James Vanderpool,No. — West Twenty-Seventh Street
James Vanderpool,No. — West Twenty-Seventh Street
and handed it to Rufus.
"After seeing Mr. Vanderpool, you will come to my house this evening, and report what he says. Assure him that we will do our best to recover the box. I shall expect you, during the week which I allow you, to report yourself daily at the office, to inform me of any clue which you may have obtained."
"You may depend upon me, sir," said our hero.
Rufus at once repaired to the address furnished him by Mr. Turner.
Another difficult and disagreeable task lay before him. It is not a very pleasant commission to inform a man of the loss of property, particularly when, as in the present case, the informant feels that the fault of the loss may be laid to his charge. But Rufus accepted the situation manfully, feeling that, however disagreeable, it devolved upon him justly.
He took the University Place cars, and got out at Twenty-Seventh Street. He soon found Mr. Vanderpool's address, and, ringing the bell, was speedily admitted.
"Yes, Mr. Vanderpool is at home," said the servant. "Will you go up to his study?"
Rufus followed the servant up the front staircase, and was ushered into a front room on the second floor. There was a library table in the centre of the apartment, at which was seated a gentleman of about sixty, with iron-gray hair, and features that bore the marks of sickness and invalidism.
Mr. Vanderpool had inherited a large estate, which, by careful management, had increased considerably. He had never been in active business, but, having some literary and scientific tastes, had been content to live on his income, and cultivate the pursuits to which he was most inclined.
"Mr. Vanderpool?" said Rufus, in a tone of inquiry.
"Yes," said that gentleman, looking over his glasses, "that is my name. Do you want to speak to me?"
"I come from Mr. Turner, the banker," said Rufus.
"Ah, yes; Mr. Turner is my man of business. Well, what message do you bring to me from him?"
"I bring bad news, Mr. Vanderpool," said our hero.
"Eh, what?" ejaculated Mr. Vanderpool, nervously.
"A tin box belonging to you was stolen this morning."
"Bless my soul! How did that happen?" exclaimed the rich man, in dismay.
Rufus gave the account, already familiar to the reader, of the attack which had been made upon him.
"Why," said Mr. Vanderpool, "there were fifty thousand dollars' worth of property in that box. That would be a heavy loss."
"There is no danger of losing all that," said Rufus. "The money I suppose will be lost, and perhaps the government bonds may be disposed of; but that will only amount to about fifteen hundred dollars. The thief can't do anything with the stocks and shares."
"Are you sure of that?" asked Mr. Vanderpool, relieved.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Turner told me so. We have given information to the police. Mr. Turner has given me a week to find the thief."
"You are only a boy," said Mr. Vanderpool, curiously. "Do you think you can do any good?"
"Yes, sir; I think so," said Rufus, modestly. "The box was taken from me, and I feel bound to get it back if I can. If I don't succeed, the certificates of stock can be replaced."
"Well, well, it isn't so bad as it might be," said Mr. Vanderpool. "But are you not afraid of hunting up the thief?" he asked, looking at Rufus, attentively.
"No, sir," said Rufus. "I'd just like to get hold of him, that's all."
"You would? Well now, I would rather be excused. I don't think I have much physical courage. How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"Well, I hope you'll succeed. I would rather not lose fifteen hundred dollars in that way, though it might be a great deal worse."
"I hope you don't blame me very much for having the box stolen from me."
"No, no, you couldn't help it. So the man knocked you down, did he?"
"Yes, sir."
"That must have been unpleasant. Did he hurt you much?"
"Yes, sir, just at first; but I don't feel it now."
"By the way, my young friend," said Mr. Vanderpool, reaching forward to some loose sheets of manuscript upon the desk before him, "did you ever consider the question whether the planets were inhabited?"
"No, sir," said Rufus, staring a little.
"I have given considerable time to the consideration of that question," said Mr. Vanderpool. "If you have time, I will read you a few pages from a work I am writing on the subject."
"I should be happy to hear them, sir," said Rufus, mentally deciding that Mr. Vanderpool was rather a curious person.
The old gentleman cleared his throat, and read a few pages, which it will not be desirable to quote here. Though rather fanciful, they were not wholly without interest, and Rufus listened attentively, though he considered it a little singular that Mr. Vanderpool should have selected him for an auditor. He had the politeness to thank the old gentleman at the close of the reading.
"I am glad you were interested," said Mr. Vanderpool, gratified. "You are a very intelligent boy. I shall be glad to have you call again."
"Thank you, sir; I will call and let you know what progress we make in finding the tin box."
"Oh, yes. I had forgotten; I have no doubt you will do your best. When you call again, I will read you a few more extracts. It seems to me a very important and interesting subject."
"Thank you, sir; I shall be very happy to call."
"He don't seem to think much of his loss," said our hero, considerably relieved. "I was afraid he would find fault with me. Now, Mr. Martin, I must do my best to find you."
Martin did not fail to go to the house occupied by his employers, in the evening. He was anxious to learn the amount of the booty which he had taken. He decided that it must be ten thousand dollars at least. Half of this would be five thousand, and this, according to the agreement between them, was to come to him. It was quite a fortune, and the thought of it dazzled Martin's imagination. He would be able to retire from business, and resolved to do so, for he did not like the risk which he incurred by following his present employment.
Martin had all his life wished to live like a gentleman,—that is, to live comfortably without work; and now his wish seemed likely to be gratified. In the eyes of some, five thousand dollars would seem rather a small capital to warrant such a life; but it seemed a great deal to a shiftless character like him. Besides, the box might contain more than ten thousand dollars, and in that case, of course, his own share would be greater.
So, on the whole, it was with very pleasant anticipations that Martin ascended the front steps of the counterfeiter's den, and rang the bell.
Meanwhile Smith had opened the box, and his disappointment had been great when he found the nature of its contents. Actually but four hundred dollars were immediately available, and, as the banker no doubt had recorded the number of the government bonds, there would be risk in selling them. Besides, even if sold, they would produce, at the market price, barely eleven hundred dollars. As to the bank and railway shares, they could not be negotiated, and no doubt duplicates would be applied for. So, after all, the harvest was likely to prove small, especially as Smith had passed his word to divide with Martin.
After a while it occurred to him that, as Martin did not know the contents of the box, he could easily be deceived into supposing them less than they were. He must tell a falsehood; but then Smith's conscience was tough, and he had told a great many in the course of his life.
When Martin was ushered into the room, he found his confederate looking rather sober.
"Have you opened the box?" inquired Martin, eagerly.
"Yes," said Smith, rather contemptuously. "A great haul you made, I must say."
"Wasn't there anything in it?" asked Martin, in dismay.
"Yes, there were plenty of bank and railroad shares."
"Can't we sell them?" queried Martin, whose knowledge of business was limited.
"You must be a fool! We can't sell them without the owner's indorsement. Perhaps you'll call and ask him for it."
"Can't we do anything with them, then?" asked Martin, anxiously.
"Nothing at all."
"Wasn't there nothing else in the box?"
"Yes, there was a government bond for five hundred dollars."
Smith concluded to mention only one.
"That's something."
"Yes, it's something. You can sell it after a while, and bring me half the money."
"Will there be any danger in selling it?"
"None to speak of," said Smith, who was afraid Martin might decline selling it, unless he gave this assurance.
"Wasn't there any money?" asked Martin, disappointed.
"Yes, there was a trifle,—a hundred dollars," answered his unscrupulous confederate, who was certainly cheating Martin in the most barefaced manner.
"Half of that belongs to me," said Martin.
"Of course it does. Do you think I wouldn't treat you fair?"
"No," said his dupe. "I know, Mr. Smith, you're a man of honor."
"Of course I am. I'd like to see anybody say I wasn't. I've left everything in the box just as it was, so you might see it was all right."
He went to the cupboard, and, unlocking it, produced the box, of which he lifted the lid. The certificates of stock were at the bottom. Above them, folded up, was the five-twenty U. S. bond for five hundred dollars, and upon it a small roll of green-backs.
"You see it's just as I say, Martin," said Smith, with an air of frankness. "There's the shares that we can't do anything with, here's the bond, and there's the money. Just take and count it, I may have been mistaken in the amount."
Martin counted the roll of bills, and made out just one hundred dollars. Of course he could not be expected to know that there had been three hundred more, which, together with the other bond, were carefully concealed in his confederate's breast-pocket.
"Yes, it's just a hundred dollars," he said, after finishing the count.
"Well, take fifty of them, and put in your pocket."
Martin did so.
"It aint what I expected," he said, rather ruefully. "If I'd knowed there was so little in the box, I wouldn't have taken it."
"Well, it's better than nothing," said Smith, who could afford to be philosophical, having appropriated to himself seven-eighths of the money, and three-fourths of the bonds. "There's the bond, you know."
"Let me see it."
Smith extended it to Martin.
"When shall I sell it?" asked he.
"Not just yet. Wait till the affair blows over a little."
"Do you think there's any danger, then?" queried Martin, anxiously.
"Not much. Still it's best to be prudent."
"Hadn't you better sell it yourself?"
"Suppose I did," said Smith. "I might take the notion to walk off with all the money."
"I don't think you would," said Martin, surveying his confederate doubtfully, nevertheless.
"No, I don't think I would; but if you sell it yourself, you'll have the affair in your own hands."
"ButImight walk off with all the money, too," said Martin, who thought it a poor rule that didn't work both ways.
"I don't think you would," said Smith, "and I'll tell you why. We belong to a large band, that are bound together by a terrible oath to punish any one guilty of treachery. Suppose you played me false, and did as you say,—though of course I know you don't mean it,—I wouldn't give that for your life;" and he snapped his fingers.
"Don't!" said Martin, with a shudder. "You make me shiver. Of course I didn't mean anything. I'm on the square."
"Certainly, I only told you what would happen to you or me, or any one that was false to the others."
"I think I'd rather have you sell the bond," said Martin, nervously.
"If I were in your case, I'd be perfectly willing; but the fact is, the brokers know me too well. They suspect me, and they won't suspect you."
"I think I've had my share of the risk," grumbled Martin. "I don't see but I do the work, and you share the profits."
"Wasn't it I that put you up to it?" demanded Smith. "Would you ever have thought of it if it hadn't been for me?"
"Maybe I wouldn't. I wish I hadn't."
"You're a fool, then! Don't you see it's turned out all right? Haven't you got fifty dollars in your pocket, and won't you have two hundred and fifty more when the bond is sold?"
"I thought I'd get five thousand," said Martin, dissatisfied.
"It seems to me that three hundred dollars is pretty good pay for one morning's work; but then there are some people that are never satisfied."
"It wasn't the work, it was the danger. I aint at all sure but the boy saw me, and knew who I was. If he did, I've got to keep out of the way."
"Do you think he did recognize you?" asked Smith, thoughtfully.
"I'm not sure. I'm afraid he did."
"I wish we'd got him in our clutches. But I dare say he was too frightened to tell who it was."
"He aint easy frightened," said Martin, shaking his head. He understood our hero better than his confederate.
"Well, all is, you must be more careful for a few days. Instead of staying in the city, I'll send you to Jersey City, Newark, and other places where you won't be likely to meet him."
"That might do," said Martin; "he's a smart boy, though he's an undootiful son. He don't care no more for me than if I was no kith nor kin to him, and he just as lieves see me sent to prison as not."
"There's one thing you haven't thought of," said Smith.
"What's that?"
"His employer will most likely think that the boy has stolen the box, or had something to do with its being carried off. As he took him out of the street, he won't have much confidence in his honesty. I shouldn't be at all surprised if this undootiful boy of yours, as you call him, found himself locked up in the Tombs, on account of this little affair."
"Do you think so?" said Martin, brightening up at the suggestion.
"I think it more likely than not. If that is the case, of course you won't be in any danger from him."
"That's so," said Martin, cheerfully. "I hope you're right. It would be worth something to have that young imp locked up. He wouldn't put on so many airs after that."
"Well, it's very likely to happen."
The contemplation of this possibility so raised Martin's spirits, that, in spite of the disappointment he had experienced in finding the booty so far below what he had anticipated, he became quite cheerful, especially after Smith produced a bottle of whiskey, and asked him to help himself,—an invitation which he did not have occasion to repeat.
"Now," said Rufus to himself on the morning succeeding the robbery, "I've got a week to recover that box. How shall I go about it?"
This was a question easier asked than answered. Martin being the thief, the first thing, of course, was to find him; and Rufus had considerable hopes of encountering him in the street some day. Should this be the case, he might point him out to a policeman, and have him arrested at once; but this would not recover the box. Probably it was concealed at Martin's boarding-house, and this it was that Rufus was anxious to find. He decided, therefore, whenever he got on the track of his step-father, to follow him cautiously until he ascertained where he lodged.
He walked the street with his eyes about him all day, but did not catch a glimpse of Martin. The fact was, the latter was at Newark, having been sent there by his employers with a supply of counterfeit money to dispose of, so that our hero's search was of course fruitless, and so he was obliged to report to Mr. Turner the next morning.
"Probably he is in hiding," said his employer. "I don't think you have much chance of meeting him for a few days to come."
"I should like to try," said Rufus. "He won't be content to hide long."
"I have notified the banks and railroad companies of the robbery," said Mr. Turner; "so that it will be impossible to sell the shares. After a while, should we fail to recover them, they will grant us duplicate certificates. I have advertised, also, the numbers of the bonds; and, if an attempt is made to dispose of them, the thief will find himself in trouble. So the loss is reduced to four hundred dollars."
"That is too much to lose," said Rufus.
"That is true; but we are lucky to get off so cheap."
"I hope to get back some of that," said our hero, stoutly.
"Did it ever strike you that there might be some risk encountering this man? If he is driven to bay he may become dangerous."
"I don't think of the danger, Mr. Turner," said Rufus. "I lost that box, and it is my duty to recover it if I can, danger or no danger."
Mr. Turner secretly admired the pluck of Rufus; but he was not a man given to compliments, so he only said, quietly, "Well, Rufus, you shall have the week I promised you. I have no doubt you will do your best. I shall not be surprised, however, if you fail."
So Rufus entered upon his second day's search.
He went up Chatham Street, and explored most of the streets intersecting it, visiting many places which he remembered as former haunts of his step-father. But he was quite off the track here. Martin's employment now was on the other side of the city, near the North River, and he had no longer occasion to visit his old haunts. Besides, he had again been sent over to New Jersey, and did not get back to the city at all till late in the afternoon.
The next day Martin complained of headache, and was permitted to remain at home. He did not think it prudent to be out during the day; but easily solaced himself in his confinement with whiskey and cigars, of which he had laid in a good supply. He was sitting in his shirt-sleeves at the front window, looking through the blinds, which were always closed, when his eyes lighted on Rufus passing on the opposite side of the street.
"He's looking for me," exclaimed Martin to himself, observing that Rufus was looking about him as he walked.
"Who's looking for you?" asked his confederate, Smith, who happened just then to enter the room.
"My undootiful son. Look, there he is," said Martin, nervously. "I wonder if he has heard about my living here."
Smith went to the window, and looked out.
"He looks resolute and determined," said Smith. "We must pull his teeth."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we must put it out of his power to do you harm."
"How are we going to do that?"
"Wait a minute and I'll tell you."
Smith left the room hastily, and after a brief interval returned.
"I think I'll fetch it," he said.
"What have you done?" asked Martin.
"I've sent Humpy to follow your son. He's to carry him a message from you."
"What do you mean?" asked Martin, alarmed.
"Don't be afraid. It's all right."
"But I don't understand it. I didn't send any message. What was it?"
"I'll tell you. If I'm not mistaken Humpy will bring your son back with him, so that I shall have the pleasure of reuniting parent and child."
"You don't mean to say you are going to bring Rufus here?" said Martin, his lower jaw falling. "You aint going to betray me, are you?"
"Stuff and nonsense! What are you thinking of? All you need understand is, that the boy is getting dangerous. He is following you round as if he meant something, and that must be stopped. I mean to get him into the house, but I don't mean to part company with him very soon."
Smith here briefly detailed the instructions which he had given to his errand-boy. Martin listened with much satisfaction.
"What a head you've got!" he said admiringly.
"I'm generally ready for an emergency," remarked Smith, complacently. "You've got to get up early in the morning to get ahead of me."
We must now follow Smith's messenger, and we shall ascertain that gentleman's plan.
Humpy was a boy of sixteen, very short, in fact almost a dwarf, and, as his name implies, disfigured by a hump. He was sharp, however, and secretive, and, though he could not help understanding the character of the men who employed him, was not likely to betray them. He had a pride in deserving the confidence which he saw was reposed in him.
After receiving the instructions of his principal, he crossed the street, and followed Rufus at a little distance, being particular to keep him in sight. Our hero turned a corner, and so did he. He then quickened his pace and came up with him.
"Was you a-lookin' for anybody in particular?" he said.
"What makes you ask?" said Rufus, facing round upon him.
"Maybe I could help you."
"Perhaps you know who I am after," said Rufus, looking at him steadily.
"You're looking for a man named Martin, aint you?"
"Do you know where I can find him?" asked Rufus, eagerly.
"Yes, I do. He sent me after you."
"He sent you!" repeated our hero, hardly believing his ears.
"Yes; he wants to see you."
"What does he want to see me for?" asked Rufus, inclined to be suspicious.
"There's something he's got of yours that he wants to return," said Humpy, in a low voice, looking around cautiously.
Rufus was more and more astonished. Was it possible that Martin's conscience troubled him, and that he wanted to make restitution? He could hardly believe this, knowing what he did of his step-father. Martin was about the last man he would have suspected of being troubled in any such way.
"Yes, he has got something of mine," he said aloud. "Does he want to return it?"
"Yes, he's sorry he took it. He's afraid you'll set the copps on him."
"So he's frightened," thought Rufus. This seemed to throw light on the new phase of affairs. He had never regarded his step-father as very brave, and now concluded that he was alarmed about the consequences of the theft.
"If he'll return what he took, all right," said Rufus, venturing to make this promise on his own responsibility; "he shan't be touched. Where is he?"
"Not far off," said Humpy.
"Tell him to bring it to me, and I'll give my word not to have him arrested."
"He can't come."
"Why can't he?"
"He's sick."
"Where?"
"In a house near by. He wants you to come and see him."
Rufus hesitated.
"What's the matter with him?" he asked.
"He caught a cold, and is threatened with a fever," said the boy, glibly. "If you want to see him, I'll lead you where he is."
"All right! Go ahead!" said Rufus, thoroughly deceived by the boy's plausible story.
"You'll promise not to set the copps on him, after you've got the box?" said Humpy.
"Yes, I promise."
"Then follow me."
Rufus followed, congratulating himself that things were coming out satisfactorily. He had no hesitation in making the promise he did, for he felt sure that he would be sustained by his employer. At any rate, he determined that, having pledged his word to Martin, nothing should make him break it.
Humpy stumped along, followed by Rufus. They turned the corner again, and the boy guided him at once to the counterfeiter's den.
"He's in there," said Humpy, with a jerk of his forefinger. "Come along!"
He mounted the steps, and opened the door, which had been left unlocked.
"He's upstairs," said Humpy. "Come up."
Rufus, without suspicion, followed his humpbacked guide up the narrow staircase. They had scarcely reached the top, when Smith, coming out of a room on the floor below, locked the outer door, and put the key in his pocket. This Rufus did not see, or it would have aroused his suspicion. The boy opened the door of a chamber at the head of the staircase. "Go in there," he said.
Rufus entered, and looked around him, but saw no one. He did not have to wait long. A step was heard at the door, and James Martin entered the room, apparently in perfect health.
"I'm glad to see you, Rufus," he said with a triumphant grin. "You've been such an undootiful son that I didn't much expect you'd come to see your sick father."
Rufus sprang to his feet in dismay. The whole plot flashed upon him at once, and he realized that he had walked into a trap with his eyes wide open.
Our hero's first impulse, on finding himself entrapped, was to escape. He sprang towards the door, but Martin quickly grasped him by the arm, and forced him back.
"No you don't!" he said, with emphasis. "I want you to stay with me."
"Let me go!" exclaimed Rufus, struggling to escape.
"Sorry I couldn't oblige you," said Martin, with a grin. "Can't you stay with your sick father a few days?"
"You've played me a mean trick," said Rufus, indignantly.
"What was you walkin' through this street for?" asked Martin. "Wasn't it because you wanted to see me?"
"Yes," answered our hero.
"Well, you've got what you wanted," said Martin, smiling maliciously. "I know'd you'd never find me if I didn't send out for you. Was there anything partic'lar you wish to say to me?"
"Yes," said Rufus, bluntly. "I want you to give me back that tin box you stole from me the other day."
"What do I know about any tin box?" asked Martin, not knowing that it had been spoken of by Humpy in the street.
"You needn't deny it, Mr. Martin. The boy you sent after me told me you took it."
"He did, did he?" said Martin, seeing that he must try another tack. "Well, s'posin' I did, what then?"
"The law may have something to say. You'll stand a chance of going to Sing Sing for a few years."
"You'd have to prove I took it," said Martin, uneasily. "I only told the boy to say so, so's to get you in here. I read about the robbery in the papers."
"I recognized you at the time, and am ready to swear to you," said Rufus, firmly.
This was rather imprudent, for it made Martin even more determined to prevent our hero's escape.
"If that's your game," he said, "I'll see you don't get a chance to swear to any lies."
"What do you mean to do with me?" demanded Rufus.
"I aint decided yet," said Martin. "Your health's so delicate that I don't think it'll agree with you to go out in the street."
"Are you going to confine me here?"
"Maybe," said his step-father. "I shan't charge you nothing for board. Your cheerful company'll pay me for that."
"Mr. Martin," said Rufus, "I've got a proposition to make to you."
"Go ahead and make it then."
"You've got yourself into a scrape about that tin box."
"I thought you was the one that had got into a scrape," said Martin, jocularly.
"So I have; but mine is of a different kind from yours. You run the risk of going to prison."
"And you're in prison already," said Martin, with a grin. "Seems to me I've got the best of it so far."
"Perhaps you have; but I wouldn't exchange with you for all that. Now I've got a proposition to make."
"That's what you said before."
"If you will restore the tin box, and let me go free, I'll see that you are not arrested for what you've done."
"You're very kind," said Martin; "but that won't pay me for my trouble."
"If I'll get you out of your present danger?"
"I don't know about that. S'posin' I was to do as you say, the first thing you'd do after you got out would be to set the copps on me."
"No, I wouldn't. I'd go to prison first myself."
This proposition had some effect upon Martin. He realized that he was in danger, and felt that he had been very poorly paid for his risk and trouble. He was inclined to believe Rufus would keep his word, but he knew also that matters had gone too far. Smith, he was sure, would not consent to any such arrangement, and without him he could do nothing. Besides, it was a satisfaction to him to feel that he had Rufus in his power, and he had no desire to lose that advantage by setting him free. Tyrant and bully as he was by nature, he meant to gratify his malice at our hero's expense.
"I couldn't do it, Rufus," he said. "There's another man in it, and he's got the box."
Rufus looked sharply at Martin to ascertain if he was speaking the truth. He decided that it was as his step-father stated, and, if this was the case, he would have more than one enemy to deal with.
"Does the other man live here?" he asked.
"Maybe he does, and maybe he doesn't."
"Who is he?"
"Maybe it's the Emperor of Chiny, and maybe it isn't. What would you give to know?"
"Not much," said Rufus, assuming an indifferent tone. "You're the man that took the box,—that's enough for me."
"He put me up to it," said Martin, unguardedly.
"I thought Martin wasn't smart enough to plan the robbery himself," said Rufus to himself. He resolved to appear indifferent to this information, in the hope of learning more.
"You can settle that among yourselves," he said, quietly. "If you consented to do it, you're as much to blame as he."
At this moment Smith, influenced by curiosity, opened the door and entered.
"This is my undootiful son, Mr. Smith," said Martin.
"So his name's Smith," thought Rufus. "I wonder whether it's his real name, or a false one."
"I'm glad to see you, young man," said Smith. "So you've called to see your father?"
"He isn't my father."
"You see how undootiful he is," said Martin. "He won't own me."
"We'll teach him to be more dutiful before we get through with him," said Smith.
"Mr. Smith," said Rufus, "I'm not here of my own accord. I dare say you know that. But as long as I am here, I'd like to ask you if you know anything about a tin box that was taken from me the other day by Mr. Martin."
"By your father?"
"By Mr. Martin," said Rufus, determined not to admit the relationship.
"What should I know about it?"
"Mr. Martin tells me that, though he took it, somebody else set him to do it. I thought you might be the one."
"Did you say that?" demanded Smith, looking angrily at Martin.
"I was only foolin'," returned Martin, who began to think he had made a blunder.
"It's my belief that you're a fool," retorted Smith. "You'd better be careful what you tell your son. Young man," turning to Rufus, "as to the tin box you speak of, I can tell you nothing. Your father says that he has recovered some property which you stole from him a while since, and I suppose that may be the tin box you refer to."
"That isn't true. It belonged to Mr. Turner, my employer, or rather to a customer of his."
"That's nothing to me. Mr. Martin boards with me, and as long as he pays for his board I don't want to pry into his affairs. If he has taken a tin box from you, I presume he had a better right to it than you had. Are you going to bring your son down to dinner, Mr. Martin?"
"I guess he'd better eat his victuals up here," said Martin.
"Just as you say. I can send Humpy with them. We shall have dinner in about an hour."
"All right; I'll go down now if my dootiful son can spare me."
As Rufus did not urge him to stay, Martin left the room with Smith, taking care to lock the door after him.
"What's the boy's name?" asked Smith, abruptly.
"Rufus."
"He's smart. I can tell that by his looks."
"Ye-es, he's smart enough," said Martin, hesitatingly; "but he's as obstinate as a pig."
"Likes to have his own way, eh?"
"That's what he does."
"He'd make a good boy for our business," said Smith, musingly.
Martin shook his head.
"It wouldn't do," he said.
"Why not?"
"He wants to be honest," said Martin, contemptuously. "We couldn't trust him."
"Then there's only one thing to do."
"What's that?"
"We must keep him close. We mustn't on any account allow him to escape."
"I'll look after that," said Martin, nodding. "I've had hard work enough to get hold of him. He won't get away in a hurry."
"If he does, you'll be arrested."
"And you too," suggested Martin.
"Why should I?"
"Didn't you put me up to taking the box, and haven't you taken half what was in it?"
"Look here," said Smith, menacingly, "you'd better stop that. You've already told the boy more than you ought. If you are taken through your own carelessness, mind what you are about, and don't split on me. If you do, it'll be the worse day's work you ever did. Imprisonment isn't the worse thing that can happen to a man."
Martin understood what his confederate meant, and the intended effect was produced. He began to think that Smith was a desperate man, and capable of murdering him, or instigating his murder, in case of treachery. This made him feel rather uneasy, in spite of his capture of Rufus.
Meanwhile, our hero, left to himself, began to examine the apartment in which he was confined. The door had been locked by Martin, as we have already said. This was the only mode of exit from the apartment, except what was afforded by two windows. Rufus walked to them, and looked out. The room was in the back part of the house, and these windows looked out into a back yard. He could see the rear portions of the houses on a parallel street, and speculated as to the chances of escape this way. As the room was only on the second floor, the distance to the ground was not great. He could easily swing off the window-sill without injury. Though he knew it would not be well to attempt escape now when Martin and Smith were doubtless on the lookout, he thought he would open the window softly and take a survey. He tried one window, but could not raise it. He tried the other, with like want of success. He thought at first that the difficulty lay in their sticking, but, on closer examination, he ascertained that both were firmly fastened by nails, which accounted for their being immovable.
"I might break the window," thought Rufus; but it occurred to him at once that the noise would probably be heard. Besides, if there was any one in the room below, he would very likely be seen descending from the window. If this plan were adopted at all, he must wait till evening. Meanwhile some other way of escape might suggest itself.
The room was of moderate size,—about fifteen feet square. A cheap carpet covered the floor. A pine bedstead occupied one corner. There were three or four chairs, a bureau, and a bedstead.
Rufus sat down, and turned the matter over in his mind. He couldn't make up his mind what Martin's business was, but decided that it was something unlawful, and that he was either employed by Smith, or connected in some way with him. It seemed to him probable that his step-father, in waylaying him and stealing the tin box, had acted under the direction of Smith, and that probably the box was at that very moment in the possession of the superior villain.
"If I could only find the box and escape with it," thought Rufus, "that would set me right with Mr. Turner."
But there seemed little chance of that. It did not seem very probable even that he could escape from the room in which he was confined, much less carry out the plan he had in view.
While he was thinking over his situation, the key turned in the lock, and the door was opened. Rufus looked up, expecting to see Martin; but instead of his step-father there entered the boy already referred to as Humpy.
Humpy carried in his hand a plate of meat and vegetables.
"Here's your dinner," he said, laying the plate down, while he locked the door behind him.
"Look here, Johnny," said Rufus, "you served me a mean trick."
Humpy chuckled.
"You came in just as innocent," he said. "It was jolly."
"Maybe it is, but I don't see it. You told me a lie."
"Didn't you find the man you was after?" said Humpy.
"You told me he was sick."
"So he is. He's in delicate health, and couldn't go to business to-day."
"What is his business?" asked Rufus, a little too eagerly.
Humpy put his thumbs to his nose, and twirled his fingers with a grin of intelligence.
"Don't you wish you knew?" he said tantalizingly.
"Do you know anything about the tin box?" asked Rufus, seeing that his former question was not likely to be answered.
"Maybe I do."
"It's in this house."
"Oh, is it? Well, if you know that, there's no use of my telling you."
"I can't make much of him," thought Rufus. "He's a young imp, and it isn't easy to get round him."
He looked at Humpy meditatively, and it occurred to him whether it would not be well to spring upon him, snatch the key, release himself from the room, and dash downstairs. So far as the boy was concerned, this plan was practicable. Rufus was much his superior in strength, and could master him without difficulty. But, doubtless, Martin and Smith were below. They would hear the noise of the struggle, and would cut off his flight. Evidently that plan would not work. Another suggested itself to him.
"Johnny," said he, "don't you want to make some money?"
Here he attacked the boy on his weak side. Humpy was fond of money. He had already scraped together about twenty dollars from the meagre pay he received, and had it carefully secreted.
"Of course I do," he answered. "How'm I to do it?"
"I'll tell you. That tin box contained property of value. It doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Mr. Turner, the banker. I was trying to recover it when you got me to come in here this morning. Now what I want to say, is this. Get that tin box for me, and help me to get away with it, and it'll be worth fifty dollars to you."
Fifty dollars! Humpy's eyes sparkled when he heard the sum named; but prudence came to his aid, fortified by suspicion.
"Who's a-goin' to pay it?" he asked.
"Mr. Turner."
"S'posin' he don't?"
"Then I will."
"Where'd you raise the money?"
"I'm not rich, but I'm worth a good deal more than that. I'd rather pay it out of my own pocket than not get back that box."
But if Humpy was fond of money, he had also a rude sense of honor, which taught him to be faithful to his employer. He did want the money, and then there was something in our hero's look that made him pretty sure that he would keep his promise. So he put away the seductive temptation, though reluctantly.
"I aint a-goin' to do it," he said, doggedly.
"Perhaps you'll think better of it," said Rufus, who, in spite of the boy's manner, saw the struggle in his mind. "If you do, just let me know."
"I've got to be goin'," said Humpy, and, unlocking the door, he went out, locking it again directly.
Rufus turned his attention to the dinner, which he found of good quality. Despite his imprisonment, his appetite was excellent, and he ate all there was of it.
"I must keep up my strength at any rate," he said to himself; "I may need it."
Meanwhile, as there was no longer anything to dread, Rufus being a prisoner, Martin went out in the service of his employer.
"Now," thought he, reflecting with satisfaction on his signal triumph over Rufus, "if I only knew where Rose was, I'd go after her, and her brother shouldn't get hold of her again in a hurry. He's got enough to do to take care of himself."
This was pleasant to think about; but Martin had not the least idea where Rose was, and was not likely to find out.
Meanwhile something happened in the counterfeiter's den, which was destined to prove of advantage to Rufus.
Smith sent Humpy out on an errand. The boy was detained unavoidably, and returned an hour later than he was expected. Smith was already in an ill-temper, which the late return of his emissary aggravated.
"What made you so late?" he demanded, with lowering brow.
"I couldn't help it," said Humpy.
"Don't tell me that!" roared Smith. "You stopped to play on the way; I know you did."
"No, I didn't," said Humpy, angrily.
"Do you dare to contradict me, you villanous little humpback?" screamed Smith. "I'll teach you to do it again."