicion. Now how do you know he is here?"
"I met him less than an hour since."
"Did you speak to him?"
"Yes."
"State the particulars of your interview."
"He recognized me and invited me into a saloon to take a drink."
"And you accepted?"
"Yes, sir."
"I hardly approve of a boy of your age accepting such an invitation."
"I only drank a glass of sarsaparilla."
"I am glad to hear it. I have a son about your age, and I should be sorry to have him drink whisky."
"There is no danger of my doing that," said Mark quietly. "I have a good mother. For her sake, if not for my own, I would not drink liquor."
"That does you credit. Now as to your information it may prove important. Have you anything to corroborate your suspicion?"
"Yes, sir. Jack Minton seemed to have plenty of money. When he paid the barkeeper for our drinks I saw him pull out a roll of bills. When he was in New York he had no money at all, and succeeded in obtaining only twenty-five cents from his aunt."
"This is an important bit of information. I could order the arrest of Minton, however, on your information without orders from New York. I will telegraph to Inspector Byrnes, and will act in accordance with any orders I may receive from him."
"Shall you need to see me again?"
"Give me your name and address and I will communicate with you if necessary."
"My name is Mark Mason, and I am staying at the International Hotel."
"If convenient, come here in about two hours."
"All right, sir."
Two hours later Mark returned to the police station.
"Oh, here you are!" said the sergeant with a friendly nod. "Well, I have heard from New York."
"Have you, sir?" asked Mark eagerly. "From Inspector Byrnes?"
"Yes."
"What does he say?"
"Here is his telegram."
Mark took it in his hand and read these words:
"Hold the suspected party. Ask the boy to remain. Will send officer by next train.
"Byrnes."
"You see that you are requested to remain. Can you do so?"
"Yes, sir."
"I am glad of it, as your testimony will be important. Now I will send a couple of officers with you to the saloon that you may identify Minton. We don't want to make any mistake."
"All right, sir."
Of course there was a chance that Minton might have left the saloon, or been turned out by the proprietor. But fortunately he was so stupefied that the latter had put him in an inner room, and kept him there till he was in a better condition to move.
By direction of the officers Mark entered the saloon alone.
He did not wish to excite suspicion, and therefore going up to the bar ordered a glass of lemon soda.
While he was drinking it he asked: "Is the man I came in with a little while ago still here?"
"Yes, and I wish you would get him out."
"Where is he?"
"Inside. He has been snoring till my regular customers asked me who I had in there."
"Very well. If you will show me where he is I will get him out for you."
The barkeeper opened a door leading to an innerroom. On a settee lay Jack Minton breathing heavily. His eyes were closed and he was quite unconscious of his position.
"I don't believe you can stir him," said the barkeeper.
"I will call a friend then."
Mark went to the door and beckoned to the two officers.
When they came in the barkeeper looked dismayed.
"Am I in trouble?" he asked.
"No, but we want the man."
"What has he done?"
"Committed a murderous assault on a party in New York."
"Well, he looks as if he were capable of it. You can take him. I shall offer no resistance."
One of the officers went forward and shook Jack Minton vigorously.
"Wha's the matter?" muttered Jack, not opening his eyes.
"Wake up and see."
"I'm sleepy. Le' me alone!" hiccoughed Jack.
"Give a hand here," said the officer, signaling to his companion.
With no gentle hand they pulled Jack from the settee, and stood him up on his feet.
Then for the first time he opened his eyes, and stupefied as he was, he realized that he was in the hands of policemen.
"Wha's all this?" he muttered. "What have I done?"
"You're wanted in New York."
"New York? Never was there in my life."
"Do you know an old lady named Mack?"
"I—I didn't do it. I tell you I didn't do it. It was somebody else."
Mark and the officers looked at each other significantly. The drunken man had unintentionally given himself away. Just then his glance fell on Mark.
"It's the kid," he said. "What's all this mean, kid?"
"I'll tell you, Mr. Minton. Your aunt, Mrs. Mack, has been attacked and robbed."
"Is she—dead?" asked Jack eagerly.
"No."
"She is my aunt. If she dies I'll get all her money. Take me to a good hotel. I'm sleepy."
It was clear that Jack did not fully realize the situation. Next morning, however, when the two New York officers arrived, he realized it fully, and charged Mark with betraying him. They went to New York in the same train, Jack wearing handcuffs.
"Welcomehome, Mark!" exclaimed Mrs. Mason with radiant face as the telegraph boy opened the door of their humble apartment.
"Then you have missed me?" said Mark smiling.
"It has seemed a long time since you went away. Did you have a successful trip?"
"Yes, indeed. Mr. Swan was so well satisfied that he gave me fifteen dollars besides paying the telegraph company for my services. I shall be paid my regular wages by them also."
"Poor Mrs. Mack has been attacked and robbed of a hundred dollars since you went away."
"I read a paragraph about it copied from the New York papers. How is she now?"
"She is confined to her bed. The villain, whoever he was, nearly choked her, and the shock was so great that it quite prostrated her."
"Were you at home when the attack took place?"
"No; I had gone out on an errand. Meanwhile the rascal escaped. I suppose it was her nephew."
"I have brought him back to stand trial."
"You!" exclaimed his mother in amazement.
"Yes; I met him at Niagara, and on reading the paragraph I concluded that he was the thief, especially as he seemed to be well provided with money. On my information a telegram was sent to Inspector Byrnes, and he was brought back on the same train with me."
"Go up and tell Mrs. Mack. It will do her good."
Mark went up-stairs with his mother. The old lady, looking unusually feeble, was lying on the bed.
"How do you feel, Mrs. Mack?" asked Mark.
"I'm almost dead," groaned the old woman. "I've been robbed and almost murdered since you went away, Mark."
"Who did it?"
"Who but that rascal Jack Minton, and he my own nephew!"
"Are you sure it was he?"
"Yes, I saw him and talked with him."
"Tell me about it."
"He come in while I was sitting in the rocking chair and asked me for some money. He begged and implored, but I would give him nothing. Thenhe began to threaten, and I said I would call you. 'If you do I'll kill the kid,' he said. Then he put his hand around my throat and almost choked me."
"I fainted away, and when I came to he was gone and a hundred dollars was taken from the bureau, all I had to keep me from the poor-house," added the old woman whimpering. "But I'll get even with him. He thinks he'll have the little I have to leave because he is my nephew. He'll find himself mistaken. I'll make a will—I'll——"
"Mrs. Mack, I have something to tell you that will please you."
"Has my money been found?" asked the old woman eagerly.
"Your nephew has been arrested and he is now in the hands of the police."
"Heaven be praised! I don't mind the money now. And where was he found?"
"I found him at Niagara Falls and had him arrested."
"You're a good boy, Mark, and you won't be sorry for helping a poor old woman; no, you won't be sorry. Tell me all about it."
Mark told the story, and it so cheered up the old woman that she got up from her bed and the next day was as well as ever. She no longer complained of her loss of money. Her satisfaction in the retributionwhich had overtaken her nephew was so great that it overcame every other feeling.
When the trial came on she even succeeded in getting to the court room where she positively identified Jack Minton as her assailant, and her evidence procured his conviction. He was sentenced to seven years' imprisonment at Sing Sing.
"He'll not trouble me again," said Mrs. Mack triumphantly as she walked out of court leaning on Mark's arm. The prisoner glared at the pair and his hands were clenched.
"If I could only get at 'em I'd kill 'em both!" he muttered, but in his position his threats were futile.
Two days afterwards Mrs. Mason was surprised by another call from Solon Talbot.
He looked about him as he entered the room and his eyes lighted up with satisfaction as he noted the evidences of poverty. Though Mark was now better off no new furniture had been bought. He was waiting till he would feel justified in securing better apartments for his mother.
Mrs. Mason looked surprised when her brother-in-law entered.
"Have you moved into the city yet, Mr. Talbot?" she asked.
"Yes; I arrived yesterday."
"How is Mary? Is she with you?"
"Yes."
"I should like to see her. Where are you located?"
"Why, the fact is, we are not located yet."
"I should be glad to see Mary. It is so long since we have met."
"I can't ask you to call as we are so unsettled. In a short time she will come and call upon you."
"I hope so. It is tantalizing to think she is in the same city, and yet not to meet."
"We all have our duties, and her duty is to her husband and son. I was surprised a few days since to meet Mark on the Central road."
"Yes; he went to Cleveland on business."
"Indeed! has he returned yet?"
"He returned two days since."
"For whom was he traveling?"
"I don't know that it is any secret. He had a business commission from Mr. Swan, a Broadway jeweler."
"He must be a strange business man to select a boy to travel for him."
"He made no mistake in selecting Mark. He professed himself well pleased with him."
"Humph! it may have turned out right in asingle instance. When I select an agent I prefer to employ a man."
"How is Edgar?"
"He is well. I am looking for a position for him. I have hopes of getting him into the office of a prominent broker on Wall Street."
"I shall be glad to hear that he is doing well. He is about the age of Mark."
"True, but their paths will lie apart. My, ahem! position will secure for Edgar an entrance into fashionable society, while your son, though doubtless a deserving boy, must necessarily associate with his equals."
"Mark has some excellent friends," said Mrs. Mason, nettled.
"No doubt, no doubt. I have not a word to say derogatory of him except that he is inclined to be conceited."
"I suppose Edgar is quite free from that fault."
"Well no, perhaps not, but he has a social position to maintain. However, this is not what I came to talk about. You remember that when I was last here I asked your signature to a statement that you had received your rightful portion of your father's estate."
"I remember it."
"I offered you a small sum in consideration ofthis release. As the administrator I find it desirable to have it in order that I may render a final account."
"I remember the circumstances."
"I think you made some objection—a foolish one, to which you were instigated probably by your son Mark."
"I remember that too."
"No doubt the boy was honest in his advice, but I need hardly suggest to you how incompetent a boy of his age is as an adviser in a serious business matter. Well, I have come this morning on the same business, but I wish to be liberal. I think it only fair to take your circumstances into consideration. I am ready to give you a hundred dollars if you will sign the paper I have here."
"Let me see the paper, Solon."
Mr. Talbot took from his pocket a folded document which he placed before his sister-in-law.
It ran thus:
"I hereby acknowledge that I have received from Solon Talbot, administrator of the estate of my late father, Elisha Doane, my full share in that estate, and I hereby release him from all further claim on my part to said estate."
"Sign here, if you please," said Solon suavely, "and I will give you the sum promised."
As he spoke he drew from his wallet a roll of ten ten-dollar bills, which he judged would look tempting to a woman of Mrs. Mason's limited means.
"If you will leave this paper here, Solon," said the widow, "I will show it to Mark when he gets home, and ask his advice."
Mr. Talbot frowned and looked vexed.
"Ask advice of a boy of sixteen!" he sneered. "Surely you are better able to judge what is best than he."
"I am not sure about that. At any rate he is interested, and I prefer to wait till I see him."
"Then the offer of a hundred dollars is withdrawn."
"Just as you think best, Solon. I shall not sign without consulting Mark."
"Well, I will leave the paper, then," said Talbot, finding it hard to conceal his chagrin. "I hope for your sake that Mark will advise you sensibly."
"I think he will. He is young, but he has always shown good judgment."
"Confound the woman!" muttered Talbot, as he left the house. "It is most provoking to have her act in this way. Should she hear of the Golden Hope mine it would be most disastrous. Once let me obtain her release and I can sell it out for my own advantage."
"Youruncle has been here, Mark," said Mrs. Mason, when Mark reached home.
"I can tell you what business he came about, mother."
"He wanted my signature to a paper acknowledging that I had received my full share of father's estate."
"You didn't give it?" inquired Mark anxiously.
"No; I would not take such an important step without your knowledge."
"I feel much relieved. I have not told you what I found on my journey to Niagara."
"What is it?"
"That Uncle Solon is trying to cheat you out of a large sum of money."
"Is that possible? But father did not leave a fortune."
"So we all supposed. What if I should tell you that he left you enough to make you comfortable for life on your share."
Mrs. Mason looked incredulous.
"Here, read this memorandum, mother," and Mark explained briefly how he came into possession of it.
"Tell me what it all means, Mark. I have a poor head for business."
"It means that grandfather owned four hundred shares of the Golden Hope mine in Colorado. Probably he bought it for a small sum. But it has proved unexpectedly rich, and it will probably soon be worth one hundred dollars a share. That means twenty thousand dollars for you, mother."
"And Solon Talbot wants me to relinquish my claim for a hundred dollars!" exclaimed Mrs. Mason indignantly.
"Exactly so, mother."
"Then I will give him a piece of my mind when he comes here this afternoon."
"Don't do it, mother. It is our policy to make him think we are ignorant of the existence of this important item in grandfather's estate. Only you must steadily refuse to sign a release."
"I will. I hope you will be here when he calls."
"I will get off for the afternoon. I wish to be here myself. I have a little headache, which will give me an excuse."
When Solon Talbot called on his sister-in-lawabout three o'clock in the afternoon he was rather disgusted to find Mark at home. He knew that Mark was much more clear-sighted than his mother, and he feared that he would influence her to refuse her signature.
"Good afternoon, Ellen," he said suavely.
"Take a seat, Mr. Talbot," said Mrs. Mason coldly.
"How do you happen to be at home, Mark?" asked Solon, regarding Mark with a slight frown.
"I got excused for the afternoon. I have a headache."
"Perhaps you won't mind going out for a few minutes. I wish to speak to your mother on business."
"Do you wish me to go out, mother?" asked Mark.
"No. Whatever affects you affects me. Besides, I may want your advice."
"I don't ask Edgar for advice," returned Solon Talbot dryly.
"I suppose not. You are a business man, and can judge better than he. I am not a business man."
"You are older than Mark."
"I have always found Mark a safe and good adviser."
"You will spoil him by such flattery."
"I am not afraid of it."
"Very well. I will humor your prejudices. Mark may have more judgment than I give him credit for."
This he said because he saw that it was necessary under the circumstances to propitiate Mark. The telegraph boy understood his uncle's object very well and was amused, but remained outwardly grave.
"Thank you, uncle," he said briefly.
"I will address myself, then, to both of you. You will remember that I offered you a hundred dollars in cash—I have the money with me," he added, tapping his pocket—"if you will sign acknowledgment that you have received your full share of your father's estate. It is a mere form, but I want to wind the whole business up and have it off my hands."
"I can't sign such a paper at present, Solon."
"Why not?"
"Because I am not sure that I have received my full share."
"Don't you believe my assurance to that effect?" said Solon Talbot impatiently.
"It is an important matter, and I have no evidence but your word."
"Do you doubt my word?"
"In this matter your interests and mine might clash."
"Then let me tell you that you are getting more than your share—that is, when I have paid you the hundred dollars. The fact is, your father left a very small estate. After paying his funeral expenses and debts there was scarcely anything over, and off that little you have already had your share. Still I understand your position and sympathize with you in your poverty, and therefore I am willing to strain a point and give you a hundred dollars."
If Mr. Talbot expected his sister-in-law to look grateful he was doomed to disappointment.
"A hundred dollars," he continued, "is a good deal of money, especially in your circumstances. I am sure Mark will agree with me in this."
"It is more than all the money we have," replied Mark.
"Precisely. It will make things easy for you for a year to come. By that time Mark will probably be earning higher pay than at present, and so your mind will be quite at ease."
"You are very considerate, Solon, but I think I would rather not sign."
"Why, this is midsummer madness. I am sure Mark will not advise you to refuse."
"I quite agree with my mother," said Mark.
"Well," returned Talbot angrily, "I have heard of foolish people, but I must own that you two beat the record."
"Why are you so anxious that my mother should sign a release, Uncle Solon," asked Mark quietly.
"Because I wish to have the whole matter settled and off my hands, as I have told you. I have business interests exclusively my own that demand my attention, and I don't want to be bothered by this small matter."
"I have no doubt you have good reasons for wishing mother to sign," said Mark.
"What do you mean?" demanded Solon suspiciously.
"Only that you are a good business man, and understand your own interests."
"I wish I could say the same for you," retorted Solon Talbot sharply.
"Perhaps we do."
"I ought not to be surprised at meeting opposition from a woman and a boy, both ignorant of business. As a rule those who know nothing think they know the most and are most suspicious. However, I can afford to overlook your unexpected obstinacy. I will do what I had no idea of doing when I entered the room. I will increase my offer to a hundred and twenty-five dollars. That is certainly handsome,and I shall not let Mrs. Talbot and Edgar know how foolishly I have acted."
"Here is a pen," he said. "You can sign at once."—Page 179. Mark Mason's Victory."Here is a pen," he said. "You can sign at once."—Page 179.Mark Mason's Victory.
"Here is a pen," he said. "You can sign at once."—Page 179.
Mark Mason's Victory.
As he spoke he laid the paper before Mrs. Mason.
"Here is a fountain pen," he said. "You can sign at once."
"I don't care to sign, Solon."
"Have you been talking to your mother, Mark?" demanded Talbot sharply. "Have you put her up to this?"
"We had a little talk together, but I think she is just as determined on the subject as I am."
"Then," said Solon Talbot, "I can only regard your refusal as an act of hostility. Evidently you want to break with me and mine. It was my intention to invite you both to take dinner at my house to-morrow; but, as matters stand, we cannot receive you, and I shall forbid Mrs. Talbot to call upon you."
"I shall be sorry to be separated from my sister," said Mrs. Mason in a pained tone, "but I cannot sign away my own and my children's rightful inheritance."
"I don't know what you mean by this nonsense. I have offered you more than your share of your rightful inheritance, as you see fit to call it. If you choose to return my kindness with ingratitude, I can only leave you to the consequences of your own folly."
He looked first at Mark and then at his mother to see how this speech affected them, but both looked firm, and there seemed to be nothing to do but to leave them. He took his hat and strode to the door, his hands trembling with nervous anger. But at the door he paused.
"If you come to your senses," he said, "and desire to accept my offer, Mark can call on me. I hate to see you so blind to your own interests."
After he had left the room Mark and his mother looked at each other.
"Uncle Solon seemed very much in earnest," said Mark.
"Yes; I am now ready to believe that he is conspiring to cheat us. It is shameful! He is a rich man already, and we are so poor."
"But we shan't be long, mother."
"You must take good care of that memorandum, Mark."
"I shall carry it to a young lawyer whom I know well, and ask his advice about it. When the right time comes I shall bring it forward. I will ask him to keep it in his safe."
"Very well, Mark. I think that will be wise."
The next day Mark received a letter at the office where he was employed. On the left-hand upper corner was the imprint:
Luther Rockwell,Broker and Banker.
"He is going to take you into partnership, 79," said A. D. T. 80.
"If he does I'll make you my office-boy," said Mark in a jocular tone. "I hope the old gentleman has quite recovered from his dynamite scare."
Markpresented himself at Mr. Rockwell's office at eleven o'clock.
The letter which he had received was a simple invitation to call, signed by the banker himself.
"Is Mr. Rockwell in?" he asked.
"Yes," said the clerk smiling pleasantly, for Mark was a favorite in the office.
Mark went over to the open door, and stood on the threshold with his hat in his hand.
The banker looked up.
"Oh, it is my young friend the messenger boy!" he said cordially, holding out his hand.
"I hope you are quite recovered, sir," said Mark respectfully.
"Yes, I believe so. The visit of our dynamite friend was quite a shock to me, and at my age it takes longer to recover from the effects of such an incident than at yours. You must not think that I have forgotten what a service you rendered me."
"I am very glad to have done you a service, sir, but I am afraid I must confess that I was thinking partly of myself."
"I don't think any the less of you for your frankness. Still I am sensible that your promptness and presence of mind saved me from a terrible death—I feel that I ought to do something to show my gratitude."
"You have already repaid me, sir, by your kind words."
"Kind words are well enough, but they are not practical. I should like to take you into my employ but I have no vacancy, and I do not like to discharge any of my old and trusted employees."
"I should not be willing to displace any of them, sir."
"But there may be another way. Are your parents living?"
"My mother is living, and I have a little sister."
"And I suppose they are dependent upon you partly for support."
"Yes, sir."
"Probably you are poor?"
"Yes, sir; our means are very limited."
"So I suppose. What is your name?"
"Mark Mason."
Mr. Rockwell turned to his desk, and opening hischeck book, deliberately filled up a check. He tore it off and handed it to Mark.
Mark read it in amazement. It was a check for one thousand dollars, payable to the order of Mark Mason.
"A thousand dollars!" he ejaculated.
"Yes, does it seem to you a large amount? I assure you that I value my life a great deal higher than this sum, so I shall remain your debtor."
"It seems a fortune to me, Mr. Rockwell. How can I thank you for your generous gift?"
"My boy, generosity is a variable quality—I am blessed by fortune, and for me it is a small sum to bestow in return for the heroic act. Would you like to have Mr. Nichols go with you to identify you at the bank?"
"I don't think I should like to draw it all, sir. I should be afraid to have so much money in my possession."
"Then you can leave it with me as a deposit subject to your call. How much of it would you like to draw now?"
"About fifty dollars, sir. I would like to buy a dress for my mother and sister and a new suit for myself."
"Well thought of. Will you call Mr. Nichols?"
The clerk made his appearance.
"My young friend wishes to make a deposit with our house. Let him indorse the check. Then credit him with the entire amount, and he will draw what sum he wishes."
"You are in luck, Mark," said the clerk when Mark accompanied him into the main office. "You are in luck, and I am heartily glad of it."
"Thank you, Mr. Nichols. I feel rich."
"It is a good beginning at any rate. I am ten years older than you probably, but I haven't as much money as you. But I don't envy you, and I won't even ask for a loan."
When Mark left the office and reappeared on Broadway his face was flushed with pleasure, and he walked with the elastic step of one whose spirits are light.
Just as he stepped into the street, he met his cousin Edgar.
"Hello!" said Edgar in a condescending tone. "So it's you, is it?"
"To the best of my knowledge it is, my good cousin."
"Don't call me cousin," said Edgar, hastily.
"I won't," answered Mark promptly. "I am just as much ashamed of the relationship as you are."
"I suppose that is a joke!" responded Edgar haughtily. "If it is, it is a poor one."
"No joke at all!"
"Where have you been?"
"To the office of Mr. Rockwell, my banker."
"Yourbanker!" sneered Edgar. "How long has he been your banker, I should like to know."
"Only since this morning. I have just deposited some money with him."
"Indeed! How much?"
"A thousand dollars."
"You are too funny altogether. If you are ever worth a thousand cents you will be lucky."
"Do you think so?" returned Mark, smiling. "I shouldn't be satisfied with so small a fortune as that."
"My father tells me you and your mother have made him a very poor return for a kind offer he made you yesterday."
"That's a matter of business, Edgar. We didn't look upon it in the same way. But I am afraid I must tear myself away from your company. I shall be expected at the office."
"Go by all means. It wouldn't do for you to be bounced. You might starve if you lost your place."
"I am not very much afraid of that."
"At any rate I ought not to be talking with you. Father does not care to have me associate with you."
"I hope he won't disinherit you. That would be serious for you. If he does, come round to our house, and we will take care of you."
"You are too awfully funny. I think it would be better for you if you were not quite so fresh."
Mark laughed and went on his way.
"Wouldn't Edgar be surprised," he thought, "if he knew how large a sum I had on deposit with Mr. Rockwell? He thought I was joking when I was only telling the truth."
When Mark went home to his supper he said: "Mother, I want you to buy a new dress for yourself and one for Edith."
"There are a good many things we would like, Mark, but you must remember that we are not rich."
"Perhaps not, but I think you can afford new dresses. How much would they cost?"
"The material will cost from ten to twenty dollars. I could make them up myself."
"All right, mother. Here are twenty dollars."
"But, Mark, can you spare that amount? Our rent comes due next week."
"It is the last rent we shall pay here. We will move to better quarters."
"Really, Mark, I am afraid you are forgetting your prudence."
"That is because you don't know how rich I am,mother. I have a thousand dollars on deposit with my banker, or rather nine hundred and fifty, for I drew fifty dollars this morning."
Mrs. Mason surveyed her son with alarm. A terrible suspicion entered her mind. Was he becoming mentally unbalanced? Mark understood her thoughts and was amused.
"Don't think I am crazy, mother," he said. "The fact is, Mr. Rockwell made me a present of a thousand dollars this morning."
"Is this really true? You are not joking?"
"I was never more serious in my life. He told me that I had saved his life, and he didn't think he was overpaying me in giving me a thousand dollars."
"He was right, but I was afraid few men would have been so generous. So I really have a rich son."
"And I shall have a rich mother when she gets her share of her father's estate."
"Oh, by the way, there is a letter for you. Edith, get Mark's letter."
"I guess it's from a girl, Mark," said his sister, as she handed the messenger boy a dainty epistle in a square envelope.
Mark opened it and read it aloud.
Miss Maud Gilbert asks the favor of Mr. Mark Mason's company at her residence on the evening of Thursday, Sept. 23d.
"An invitation to a party," said Mark flashing with pleasure.
"Where, Mark?"
"At the house of Miss Maud Gilbert."
"Shall you go?"
"Yes, I can go now, for I shall have a nice suit."
"You are getting to be fashionable, Mark. Who knows but you will be counted among the Four Hundred some time?"
Solon Talbothad two strong desires. One was to acquire wealth. The other was to get into good society.
He had moved to the city of New York with the idea of helping himself in both these particulars. He took a house on an up-town street at a considerable rental. It was really beyond his means, but he felt that he must make a good appearance.
He sent Edgar to a fashionable school where he instructed him to be especially attentive to his wealthier schoolfellows. Though Edgar made himself disagreeable to his poor relations, he flattered and fawned upon the boys who he thought could help him socially, for he, like his father, was ambitious to "get into society."
Thus he contrived to get invited to the party given by Maud Gilbert.
When he had compassed this he was greatly elated.
"Father," he said on his return home, "I am invited to Miss Gilbert's party next Thursday evening."
"Do you mean the Gilberts of West Forty-Fifth Street?"
"Yes."
"I am very much pleased, Edgar. Mr. Gilbert is a wealthy merchant, and stands very high in society. How did you manage it?"
"Through Stanley Rayburn, who knows her brother."
"Have you made the acquaintance of Miss Gilbert?"
"Yes, I met her walking with Stanley on Fifth Avenue. He introduced me."
"I should hardly think she would have invited you on such short acquaintance."
"I got Stanley to make a personal request of her. She objected at first, but finally came round. Stanley says she is very good-natured and obliging."
"Luckily for you. Well, I am glad you have the invitation. It will be an entering wedge. You must try to get acquainted with as many of her guests as possible."
"Trust me for that, father. I know on which side my bread is buttered."
"I know you are sensible. You quite accord withme in your views on this subject. As for your mother she has no proper pride. She would be contented to associate with persons in the same social position as Mrs. Mason and Mark. This very morning she applied to me for permission to call upon her sister."
"Of course you refused."
"Of course. Not but I would consent if your aunt, instigated by Mark, had not acted in such an extraordinary way about signing a release to me as administrator to your grandfather's estate."
"What is her reason?"
"I suppose she thinks she ought to have more than she has received from it."
"Grandfather was very poor, wasn't he?"
"I didn't think so when he lived, but he left next to nothing after his debts were paid."
"Some people are very unreasonable."
"Of course. I suppose Mrs. Mason and Mark think I ought to make up for their disappointment."
"But you won't, father?"
"Certainly not. I did offer them a hundred dollars out of pity for their poverty, but they are standing out for more."
"It is quite disgusting."
"It is human nature, I suppose," said Mr. Talbotleniently. "I don't know that I am surprised."
Mrs. Talbot was very unlike her husband and son. She was sincerely attached to her sister, and her affection had not been diminished by Mrs. Mason's poverty.
It was her desire to call on her as soon as she arrived in the city, but she stood somewhat in awe of her husband who had positively refused his consent. So she unwillingly gave up the plan for the present, hoping that the time would soon come when she and her sister could meet.
It came two days before the party.
With the money with which Mark supplied her, Mrs. Mason went up town to the well-known store of Arnold & Constable, intending to get dress patterns there.
She had made her purchases and received her bundle.
"Will you have it sent home?" asked the salesman courteously.
"No, thank you."
Mrs. Mason shrank from having the parcel brought to her humble abode in St. Mark's Place.
She was turning to go when she heard her name called in glad and familiar accents.
"Why, Ellen, do I meet you at last?"
"Lucy!" exclaimed Mrs. Mason, as she clasped hands warmly with her sister. "This is a delightful surprise."
"To me also; I thought I should never see you again."
"It is not my fault, Lucy."
"No, no. I know it," answered Mrs. Talbot. "Mr. Talbot is peculiar, as you know. He thinks everything of social rank. Now tell me, how are you getting on?"
"Very poorly till lately, but now better."
"You are not in want? Solon doesn't allow me much money, but——"
"No, Lucy. I want for nothing. Mark is a good boy, and he has been fortunate. You see I have just bought two dress patterns, one for Edith, the other for myself."
"I am glad indeed to hear it. Mark is a telegraph messenger, is he not?"
"Yes."
"I shouldn't think that would pay very well."
"It does not, so far as wages go, but some who have employed him have been liberal."
"Come out with me for a walk. My purchases can wait. We will go to Sixth Avenue, as we are less likely to be seen together than on Broadway."
For an hour the two sisters talked, and it seemed delightful to both to be again together.
"I must go home now," said Mrs. Mason, "as I left Edith alone. Besides it is time for me to prepare supper for Mark. I wish you could go with me."
"I would, Ellen, but Mr. Talbot would be angry."
"Do you think he is justified in keeping you away from your only sister?"
"No, but, Ellen I am ready to make a sacrifice for a quiet life."
"Can't we meet again?"
"Yes; I will go to Arnold & Constable's next week on the same day and at the same hour. I wish I could invite you to my house, but you know how matters stand."
"Yes I know. Mr. Talbot appears to have increased his property."
"Yes, I judge so, though I receive no larger allowance. But he tells me very little of his affairs. He is more confidential with Edgar than myself."
"I have seen Edgar. He came to my rooms with his father some time since. He is about the age of Mark."
"Yes; there is not over a month's difference between them."
"If Mr. Talbot was different they would be company for each other. I believe Mark meets Edgar occasionally in the street. I hope Edgar is a comfort to you."
"He is my son, and of course I love him; but, Ellen, I fear his father is not exercising a good influence upon him. He is making him proud and arrogant. I would not mention this except to you."
At this moment Mark, going up-town on an errand in a Sixth Avenue car, saw his mother and his aunt together on the sidewalk. He instantly left the car and joined them.
"How do you do, Aunt Lucy?" he said, his face lighting up.
"And this is Mark!" said Mrs. Talbot equally pleased. "How you have grown and how well you look!"
"Thank you, aunt. I am tall enough to look over my mother's head."
"As Edgar is taller than I. Your mother tells me you meet Edgar sometimes."
"Yes, Aunt Lucy," returned Mark smiling, "but he doesn't care to be very intimate with his poor relations."
Mrs. Talbot looked grave.
"You won't suspect me of the same feeling, Mark?" she said.
"No; you are too much like mother."
"I am glad to hear that you are doing well."
"Yes; I have been fortunate."
"I wish you were in a better position. Perhaps Mr. Talbot might interest himself to get you a better place."
"No, aunt, don't ask him. I have other friends who will help me when I wish to make a change. For the present I am content to remain as I am."
Mark excused himself and boarded the next car, as he did not wish to lose any time.
The sisters separated and Mrs. Mason went home feeling cheered by her unexpected interview with Mrs. Talbot.
When she returned to her humble home Edith said, "Mrs. Mack wants to see you. I think she is very sick. A gentleman came to see her, but I don't know whether it was a doctor."
Mrs. Mason went up stairs immediately.
The old lady was lying on the bed, looking fatigued.
"How do you do, Mrs. Mack?" said Mrs. Mason kindly.
"I feel tired, but I am strong—oh, yes, I am very strong. I think I shall live ten years," and the old woman peered anxiously into Mrs. Mason's face hoping for a confirmation of her opinion.
"I hope you will if you desire it. Edith tells me you have had a visit from the doctor."
"No, it was not the doctor; it was a lawyer. I have made my will."
Mrs. Mason looked surprised.
"Not that I have much to leave, but I don't want my nephew to get anything. If anything happens to me—some years hence—I would like you to call on my lawyer and tell him. He has an office at 132 Nassau Street. Mr. Page. You will remember?"
"Yes."
"He has my will. I didn't want to leave it here. It might be stolen, or mislaid, and then Jack Minton would inherit. You'll put down the address?"
"I will do it at once."
"That is all. I think I will sleep now."
"I wonder who will inherit the old lady's money," thought Mrs. Mason. "Very probably she has left it to some charitable society. I know of no other relation except Jack Minton."
Edgar Talbotlooked forward with eager anticipation to the evening of Maud Gilbert's party. It was to be his introduction into New York society.
He flattered himself that his appearance would win him favor. Though far from handsome, he thought himself so—a delusion not uncommon among boys and men. He dressed himself very carefully, and at the proper time set out for the house where the party was to be held. He and Stanley Rayburn had agreed to go together.
On reaching the house they were directed to the room set apart for gentlemen to arrange their toilet and leave their coats. The mansion was brilliantly decorated, and as Edgar went up-stairs he felt a thrill of exultation at being a guest in such a house.
He inwardly resolved that he would take advantage of his slight acquaintance with the Gilberts and push himself into intimate friendship. In that way he would be in a position to extend his acquaintance among fashionable people.
But a surprise and a shock were in store for him. As he entered the room he saw a boy standing in front of the mirror brushing his hair. He started in surprise.
The figure looked familiar. Could it be! Yes, it was his cousin Mark Mason—Mark Mason, handsomely dressed in party costume, and with a rose in his buttonhole.
Mark turned round to see who were the newcomers.
"Good evening, Edgar," said Mark.
"Youhere!" exclaimed Edgar, in unqualified amazement.
"Yes; I did not expect to have the pleasure of meeting you," answered Mark with an amused smile. He understood Edgar's surprise, and the reason of it.
Meanwhile Stanley Rayburn stood by in silence.
"Introduce me to your friend, Edgar," he said, for he was attracted by Mark's frank, handsome face.
"Mark Mason—Stanley Rayburn!" said Edgar awkwardly. He would have liked to decline introducing Stanley to his poor cousin, but there seemed to be no way of avoiding it.
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Mason," said Stanley cordially.
"Thank you, but don't call me Mr. Mason."
"I would rather say Mark. Any friend of Edgar——"
"Mark Mason and I are only acquaintances," said Edgar hurriedly, and in the worst possible taste.
"I hope thatweshall be friends," said Stanley with emphasis, thinking that Edgar was a cad.
"I hope so too," rejoined Mark earnestly, "if, after getting my 'character' from Edgar," he added with a smile, "you still wish it."
Stanley was a little puzzled, not knowing how Mark was regarded by his companion.
"I think I shall go down at once," said Stanley. "I don't think I require any finishing touches to my toilet."
"Be ready to go with me to Miss Gilbert," said Edgar. "I will follow you in a minute."
"Very well."
"Now," said Edgar, when he and his cousin were alone, "how do you happen to be here?"
"By Miss Gilbert's invitation, of course. I suppose that is the case with you."
"Certainly. Does she know that you are a telegraph boy?"
"Yes."
"That's strange. Did you ever meet her?"
"Oh, yes; I have spent the evening here two or three times."
"That's queer. By the way, you seem to be very nicely dressed."
"I am glad you like my suit."
"Yet you are as poor as poverty. It was a crazy idea to run into debt for an expensive suit."
"I didn't run into debt. My suit is paid for."
"Yet your mother claims to be very poor."
"We are getting along better now."
"It would have been wiser for you to save the money you spent on this suit and keep it for rent and food."
"Your advice is very kind, Edgar, but I really feel that I can manage my own business."
"Oh, well, if you choose to resent my good advice——"
"I don't. I hope it springs from your interest in me."
During this conversation Edgar was brushing his hair carefully and "prinking" before the glass, for he was anxious to appear as fascinating as possible when he presented himself to Miss Gilbert.
"Shall we go down?" asked Mark.
"Yes, perhaps we may as well. I suppose you would feel awkward entering the drawing-room alone."
"Perhaps so," said Mark smiling.
As the two presented themselves in the room below Edgar looked about for Stanley, but did not see him.
"I wonder where Stanley has disappeared to," he said in a tone of vexation. "He promised to go up with me to Miss Gilbert."
"If he doesn't show up, Edgar, I shall be glad to take his place. As you have only recently come to the city, I suppose you don't know her well."
"I only met her once," Edgar admitted, "and she may not remember me."
"Then come with me."
Almost against his wishes Edgar found himself walking up to the other end of the room with his despised cousin. He would not have believed it possible if this had been predicted to him an hour earlier.
"Good evening, Mark! I am glad to see you here," said Maud Gilbert, with a pleasant smile.
"Let me present Mr. Edgar Talbot," said Mark after a suitable acknowledgment.
"I had the pleasure of meeting you when in company with Stanley Rayburn," explained Edgar.
"Oh, yes, I remember. And so you are also acquainted with Mark."
"Yes," answered Edgar, rather awkwardly. "I expected Mr. Rayburn to present me."
"You have found a sponsor equally good," returned Maud.
Then the two walked on, giving place to others.
"You seem to know Miss Gilbert very well," said Edgar in a tone of curiosity.