"Knight Brothers, Fulton Street:"Fit out this boy with a nice suit and send the bill to me."Henry Swan."
"Knight Brothers, Fulton Street:
"Fit out this boy with a nice suit and send the bill to me.
"Henry Swan."
Mark lost no time in visiting the clothiers.
"What can I do for you, young man?" asked the salesman.
"This note will explain," said Mark.
The salesman opened and read it.
"It will be all right," he said. "Mr. Swan gets his clothes here, but he has them made to order. Do you want one made to order or ready made?"
"Ready made. I want to put it on to-day."
"Come up-stairs then."
In twenty minutes Mark left the store attired in a nice eighteen dollar suit. He would have selected a cheaper one, but the salesman overruled him.
"Mr. Swan never buys a cheap suit or inferior article," he said. "In the letter he wishes you to have a nice suit, and we must follow directions."
"I don't want to abuse his generosity."
"You won't. He is a very liberal man. He is teacher of a class of five poor boys in a mission Sunday-school. Last Christmas he sent them all in here for new suits."
"If that is the case," said Mark, "I shall feel easier."
When he reappeared at the jeweler's Mr. Swan regarded him with critical approval.
"You have made a good selection," he said.
"I hope I didn't go too high for the suit, Mr. Swan. I wanted to order a cheaper one, but the salesman wouldn't let me."
"The salesman was right," said the jeweler smiling. "I am satisfied. And now to your work. I have a request from a lady up town to send her a couple of diamonds rings to select from. She professed to be on her way from Brooklyn and to be in haste. She is, she says, staying at the house of a friend at No. 282 West Forty-Seventh between Seventh and Eighth Avenues. She is to go away to-morrow and would like to make choice of a ring to-day."
Mark was rather surprised to hear this full account from the jeweler. As he was only to take the part of an errand boy he didn't see the necessity for it. He was soon enlightened.
"Now," proceeded the jeweler, "I am of the opinion that this lady is a clever swindler. I believe she wants to get hold of the rings, and carry them off without paying for them."
"Then you won't send them to her, I suppose."
"I would not if I were absolutely sure that she is a fraud, but this I don't know. She may be abona fidecustomer, and if so I should like to sell her a ring."
"How can you find out, sir?"
"I hope to do so with your help."
The jeweler took from his case two diamond rings. They were large, brilliant, and showy.
"How do you like the appearance of these rings?" he asked.
"They are beautiful!" exclaimed Mark admiringly.
"Don't you think the lady would admire them?"
"I should think so, sir."
"What should you think they are worth?"
"A hundred dollars apiece," guessed Mark.
"If the diamonds were genuine, one would be worth three hundred and fifty dollars and the other four hundred."
"Are they not genuine?" asked Mark in surprise.
"Paste, my boy, paste. The gold, however, is real. Instead of being worth the sum mentioned, one is worth perhaps three dollars and a half, the other four dollars."
"But I shouldn't think it would be worth your while to keep false diamond rings."
"Nor would it if all persons were honest. I never sell them. I only sell genuine jewelry. I will let you understand the use I mean to make of them. These two rings I mean to have you carry to Mrs. Montgomery on Forty-Seventh Street."
"But suppose she takes them for genuine?"
"Then I will make them so. In other words, I will take out the paste diamonds and replace them with real stones. If on the other hand any fraud is intended it won't benefit her much."
"Very well, sir. I think I understand."
"You must to a certain extent exercise your own discretion. I judged from the observations I made the other afternoon that you are a boy who possesses that important quality."
"Thank you for the compliment."
"I will tell you what made me suspect the woman of whom I have spoken. First, the name. She calls herself Mrs. Philip Montgomery. It sounds like a fictitious name. Again, she is a stout, rather common-looking woman, with a florid complexion and larger features. Now Montgomery is an aristocratic name. Again, she says she is from Buffalo. Swindlers generally hail from some distant city. Then again, it is rather suspicious that she should be in such haste.
"The purchase is an important one, and the amount to be paid—she herself fixed the approximate value—is considerable. You would think she would wish to inspect my stock carefully before making a selection. Instead of this she only asked to have two rings sent up to her of the value of three or four hundred dollars, and she would make choice of one of them."
"It does look rather suspicious, sir."
Mr. Swan gave Mark some further directions, and the latter started up town on the Eighth Avenue horse cars, which he took on the lower side of the Astor House.
"This is new business to me," thought Mark. "I feel an interest to see this Mrs. Montgomery. If she is planning to entrap me, she won't make as much as she anticipates."
Mark had the rings, each in a little morocco case, carefully laid away in the inside pocket of his coat.
When they reached Canal Street, to Mark's surprise, his cousin Edgar entered the car. He did not recognize Mark at first, the latter no longer wearing the messenger's uniform.
"How do you do, Cousin Edgar?" said Mark.
Edgar turned sharply around.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" he said. "Please don't call me cousin."
"I am just as much ashamed of the relationship as you are," responded Mark with a comical smile.
"That is impertinent. Besides it isn't true. Have you been discharged from the telegraph service?"
"No; what makes you think so?"
"Because you are not wearing the uniform."
"I am working for a party that doesn't want me to wear it while in his service."
"Who is it?"
"I don't feel at liberty to tell."
"Oh, just as you like. Isn't that a new suit?"
"Yes."
"Where did you get it?"
"I bought it."
"Business seems to be pretty good with you. How much did it cost?"
"Eighteen dollars."
"Is it paid for?"
"Of course it is."
"I didn't know but you might have bought it in installments."
"I don't have to do that."
"Yet you pretended a little while since that you and your mother had hard work to get along."
"Business is looking up."
Edgar got out at Twenty-Third Street. Mark kept on till he reached Forty-Seventh Street. He walked toward Seventh Avenue, and finally stood in front of the house in which the customer for the diamond rings was staying. It was a plain three-story residence with nothing peculiar about it. Mark rang the bell, little suspecting what was in store for him.
A boy of about seventeen, shabbily dressed, answered the bell.
"Is Mrs. Montgomery at home?" asked Mark, referring to a card.
"I guess so," answered the boy.
"I should like to see her."
"All right! I'll go up and ask."
The boy left Mark standing in the doorway, and went up-stairs.
He returned in a very short time.
"You're to come up," he said.
Mark followed him up the staircase and into a back room. It was scantily furnished. There was a lounge on one side of the room, and a cabinet bed on the other. These, with three chairs and a bureau, constituted the furniture.
"Just step in here," said the boy, "and I'll call Mrs. Montgomery."
Mark took a seat on the sofa and awaited the arrival of the lady.
He did not have long to wait. The door opened, but the lady he expected did not appear. Instead, a young man entered whom Mark instantly recognized as the person who had left the Fifth Avenue stage under suspicious circumstances on the day when the old lady was robbed of her pocketbook.
Mark started and wondered if the recognition was mutual. It did not appear to be.
"You're the jeweler's boy, I believe?" said the newcomer languidly.
"I came from Henry Swan."
"Exactly, and you have brought two diamond rings with you?"
"Yes."
"All right! You can show them to me."
Mark's suspicions were aroused and he felt that he had need of all his shrewdness. He was very glad now that the diamonds were paste and the rings of little value.
"Excuse me," he said, "but I was told to deliver the rings to Mrs. Philip Montgomery."
"Yes, that's all right. Mrs. Montgomery is my aunt."
"I should like to see her," persisted Mark.
"Come, boy, you're too fresh. It'll be all the same if you hand the rings to me."
"I don't think so. Isn't Mrs. Montgomery at home?"
"Yes, but she has a severe headache and cannot see you at present."
"Then perhaps I had better call again."
"No you don't. I am a gentleman and won't permit you to insult me."
"What do you want to do?"
"To take the rings up to my aunt. If she likes them, or either of them, she will send you down a check."
Mark reflected a moment. Remembering that the rings were not valuable, he decided to show them.
"Here are the rings!" he said, producing them from his pocket.
The young man opened the small caskets, and his eyes lighted up with satisfaction when he saw the glittering rings.
"What is the price?" he asked, looking up.
"That ring is three hundred and fifty dollars, the other is four hundred."
"Seven hundred and fifty together."
"Yes."
"I will show them to my aunt. Perhaps she may decide to keep both."
"You won't be long?" asked Mark, as the young man left the room.
"No. I'll be back as soon as my aunt decides."
Left alone Mark began to think over the situation. His recognition of his unprincipled acquaintance of the Fifth Avenue stage convinced him that some fraudulent scheme was being carried out. Mrs. Montgomery was probably a confederate of the young man who had just left the room.
"Is he going up-stairs or down?" thought Mark.
He listened, and thought he heard the front door open and shut. It occurred to him to open the door of the chamber and look down-stairs.
He started to do this, but to his surprise found that the door was fastened in some way. He had not heard a key turned in the lock. Possibly there was an outside bolt.
"What object can they have in keeping me a prisoner?" he asked.
Should he ring the bell and summon a servant? If he did so, he would have to leave the house in a state of uncertainty. No! he decided to wait and let further events throw a light on the mystery.
Meanwhile the young man who had possessed himself of the rings left the house, for it was he who had descended the stairs and gone out into the street. He bent his steps to the nearest pawnshop on Eighth Avenue, and taking out one of the boxes, said in a nonchalant voice:
"What will you loan me on this magnificent diamond ring?"
The pawnbroker took the box, and drawing out the ring held it up in the best light. He examined it through a magnifying glass, and a gleam of intelligence flashed in his face.
He returned to the counter, and scrutinizing the young man who had presented it asked in a matter-of-fact tone, "What do you want to borrow on the ring, my friend?"
"Two hundred dollars," answered the customer promptly.
"Humph!" said the pawnbroker with an amused smile, "two hundred dollars is a large sum of money."
"Yes, but the ring cost three hundred and fifty dollars. I am asking a little more than half price."
"So! the ring cost three hundred and fifty dollars! Did you pay that price for it?"
"No, the ring does not belong to me."
"Then to whom does it belong?"
"To my aunt, Mrs. Philip Montgomery."
"I do not know the lady. Does she live in the city?"
"No, she lives in Buffalo."
"And she sent the ring to you?"
"Yes, she sent it to me. She is in want of a little money, and did not like to ask her husband for it, for he might not be pleased. So she wants to borrow money on this ring which was given her by her brother at the time of her marriage."
"So, so! And your aunt would like me to lend her two hundred dollars on the ring?"
"Yes, sir."
"I think you will have to carry it to some other pawnbroker, my friend!"
"I don't mind taking a little less," said the young man, who was anxious for more than one reason to realize on the ring at once.
"How much now do you call a little less?"
"Well, say a hundred and seventy-five dollars. Probably my aunt will be able to redeem it in a few weeks."
"If I give you a hundred and seventy-five dollars," laughed the pawnbroker, "I think your aunt will let me keep it for good."
"As to that," said the young man impatiently, "I can make no promises. How much will you give on it?"
"I might give you a dollar and a half," answered the pawnbroker composedly.
"A dollar and a half!" exclaimed the young man, clutching at the counter for support. "A dollar and a half on this magnificent diamond ring, for which my aunt paid three hundred and fifty dollars! What do you mean?"
"I mean not to be cheated, my friend. How much do you think thismagnificentring is worth?"
"I have told you what it cost."
"My friend, you are very much mistaken. The ring cost only three dollars or three and a half."
"What do you mean?" gasped the visitor, turning pale.
"I mean that it is not diamond, but paste."
"But—it came from a jeweler of great reputation. Surely you have heard of Mr. Henry Swan."
"Yes, I have heard of Mr. Swan. If you will bring him here, and he will say that the diamond is real, I will see if I can't give you more."
"Wait!" said the customer hurriedly, drawing out the other casket. "Look at this ring, and tell me what it is worth."
The pawnbroker took it to the window and examined it attentively.
"That may be worth four dollars," he answered, after a brief pause.
"And is this stone false also?"
"Yes, my friend."
"Then I won't pawn either. Here, give me back both rings."
"Here they are."
"I am afraid you are not a good judge of diamonds. I am sure they are real."
"Go somewhere else, my friend, and satisfy yourself. If you can find any one in my line who will give you five dollars for either, you had better take it and call yourself a fortunate man. Will you leave your name?"
"My name is Hamilton Schuyler, and I live on Second Avenue."
"It is a very good name, my friend. I think you must belong to the Four Hundred."
"I do," answered Schuyler haughtily.
"It is a pity you should have to pawn your aunt's diamonds, and such diamonds!" chuckled the pawnbroker.
But Mr. Schuyler had already left the shop, and was hurrying along the avenue to another of the same class at which he had occasionally had dealings.
"I shall have to stay here till I am let out," thought Mark.
He didn't worry particularly, as he knew that even if the rings were kept they would not involve his employer in any serious loss.
In about half an hour he heard steps ascending the stairs, then he heard a bolt shoved back, and he was not surprised when the young man, whose name he did not know, entered the room. He noted, not without amusement, that his face betrayed dissatisfaction.
"What does your aunt think of the rings?" asked Mark ingenuously.
"Look here, young fellow!" said Schuyler, sitting down and glaring at the messenger, "you've played a pretty trick on me!"
"What kind of a trick?" asked Mark, arching his eyebrows.
"These rings are not diamond rings."
"What are they, then?" asked Mark in assumed surprise.
"Paste—bogus!" answered Schuyler scornfully.
"Are you sure of that, Mr.——?"
"Schuyler."
"Mr. Schuyler."
"Yes. I took them round to a—jeweler, and had him test them."
"It must be a mistake," murmured Mark.
"It is a very strange mistake, then, for a first-class house to make," rejoined Schuyler in a tone of sarcasm.
"So it is. They must have given me the wrong rings," said Mark innocently.
"My aunt is very much disappointed. She wanted to start this evening for Buffalo."
"I thought she lived in Syracuse."
"She is going to visit her son in Buffalo," explained Schuyler with ready wit.
"I am really sorry. If she would go down to the jeweler's with me, or if you would, the matter could be set right at once."
Mr. Hamilton Schuyler thought over this suggestion, and on the whole regarded it favorably.
"I will go down in about an hour," he said. "You can explain matters to Mr. Swan. Just think if my aunt had taken the rings and paid full price for them, and not found out till she got to Buffalo that they were not genuine!"
"In that case Mr. Swan would have paid her the money or exchanged the rings."
"I hope so."
"Perhaps you had better hand me back the caskets, and I will carry them back to the store."
Mr. Schuyler returned the boxes to Mark, who opened them to see if the rings were inside.
"You will go down in an hour then?" he said.
"Yes, or—upon second thought you had better come right back with the genuine rings. I have an appointment at the Windsor Hotel, but will be back to receive them."
Mark understood why Schuyler did not care to go to the jeweler's. He could not get possession of the genuine rings without paying for them, whereas, if Mark should bring them, he could carry out his original plan and retain them by stratagem.
Schuyler accompanied Mark to the front door.
"Now hurry down and back," he said. "My aunt is anxious to catch the evening train."
"Very well, Mr. Schuyler."
At this moment Schuyler noted for the first time a familiar look in Mark's face.
"Haven't I seen you before?" he asked abruptly.
"Very likely," said Mark with self-possession. "Perhaps you have been in the store."
"No; my aunt called there, but I did not. You look very much like some boy I saw recently," and Schuyler wrinkled up his forehead in the vain endeavor to place Mark.
"I hope I remind you of a good-looking boy," he said, laughing.
"I see it now. You look like a telegraph boy I recently met in a Fifth Avenue stage."
"I should like to see him, but I shouldn't think you'd remember a common telegraph boy."
"He was impertinent to me, that is why I remember him," frowned Schuyler. "I hope to meet him alone some time. I will give him a lesson he won't be likely to forget."
"Then I'm glad I'm not the boy you mean. Good day!"
"Good day. Hurry back as fast as you can."
When Mark re-entered the jewelry store Mr. Swan advanced to meet him.
"Well," he said, "how did you make out?"
"I've got the rings with me."
"Did you see Mrs. Montgomery?"
"No, but I saw a young man who claimed to be her nephew."
"What did he say about the rings?"
"He left me alone in a back room on the second floor. When I went to the door I found that it was locked. But I didn't trouble myself. I concluded that he had gone out to pawn or sell the rings. He returned in half an hour quite angry, and told me he had ascertained that the diamonds were not genuine."
"Why did you think he went out to pawn or sell them?"
"Because I recognized him."
"You recognized him?"
"Yes, as the young man in the Fifth Avenue stage who robbed an old lady of her wallet."
"The day that we first met?"
"Yes, sir."
The jeweler looked surprised.
"Didn't he recognize you?"
"He asked if we hadn't met before. He said there was something familiar in my face. Finally, he said I reminded him of an impudent telegraph boy he had fallen in with. He wants to meet that telegraph boy alone," added Mark with a smile.
"He has had his wish."
"Yes, but luckily for me he didn't recognize me."
"How did you explain about the rings being false?"
"I said you had probably made a mistake."
"I see you are quick-witted. Well, was that satisfactory?"
"He expects me to bring back the genuine rings this afternoon, as his aunt wants to leave the city this evening."
"I think he will have to wait. Perhaps it may be as well to notify him that she needn't put off her journey on that account. I don't want to spare you to go there again, however."
"There's a boy I know out on the street," suggested Mark. "He would be glad to go."
"Who is it?"
"Tom Trotter, a friend of mine. He's a good boy, though he's only a bootblack."
"Is he reliable?"
"Yes, sir; I will answer for him."
"Very well. Call him in."
Mark went to the door and called "Tom! Tom Trotter!"
Tom looked around and recognized Mark.
"You ain't left de telegraph, have you, Mark?" he said.
"No, but I'm working here for a day or two. Would you like to go up town on an errand?"
"Yes," answered Tom with alacrity. "Will I be paid?"
"Of course. Can't you leave your blacking box somewhere and get your face and hands washed?"
"Yes, Mark; there's a small s'loon near by, where I hang out sometimes. Just wait for me and I'll be back in a jiffy."
Tom reappeared in a very short time with his appearance greatly improved by the application of cold water and soap.
"Mr. Swan," said Mark, smiling, "this is Mr. Thomas Trotter, the young gentleman I spoke to you about."
"Oh, stow that, Mark!" expostulated Tom; "I ain't Mr. Trotter. I'm Tom."
"Mr. Trotter," said the jeweler, smiling, for he had a sense of humor, "I have a letter here which I wish you to take to the address named."
"And to walk, sir."
"No; I will give you ten cents for car fare, and when you return and make your report you shall be paid for doing the errand."
"All right, governor."
Tom started up town, and in due time reached the house on Forty-Seventh Street.
He rang the bell, and the door was opened by the hall boy already referred to.
"Is Mr. Schuyler at home?" asked Tom. "I've got a letter for him."
Mr. Schuyler, who was anxiously awaiting Mark's return, came out of a room to the left of the hall. When he saw Tom he looked disappointed.
"I was expecting a boy from Mr. Swan's jewelry store."
"That's where I come from."
"Did you bring the rings?" asked Schuyler eagerly.
"I don't know nothin' about no rings," answered Tom. "I've brought you a letter."
"Give it to me quick."
He opened the letter, and this is what he read with contracted brow.
"Mr. Hamilton Schuyler:"When I called here this morning I recognized you as the young man who stole an old lady's pocketbook in a Fifth Avenue stage not long since. Of course I knew that this was another scheme of yours to get hold of money that did not belong to you. If you had been all right I would myself have brought back the real diamond rings which your aunt wished to buy. Tell her not to put off her journey to Buffalo, as Mr. Swan has made up his mind not to send them."Yours as ever,"A. D. T. 79."
"Mr. Hamilton Schuyler:
"When I called here this morning I recognized you as the young man who stole an old lady's pocketbook in a Fifth Avenue stage not long since. Of course I knew that this was another scheme of yours to get hold of money that did not belong to you. If you had been all right I would myself have brought back the real diamond rings which your aunt wished to buy. Tell her not to put off her journey to Buffalo, as Mr. Swan has made up his mind not to send them.
"Yours as ever,"A. D. T. 79."
"Then it was the telegraph boy, after all!" ejaculated Schuyler in a rage. "I only wish I had known it. Are you a friend of—the telegraph boy?"
"Am I a friend of Mark Mason? I should smile."
"Step in a minute, then!" said Schuyler, with an assumed friendliness.
As the unsuspecting Tom stepped inside the hall, the young man began to shower blows on his shoulders with a cane that he snatched from the hat rack.
Tom was for a minute dazed. Then his wits returned to him. He lowered his head and butted Schuyler in the stomach with such force that the latter fell over backwards with an ejaculation of pain.
Then Tom darted through the open door, but paused on the steps to say, "With the compliments of Tom Trotter."
Schuyler picked himself up, uttering execrations, and looked for the boy, but he was gone!
"Shall you want me to-morrow, Mr. Swan?" asked Mark, as the clock struck six, and the jeweler prepared to close up.
"Yes; I shall probably want you for a week."
"Very well, sir; I will so report at the office."
The next morning about eight o'clock Mark reported for duty and waited for orders.
The jeweler looked up from a letter he had been reading.
"How would you like to make a journey?" he asked.
"Very much, sir."
"I shall probably send you to Cleveland."
"Is Cleveland in Ohio?" asked Mark, his eyes sparkling.
"Yes. Do you think you can find your way there?"
"I'll try."
"You generally succeed in what you undertake to do. Well, I will explain. I have a customer living in Euclid Avenue in Cleveland, who used to be a New York society lady. She bought a good deal of jewelry, and always purchased of me. This is what she writes."
The material part of the letter was this:
"I want a diamond pin worth about one thousand dollars. My husband has agreed to give it to me for a birthday present, and left the selection to me. I can't find anything here that I want, and have been led to think of my old jeweler in New York. You know my taste. Select what you think I will like and send me by private messenger. I might of course employ an express, but there have been some express robberies recently, and I am ready to pay the extra expense required by a special messenger. Send at once."Arabella Loring."
"I want a diamond pin worth about one thousand dollars. My husband has agreed to give it to me for a birthday present, and left the selection to me. I can't find anything here that I want, and have been led to think of my old jeweler in New York. You know my taste. Select what you think I will like and send me by private messenger. I might of course employ an express, but there have been some express robberies recently, and I am ready to pay the extra expense required by a special messenger. Send at once.
"Arabella Loring."
"You see," said the jeweler, "that this is an important matter. The messenger will bear great responsibility on account of the value of what he has in charge."
"Do you think I am old enough for the commission, Mr. Swan?" said Mark modestly.
"It is not so much a matter of age as of shrewdness and reliability. I have been led to think that you possess these qualifications. Of course there would be danger of your being robbed if it were known that you carried such a valuable parcel."
"I am not afraid, sir."
"Of course, again, you must take care not to let it be known what you have in charge. Make what statements you like as to your business. I can safely leave that to your own shrewdness."
"When do you want me to start, Mr. Swan?"
"There is a train this afternoon for Buffalo on the New York Central road. Can you get ready to take that?"
"Yes, sir. May I go home and let my mother know? I am not quite sure whether I have a supply of clean clothes."
"You can buy anything that you need on the way. Have you a gripsack?"
"Yes, sir. My mother has one."
"Will it do?"
"I think so."
"So far so good then. Now about money. I can't tell just how much you will need, but I will give you a certain amount, and if there is any over when you return you can account for it to me."
Mrs. Mason was greatly surprised when Mark came home and inquired for her traveling bag.
"What do you want of it, Mark?" she asked.
"I am going to start for Cleveland this afternoon."
"You're only funning, Mark," said Edith.
"No, I am not. I have agreed to go to Cleveland on business."
"What kind of business, Mark?" asked his mother.
"The gentleman who sends me, Mr. Swan, the jeweler, has asked me to keep my business secret."
"How long will you be gone?"
"I can't tell, but I will write you. Mr. Swan has told me I may stop over at Niagara Falls, but I shall not be very apt to do so till I am on my return."
"This seems very sudden. I don't know how I shall ever get along without you."
"You have money enough to last you, mother?"
"Yes."
"Then I think there won't be any trouble. If I stay away longer than I anticipate I will send you some more."
"It seems strange that Mr. Swan should send a boy on an important errand."
"The fact of the matter is, mother, that he has confidence in me."
"I am sure he is justified in this, but boys are not usually selected for important missions."
"That is the reason why I feel ambitious to succeed."
"By the way, Mark, Mrs. Mack's nephew called yesterday and tried to get some more money out of his aunt."
"Did you give him any?"
"No. She was very much frightened, but I threatened to call a policeman, and the fellow went off grumbling."
"She won't be safe till he gets into prison again."
On his way back to the jeweler's Mark met his friend Tom Trotter.
"Where are you goin'?"
"Out West."
Tom's eyes expanded like saucers.
"You ain't jokin'?"
"No."
"When you're goin'?"
"This afternoon."
"Goin' to be gone long?"
"I expect to be back in a week."
"I wish you'd take me with you."
"I'd like to, Tom, but I can't. Traveling costs money."
Tom showed considerable curiosity as to the nature of Mark's business, but on this point the telegraph boy was not communicative. He liked Tom as a friend, but did not dare to trust him with so important a secret.
Mr. Swan had already been to a ticket agent and procured a through ticket for Mark.
"Your train starts at four-thirty," said the jeweler. "You can engage a sleeping berth at the Grand Central depot. You will travel all night."
"I am sorry for that," said Mark. "I shall miss some of the scenery."
"You can arrange to travel over this part by day on your return."
It was four o'clock when Mark entered the depot. He thought it best to be on time. When the doors were opened he entered the station proper and sought the car containing his berth.
There was an upper and a lower berth, his being the lower. The two were numbered 7 and 8. He had scarcely taken his seat when a gentleman came in and sat down beside him. Neither he nor Mark had noticed each other particularly till the train had left the depot. Then the gentleman exclaimed in surprise, "Mark Mason?"
"Uncle Solon?" exclaimed the messenger in equal surprise.
"What brings you here?"
"A ticket," answered Mark briefly.
"You are in the wrong car. Didn't you know that this is the Limited Western Express?"
"Yes. I know it."
"Where are you going then?"
"I shall stop at Buffalo," answered Mark, not caring to mention his further destination.
Solon Talbot looked amazed.
"What on earth carries you out there?" he asked.
"This train," answered Mark demurely.
Solon Talbot frowned.
"You know what I mean. Why are you going to Buffalo?"
"A little matter of business."
"What business can a boy like you possibly have, I'd like to know?"
"It isn't my own business, Uncle Solon, and so I don't feel at liberty to tell."
"It is very strange. Have you a sleeping berth?"
"Yes."
"What number?"
"No. 7."
"That is the lower berth—just the one I wanted," exclaimed Talbot in vexation. "Mine is the upper. Let me see your sleeping check."
Mark showed it. Solon Talbot regarded it enviously.
"I will give you twenty-five cents to exchange," he said.
"I will exchange without the twenty-five cents if you prefer the lower berth."
"I do, but—I would rather pay."
"I can't accept it. Here is the check. Give me yours in return."
Solon did so muttering his thanks rather ungraciously. He hated to be under any obligation to his nephew.
"Where is Edgar?" asked Mark.
"I left him in New York. I am going back to Syracuse to attend to a little business, and shall then return to New York."
Mr. Talbot took out an evening paper and began to read. Mark prepared to look around him. Presently Mr. Talbot arose.
"I am going into the smoking-car to smoke a cigar," he said. "Have an eye on my grip while I am gone."
"All right, uncle."
Hours passed. The two travelers retired to their respective berths. About two o'clock Mark was startled by a severe shock that nearly threw him out of his berth. There was a confused shouting, and Mark heard some one crying.
"What's happened?"
Leaning out of the berth he saw Solon Talbot standing in the aisle, his face pale as a sheet.
There was a swaying movement of the car, and a sudden lurch. The car had gone over an embankment.
When Mark came to himself he realized that he was lying on his back on the ground. It was a bright moonlight night, and he could see for some distance.
First of all he moved his arms and legs to ascertain whether any of his limbs were broken. Reassured on this point he felt next for the diamond pin. To his great relief it was safe.
All about him was confusion. He was just thinking of getting up when a man came along with a lantern, and stooping over, began to feel in the pockets of a prostrate figure lying near by. Instantly Mark was on the alert, for he felt sure that this man must be a thief intent on robbing the victims of the disaster.
He peered into the face of the robber who fancied himself unobserved, and with a thrill of excitement he recognized the man whom he had met twice before in New York, and who had called himself Hamilton Schuyler. At the same time, glancing at the upturned face of the recumbent figure he saw that it was his uncle, Solon Talbot, still insensible.
Schuyler had just drawn Mr. Talbot's watch from his pocket, when Mark, putting a whistle to his mouth, blew a sharp note on it.
Schuyler started, let the watch drop, and rose in a state of nervous alarm.
"What was that?" he cried.
"Mr. Hamilton Schuyler," said Mark calmly, "that gentleman will have occasion for his watch. You had better let it alone."
"I was only going to take care of it for him," muttered Schuyler.
"You'd take care of it well," retorted Mark.
"Who are you?" demanded Schuyler, and he stepped over to where Mark lay and peered into his face.
"By jingo, if it isn't the telegraph boy!" he exclaimed. "How came you here?"
"By the train."
"Have you any more bogus diamonds about you?" inquired Schuyler sarcastically.
"I might have had if I had expected to meet you."
"I'll see what I can find at any rate."
As he spoke he leaned over and was about to feel in Mark's pockets when the telegraph messenger blew another blast on his whistle so loud that a relief party came running up in haste.
"What's the matter?" asked the leader.
"The matter is that here is a thief, rifling the pockets of the passengers. He was just feeling in mine."
Schuyler started to run, but was quickly captured.
"What are you about, you scoundrel?" asked his captor.
"Trying to relieve the victims of the disaster," answered Schuyler. "On my honor that is all I was doing."
"Is this true?" asked his captor, turning to Mark.
"Yes; he was trying to relieve us of our valuables. He had that gentleman's watch out of his pocket when I first whistled. As you came up, he was trying to rob me."
"That's enough! Take him along."
Two strong men tied Schuyler's hands together and marched him away.
"I'll get even with you for this, you young rascal!" he exclaimed in a rage, shaking his fist at Mark.
Just then Solon Talbot recovered consciousness.
"Where am I?" he groaned.
"There has been an accident, Uncle Solon," said Mark, now on his feet. "We went over an embankment and were spilled out. Are you all right? Are any of your limbs broken?"
"I—I don't think so, but I have had a shock, and my head is bruised."
"You'll do!" said a surgeon, who was one of the relief party. "You'll be as good as new in a day or two."
"Is there a hotel near by? I want to be moved."
"As soon as we can attend to the matter. We are looking for the bad cases."
"I'll look after you, Uncle Solon," said Mark. "See if you can't get up."
With much ado Mr. Talbot arose, and leaning on Mark's arm left the scene of the disaster. Mark procured a carriage and directed the driver to take them to the nearest hotel.
When they reached it the messenger ordered a room and helped his uncle up to it.
"Just look and see if you've lost anything," he suggested. "I saw a thief trying to relieve you of your watch, but I interrupted him and gave him in charge."
With a look of alarm Solon Talbot examined his pockets, but ascertained to his relief that nothing was missing.
"Can't you stay with me, Mark?" he asked almost imploringly, for the nervous alarm inspired by the accident had made him quite a different man for the time being. "There is another bed in the room, and you can lie there."
"I will stay with you till morning, Uncle Solon, but I shall have to leave you then, as I have business to attend to."
"What kind of business?"
"I don't care to mention it just now. I am traveling for another party."
"I had no idea there would be an accident," said Mr. Talbot. "Good heavens, we might have been in eternity by this time," he added with a shudder.
"I feel very much alive," said Mark, laughing.
"I suppose the accident will be in the New York morning papers."
"So it will. I must telegraph that I am all right, or my mother will be frightened."
"Telegraph for me too," said Solon Talbot.
"All right. Tell me to whom to telegraph, Uncle Solon, and where."
"To Edgar, I think."
Few more words were spoken, as Mark and his uncle were both dead tired. It was eight o'clock when Mark opened his eyes. He dressed himself as quickly as possible and prepared to go down-stairs. As he was moving toward the door, Mark espied a scrap of paper. It contained what appeared to be a memorandum in his uncle's handwriting.
It was brief, and a single glance revealed its purpose to Mark. It ran thus: "Crane and Lawton told me to-day that their agent writes them from Nevada that the Golden Hope mine is developing great richness. I shouldn't wonder if it would run up to one hundred dollars per share. At this rate the 400 shares I hold will make a small fortune. C. & L. advise holding on for at least six months."
It may be imagined that Mark read this memorandum with interest. He knew very well that the mining stock referred to belonged to his grandfather's estate, but hitherto had been ignorant of the number of shares held by the same. If there were four hundred, and the price ran up to one hundred dollars per share, this would make his mother's share twenty thousand dollars!
This would be a fortune indeed, and it made his blood boil to think that his uncle proposed to cheat her out of it. The munificent sum of twenty-five dollars was all that he had offered for a receipt in full that would give him a title to the whole value of the Golden Hope shares.
Mark turned to the bed.
His uncle was fast asleep. He was not a strong man, and the shock and fatigue of the night previous had quite exhausted him.
"What shall I do with the memorandum?" thought Mark.
He felt that it was not quite the thing to keep a private paper belonging to his uncle, yet under the circumstances, considering that his uncle was deliberately seeking to defraud his mother and himself, he decided that he was justified in doing so. Accordingly he put the memorandum carefully in his pocketbook, and opening the chamber door prepared to go down-stairs.
Just then Solon Talbot opened his eyes.
"Where am I?" he asked, in temporary bewilderment.
"In the Merchants' Hotel," replied Mark. "Don't you remember the accident of last night?"
"Oh, yes," answered Solon shuddering. "Where are you going?"
"Out to telegraph to my mother."
"You have my telegram?"
"Yes."
Mark went out and despatched two telegrams, one to his mother, and the second to Mr. Swan. The latter ran thus: "There has been a railroad accident, but I am all right. Nothing lost."
The last two words were intended to assure the jeweler of the safety of the diamond pin.
Mark ascertained that the next train westward would start at eleven o'clock, and so reported to his uncle.
"I shall go by the next train," he said.
As they went up to the office to pay their bills, the clerk asked Mr. Talbot, "Do you pay for this young man as well as yourself?"
Solon Talbot hesitated and looked confused.
"No," answered Mark promptly, "I pay for myself."
He drew out a ten-dollar bill and tendered it to the clerk.
"You seem to be well provided with money," said his uncle curiously.
"Yes, Uncle Solon, I can pay my way," replied Mark.
"It is very strange," thought Mr. Talbot, "how a common telegraph boy should have so much money."
He did not seem to miss the memorandum. Had he known that it was snugly reposing in Mark's pocketbook he would have felt disturbed.
Mark pushed on intent upon reaching Cleveland. He decided not to stop off at Niagara till he was on his return. He never for a moment forgot that a great responsibility rested upon him for the safe delivery of the valuable diamond pin intrusted to him by Mr. Swan. When it was safely out of his hands and in those of Mrs. Loring he would feel relieved.
He was within a hundred miles of Cleveland in a car well filled with passengers when his attention was called to a young lady sitting in the seat directly opposite him. She seemed lively and was particularly attractive.
Mark was too young to be deeply impressed by female beauty, but he experienced, like most persons, a greater pleasure in looking at a beautiful than at an ugly object. The young lady had been sitting alone, when a tall man of about forty came up the aisle and paused by her seat.
"Is this seat occupied?" he asked softly.
"No, sir."
"Then I will presume to occupy it."
"He must be a minister," thought Mark.
His clothes were of clerical cut, he wore a white necktie, and on his head was a brown straw hat with wide brim. He folded his hands meekly on his knees, and turned towards his young companion.
"I am sorry to intrude upon you, young lady," Mark heard him say.
"It is no intrusion, sir," answered the girl pleasantly. "I have only paid for one seat, and cannot expect to monopolize two."
"Nevertheless I am sorry if in any way I have intruded upon you. I am, as you may perhaps have inferred from my appearance, a minister."
"I thought you looked like one, sir."
"I am going to make an exchange with a clerical brother."
"Yes, sir," returned the young lady, wondering what interest she could be expected to take in this circumstance.
"I always like to get acquainted with young people. I may perhaps have an opportunity of influencing them for good."
"Just so, sir; but I think such advice is better suited for Sunday, don't you?"
"I am accustomed to drop words of counsel in season, and out of season."
"I would rather listen to them when they are in season."
"True! I stand reproved."
The minister took from his pocket a small volume which he opened and began to read.
"This volume," he said, "contains the sermons of the excellent Dr. Hooker. If I had another copy I should be glad to offer it to you."
"Thank you, I don't care to read just at present."
Half an hour passed. The minister put back his book into his pocket, and bowing politely, bade the young lady good morning.
"I am pleased to have made your acquaintance," he said.
"Thank you, sir."
Five minutes later the young lady put her hand into her pocket. She uttered a cry of alarm.
"What is the matter, miss?" asked Mark.
"My purse is gone!" exclaimed the young lady in a state of nervous excitement.
"When did you last see it?" asked the messenger boy.
"About an hour ago. I bought a copy ofMunsey's Magazineof the train boy, and took out my purse to pay for it."
"An hour ago? You were sitting alone at the time?"
"Yes."
"Did any one sit beside you except the old gentleman who has just left?"
"No."
"You are sure it hasn't fallen on the floor?"
"I will look."
The young lady rose and looked about under the seat, but the lost purse was not found.
"I—I don't see how I could have lost it. I have been sitting here all the time."
An idea flashed upon Mark.
"It must have been taken by the man who just left you," he said.
"But that can't be! He was a minister."
"I know he was dressed as a minister, but I don't believe he was one."
"He looked just like one. Besides he was reading a volume of sermons. I can't believe that he would rob me."
"There was one thing that didn't look very ministerial."
"What was that?"
"His nose. Do you not notice how red it was?"
"Yes, but I thought it might be some humor."
"It was colored by whisky, I think. I know topers in New York who have noses exactly like his. You may depend upon it that he has your purse. I hope there wasn't much in it."
"Only about five dollars. Generally the loss would not inconvenience me, but as it is—" and she looked anxious.
"If—if I can be of any service," stammered Mark, "I hope you won't mind saying so. I can lend you five dollars."
The young lady looked grateful, but seemed in doubt as to whether she ought to accept the offer.
"I don't know whether I ought to accept such an offer from a young gentleman—" she said hesitating.
"I am averyyoung gentleman," said Mark smiling. "I am only sixteen!"
"That is true, and it does make a difference. Are you sure you can spare the money for a day or two."
"Quite so, Miss—"
"Loring," prompted the young lady.
"Are you related to Mrs. Arabella Loring of Cleveland?"
The young lady looked very much surprised.
"She is my mother," she replied. "But how in the world do you know of her?"
"I will tell you later," answered Mark.
He felt that it wouldn't be wise to mention the commission, or let any one know that he had a diamond ring in charge.
"Are you going directly to Cleveland, Miss Loring?"
"Yes, but about thirty miles this side I have a young niece at a boarding school. She will join me on the train, and will expect me to pay her railroad fare. But for that, the loss of the money would have entailed no inconvenience."
Mark drew from his pocket book a five-dollar bill and passed it to Miss Loring.
"But how can I return this to you?" she asked.
"I will call at your house. I am going to Cleveland also."
"Do so. Here is my card."
She took out a small card and tendered it to Mark. On it was inscribed: