Paul Morton's consternation can hardly be described, when, in the number who had come to witness the funeral ceremonies of Ralph Raymond, he recognized the shopman in the obscure druggist's shop where he had purchased the poison. The sweat stood out upon his brow, and he eagerly questioned himself—how much did this man know, or what did he suspect, or was his presence purely accidental?
But he could hardly believe that a man in such a position would attend the funeral, unless he had some object in view. How had he found out his name and residence? Was it possible that he had been tracked?
He looked furtively at the young man, now grown an object of strange and dread interest to him. He noted his insignificant features, and the general meanness of his appearance, and he began to pluck up courage.
"Suppose he does suspect anything," hethought; "will his testimony be believed against mine? A miserable druggist's clerk, probably on a starvation salary. At the worst I can buy him off for a small sum."
Reassured by these thoughts, he recovered his boldness, and in looking about him, did not hesitate to meet the gaze of James Cromwell, without suffering a trace of the first agitation to be seen.
But that first agitation had been observed at the time by the druggist's clerk, and he had drawn his own conclusions from it.
"He has used the poison," he said to himself, "and it is for that reason that my presence alarms him," he said.
At length the funeral ceremonies were over.
The company who were assembled left the house, and with them James Cromwell. He went back to his room, not feeling that it was of importance to remain longer. He had shown himself at the funeral, he had been recognized, and thus he had paved the way for the interview which he meant to have, and that very shortly.
Two evenings later, he approached the house in Twenty-ninth Street, and ascending the steps, boldly rang the bell.
The servant who answered the summons, looked at him inquiringly, supposing from his appearance that he had merely come to bring some message.
"Is Mr. Morton at home?"
"Yes, he is at home."
"I would like to see him."
"He doesn't see visitors, on account of a death in the family. I will carry your message."
"I must see him," insisted the clerk, boldly.
"I don't think he will see you."
"I do. So go and tell him I am here."
"What name shall I carry to him?"
"The name is of no consequence. You can tell him that the young man whom he noticed at the funeral is here, and wishes to see him on very important business."
"That's a queer message," thought the servant, but concluded that it was some one who had something to do with furnishing something for the funeral, and was anxious to get his pay.
Mr. Morton was sitting in his library, or a room furnished with books, which went by that name, when the servant entered.
"There is somebody to see you, sir," she said.
"Who is it?"
"I don't know his name."
"Is it a gentleman?"
"No, sir."
"Did you tell him I was not receiving visitors now?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well?"
"He said he wanted to see you on very important business."
"Why didn't he give his name?"
"He said that I was to tell you it was the young man you noticed at the funeral," said the servant.
Mr. Morton turned pale, but at once recovered himself.
"I am not sure that I know who it is," he said, "but I can easily ascertain. You may bring him up."
"You are to come up," said the girl reappearing.
James Cromwell smiled in conscious triumph.
"I thought so," he said to himself. "Well, now for my game. It will be a difficult one, but I will do my best."
Left alone, Paul Morton began to consider how he should treat the new-comer. He resolved toaffect no recognition at first, and afterward indifference. He thought he might be able to overawe the young man, from his own superiority in social position, and so prevent his carrying out the purpose he proposed.
Accordingly, when James Cromwell entered the room, he arched his brows a little, and looked inquiringly at him.
"Have you business with me?" he said, abruptly. "Did not my servant inform you that, on account of a recent death, I am not receiving callers at present?"
"I thought you would see me," said the young man, with a mixture of familiarity and boldness.
"Really, I don't know what claims you have to be excepted to my rule," said Paul Morton, haughtily. "If you are a tradesman, and have a claim against me, you might have sent it in the regular way."
"I am not a tradesman, and I have no claim against you, Mr. Morton," said the young man—"that is, no regular claim."
"You speak in riddles, sir," said Mr. Morton, in the same haughty tone. "If you have no business with me, I am at a loss to know why you haveintruded yourself upon me at such a time. Perhaps, however, you were unaware of my recent affliction."
"I am quite aware of it, Mr. Morton. In fact, I was present at the funeral, if you refer to the death of Mr. Raymond, and unless I am greatly mistaken, you yourself observed me there."
"You were present at the funeral! What brought you here?"
"That seems rather an inhospitable question. For some reasons of my own, I felt an interest in what was going on in this house, and made it my business to become acquainted with all that passed. When I heard of Mr. Raymond's death, I resolved at once to attend the funeral."
"I suppose you must have known Mr. Raymond, then," said Paul Morton, with something of a sneer.
"No, I had not the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with the gentleman," said James Cromwell, who, far from being overawed by the evident haughty tone of the other, preserved his composure with admirable success.
"Then let me repeat, I do not understand why you should have taken the trouble to be present at his funeral. Persons, in general, wait for aninvitation before intruding on such occasions," he added, with a palpable sneer.
"He wouldn't parley so long if he did not know me and fear me," thought James Cromwell, and this conclusion showed that he was not without a certain natural shrewdness.
"Was Mr. Raymond rich?" he asked, nonchalantly.
This was more than Paul Morton could bear. He was naturally an irritable man, and he had been obliged to exercise considerable self-control thus far in the interview. It angered him that this insignificant druggist's clerk—this miserable specimen of a man—should have ventured to intrude himself in this manner on his privacy, but the terror of his crime and the consciousness that this man suspected it, had hitherto restrained him.
But when James Cromwell asked this question, sitting coolly, with one leg crossed over the other, and staring impudently in his face, he could not restrain himself any longer. He rose to his feet with angry vehemence, and pointing to the door with a finger literally quivering with rage, he said, hoarsely:
"You impertinent scoundrel! begone instantly,or I will summon my servants and have you kicked down my front steps!"
"That might not be altogether prudent, Mr. Morton," said James Cromwell.
"Might not be prudent! What do you mean by your cursed impudence?" demanded the merchant, glaring furiously at the druggist's clerk.
"What do I mean?" repeated James Cromwell. "Do you wish me to answer your question?"
"I demand that you answer my question, and that immediately," said the merchant, hardly knowing what he did, so carried away was he by his unreasonable anger.
"Very well, I will do so," said the clerk, quietly, "but, as it may take a brief time, will you not be kind enough to resume your seat?"
The coolness displayed by James Cromwell had its effect upon the merchant. Mechanically he obeyed, and resumed his seat.
"Say what have you to say, and be done with it," he muttered.
"In the first place, then, I beg leave to ask you a question. Do you not remember me?" and the clerk looked searchingly with his cold gray eyes in the face of Paul Morton.
"I may possibly have met you before," he replied with an effort, "but I meet a great many people, and there is no particular reason, that I am aware of, why I should remember you in particular."
"I also meet a considerable number of persons," said James Cromwell, "but circumstances have led me to remember you very well."
"Well, grant that you remember me," said the merchant, with nervous impatience, "what then?"
"It may be necessary for me to remind youthat I am employed in a druggist's shop on the Bowery."
"I hope you like your situation," said Paul Morton, with a sneer.
"No, I don't like it, and that is the reason why I have come to you, hoping that you will help me to something better."
This was said with quiet self-possession, and Paul Morton began to realize with uneasiness that this young man, whom he had looked upon with contempt, was not so easily to be overawed or managed as he had expected.
"This is a cool request, considering that you are a comparative stranger to me."
"But consider the peculiar circumstances," said James Cromwell, significantly.
"What peculiar circumstances?" demanded the merchant, desperately.
"Shall I mention them?" asked Cromwell, pointedly.
"If you want me to understand, yes. You are talking in enigmas, and I never was good at understanding enigmas."
"Then," said James Cromwell, leaning slightly forward, and looking intently at Mr. Morton, "may I ask to what use you have put the subtlepoison which you purchased of me ten days since?"
The color rushed to Paul Morton's face at this direct interrogation.
"The poison?" he repeated.
"Yes, you certainly have not forgotten the purchase."
"I think you must be mistaken in the person."
"Pardon me, I am not."
"Suppose that I did buy poison, how should you identify me with the purchaser, and how came you to know where I lived?"
"I sent a boy to follow you home," said Cromwell.
"You dared to do that?"
"Why not? We have no curiosity about our ordinary customers, but when a person makes such a purchase as you did, we feel inclined to learn all we can about him."
"A praiseworthy precaution! Well, I admit that I did buy the poison. What then?"
"I asked to what purpose you had put it?"
"Very well, I have no objection to tell you, although I deny your right to intrude in my private affairs, which I regard as a piece of gross impertinence. I bought it, as I think I stated toyou at the time, at the request and for the use of a friend."
"Would you tell me the friend's name?" asked the clerk, imperturbably.
"He lives in Thirty-seventh Street."
"What is his name?"
"None of your business," exclaimed the merchant, passionately.
"I beg your pardon, but I was blamed by my employer for not taking down the name of the purchaser, and I told him in return that I would gather full particulars."
"You may tell him it is all right. He must have heard of me and of my firm, and that will satisfy him."
"But the name of this gentleman in Thirty-seventh Street——"
"It is not necessary to the purpose."
"Has there been a death in his family within ten days?" asked the clerk in quiet tones, but there was a significance in them which sent a thrill through the frame of his listener.
"What makes you ask that?" he stammered.
"I will tell you," said James Cromwell, boldly throwing off his reserve. "It is as well to be frank, and there is no use in mincing matters. Ido not believe this story of the man in Thirty-seventh Street. I think you bought the article for your own use. Since the purchase there has been a death in your house."
"Your inference is ridiculous," said the merchant, nervously. "My intimate and dear friend, Mr. Raymond, was sick of an incurable disease, as the physician will testify, and it could have terminated in no other way."
"I am quite willing to believe you are right," said the clerk. "Still, under the circumstances, you will not object to an investigation. I feel it my duty to inform a coroner of the facts in the case, and if on examination no traces of the action of poison can be found in the deceased, of course you are entirely exonerated from suspicion!"
"What!" exclaimed Paul Morton. "Do you think I will suffer myself to be subjected to such a degrading suspicion—a man of my position in society—what advantage could I possibly reap from my friend's death?"
"He was a rich man," suggested James Cromwell, significantly.
"That is true," said the merchant, with self-possession. "He was a rich man."
"And he may have left his property to you."
"You happen to be mistaken there. He had left his property to his son, a boy of fourteen."
"Where is this son?" asked the clerk, a little taken aback by this discovery, which was new to him.
"He is now in my house."
"And suppose the boy dies?"
It was now Paul Morton's turn to hesitate.
"That is not very probable," he said. "He is a strong, vigorous boy."
"Who is to be his guardian?"
"I am."
"Indeed! And if he dies, is there no provision made as to the property?"
"It will go to me, if he dies before attaining his majority."
The clerk coughed—a little significant cough—which annoyed Mr. Morton not a little. It conveyed an imputation which he couldn't resent, because it was indirect.
"I hope you are satisfied," he said at length.
"Oh, certainly; that is, nearly so," said James Cromwell: "but then it is not enough that I should be satisfied."
"Why not?"
"My employer may not be."
"Does your employer know who made the purchase?"
"No, I have not as yet communicated the name to him."
"Don't tell him, then. It is none of his business."
"He will not agree with you there."
"What matter if he does not?"
"You must remember that I am a poor clerk, dependent on my salary, and that in my position, it is not safe to risk offending my employer. Suppose I am discharged from my position, how am I to live?"
"Can you not procure another situation?"
"Not if he refuses his recommendation, which would probably be the case. Besides, our business is crowded, and under the most favorable circumstances I might be weeks, and possibly months, without employment."
Paul Morton leaned his head on his hand, and considered what was to be done with this difficult visitor. It was evident that he expected to be bought off and that he must be.
"What wages do you get?" he asked, looking up.
"Twenty dollars a week, sir," said Cromwell.
As the reader knows, this was just double what he did receive, and as Mr. Morton was not likely to inquire of his employer, he felt that the lie was a safe one, and likely to conduce to his advantage.
"Twenty dollars a week! Very well, I will tell you what you must do. In the first place, you must refuse to make your employer any communications respecting this affair."
"Very well, sir."
"And if he discharges you, I will pay you twenty dollars a week until you can get another situation. Perhaps I may find you some other employment, unless you prefer your present business."
"No, sir, I don't like it."
"Do, then, as I tell you, and I will see that you suffer no loss."
"Thank you, sir," said James Cromwell, rising. "I will follow your directions, and let you know the result to-morrow evening."
The clerk left the house in a very contented frame of mind. He determined to resign his situation the next morning, and claim the stipulated weekly allowance.
After the clerk had left him, Paul Morton began to consider what was best to be done. He had at first been inclined to despise this man as insignificant and incapable of mischief, but the interview which he had just had convinced him that on this point he was mistaken. It was evident that he was in the clerk's power, and just as evident that the latter wanted to be bought off.
"After all, it is not so bad," he said to himself, "he has his price; the only question is, whether that price is an exorbitant one or not. I must make the best possible terms with him."
There was another question to be decided, and that related to his ward—young Robert Raymond.
Should he send him back to school or not?
While he was pondering as to this question, an idea occurred to him.
Why should he not kill two birds with one stone, by placing his ward in the charge of JamesCromwell, with a liberal allowance, to be deducted from his ward's income for his trouble? Not that he considered the clerk, of whom he knew next to nothing, and that little not to his credit, a suitable person to have the charge of a boy. But then, he was not a conscientious guardian, and his only desire was, so to arrange matters as best to subserve his own interests. Besides, there were certain plans and hopes which he cherished that could best be subserved by a man not over scrupulous, and he judged rightly that James Cromwell would become a pliant tool in his hands if he were paid well enough for it.
He was not surprised to receive another visit from the clerk on the evening succeeding the interview which was chronicled in the last chapter.
"Well," he said, when the latter was ushered into his presence, and they were left alone, "what have you to tell me?"
"I have lost my situation," said Cromwell, briefly.
"Then your employer was offended at your silence?"
"Yes; he said he must know who bought the article."
"And you refused to tell him?"
"I did. Upon this he said that he had no further occasion for my services, and that under the circumstances he must refuse me a recommendation. So you see I have got into serious trouble on account of keeping your secret."
Paul Morton winced at the last two words, but he didn't comment upon them.
Could the late employer of James Cromwell have heard the assertions just made by his clerk, he would have opened wide his eyes in astonishment. The fact was that the clerk had alleged failing health as a reason for giving up his situation, and had at that very moment an excellent recommendation from his employer in his pocket. It must be said that he deserved it, for he had been a faithful and competent assistant in the shop, however destitute he might be of moral qualities. But James Cromwell had no idea of entering the shop of another druggist. His ideas had been enlarged, and he aspired to something less laborious, and more remunerative.
"I must see what I can do for you," said Paul Morton, who was quite prepared for the communication which had been made him. "Last evening I did not see any way clear, but a plan has since then occurred to me. But it is necessarythat I should first know a little more about you. Have you ever been in the West?"
"Yes, sir, I was born in Indiana."
"Then you have some acquaintance about there?"
"Yes, sir," said the clerk, wondering what was coming.
"How would you like to buy out a drug-shop in some prosperous Western town? As a proprietor the business might be more agreeable to you than as a clerk."
"Yes, sir, it would," said the clerk, brightening up. The prospect of a business of his own struck him favorably.
"But I have no money," he added.
"That matter could be arranged," said the merchant. "Of course I cannot pay except for services rendered, but I have a charge to intrust you with."
James Cromwell awaited with interest and curiosity what should be said next.
Paul Morton continued:
"I have been thinking," he said, "that it will be better for my ward's health that he should reside in the West. My opinion is that the rough winds of the Atlantic coast may be injurious forhim, but I have been puzzled to decide upon a competent man to take charge of him. I am inclined to think that as you have nothing to prevent your going out West, and moreover, are acquainted with the country, it will suit my views to give you the general oversight of Robert. He can board at the same place with you, and go to school."
"What shall I receive for my services?" asked James Cromwell, coming at once to that part of the business which was to him of the greatest importance.
"I have been thinking of that," said the merchant. "How much will it cost to buy out a fair druggist's shop?"
"It might be managed for two or three thousand dollars."
"Two thousand dollars will be quite enough, I am sure. Very well, I am willing to buy you such a business, and allow you besides, a thousand dollars a year for the charge of the boy. Out of this you will pay for his board and clothes, and the balance you can keep for your trouble."
"There won't be much left," grumbled the clerk, though the offer exceeded what heanticipated. Still he wished to make the best bargain he could.
"Half of it will be left," said the merchant; "his board in a Western town won't cost more than two hundred and fifty dollars a year, leaving the same sum for his clothing and miscellaneous expenses. That will consume only one-half of the money, leaving you five hundred, besides what you can make from your business."
"How old is the boy?"
"Fourteen years old."
"Do you think he will be willing to come with me?"
"It doesn't make much difference whether he is willing or not. As his guardian, it is my right to make such arrangements for him as I choose."
"How soon do you wish me to undertake the charge?"
"As soon as you can. Do you think of any town or village where you think it would suit you to settle down?"
"Yes," said James Cromwell, after a pause, "I think of one town where I heard that the druggist wished to sell out."
"What is the name of the town?"
"Barton."
"And where is it located?"
"In the southern part of Indiana."
"Yes, that will do."
There was a pause at this point. James Cromwell was waiting to learn what farther communication the merchant might have to make. The latter hesitated because he wished to come to an understanding on a certain point which it required some delicacy to introduce.
"I suppose," he commenced, "when you inquired the boy's age, you wished to understand how long this arrangement was likely to last?"
"Yes, sir. That is an important consideration."
"Then again," said Paul Morton, trying to speak indifferently, "of course there is the contingency of his early death, which would cut off your income arising from the allowance I make for him."
"Yes," said the clerk, "but if I remember rightly, it would be a benefit to you, for you would inherit the property in his place."
"Yes; that was the arrangement his father made without my knowledge. But that has nothing to do with you. I will tell you what I have decided to do in the contingency which I have just named. If the boy dies, you will be an annual loser; I willagree to give you outright such a sum as will produce an equal annual income, say ten thousand dollars."
"You will give me ten thousand dollars if the boy dies?"
"Yes; should he be removed by an early death, though, of course, that is not probable, I will make over to you the sum I have named."
"Ten thousand dollars?"
"Yes; ten thousand dollars, as a testimonial of my appreciation of your services in taking charge of him. That certainly is a liberal arrangement."
"Yes," said James Cromwell, in a low voice, his pale face a little paler than its wont, for he knew as well as his employer, that the sum mentioned was indirectly offered him as an inducement to make way with the boy. He could not prove it, of course, but it was clear to his own mind, and Paul Morton meant that it should be.
"Come here to-morrow," he said, rising, as a signal of dismissal, "and meanwhile I will prepare my ward for the new plans which we have been discussing."
James Cromwell rose, and his mind in a tumult of various emotions, left the house in Twenty-ninth Street.
"Tell Robert Raymond that I wish to speak to him," said Paul Morton, to a servant who answered his bell.
"Yes, sir."
In five minutes Robert entered his presence. The boy was clad in a suit of black, and his face was grave and sad. The death of his father, his only relation of whom he had any knowledge, had weighed heavily upon his feelings, and he moved about the house in a listless way, with little appetite or spirit.
"You sent for me, sir?" he said interrogatively, as he entered.
"Yes, Robert, take a seat. I wish to speak to you," said his guardian.
The boy obeyed, and looked inquiringly in the face of Paul Morton to see what he had to communicate.
"It is desirable," he said, "that we should speak together of your future arrangements. It is for that purpose I have sent for you this morning."
"I suppose I shall go back to the school where my father placed me," said Robert.
"Ahem!" said his guardian, "that we can settle presently. I have not yet decided upon that point."
"It is a very good school, sir. I think it was my father's intention that I should remain there for at least two years longer."
"He never spoke to me on that subject. He thought it would be safe to trust to my judgment in the matter."
"Then I am not to go back?" said Robert, in some disappointment.
"I do not say that. I only say that I have not yet decided upon that point. Even if you go back you need not go at once."
"I shall fall behind my class," said Robert.
"You are young yet, and there is no hurry. For the present I have another plan in view for you."
"What is it, Mr. Morton?"
"Come here a minute. I want you to look at some views I have here."
In some surprise the boy came to his side; for the remark seemed to have no connection with the plan his guardian had referred to just now.
Mr. Morton drew from a drawer in his deska collection of views of Niagara Falls, and spread them before his ward.
"Have you ever visited Niagara, Robert?" he asked.
"No, sir."
"Here are some views of the cataract. It is a beautiful sight."
"Oh, yes, sir," said Robert; "I have heard a great deal of it, and I have often thought I should like to see it."
"Well, your wish is likely to be gratified," said his guardian.
"Do you mean to let me visit it, then?" asked the boy, looking up with eager and animated inquiry.
"Yes; I have observed that your father's death has naturally weighed upon your mind, and depressed your spirits. If you should go back to school now, you would not be in a fitting frame to resume your studies. I think a little change and variety would do you good. For this reason I intend to let you go on a journey, not only to Niagara, but still farther West."
"You are very kind, Mr. Morton," said Robert; "but," he added, with momentary hesitation, "would it be quite right for me to go on apleasure excursion so soon after the death of my poor father?"
"Your father would, I am sure, approve it," said his guardian. "Because your mind is diverted by pleasant scenery, it will not follow that you have forgotten your father."
"No, I shall never forget him as long as I live."
"So you see there is no objection on that score."
"Are you going with me, Mr. Morton?" asked Robert, suddenly.
"No, I am unable to leave my business for so long."
"Am I going alone?"
"No, you are too young for that. I have a friend," Mr. Morton was about to say; but after a pause he said, "acquaintance, who is to start at once on a trip to the West, and I shall place you under his charge."
"Who is it, sir?"
"A young man named Cromwell."
"How soon are we to start?"
"Probably in a day or two. You can look over your wardrobe, and see if you need any new clothes, and can get them before you leave New York."
"Yes, sir."
Robert left his guardian's presence in better spirits than he had entered. The prospect of a journey was very agreeable, for he had all a boy's love of new scenes, and it added to his pleasure, though he hardly admitted it to himself, that his guardian was not able to accompany him. He hardly knew why it was, but, although he had been told that Mr. Morton was his father's intimate friend, and had no reason to doubt the truth of this statement, he found it impossible to like him. Indeed, there was a half feeling of repugnance which he was dimly conscious of, and had tried to overcome, but without success. This feeling was not so strange as it appeared to him. It was the natural repugnance of a frank and innocent boy to the double dealing and false nature of a selfish man of the world.
Shortly after Robert left the presence of his guardian, James Cromwell was once more ushered into it.
He was no longer the threadbare clerk, but had provided himself with a new suit of clothes, which looked, indeed, better than his former array; but no clothing, however costly, could change the appearance of his mean and insignificant features, and give him the air of a gentleman.
"I have waited upon you early, Mr. Morton," he said.
"Not too early," answered the merchant. "Indeed, I may say that I am anxious to complete our arrangements, and put the boy under your care as soon as possible. The fact is, that with my business cares the additional burden of a ward is not very welcome. If it had not been the son of my intimate friend, I might have declined the trust; but under the circumstances I did not think I ought to do so."
James Cromwell listened to this statement from the lips of his employer in silence. It is needless to say that he did not believe one word of it; but it was for his interest now to appear to credit whatever Mr. Morton chose to say, and he accordingly did not think it politic to indicate in any way his real feelings.
"Yes, it is a great care in addition to by business responsibilities," proceeded the merchant; "but I shall feel in a great measure relieved when Robert is once placed under your charge."
"Does he know that he is going with me?" inquired Cromwell.
"I have just had an interview with him. He has been at a boarding-school on the HudsonRiver, and he supposed he was going back. When I told him that I had another plan for him, he was at first disappointed."
"Did you tell him what the plan was?"
"Not precisely. I showed him some views of Niagara Falls, and asked him if he would like to visit the cataract. He said that he would. I then told him that previous to his going back to school I intended to let him have a little journey,—visiting the Falls, and going as far as Indiana. He was pleased with this prospect."
"Does he know he is going with me?"
"I mentioned that I had asked an acquaintance of mine to take charge of him. I shall introduce you as that acquaintance."
"You intend then, Mr. Morton, that we shall take Niagara Falls on the way?" said James Cromwell.
"Yes; I think it will be a pleasant arrangement for you, no doubt, if you have never seen the Falls."
"No, I have never seen them."
"And besides, it will make the journey seem more plausible to Robert. He need not know until you get to your journey's end that he is not coming back."
"How shall it be communicated to him?"
"I think I will give you a letter to him which you can let him read when the proper time comes."
"When do you wish me to start?"
"As soon as possible—day after to-morrow. You can be ready, can you not?"
"I can be ready at any time. I have very few arrangements to make."
"I should like to show you some views of Niagara, which I have here, Mr. Cromwell," said Paul Morton. "Will you step to the table?"
The clerk left his seat, and advanced to the side of the merchant's chair.
"There," said Paul Morton, looking over the views, and selecting one, "is a view of Goat Island. You will no doubt visit that?"
"Yes, sir; we will try to see all that is worth seeing."
"I think," said Paul Morton, slowly, "I have heard of a man—or a boy—who was standing here one day, and chanced to lose his footing, and fell over the cataract. Horrible, was it not?"
He looked significantly in the face of his companion. James Cromwell's face grew pale, as he comprehended the infernal meaning of this speech, and he echoed the word "Horrible."
"I just mentioned it," said the merchant, "for boys are apt to be careless, and it occurred to me that perhaps Robert might be in danger of a similar accident."
James Cromwell did not reply to the merchant's speech. Not that he was so much appalled at the wickedness suggested, as that his nature, which was a timid one, shrank with timidity from undertaking so hazardous a crime. He hardly knew what to think or what to say. In fact, it was most politic for him to be silent, for, with such artfulness had Paul Morton conveyed the suggestion to the mind of his confederate, that he appeared only to be counselling prudence, and to be actuated by a kind desire to protect his boy-ward from possible danger. He had so guarded himself that he could at any time boldly deny having counselled violence, and turn upon his instrument with the unblushing assertion—"Thou canst not say I did it."
Paul Morton, seeing the sudden pallor of his companion, knew that his purpose had been accomplished, and went on to other matters.
"I think," he said, "that you will be able to start on the day after to-morrow. I will see thatRobert is ready, and if you will come around by nine o'clock, there will be ample time to take the middle train."
"Very well," said Cromwell. "I will bear in mind what you say, Mr. Morton."
"And now, I think, Mr. Cromwell, I shall be obliged to leave you, as my business, which I have neglected of late, requires my attention."
James Cromwell took the hint, and left the house. He fell into a fit of musing, as he rode downtown on a street-car.
"Shall I do this thing which he wants of me?" he said to himself. "There would be danger in it, and there is something ugly in the thought of murder. Still, ten thousand dollars would set me up in life. Besides, I should still have a hold on Mr. Morton. Ah, it would be pleasant to be rich! No more miserable drudgery, no more cringing to an employer who cares no more for you than for a dog, and perhaps treats you no better! Money, money is a blessed thing. It brings independence; with it you can lift your head erect, and walk proudly among men, who are always ready to doff their hats to a man who is backed up by wealth. Yes, it is worth something to gain it, but then—murder!"
Here James Cromwell shuddered, and imprisonment, trial, conviction and the gallows, loomed up, an ugly and forbidding picture, before him. So weighed was his imagination with the terrors of the scene which he had conjured up before him, that when he was aroused from his musings by a slap on the shoulder, he started, and turned a terror-stricken countenance to the face that bent over him. He fancied for a moment that the terrible tragedy had been accomplished, and that the touch was that of a policeman who had been sent to arrest him.
"Why, Cromwell, what's the matter?" asked the other, in wonder. "You look as pale and scared as a ghost."
"Is it you, Hodgson?" said Cromwell, with an air of relief.
"Who did you think it was? You didn't think a policeman was after you, did you?" said Hodgson, jocosely.
"Oh, dear, no!" said Cromwell, laughing faintly. "I am not afraid of anything from that quarter. But the fact is, I have been getting nervous lately, and I think my health is affected."
"Why are you not in the shop? Got a furlough?"
"Yes, a permanent one. I resigned my situation on account of my health."
"Indeed! I don't see but you look about as usual—that is, now, though a minute ago, you looked pale enough."
"You can't always judge by appearances," said James Cromwell, shaking his head.
"Well, what are your plans? You haven't retired on a fortune, have you?"
"Not exactly. Still I am not wholly without resources. I think of going out West."
"Do you?"
"Yes, I think the change may benefit my health."
"Well, I hope it will. I don't know but I shall go myself, if I can find an opening. If you find anything you think will suit me, I wish you would let me know."
"All right. I will bear you in mind."
"Good-bye. I get out here. Good luck to you!"
The young man, who was salesman in a shoe-store, got out of the car, and James Cromwell rode on to his destination.
When he reached the small room which he had been compelled to call home, because he couldafford nothing better, he looked with disdain on its scanty and shabby furniture, and said to himself:
"Thank Heaven, I shall not long be compelled to live in such a hole! That reminds me that I must give warning to my landlady."
He went down, encountering a careworn and shabbily-attired woman on the stairs.
"I was just looking for you, Mrs. Warren," he said. "I am intending to leave you this week."
"Indeed!" said the landlady. "I hope you are not dissatisfied, Mr. Cromwell?"
"No; that is not my reason for going. I am going to leave the city."
"Indeed, sir! have you left your place?" asked the woman, in surprise.
"Yes, I have been obliged to on account of my health."
"I am sorry to hear it, sir. What is the matter with you?"
"I expect it is the confinement."
"I am sorry to lose you, sir. I find it hard to keep my rooms full. If you know of any of your friends who would like a room, I hope you will send them to me."
"I will, certainly."
"When were you expecting to leave, Mr. Cromwell?"
"Day after to-morrow, but I will pay you up to the end of the week."
"Thank you, sir."
The landlady went away sighing at the loss of one who represented to her so many dollars a month, and James Cromwell went up again to his little room. He sat down on the bed, and indulged himself in pleasant thoughts.
"What a change has come over my prospects!" he said, complacently. "Three weeks ago I was a poor clerk on a miserable salary of ten dollars a week. Now, fortune has opened her doors, and there is a prospect of my acquiring an independence, and that without much trouble. It was a lucky day when Paul Morton came into our shop. It is well that my employer was not there, or I should have been unable to act with the promptness which has bettered my fortunes so materially. It isn't every one who would have improved so shrewdly such a chance. I must say that, at least, to the credit of my shrewdness. Would Paul Morton even have thought of intrusting his ward to me, if I had not let him know that I had a hold upon him, and meant to make use of it? In thathold lies a pile of money, and I mean to squeeze it out of him. I don't think he will deal unfairly by me. He must know that it would not be safe."
Money was the god of James Cromwell's idolatry. He had been in early life a poor orphan, reared in a poorhouse, kicked and cuffed by older boys, who sneered at him on account of his poverty. Later, he was apprenticed to a druggist, and served a hard apprenticeship, poorly fed and clothed. When he reached manhood, he came to New York to try his fortune, but his unpromising personal appearance stood in the way of his obtaining a desirable situation. At last, when he was reduced to his last dollar, he obtained a situation as assistant in the small store on the Bowery, where we found him at the commencement of the story, on a salary of six dollars a week. He had remained there for several years, and still his compensation had only reached the low figure of ten dollars a week.
He had pined for riches, and dreamed what he should do if he ever could amass a moderate sum of money, but three weeks since, it seemed very improbable whether he would ever be able to compass what he so feverishly longed for.
Thus all the circumstances of his past life hadprepared him to become the pliant tool of Paul Morton's schemes. In his case, as in so many others, the love of money was likely to become the root of all evil.
So, with weak and vacillating timidity, drawn on by the lust for gold, James Cromwell thought over the proposal which had been made to him, weighing the risk against the gain proffered, and the more he thought, the stronger grew the power of the temptation, and the greater became the peril which menaced the life of Robert Raymond.
"Robert," said his guardian, "this is Mr. Cromwell, who is to take charge of you on the journey. Mr. Cromwell, this is my ward, whom I hope you will find a pleasant traveling companion."
"How do you do?" said James Cromwell, holding out his hand rather stiffly to the boy.
"I am well, thank you," said Robert, looking with curiosity, and it must be confessed, disappointment, at the young man who was to be his companion.
He had hoped that he would be a congenial person, with whom he might be on terms of pleasant familiarity; but when he looked at the small, ferreting eyes and mean features of James Cromwell, his first impressions were unfavorable. Every man's face is to a certain extent indicative of his disposition and prevailing traits; and Robert, who was quicker than most boys in reading character, concluded without delay, that the companion withwhich his guardian had provided him would not be to his taste. Still, he possessed a great deal of natural courtesy and politeness, and he determined to conceal this feeling as well as he might, and treat Mr. Cromwell with as much respect and politeness as if he had liked him better. Though he would have liked to travel with a different person, still, the natural scenery which he would behold would be none the less attractive, and would afford him some compensation for the absence of a congenial companion.
James Cromwell was on his side not without sharpness of insight. As he met the boy's gaze with the glance of his small ferret-like eyes, he perceived the look of disappointment, however carefully it was veiled, and with the spite of a small, mean mind, it inspired him with instant dislike for Robert. Instead of determining to win his confidence and regard by kindness, he resolved as soon as he fairly had him in his power, to annoy him by petty tyranny, and so wreak vengeance upon him for the feelings which he could not help. But the time for this had not yet come. He knew that policy dictated a courteous and polite treatment for the present. Accordingly he said in a soft voice:
"I hope I shall be able to make Mr. Raymond's time pass pleasantly."
"Thank you," said Robert, politely.
"Oh, I have no doubt you will get on well together," said Mr. Morton. "Robert, I shall expect you to follow the directions of Mr. Cromwell, as I have confidence that he will act with good judgment."
Robert bowed.
"I have obtained tickets for you by the middle train," proceeded the merchant. "Here they are, Mr. Cromwell."
"Thank you, sir," said Cromwell, taking them and putting them in his pocket.
"You will remain at Niagara two or three days if you like," continued Paul Morton. "I have no doubt you will enjoy yourself. What do you say, Robert?"
"I shall be sure to enjoy it," said Robert, with animation.
"So shall I," said Cromwell. "I have never visited the Falls."
"Well," said the merchant, drawing on his gloves, "I am sorry, but I shall be obliged to leave you. I have considerable business awaiting me at my counting-room. I have ordered a carriage ateleven to convey you with your trunks to the railroad depot. Good-bye, Robert, good-bye, Mr. Cromwell. A pleasant journey to you."
"Good-bye, sir," said both.
"Oh, by the way, Mr. Cromwell," said the merchant, turning as he reached the door, and looking significantly at Cromwell, "if you meet with any mishap, telegraph me at once."
Again a greenish pallor overspread the face of James Cromwell, for he understood the allusion, and his cowardly nature recoiled with fear, not with abhorrence.
"Yes, sir," he said, "I will remember."
"Once more, good-bye, then," and Paul Morton closed the door behind him.
"I hope I shall never see that boy alive again," he said to himself. "Once get him out of the way and the money is mine. A hundred and twenty thousand dollars will be a great windfall to me. To be sure, there will be ten thousand to pay to Cromwell, but it will leave over a hundred thousand. Egad! it would be a capital arrangement if they both would tumble over the Falls together. It would be the best joke of the season."
And Paul Morton laughed to himself, a low,wicked laugh, at the prospect of the two from whom he had just parted being hurled together into a death so frightful, and all that he might gain money. As if human life were to be weighed against perishing dross! Yet every day life is bartered for it; not always criminally, but sacrificed by overwork, or undue risk, so insatiable is the hunger for gold, and so desperate are the efforts by which men seek to obtain it.
In due time they reached the station, and entering one of the long cars, selected their seats. They did not sit down together, but took seats directly in front of each other, giving a window to each.
"I suppose I ought to say something to him," thought Robert, "but I don't know what to say."
Indeed, there seemed to be no common ground on which they could meet. With some persons the boy would have been engaged in animated conversation long before this, but he seemed to have nothing to say to James Cromwell.
"Do you like traveling, Mr. Cromwell?" he asked, at length.
"Pretty well," said Cromwell.
"I think we shall have a pleasant journey."
"Yes; I expect so."
"Do you know when we shall reach Niagara, Mr. Cromwell?"
"I think Mr. Morton said it would take us about twenty-four hours."
"Then we shall get there about this time to-morrow."
"Yes; we shall be all night on the cars."
"I am sorry for that, for we shall lose the scenery on the way—I mean, that we pass through during the night."
Here the conversation dropped. James Cromwell bought a paper from a boy who came through the cars, and began to read. Robert, with all the eager interest of his age, employed himself in looking out of the window, watching the fields and houses among which they were wending their rapid way.
It will be unnecessary to chronicle the incidents of the journey, for there were none worth mentioning. In due time they reached Niagara, and secured rooms at the principal hotel on the American side.
It was afternoon, and they only went round a little before supper. They decided to defer the principal part of their sightseeing until the next day.
The next day was pleasant. Together the two walked about, enjoying views of the cataract from various points.
At length Cromwell said, "How would you like to go to Goat Island? I am told the view is fine from there."
"I should like it very much. Suppose we go," said Robert, promptly.
Had he known the sinister purpose with which this proposition was made, he would have recoiled from it as from a deadly serpent, but the boy was wholly unconscious of the peril that menaced him, nor did he observe the nervous agitation that affected James Cromwell, whose timidity made him shrink with fear at the risk he was about to incur.
"Then we will go," said the young man.
They soon found themselves on the island, and advancing, reached an exposed point from which they could look down upon the foaming waters beneath. Cromwell manœuvered so as to have the boy on the side toward the water.
"What a grand sight!" exclaimed Robert, surveying the great fall with boyish enthusiasm.
He had scarcely uttered these words when he felt a violent push at the side, and felt himselfimpelled toward the brink of the precipice. He would infallibly have fallen if he had not seized with the desperate clutch of self-preservation the arm of James Cromwell. As it was, he hung balancing over the brink, and nearly carried the clerk with him. Cromwell saw that it must be either both or neither, and he drew Robert back to a place of safety.
"Good Heavens! Mr. Cromwell," exclaimed the boy, his face pale with horror, "what does this mean? Did you mean to push me over?"
"What a question!" returned Cromwell, himself pale. "Thank Heaven! I have saved you!"
"But you pushed me!" said the boy, suspiciously. "If I hadn't clung to you, I should have fallen!" and he shuddered at the thought.
"Yes; it is true. I will explain. I am troubled with fits occasionally which make me rigid and convulsed. Whenever I feel one coming on I grasp convulsively at whatever is nearest me. I felt one coming on a moment ago, and that led me to seize you. But I believe my terror, for I came near going over the precipice with you, has saved me from the threatened attack."
"Do you often have these fits?" asked Robert.
"I have not had one for three months, butlately I have been apprehending one, for I have not felt as well as usual. Indeed, I have a violent headache now. I think I will go to the hotel and lie down, if you can amuse yourself for awhile."
"Yes, you had better do so. I can get along quite well."
Robert easily credited the plausible explanation which had been given, for he could not believe that Cromwell would deliberately seek his life. He did not know the powerful motive which prompted him.