"You will enter my service as errand-boy," he said. "You will be sent to the post-office, the bank, and on similar errands, in order not to excite suspicion of the real object of your presence. Keep your eyes open, and I will take an opportunity of explaining to you later what I wish you to do."
Frank bowed.
"Mr. Haynes," said the merchant, calling a thin, sallow young man, "I have engaged this boy as an errand-boy. Has any one been to the post-office this morning?"
"No, sir."
"Then he will go."
Haynes regarded Frank with disfavor.
"I have a nephew who would have liked the position," he said.
"Too late now," said the merchant, curtly.
"What is your name, boy?" asked Haynes, coldly..
"Frank Kavanagh."
"How did Mr. Hartley happen to engage you?" asked the subordinate.
"A gentleman recommended me," Frank answered.
"I had already mentioned my nephew to him. I am surprised he said nothing to me about engaging a boy."
Frank said nothing, feeling no particular interest in the matter. As he was only filling temporarily the position of errand boy, it made little difference to him whether he was acceptable to Mr. Haynes or not.
In the course of the day Mr. Hartley handed Frank a card, containing the street and number of his residence, with a pencilled invitation to call that evening.
Of course Frank did so.
Seated alone with the merchant in his back parlor, the latter said, "I have invited you here because I could not speak with you freely at the store. How do you like Mr. Haynes?"
Frank was surprised at the abruptness of the question.
"I don't like him," he answered, candidly.
"Why not?"
"There is no good reason that I know of," said Frank; "but I think his manner is disagreeable."
"Our instincts are often to be trusted," said the merchant, thoughtfully. "I confess that I myself don't like Haynes, nor do I feel implicit confidence in him, though he has been eight years in the service of our house. He is outwardly very circumspect, and apparently very faithful, but there is something in his eye which I don't like."
Frank had noticed this, but Mr. Hartley's remark called fresh attention to its furtive, crafty expression.
Frank's curiosity was aroused, naturally enough. He wondered what Mr. Haynes had to do with his mission. He did not have long to wait for information.
"I will come to the point," said Mr. Hartley, after a pause. "I am an importing merchant, and deal, among other articles, in silks. During the last year I have discovered that some one is systematically robbing me, and that parts of my stock have been spirited away. The loss I have sustained is already considerable, and unless the leakage is put a stop to, I may as well give up business. You can now guess why I have engaged you. No one will suspect an errand boy of being a detective, while a man would very probably excite distrust, and put the rogue on his guard."
Frank listened attentively to his employer.
"Do you suspect any one in particular, Mr. Hartley?" he asked.
"It must be some one in my employ," he said. "The man who, more than any other, has facilities for robbing me is the man of whom I have spoken to you."
"Mr. Haynes?"
"Yes, Mr. Haynes. He holds an important position, and enjoys special privileges. On the other hand, so far as I can learn, he lives in a sober, inexpensive way, quite within his salary, which is liberal. He is prominently connected with an up-town church, and it seems very improbable that he would be guilty of robbery, or breach of trust; yet there have been such cases before. At any rate, I cannot wholly divest myself of suspicion."
"What do you wish me to do?" asked Frank.
"To watch Mr. Haynes carefully, both in and out of the store, to ascertain whether he has any unexplained expenses, or any questionable companions. I want to know how he spends his time out of the office. It may be that the result of my investigation will be to his credit. It may be that he is all that he seems,—a reputable member of the church and of society, with nothing against him but an unpleasant manner. Should this be the case, I shall be glad to correct my suspicions, and give him back my confidence. In that case, we must look elsewhere for the rogue who is robbing me."
"Have you any particular instructions to give me?" asked Frank.
"No, only to follow Haynes, and find out all you can about him. Use great care in doing it, not to arouse his or any one else's suspicion. I will find an opportunity for you to make your reports."
"Very well, sir."
When Frank got home, he found a letter awaiting him from his country home. It was in answer to one which he had written to his uncle, Deacon Pelatiah Kavanagh, in reference to a trunk which had belonged to his father.
This is the letter:—
My dear Nephew,—I am glad to learn that you are making a living in the city. It is much better that you should earn your own living than to be a burden upon me, though of course I would not see you suffer. But a man's duty is to his own household, and my income from the farm is very small, and Hannah and I agreed that we had little to spare for others.There is an old trunk, belonging to your deceased father, in the attic. It contains some old clothes, which may be made over for you, and so save you expense. I would use them myself, and allow you for them, but your father was a much smaller man than I, and his clothes would not fit me. I will send the trunk by express to the address which you gave me. Of course I shall expect you to pay the express, as I have no interest in it, or its contents.Your cousin Jonathan has left school, and is working on the farm. I feelsoglad that he has no extravagant tastes, but inherits the careful and economical habits of his mother and myself. I am sure he will never waste or squander the little property which I hope to leave him.
My dear Nephew,—I am glad to learn that you are making a living in the city. It is much better that you should earn your own living than to be a burden upon me, though of course I would not see you suffer. But a man's duty is to his own household, and my income from the farm is very small, and Hannah and I agreed that we had little to spare for others.
There is an old trunk, belonging to your deceased father, in the attic. It contains some old clothes, which may be made over for you, and so save you expense. I would use them myself, and allow you for them, but your father was a much smaller man than I, and his clothes would not fit me. I will send the trunk by express to the address which you gave me. Of course I shall expect you to pay the express, as I have no interest in it, or its contents.
Your cousin Jonathan has left school, and is working on the farm. I feelsoglad that he has no extravagant tastes, but inherits the careful and economical habits of his mother and myself. I am sure he will never waste or squander the little property which I hope to leave him.
"I don't believe he will," thought Frank, "for he is about as mean as his mother, and that is saying a good deal."
Your aunt and I hope that you will steer clear of the temptations of the city. Do not seek after vain amusements, but live a sober life, never spending a cent unnecessarily, and you will in time become a prosperous man. I would invite you to come and stop with us over Sunday, but for the railroad fare, which is high. It will be better to save your money, and put off the visit till you can afford it.Your uncle,Pelatiah Kavanagh.
Your aunt and I hope that you will steer clear of the temptations of the city. Do not seek after vain amusements, but live a sober life, never spending a cent unnecessarily, and you will in time become a prosperous man. I would invite you to come and stop with us over Sunday, but for the railroad fare, which is high. It will be better to save your money, and put off the visit till you can afford it.
Your uncle,
Pelatiah Kavanagh.
Reading this letter, it would hardly be supposed that the writer owned ten thousand dollars in stocks, bonds, and mortgages, over and above an excellent farm. Such, however, was the worldly position of the man who sent Frank to the city in quest of a living, because he could not afford to provide for him. With some men prudence is a virtue; with Deacon Pelatiah Kavanagh it was carried so far as to be a positive defect.
So far as Frank could observe, Mr. Haynes was an active, energetic salesman. He appeared to understand his duties thoroughly, and to go about them in a straightforward manner. So far as his personal habits were concerned, they seemed irreproachable. He was neatly but plainly dressed, wore no jewelry, and carried a plain silver watch, which, when new, probably did not cost over twenty dollars.
Frank had no difficulty in ascertaining where he lived. It was in a brick house, on Waverley place, very unpretentious and certainly not fashionable. In order to find out how much he paid for his accommodations Frank visited the house on pretence of being in search of board.
"We have a hall bed-room on the third floor, at five dollars a week, including board," said the landlady. "How would that suit you?"
"I may have a friend board with me," said Frank. "In that case we should need a large room. Have you any vacant?"
"There is the front room on the third floor. We would let it to two gentlemen at eleven dollars for the two."
"Isn't the back room cheaper?" inquired our hero.
"Yes; but it is occupied by a business gentleman."
"Can you tell me his name? I may be acquainted with him."
"His name is Haynes."
"How much does he pay?"
"He pays eight dollars a week, and has the room alone."
"I suppose his room is not likely to become vacant soon?"
"Oh, dear, no. He has been with us for several years. We should be sorry to lose him. Last Christmas he gave my daughter a present of a nice silk-dress pattern."
Frank was struck by this information.
"I don't believe he paid anything for the silk," thought he. "I wish I could find out."
He had learned all he cared for, and left, saying he might call again.
"His expenses seem very moderate for a man in his position," thought Frank. "I wonder if he makes any investments."
Fortune favored our hero in the prosecution of his inquiry. Keeping Haynes in sight, as was his custom, he observed that the latter, in pulling out a handkerchief from the breast-pocket of his coat, had brought with it a letter also. Frank, quickly and unobserved, picked it up, and when he was alone looked at the address. It was directed to James Haynes, at his residence in Waverley place. On the envelope was the printed address of a real-estate broker in Brooklyn.
Frank knew that there was at that time considerable speculation in Brooklyn real estate, and he examined the letter. It ran thus:—
We have found a corner lot, with several lots adjoining, near Prospect Park, which may be obtained for five thousand dollars, half cash. We have no hesitation in recommending the purchase, being convinced, from the tendencies of the market, that the buyer will double his money in a comparatively short time. If you are engaged at other times, come over on Sunday afternoon, and we will show you the property. The house you purchased of us last year is worth fully a thousand dollars more than the price you gave.
We have found a corner lot, with several lots adjoining, near Prospect Park, which may be obtained for five thousand dollars, half cash. We have no hesitation in recommending the purchase, being convinced, from the tendencies of the market, that the buyer will double his money in a comparatively short time. If you are engaged at other times, come over on Sunday afternoon, and we will show you the property. The house you purchased of us last year is worth fully a thousand dollars more than the price you gave.
"I wonder how much he gave," said Frank to himself.
The letter was signed "Henderson & Co., No. — Fulton street."
Our hero was elated by the discovery he had made, and he sought an interview with Mr. Hartley.
"Have you discovered anything?" asked the merchant, noticing the eager look of his young detective.
Without attaching especial importance to the fact, Frank answered, "I have found out that Mr. Haynes owns a house in Brooklyn."
"Indeed!" said Hartley, quickly. "But," he continued more slowly, "he might buy one with the money saved from his salary."
"He is also thinking of buying some lots near Prospect Park."
"How did you learn this?" asked the merchant, surprised.
"I would rather not tell you," said Frank, who was not quite sure whether Mr. Hartley would sanction his examination of a private letter. "You may be sure that it is true."
"Very well; I will rest contented with that assurance. I will leave you to work in your own way. Your information is important, for it seems to show that Mr. Haynes has made investments beyond his ability, if he were dependent upon his savings alone."
"That is what I thought," said Frank. "I must try to find out where he gets this extra money."
"If you do that, and prove my suspicions correct, I will make you a handsome present, besides paying the company regular rates for your services."
"Thank you, sir. I will try to earn your gifts."
This is not a detective story, and I shall not, therefore, detail the steps by which our young hero succeeded in tracing out the agency of Haynes in defrauding the firm by which he was employed. It required not one week, but three, to follow out his clues, and qualify himself to make a clear and intelligible report to Mr. Hartley. He had expressly requested the merchant not to require any partial report, as it might interfere with his working unobserved. Towards the end of the third week he asked an interview with Mr. Hartley.
"Well, Frank," said the merchant, familiarly, "who is the rogue?"
"Mr. Haynes," answered our hero.
"You speak confidently," said his employer; "but surmise will not do. I want proof, or I cannot act."
"I will tell you what I have discovered," said Frank; "and I leave you to judge for yourself."
"Have you a customer in Hartford named Davis?" he asked.
"Yes; and a very good customer. He is frequent in his orders, and makes prompt payments. I wish I had more like him."
"If you had more like him you would soon be bankrupt," said Frank, quietly.
"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Hartley, in genuine surprise. "How can a customer who buys largely, and pays promptly, be undesirable?"
"Did you know that Mr. Davis is a brother-in-law of Mr. Haynes?"
"No; but even if he is I have to thank Mr. Haynes for securing me so excellent a customer."
Hartley spoke confidently, evidently believing that Frank was on the wrong tack.
"I have noticed," said Frank, "that when goods are packed to go to Mr. Davis, Mr. Haynes personally superintends the packing, and employs one particular man to pack."
"What then?"
"I think he has something to conceal."
"I don't understand what he can have to conceal. If Davis is his brother-in-law, it is natural that he should feel a special interest in filling his orders."
"I shouldn't wonder if Mr. Haynes were a partner as well as a brother-in-law of Mr. Davis."
Mr. Hartley looked surprised.
"That may be true; though I don't know why you should conjecture it. Admitting that you are right, I don't know that I have any right to object. I should like it better, however, if I were frankly told by Mr. Haynes of this circumstance."
"I will tell you what I think I have discovered," continued Frank. "The cases that are shipped to Mr. Davis not only contain the goods he has ordered, but valuable silks that he has not ordered, and does not propose to pay for."
"I see, I see," exclaimed Mr. Hartley, a light dawning upon him for the first time. "I was stupid not to comprehend your meaning earlier. What warrant have you for suspecting this?"
"First, your steady losses of goods; next, the ease with which Mr. Haynes, in his position of trust, could carry out this plan. Why should he superintend the packing of Mr. Davis's goods, alone of all your customers?"
"There is weight in what you say, Frank. You are certainly an extraordinary boy. You have shown so much shrewdness that I now ask your advice. What steps shall I take to ascertain whether Mr. Haynes is really guilty of what we suspect him?"
"There is an order now being filled for Mr. Davis," answered Frank. "When the order is filled, can't you open the case, and find out whether the contents correspond exactly to the bill?"
"The very thing. To facilitate matters I will send Mr. Haynes to Brooklyn on a confidential errand. Fortunately there is a matter that will give me a good excuse for doing so. Go back to your post, and when Mr. Haynes appears to be at liberty send him to me."
Half an hour later Mr. Haynes entered the counting room of his employer.
"You sent for me, sir?" he said, a little uneasily; for, when conscience accuses, the mind is always apprehensive.
"Yes, Mr. Haynes," said the merchant, in his usual tone. "Have you any objection to go to Brooklyn for me, on a confidential errand?"
"None in the world, sir," said Haynes, relieved. "I shall be glad to take the trip this fine morning. It is almost too pleasant to remain in-doors."
"Thank you; I will give you your instructions, and shall be glad to have you go at once."
It is not necessary to our story that we should know the nature of the errand on which Haynes was sent. It served the purpose of getting him out of the way.
When the suspected clerk was fairly on his way Mr. Hartley went to the packing-room, and looked about him till he discovered the case addressed to
H. L. DAVIS & CO.,Hartford, Conn.
H. L. DAVIS & CO.,Hartford, Conn.
"Open this case," said he to one of the workmen. "There was a mistake recently in sending some goods to Davis, and I wish to compare these with the bill."
"I think they are all right, sir," said the man addressed. "Mr. Haynes saw them packed."
"Mr. Haynes will not be responsible for any mistake," said Mr. Hartley. "I would rather see for myself."
The case was opened, and the merchant discovered about two hundred dollars' worth of silk, which was not included in the bill.
"Go and call Mr. Hunting," said Mr. Hartley, quietly.
Mr. Hunting filled one of the most important positions in the establishment. To him his employer explained the nature of his discovery.
"Mr. Hunting," he said, "I wish you to see and attest the fraud that has been attempted upon me. This case was packed under the special charge of Mr. Haynes."
"Is it possible that Mr. Haynes knew of this?" exclaimed his fellow-clerk.
"Davis is his brother-in-law," said Mr. Hartley, significantly.
"Has this been going on long, do you think, sir?"
"For several years, I suspect. Mr. Haynes has, no doubt, found it very profitable."
"Shall I close up the case again, sir?" asked the workman.
"Yes, but it is not to go. You may await my further orders."
The silk was taken out, and replaced in the silk department.
"So much has been saved, at least," said the merchant.
"When Mr. Haynes comes back," he said to the usher, "send him to me."
Mr. Haynes had a private reason for accepting readily the commission to visit Brooklyn. It occurred to him at once that it would give him an excellent chance to call on his real-estate agent, and confer with him upon future investments. For James Haynes had the comfortable consciousness that he was a prosperous man. Month by month, and year by year, he was adding largely to his gains, and while he was still a young man he would be rich,if all went well.
Of course this meant if his peculations remained undiscovered. Why should they not be? He plumed himself on the skill with which he managed to rob his employer. He was no vulgar bungler to break into the store, or enter into an alliance with burglars. Not he! The property he took was carried off openly before Mr. Hartley's very eyes, and he knew nothing of it. He did not even suspect that he was being robbed. This is what Mr. Haynes thought; but, as we know, he was mistaken. Even now he was in a net; but did not know it.
After attending to Mr. Hartley's commission Haynes went to see his broker. The conversation he had with the broker was of a very encouraging character. He was congratulated upon his investments, and assured that they would pay him handsomely.
James Haynes returned from Brooklyn in a very pleasant mood.
"A year or two more of life as a clerk, and I will throw off the yoke," he said to himself. "I must be worth at least fifteen thousand dollars now, apart from any rise in the value of my investments. When I reach twenty-five thousand I will resign my position, and go to Europe. I shall than possess an income adequate to my simple wants."
"Is Mr. Hartley in the counting-room?" he asked, as he reëntered the store.
"Yes, sir, and he wishes to see you."
"Of course he wants to see me,—to hear my report."
The merchant looked up as Haynes entered the counting-room.
"So you are back?" he said, gravely.
"Yes, sir; I was detained a little, but I fulfilled my commission."
"That is well."
Here Haynes made his report. Mr. Hartley listened with an abstracted air, for his thoughts were upon the defalcation of the man before him.
Finishing his statement, James Haynes turned to leave the office, but his employer called him back.
"Wait a minute, Mr. Haynes," he said, gravely. "I wish to ask you one or two questions."
"Certainly, sir."
"I believe we have transactions with a party in Hartford, with the firm-name of H. L. Davis & Co.?"
"Yes, sir," said Haynes, starting and flushing a little.
"Is Mr. Davis a relative of yours?"
"Yes, sir. I wonder where he heard that?" Haynes asked himself. "Is there any trouble? Is he behind in his payments?" inquired the clerk.
"No; he has always settled his bills with commendable promptness."
"I insisted on that," said Haynes, in a satisfied tone. "I didn't want you to lose by any connection of mine."
"And you are quite sure that I have lost nothing by Mr. Davis?" demanded the merchant, regarding Haynes intently.
The latter changed color.
"How is that possible," he inquired, "since he has met his payments promptly?"
"You have personally seen to the packing of Mr. Davis's goods, I believe, Mr. Haynes?"
"Well—generally," stammered the rather disconcerted clerk.
"At all events, you did so this morning?"
"Ye-es."
"After you started for Brooklyn, I had the case opened, and found some patterns of silk not included in the bill."
"I suppose there was a mistake," said Haynes, turning pale.
"You think this has not happened before?"
"I am sure of it."
"Mr. Haynes," said his employer, sternly, "you may as well drop the mask of innocence. I have been robbed systematically for the last three years, and I now understand how it was done. You and Davis, between you, have plundered me in an exceedingly ingenious manner. It will go hard with you before a jury."
"You won't have me arrested!" exclaimed Haynes, his pallor indicating his dismay.
"Why should I not?"
"You could prove nothing."
"I will take my chance of that. Have you nothing more to say?"
"I—though I do not admit that your charge is correct—I am willing to make over to you the greater part of my property, to avoid the scandal of a trial."
"That will not do, Mr. Haynes. Were I to accept this upon such a ground, you could rightfully bring against me a charge of blackmail."
"What, then, are your terms?" asked Haynes, sullenly.
"You must write out a confession of your guilt, which I shall put among my private papers, and not make public unless necessary, and in addition you must make over to me property to the amount of ten thousand dollars. It will not make up my losses, but I will accept it as restitution in full."
Against this James Haynes most strongly protested, alleging that the sum demanded was far beyond the amount of his purloinings; but finally he yielded, being privately resolved to make his brother-in-law pay one-half of the forfeiture.
"You will leave my service at the end of the week, Mr. Haynes," said his employer, "and during next week you must attend to the transfer."
"How did he find out?" said Haynes to himself, as with grave face he went about the duties of the place he was so soon to leave. "If I could find out, I would have my revenge."
Frank remained with Mr. Hartley till the guilty clerk left the establishment. This was at the special request of the merchant, who did not care to let Mr. Haynes suspect who had been instrumental in bringing his guilt to light.
"I suppose you have no further use for me, now, Mr. Hartley?" said the telegraph boy.
"Not at present, Frank," said his employer, kindly.
"Then I will report for duty at the telegraph office."
"Wait a moment. You have done me a great service."
"I am glad of that sir," answered Frank, modestly.
"You have shown uncommon shrewdness and intelligence."
Frank looked gratified, and expressed his thanks for the compliment.
"I want to make you a present, in addition to the wages which you receive from the office," said Mr. Hartley.
"Thank you, sir."
Mr. Hartley drew from his desk a five-twenty government bond, of one hundred dollars, and handed it to our hero.
"Do you mean all this for me?" asked Frank, quite overwhelmed by the magnitude of the gift.
"It is not more than you deserve. I might have given you the money value of the bond; but I give it to you in this shape, because I hope you will keep it as an investment. It will yield you six dollars interest annually in gold. I hope the time will come when you will have more interest in the same way."
"I hope I shall, sir. I shall feel quite rich now."
"You are richer in the qualities which have won you this acknowledgment. How do you like the telegraph service?"
"Very well, sir, for the present. It is much better than being a newsboy."
"Exactly; but there are positions you would prefer?"
"Yes, sir; I would like to be in some mercantile business, where I might work my way up. In a few years I shall be too old for a telegraph boy, and then I shall be out of place."
"I will relieve your fears on that score. In six months I shall make some changes in the list of employees. When that time comes I will find a place for you."
"There is nothing I should like better, sir," said Frank, his face flushing with pleasure.
"I am satisfied that you will make a useful and intelligent clerk. Until I want you, remain where you are. The discipline of your present office will do you no harm, but will help qualify you for usefulness and success in the mercantile career."
"Thank you, sir. Now I have something to look forward to I shall work much more cheerfully."
Frank went back to the office, and resumed his ordinary duties. One day he was riding down Broadway in a stage, when he became sensible that he had attracted the attention of a gentleman sitting opposite. This led him to scan the face of the man who was observing him. He at once recognized Mr. Haynes.
The stage was not full, and the latter came over, and took a seat next to the telegraph boy.
"Isn't your name Frank Kavanagh?" he asked, abruptly.
"Yes, sir."
"Were you not for a short time in the employ of Mr. Hartley?"
"Yes," answered Frank, feeling embarrassed, for he knew that he was suspected.
"I infer from your uniform that you have left Mr. Hartley."
"Yes."
"Why did you leave him?" asked Haynes, sharply.
"Because he had no further occasion for my services. Why didyouleave him?" asked Frank, in turn.
James Haynes colored, and looked angry. However, he answered the question.
"I have other business views," he said, briefly.
"So have I."
The next question was also of an embarrassing character.
"Were you a telegraph boy before you entered Mr. Hartley's employ?"
"I was," answered Frank.
"Were you detailed for duty there?"
Our hero thought that he had answered questions enough by this time, and signified as much to his questioner.
"If I had been," he said, "I shouldn't be permitted to inform a stranger."
"I have particular reasons for asking the question," said Haynes.
"Then you can ask Mr. Hartley, or the superintendent of my office. Good-morning, sir, I get out here."
Frank pulled the strap, and got out. But he was not rid of his questioner. Haynes got out too, and walked beside our hero.
"I believe," he said, sternly, "that you were sent for to act as a spy on me."
"What makes you think so?" asked the telegraph boy, looking him in the eye.
"There was a difficulty between Mr. Hartley and myself, occasioned by a base and groundless charge, concocted by some enemy. I believe that you had something to do with this."
"I have brought no groundless charge against any one," said Frank.
"Did you make any report to Mr. Hartley in regard to me?"
"I must refer you to Mr. Hartley for information," said Frank. "I have an errand in here;" and he entered a store in the lower part of Broadway.
"There is no doubt about it," thought Haynes.
"That boy was a spy upon me. I have learned all I cared to. I owe you a debt of gratitude for this, Frank Kavanagh, and mean to pay the debt."
When Frank came out he thought it possible that Haynes might be waiting for him; but the disgraced clerk was gone.
"I suppose he would injure me if he had a chance," thought the telegraph boy. "I won't give him the chance if I can help it."
Mention has been made of an old trunk belonging to Frank's father, which, had been forwarded to him from the country by his Uncle Pelatiah. It may be mentioned here that our hero's father had been agent of a woollen mill in a large manufacturing town. For a considerable number of years he had been in receipt of a handsome salary, and had lived in good style, but still within his income. He was naturally supposed to possess a comfortable property.
His death was sudden. He was thrown from a carriage, and, striking his head upon the curbstone, was picked up senseless, and died unconscious. Upon examining into his affairs his administrator was unable to find any property beyond what was needed to pay the few debts he left behind him. So it came about that Frank was left a penniless orphan. His Uncle Pelatiah was his nearest relative, and to him he was sent. Pelatiah Kavanagh was not a bad man, nor was he intentionally unkind; but he was very close. All his life he had denied himself, to save money; and in this he had been ably assisted by his wife, who was even closer and meaner than her husband. It may readily be supposed that it was very disagreeable to both husband and wife to have a penniless nephew thrown upon their care and protection.
"How could your brother be so thoughtless and inconsiderate as to use up all his money, and leave his son destitute? Didn't he have a handsome income?"
"Yes," said Pelatiah. "He got two thousand dollars a year, and maybe more."
"You don't say so!" ejaculated his wife. "He'd ought to have saved two-thirds of it. I declare it's scandalous for a man to waste his substance in that way."
"My brother was allus free with his money. He wasn't so keerful as you and I be."
"I should think not, indeed. We don't begin to spend half as much as he did, and now he comes upon us to support his child."
"It don't seem right," said Pelatiah.
"Right? It's outrageous!" exclaimed Mrs. Kavanagh, energetically. "I declare I have no patience with such a man. It would only be right to send this boy Frank to the poor-house."
"The neighbors would talk," protested Pelatiah, who was half inclined to accept his wife's view, but was more sensitive to the criticism of the community in which he lived.
"Let 'em talk!" said his more independent helpmate. "It isn't right that this boy should use up the property that we have scraped together for his cousin Jonathan."
"We must keep him for a while, Hannah; but I'll get rid of him as soon I can consistently."
With this Mrs. Kavanagh had to be satisfied; but, during her nephew's stay of two months in the farm-house, she contrived to make him uncomfortable by harsh criticisms of his dead father, whom he had tenderly loved.
"You must have lived very extravagant," she said, "or your father would have left a handsome property."
"I don't think we did, Aunt Hannah."
"You father kept a carriage,—didn't he?"
"Yes; he had considerable riding to do."
"How much help did he keep?"
"Only one servant in the kitchen, and a stable-boy."
"There was no need of a boy. You could have done the work in the stable."
"I was kept at school."
"Oh, of course!" sneered his aunt. "You must be brought up as a young gentleman. Our Jonathan never had any such chances, and now you're livin' on him, or about the same. I suppose you kept an extravagant table too. What did you generally have for breakfast?"
So Aunt Hannah continued her catechising, much to Frank's discomfort. She commented severely upon the wastefulness of always having pastry for dinner.
"We can't afford it," she said, emphatically; "but then again we don't mean to have our Jonathan beholden to anybody in case your uncle and I are cast off sudden. What did you have for dinner on Sunday?"
"Meat and pudding and ice-cream,—that is, in warm weather."
"Ice-cream!" ejaculated Aunt Hannah, holding up both hands. "No wonder your father didn't leave nothin'. Why, we don't have ice-cream more'n once a year, and now we can't afford to have it at all, since we've got another mouth to feed."
"I am sorry that you have to stint yourself on my account," replied Frank, feeling rather uncomfortable.
"I suppose it's our cross," said Mrs. Kavanagh, gloomily; "but it does seem hard that we can't profit by our prudence because of your father's wasteful extravagance."
Such remarks were very disagreeable to our young hero, and it was hard for him to hear his father so criticised. He supposed they must have lived extravagantly, since it was so constantly charged by those about him, and he felt puzzled to account for his father's leaving nothing. When, after two months, his uncle and aunt, who had deliberated upon what was best to be done, proposed to him to go to New York and try to earn his own living, he caught at the idea. He knew that he might suffer hardships in the new life that awaited him, but if he could support himself in any way he would escape from the cruel taunts to which he was now forced to listen every day. How he reached the city, and how he succeeded, my readers know. We now come to the trunk, which, some time after its reception, Frank set about examining.
He found it was filled with clothing belonging to his father. Though a part were in good condition it seemed doubtful whether they would be of much service to him. It occurred to him to examine the pockets of the coats. In one he found a common yellow envelope, bearing his father's name. Opening it, he found, to his great astonishment, that it was a certificate of railroad stock, setting forth his father's ownership of one hundred shares of the capital stock of the said railway.
Our hero was greatly excited by his discovery. This, then, was the form in which his father had invested his savings. What the shares were worth he had no idea; but he rejoiced chiefly because now he could defend his father from the charge of recklessly spending his entire income, and saving nothing. He resolved, as soon as he could find time, to visit a Wall-street broker, by whom he had occasionally been employed, and inquire the value of the stock. Two days afterwards the opportunity came, and he availed himself of it at once.
"Can you tell me the value of these shares, Mr. Glynn?" he asked.
"They are quoted to-day at one hundred and ten," answered the broker, referring to a list of the day's stock quotations.
"Do you mean that each share is worth a hundred and ten dollars?" asked Frank, in excitement.
"Certainly."
"Then the whole are worth five thousand five hundred dollars?"
"Rather more; for the last semi-annual dividend has not been collected. To whom do they belong?"
"They did belong to my father. Now I suppose they are mine."
"Has your father's estate been administered upon?"
"Yes; but these shares had not then been found."
"Then some legal steps will be necessary before you can take possession, and dispose of them. I will give you the address of a good lawyer, and advise you to consult him at once."
Frank did so, and the lawyer wrote to Uncle Pelatiah to acquaint him with the discovery. The news created great excitement at the farm.
"Why, Frank's a rich boy!" ejaculated Aunt Hannah.
"And my brother wasn't so foolishly extravagant as we supposed."
"That may be; but with his salary we could have saved more."
"Perhaps we might; but these shares are worth almost six thousand dollars. That's a good deal of money, Hannah."
"So it is, Pelatiah. I'll tell you what we'd better do."
"What?"
"Invite Frank to come back and board with us. He can afford to pay handsome board, and it seems better that the money should go to us than a stranger."
"Just so, Hannah. He could board with us, and go to school."
"You'd better write and invite him to come. I allus liked the boy, and if we could have afforded it, I'd have been in favor of keepin' him for nothing."
"So would I," said his uncle; and he probably believed it, though after what had happened it will be rather difficult for the reader to credit it.
The letter was written, but Frank had no desire to return to the old farm, and the society of his uncle's family.
"I have got used to the city," he wrote, "and have made a good many friends here. I don't know yet whether I shall take a business position, or go to school; but, if the latter, the schools here are better than in the country. I hope to come and see you before long; but, I would prefer to live in New York."
"He's gettin' uppish," said Aunt Hannah, who was considerably disappointed, for she had made up her mind just how much they could venture to charge for board, and how this would increase their annual savings.
"I suppose it's natural for a boy to prefer the city," said his uncle.
"If the boy has a chance to handle his money there won't be much of it left by the time he's twenty-one," said Aunt Hannah. "You ought to be his guardian."
"He has the right to choose his own guardian," said Uncle Pelatiah. "He'll take some city man likely."
Frank did, in fact, select the lawyer, having learned that he was a man of high reputation for integrity. He offered it to Mr. Bowen; but that gentleman, while congratulating his young friend upon his greatly improved prospects, said that he was a man of books rather than of business, and would prefer that some other person be selected.
The next thing was to resign his place as telegraph boy.
"We are sorry to lose you," said the superintendent. "Your are one of our best boys. Do you wish to go at once?"
"No, sir; I will stay till the end of the month."
"Very well. We shall be glad to have you."
Three weeks yet remained till the close of the month. It was not long, but before the time had passed Frank found himself in a very unpleasant predicament, from no fault of his own, but in consequence of the enmity of the clerk whom he had been instrumental in displacing.
No one rejoiced more sincerely at Frank's good luck than Mrs. Vivian. Her interest in our hero had increased, and while at first she regarded herself as his patroness she had come now to look upon him as a member of the family. Fred had already returned, and Frank, bearing in mind that he had only been invited to remain during his absence, proposed to find another home, but Mrs. Vivian would not hear of it.
"No," she said, "Fred needs a young companion, and I prefer you to any one I know of."
As Fred was of his mother's opinion, Frank readily agreed to stay. He occupied a room adjoining the one assigned to Fred, and during his hours of leisure the two were constantly together.
"I shall be glad when you leave the telegraph office," said Fred. "Then we can be together more."
"You may get tired of me."
"If I do I will let you know."
Two days afterwards Frank was riding down town in a Sixth-avenue car. Until he had taken his seat he was not aware that James Haynes was a passenger. When a lady who sat between them got out, Haynes moved up, so as to sit next to our hero.
"I see you are still in the telegraph service," he said.
"Yes, sir," answered Frank, briefly.
"I wonder Mr. Hartley didn't offer you a permanent position in his employ," said Haynes, with a sneer. "Spies are useful sometimes."
"He may give me a position sometime," said Frank, not regarding the sneer.
"You earned it," said Haynes, unpleasantly.
"Thank you," said Frank, knowing that Haynes would be provoked by his appearing to accept the compliment in good faith.
Haynes scowled, but said no more. He drew a morning paper from his pocket, and appeared to be absorbed in reading it.
At Canal street Frank rose to leave the car. He had not yet reached the door, when Haynes sprang to his feet, followed him quickly, and, grasping him by the arm, said, "Not so fast young man! Give me back my pocket-book."
Frank was struck with amazement.
"What do you mean?" he asked, indignantly.
"I mean that you have relieved me of my pocket-book. Gentlemen," turning to his fellow-passengers, "I demand that this boy be searched."
"You can search me if you like," said Frank. "You know very well that your accusation is false."
"I shall be satisfied if you produce what is in your pockets."
"That's fair," said a passenger.
Our hero thrust his hand into his pocket. To his dismay he drew out a Russia-leather pocket-book, of which he knew nothing.
"That is my pocket-book, gentlemen," said Haynes, triumphantly. "I can tell you exactly what is in it. You will find two five-dollar bills, a two and a one. Be kind enough to examine it, sir."
The pocket-book was examined, and, of course, Haynes was correct.
Suspicious glances were directed at poor Frank. Innocent as he was, he was so overwhelmed by the suddenness of the charge, and the apparent proof of it, that he looked confused and embarrassed.
"You are beginning early, my boy," said a tall gentleman, in a white cravat,—a clergyman. "It is well that you are checked in the beginning of a guilty career."
"Sir," said Frank, "I am as innocent as you are. This man is my enemy, and he must have put the pocket-book in my pocket. He threatened some time since to get me into a scrape."
"That story is rather too thin," said Haynes, looking around him with a sneer. "You won't find any one here quite verdant enough to believe it."
"There you are mistaken," said a gentleman who was seated directly opposite to Haynes and Frank. "Ibelieve it."
Haynes scowled at him malignantly.
"I really don't think it very important what you believe, sir. The boy is evidently a professional thief, and you may belong to the same gang for aught I know. I propose to give him in charge to the next policeman we meet."
"Do so," said the stranger, coolly. "I shall be present at his trial, and offer some important testimony."
"Indeed!" said Haynes, uneasily. "May I ask what it is?"
"Certainly.I saw you thrust the wallet into the boy's pocket!Of that I am willing to make oath."
James Haynes turned pale. There was a sudden change in public opinion. It was he who now had become an object of suspicion.
"Young man," said the clergyman, solemnly, "what could have induced you to enter into such a wicked conspiracy against the poor boy?"
"Mind your own business!" said Haynes, rudely. "It is a lie."
"It is the truth," said the volunteer witness, calmly.
Here a policeman became visible from the car-window, leisurely walking his beat on the western sidewalk.
"There's a policeman," said Frank's new friend. "Call him, and have the boy arrested."
"He would be cleared by false testimony," said Haynes, sullenly. "I have my money back, and will let him go."
"Then," said the stranger, rising, and displaying the badge of a detective, "I shall arrest you on a charge of conspiracy."
Haynes was fairly caught in his own trap.
"This is a put-up job, gentlemen," he said. "Am I to be robbed first, and arrested afterwards for exposing the thief?"
He looked about him appealingly; but in vain. Public sentiment was wholly against him now.
"O you ould villain!" said a stout Irish woman, "to try to ruin the poor b'ye. Hangin's too good for you."
This was rather an extreme sentiment; but Haynes saw that he was in peril. He gave an unexpected spring, and, reaching the platform, sprang out, running up a side street.
"Do you know him?" asked the detective of Frank.
"Yes, sir."
"How do you account for his hostility to you?"
Frank briefly recounted the story already known to the reader.
"He can easily be found then."
"I hope you will not arrest him, sir," said Frank. "He has been pretty well punished already, and I don't think he will trouble me again."
"If he does, send for me," and the detective handed Frank his card and address.
"It is fortunate for me," said the telegraph boy, "that you saw him put the money in my pocket."
"You would have experienced some inconvenience; but the story you have told me would have cleared you with the jury."
"My young friend," said the clergyman, "I owe you an apology. I too hastily assumed that you were guilty."
"It looked like it, sir. You were quite justified in what you said. Mr. Haynes did not appear to relish your remarks to him," added Frank, laughing.
"His crime was greater and meaner than the one charged upon you. To steal is certainly a grave offence,—yet sometimes it is prompted by necessity; but a deliberate attempt to fasten a false charge upon a fellow-creature is vastly more atrocious."
"So it is, sir," said the old Irish woman, nodding assent vigorously. "I quite agree wid your honor. It is owtracious."
The passengers smiled at the old woman's mistake; but it was clear that they agreed with her in sentiment.
Meanwhile the car had been speeding along, and was near its terminus. Frank bethought himself that he had been carried considerably beyond his destination.
He pulled the bell, and, as he got out, he said, "Thank you all for taking my part."
"We don't quite deserve that," said one of the passengers, after Frank had left the car. "I was at first of opinion that the boy was guilty."
"We have been saved from doing a great injustice," said the clergyman. "It should be a lesson to all of us not to be too hasty in our judgments."
James Haynes in his hurried exit from the car fully believed that he would be pursued and arrested. He was relieved to find his fears groundless. But he was disappointed at the failure of his scheme. He had carefully prepared it, and for several days he had been in readiness to carry it into execution whenever he should meet Frank. This morning had brought the opportunity; but it had miscarried.
"But for that cursed detective I would have carried the thing through," he muttered. "He spoiled all. Ihatethat boy!"
But, though revengeful, Haynes was prudent. He gave up the thought of injuring Frank because he saw that it would be dangerous to himself. He did not remain long in New York, but soon joined his confederate in Hartford.
The close of the month came, and Frank laid aside his uniform. He was a telegraph boy no more.
The superintendent shook hands with him cordially, and bade him good-by.
"Come and see us sometimes," he said. "I wish you all success. Your services have been very satisfactory, and you have gained an excellent reputation."
"Thank you, sir," said Frank. "I have tried to do my duty. Good-by, boys!"
He shook hands with all his young comrades, with whom he was very popular. They knew of his good fortune, and were disposed to regard him as very rich. Six thousand dollars in a boy's eyes is a fortune.
"Now you're rich, Frank, I suppose you won't notice the likes of us," said Johnny O'Connor.
"I hope you don't think as badly of me as that, Johnny," said Frank, earnestly. "I am not rich; but, even if I were, I should always be glad to meet any of you. If I am ever able to do a favor to any of you I will."
"I believe you, Frank," said Johnny. "You was always a good feller."
"Where's Tom Brady?" asked Frank, looking about him. "Is he out on an errand?"
"Tom's sick," said the superintendent. "He's got a fever."
"It's bad for him," said Johnny, "for his mother and sister depended on Tom's wages. Poor Tom felt bad because he had to give up work."
"Where does he live?" asked Frank, with quick sympathy.
"No. — East Fourteenth street," answered Johnny. "I know, because I live in the same block."
"I'll go and see him."
Frank's heart was not hardened by his own prosperity. He knew what it was to be poor, and could enter into the feelings of the unfortunate telegraph boy.
Half an hour found him in front of a large tenement-house, in front of which were playing children of all ages, most of them showing in their faces that unhealthy pallor which so generally marks a tenement-house population.
"Do you know where Mrs. Brady lives?" asked Frank of a girl of twelve.
"Which Brady is it?" asked the girl. "There's three lives here."
"It's Tom Brady's mother," answered our hero.
"Is it Tom, the telegraph boy?"
"Yes."
"I'll show you then. Tom's been sick for some time."
"I know it. I have come to see him."
"Do you know Tom?" asked the girl, in some surprise; for Frank, having laid aside his uniform, was handsomely dressed, and looked like the son of a rich man.
"Yes, Tom is a friend of mine. I am sorry he's sick."
Up two flights of rickety stairs Frank followed the girl, who halted before a door.
"That's the place," said his young guide, and disappeared down the stairs, sliding down the banisters. Young ladies in the best society do not often indulge in this amusement, but Mary Murphy knew little of etiquette or conventionality.
In answer to Frank's knock, the door was opened by Mrs. Brady, a poorly clad and care-worn woman.
"What is your wish, young gentleman?" she said.
"I've come to see Tom. How is he?"
"Do you know my Tom?" asked Mrs. Brady, in surprise.
"Yes; is he very sick?"
"The poor boy has got a fever."
"Can I see him?"
"If you'll come into such a poor place, sir. We're very poor, and now that Tom's wages is stopped I don't know how we'll get along at all."
"Better than you think, perhaps, Mrs. Brady," said Frank, cheerfully. "Why, Tom, what made you get sick?"
He had entered the room, and reached the bed on which the sick boy was lying.
Tom looked up in surprise and pleasure.
"Is it you, Frank?" he said. "I'm glad you've come to see me. But how did you find me out?"
"Johnny O'Connor told me where you lived. How long have you been sick?"
"Three days. It's rough on a poor boy like me. I ought to be earning money for my mother."
"We'll miss Tom's wages badly," said Mrs. Brady; "I can't earn much myself, and there's three of us to feed, let alone the rint."
"How did you get off, Frank?" asked Tom.
"I've left the office."
"Was this young gentleman a telegraph boy?" asked Mrs. Brady, in surprise.
"Yes," said Tom; "but he's come into a fortune, and now he won't have to work."
"I'm sure I'm glad of his good luck, and it's a great condescension for a rich young gentleman to come and see my Tom."
"I have come into some money, but not a fortune, Mrs. Brady," said Frank; "but it does not make me any better than when I was a poor telegraph boy."
Evidently Mrs. Brady was not of this opinion, for she carefully dusted with her apron the best chair in the room, and insisted on Frank's seating himself in it.
"Have you had a doctor, Mrs. Brady?" asked Frank.
"Yes."
"What does he say?"
"He says that Tom will be sick for three or four weeks, and I don't know what we'll do without his wages all that time."
"That's what troubles me," said Tom. "I wouldn't mind it so much if I'd get my pay reg'lar while I'm sick."
"Then you needn't be troubled, Tom," said Frank, promptly, "for you shall get it regularly."
"They won't give it to me," said Tom, incredulously.
"They won't, but I will."
"Do you mean it, Frank?"
"Certainly I do. I will give you a week's pay this morning, and I will call every week, and pay you the same."
"Do you hear that, mother?" said Tom, joyfully.
"God bless you, young gentleman, for your kindness to us!" said Mrs. Brady, gratefully.
"Oh, it isn't much," said Frank; "I can spare it well enough. I have had such good luck myself that I ought to do something for those who need it."
"You're a good feller, Frank," said Tom, warmly. "I'll get well quick now. If you ever want anybody to fight for you, just call on Tom Brady."
"I generally do my own fighting, Tom," said Frank, laughing, "but I'll remember your offer. When you are well, you must come and spend an evening with me."
"I'm sure he'll be proud to do the same," said Mrs. Brady.
"I must bid you good-by, now, Tom. Keep a 'stiff upper lip,' and don't be down-hearted. We must all be sick sometimes, you know, and you'll soon be well."
"I won't be down-hearted now," said Tom, "with my wages comin' in reg'lar. Remember me to the boys, Frank."
"I will, Tom."
When Frank reached home he found a large, overgrown boy, with big red hands, and clothes of rural cut, who apparently did not know what to do with his legs and arms, waiting to see him.
It was his cousin Jonathan.