CHAPTER XXIII
GOOD NEWS FOR REDFERN
Redfern turned sharply.
“Mosley!” he cried, seizing the other’s hand, and shaking it warmly. “I was intending to stop in and see you. This is indeed a pleasure.”
“I’ve been searching a month for you, Redfern; but excuse me a moment—are you Colonel Ellison, sir? I was out when you called, but was told I might find you here.”
“That is my name, sir,” said Uncle Dan. “You are the president of Ripley Academy, I believe?”
Redfern seemed astounded.
“What!” he cried. “Mosley, is it possible? Where is Professor Blackwell?”
“Resigned three months ago. And I was elected in his place. Congratulate me, old man!”
“With all my heart; this is splendid news.” And Redfern again seized the other’s hand.“Mosley and I were classmates here at Ripley,” he added, to the others.
“Let me add my congratulations, too,” said Colonel Ellison, stiffly, “and express the hope that the majority of visitors will not be obliged to come, as I have, with complaints against the actions of your students.”
“Ah,” said the new president, “what is it? I am sorry if they have misbehaved themselves.”
“Some effort should be made to prevent such occurrences in the future.”
“What is the nature of your complaint? But perhaps we had better withdraw to another place,” added the president, noting that his visitor spoke in a tone which carried a long distance.
As they walked slowly along the road, President Mosley listened intently to Colonel Ellison’s complaint against Bill Stiles and his motor boat crew, and promised to look into the matter thoroughly.
“And now,” he said, “if you will permit me, Colonel, we will change the subject. I was on the point of communicating with you on a matter of the utmost importance, both to yourself and Norman Redfern.”
“Eh?” said the Colonel.
“What is that, Mosley?” asked Redfern, quickly.
“As I told you, I have been hunting for you for a month, but could find no trace of your whereabouts. All letters addressed to you were returned. Where in the world did you stop?”
“At a place where postmen never come,” replied Norman, with a faint smile. “But what has happened—why should you wish to see me so particularly? To speak frankly, I know that Professor Blackwell expressed a wish that I should keep away.”
“I must remind you, Redfern, that the wishes of President Blackwell are not those of President Mosley.”
“Good for you,” put in Joe Preston.
“What does all this rigmarole mean?” demanded Colonel Ellison, looking from one to the other, in surprise.
“Simply this: by a bit of detective work, an unfortunate situation has been cleared up—the name of a certain person entirely freed from blame, and——”
“What is that?” cried Redfern, his voicetrembling with excitement and hope. “You mean——”
“Just what I say. But, as it is a private matter, I would respectfully ask that these young gentlemen retire for a short time.”
“Not so far as I am concerned,” put in Redfern, with a flush. “I have nothing to conceal; speak freely.”
“Something great coming, I’m sure,” said George, with interest.
“Ma foi, but what ees this?” muttered Pierre, scratching his head. “I no understand it—ze talk ees so fast.”
Colonel Ellison merely nodded, to show that the arrangement suited him.
“Well,” proceeded President Mosley, hesitatingly, “I suppose we shall have to briefly review the whole matter.”
“Yes, yes!” said Redfern, eagerly.
“It seems, then, that one day last spring, your employer, Colonel Ellison, sent you to a bank to collect a certain sum of money. Unfortunately, you placed this in your overcoat pocket?”
Redfern nodded.
“And when you went to a restaurant,absent-mindedly hung the garment on a rack?”
“Yes, yes!”
“And on leaving rather hastily, took what you thought to be your own overcoat, and were on the train to Nyack before discovering that this was not the case?”
“Correct again,” said Redfern, his tone indicating suppressed excitement.
“On returning to the restaurant, you found your overcoat gone?”
“Yes.”
During this conversation a very strange expression came over Colonel Ellison’s face. He looked decidedly uncomfortable; and his glance shifted uneasily from the president to Redfern and back again.
It was plain that the similarity between the overcoats had been the means of losing the Colonel’s money.
After a short pause, Mr. Mosley continued:
“You made every effort to find the money which had been in your keeping, and failed?”
“Yes, yes—but tell me—has it been recovered?” asked Redfern, eagerly.
“Yes, I’m glad I can say that it has.”
Norman Redfern gave an exclamation of relief; his eyes sparkled with pleasure, while Colonel Ellison stopped abruptly in his walk, and stared down at him.
“Bully for you, Redfern!” cried Jack Lyons, enthusiastically. And George Clayton slapped his former tutor on the shoulder, and shook his hand warmly.
Pierre Dufour looked on in amazement, and murmured, “Ma foi, what ees this?”
For an instant, Colonel Ellison remained silent. Then, clearing his throat, he held out his hand.
“Redfern,” he said, frankly, “a man should always be willing to acknowledge his mistakes. I ask your pardon for having wrongly suspected you.”
“And I freely give it,” exclaimed the happy Redfern. “I will admit that appearances were against me. But, Mosley, how in the world did all this come about?”
“Well, to continue our story: I was, at the time, a professor at Ripley and expected you, also, to join the staff. Unfortunately, President Blackwell considered you—shall I say it?—guilty. And that ended your chances.”
“Yes,” said Redfern, “I have been only too well aware of that.”
“But I had confidence in you; and was determined to prove that it was well placed. I advertised freely, and——”
“You did?”
“Yes, sir! And in my spare time investigated to the best of my ability. Nothing resulted, and I got a bit discouraged. But I don’t believe in giving up easily. Several times, at intervals, I went back to the restaurant, made inquiries and kept the matter fresh in their minds. Then what should happen? A few days ago, I got a letter; and it made me jump.”
“How can I ever thank you enough?” murmured Redfern.
“The man was a traveling salesman—only occasionally visited New York—and did not again have a chance to go to the restaurant until quite recently. But he was honest, and wished to find the owner of the money. The proprietor told him to communicate with me.”
Redfern seized the other’s hand.
“Mosley,” he said, “I’ll never forget you for this.”
The president smiled.
“Well, my story is almost finished. I was about to write to Colonel Ellison, in order that he might meet the gentleman and have his money restored. The visit is most opportune, though I regret his errand.”
“Think no more about it,” said Uncle Dan, hastily. “I was once a boy myself; circumstances had a great deal to do with my feelings.”
“Uncle Dan,” put in George Clayton, “may I speak a word to you?”
“Well, young man, what is it?”
Briefly, George explained the whole story of his connection with the house-boat expedition, and this time his guardian, in the light of recent developments, listened and believed.
“You must understand, George,” he said, “though Redfern is not to blame in the matter, you have acted in a most reckless and self-willed fashion. We shall talk about it later.”
“I no comprehend, monsieur the Colonel,” exclaimed Pierre. “Ees nobody any scamps, eh? Ma foi!”
“Shake Mr. Redfern by the hand, Pierre,”commanded the Colonel. “It was all a misunderstanding.”
“If it hadn’t been for Pierre’s meddling, a great deal of trouble might have been saved,” said George, half-resentfully. “He butted in, and——”
“George—George!” cried Uncle Dan, “I must protest against the use of such slang—such a lack of courtesy. Affairs have turned out happily for all concerned; and this is no time for ill-feeling.”
“I guess you are right, uncle,” admitted George, frankly; and then turning toward the chauffeur, he added, “Everything is all right.”
“All one grand mistake? Ma foi!” said the Frenchman, with the corners of his mouth beginning to curve upward. Then, with a sly glance at Colonel Ellison, whose stern countenance still showed a trace of discomfiture, he extended his hand toward the former tutor. “We shake hand, Monsieur Redfern,” he exclaimed. “I’m sorry I say I would your face smack.”
“It’s all forgotten, Pierre,” laughed Redfern, cordially.
The Frenchman smiled broadly.
“A la bonne heure, Monsieur George!” he cried. “We are friends again. But nevaire you say ‘fired’—‘fired’ to me.” And this time, Pierre Dufour showed that his resentfulness was a thing of the past.
Norman Redfern presently slapped Jack Lyons on the back.
“Jack,” he said, “your house-boat trip has certainly resulted in making a great change in the feelings of one young man.”
“And it will have a more substantial result than that,” put in Uncle Dan, quickly. “I hope you will become George’s tutor again.”
Redfern’s features lighted up.
“Certainly—I shall be only too glad,” he began.
But President Mosley hastily interposed.
“One minute, Redfern,” he exclaimed. “Colonel Ellison’s offer is very kind; but it might interfere with your professorship at Ripley Academy.”
And when the true significance of his words was realized, a tremendous volley of cheers rose on the air.